But it was a commitment they had made and she was determined to give everything she could.
The morning of the wedding, minutes before she was due in the lavishly decorated great hall, she had seen Farrah and Huma standing in the corridor waiting to greet her. She’d barely embraced them when she saw David and a couple of her friends who had worked with her in the inner-city clinics.
Zafir had contacted David and the rest of them personally, Alicia had said with awe in her voice. Of course they had to come to see Lauren become the sheikha of her own nation.
Her chest ached as their words sunk in.
He had not only comforted her when she had been upset but had contacted her friends on her behalf. Domineering he might be, but Lauren was afraid he was slowly stealing bits and pieces of her very soul.
Beyond her friends from the States, another small group of men and women stood in the last hall. With Salma and Bashir at the front, Lauren realized it was the Dahab. Ahmed, standing close as always, had grinned at her stunned face, told her they had traveled to the city to stand witness to her wedding to their sheikh, to wish her happiness in her marriage.
Between Farrah’s admonishments that they were getting late and Alicia’s wicked whispers about Ahmed and the ‘fine quality’ of Behraati men in general, Lauren felt anything but alone.
In this strange country and between people she had only met for a few weeks, Lauren felt loved, cherished, and thanks to the dark, breathtaking man whose gaze swept over her with a possessive desire as she reached the great hall, utterly wanted.
Once she had repeated the vows that she had practiced, Zafir had nodded at the small group that had stood to the side of the hall. “Fans of yours, sheikha?”
Warmth filling her from the inside out, Lauren resisted the urge to plaster herself all over him. It was a losing battle, she realized as she studied his rough-hewn features, that generous mouth and the long bridge of his arrogant nose. “My tribe,” she had finally said.
And he had smiled.
Before she knew it, they were joined together as man and wife in front of God and the people of Behraat and then she was whisked away to a feast unlike anything she had ever seen.
After two hours of raising sparkling water, picking at her food and thanking a host of dignitaries from around the world, her smile began to droop and her shoulders ached. The three-inch designer shoes that she had cooed over now felt like torture devices on her tired feet.
His hand around her, Zafir instantly held her as she toppled. Last she had looked, he had been walking around the room, greeting and meeting men she couldn’t even remember the names of. That he had appeared by her side so fast...her breath shook.
Long fingers held her right below her breast and she felt branded, feeling his touch through her dress all the way to her skin. “You’re ready to drop.”
She saw the hunger in his golden gaze, felt the tight tension in his body, heard the hiss of his exhale as her hip brushed his front. Legs wobbling, belly tight with need, she said, “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day.”
His finger landed on her mouth, while he signaled to someone behind her. “Don’t apologize. I will see you tonight.” He bent his head and whispered, “Get some rest, yes? It might be late but I’ll be there.”
Sparks of heat spreading to every limb, Lauren nodded.
She followed the contingent that seemed to be her shadow now.
No matter, she decided, because all she wanted right then was to escape from her own self, much less face the man who was slowly but inexorably imprinting himself on her very soul.
CHAPTER TEN
BY THE TIME Zafir had dealt with the numerous council members and state delegates, and the tribal chiefs led by the Dahab’s chief, and arrived at the oasis, separately from Lauren, darkness had fallen like a thick cloak over the encampment.
He was glad he had sent her on earlier because his negotiations with the chiefs had gone on and on. And he had, eager to finalize the agreement he wanted to reach with them and loath to disturb the fragile peace, let half his wedding night pass by.
Not wanting to disturb her in case she was sleeping, he had the pilot land the chopper a mile or so from the camp.
The desert sky glittered with stars as he walked, the wild, crisp scent of the night driving his blood to pound faster in his veins.
Victory was his. For the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged to the Al Masoods, like the conquering warrior in those stories.
He had secured his rule of Behraat, had secured its return to a path of progress. Trade agreements could be renewed now that half its population wasn’t trying to rip the other half apart. Excavation for oil could begin again in lands that had been occupied by the tribes.