‘Of course it’s not,’ Faye agreed ruefully. ‘Who do you know who drags out all the dirty washing in their family if they can avoid it? And you’ve got to admit that Percy is a very big piece of dirty washing…you think I didn’t see how you avoided him? You think I don’t notice how much my stepfather offends people?’
‘Why on earth did your mother marry such an unpleasant man?’
‘Well, if she ever regretted it, she didn’t show it.’ Faye sighed. ‘And, to be fair, he never spoke an unkind word to her that I heard, but somehow we mysteriously went from being well off to poor during their marriage.’
‘Adrian once mentioned that your own father had made some very unwise investments. Your stepfather may not be responsible for the loss in family prosperity.’
‘Adrian once mentioned…? Why didn’t he ever mention that to me?’ Faye demanded in exasperation.
‘I can see that I’ve been remiss in my responsibility towards you,’ Tariq breathed flatly.
Faye stiffened. ‘No, you haven’t been. As far as I’m concerned, I was never your wife. In fact I don’t even want to think about all that nonsense any more.’ And with that cool assurance, she broke from the loose circle of his arms and stood up in a hurry. Having forgotten that she had no shoes on, she felt the gravel below the seat bruise the soles of her bare feet, making her gasp and jump back onto the bench beside him where she hovered, stepping off one foot on to the other. ‘That hurt!’
Tariq looked up at her with a slanting smile. ‘A princess would have to be very dignified.’
Faye paled and then tossed her head. ‘I wish you well of one…are you going to be a gentleman and fetch my shoes?’
Tariq sprang upright and reached for her hands, enclosing them tightly in his and startling her. He crushed her soft mouth under his with a devouring hunger that splintered through her in a shockwave. Then he lifted her and settled her down on the bench. Senses reeling in the aftermath of that stormy onslaught, she watched him retrieve her shoes and return with them.
‘Just like Cinderella,’ Tariq murmured playfully, sunlight gleaming over his luxuriant black hair as he crouched down to slide her sandals onto her small feet.
‘No, she got the fairytale prince…I got the frog of little faith.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You heard me.’
Tariq simply laughed and closed one lean hand back over hers, walking her back down the hill towards the palace.
‘You only came out here to drag me back indoors again, didn’t you?’
‘I only came out here to find you, but you are right. I am now taking you back to my bedroom where I intend to remove every single garment you wear as fast as I possibly can and make passionate love to you,’ he admitted without skipping a beat.
‘Duty calls,’ Faye quipped, but she could feel herself blushing, feel the spiralling ache of the exact same hunger twisting deep down inside her. And, in her opinion, that made her not one whit better than him. Moaning about being his mistress seemed a little hypocritical when she was as keen on him as she was.
He gave her a startled glance. ‘You have changed.’
‘Have I?’
‘Now you are joking about sharing my bed.’
‘Fancy that.’ She shrugged. ‘Bit of a problem for you, that, isn’t it? Instead of feeling punished by your revenge, I’m enjoying myself.’
‘I am no longer thinking of revenge—’
‘It doesn’t bother me. I’m only looking on this as an extended holiday.’ Unfamiliar aggression was powering through Faye. If Tariq thought he was going to hear one more time about how he had broken her poor little heart, he was in for a surprise.
‘Really? I suppose I’m the holiday romance?’
‘No comment.’
Ten minutes of simmering silence later, Faye kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed. ‘Do you think you could remove this anklet now?’
Tariq nailed her with glittering golden eyes. ‘I like to see you wear it.’
‘All the time…everywhere? Even when I go paddling?’
He shed his jacket, jerked loose his tie in the manner of guy making a statement. Watching him, she stretched, conscious he could not take his eyes from her even though he was furious. She was thrilled by the discovery, a new sense of feminine power infiltrating her bloodstream like heady wine.
‘You’re fighting back…’ he said softly.
‘Did you expect me to stay in doormat mode for ever?’
Shedding his last garment, Tariq strolled over to the bed. Sunlight filtering in through the doors spread open on the balcony enveloped his bronzed magnificence and something caught in her throat. No today, no tomorrow, she told herself feverishly. She was living for the moment.
‘You can’t win.’ Tariq came down on the bed one hundred per cent sexual predator. ‘You are my woman, aziz.’
‘While I still want you,’ Faye heard herself point out.
His lean, sure fingers momentarily stilled on the buttons that ran down the front of her dress. Lush black lashes lifted on his stunning golden eyes and he gave her a slow-burning smile of pure sensual threat. ‘I am not planning to bore you out of your mind in the near future.’
‘Well, you’re bound to think that…’
He spread the edges of the dress apart as thought he were unwrapping precious gold. She was not wearing a bra. ‘I am not surprised that grazing rights failed to hold my attention last night,’ he confided huskily, running an appreciative hand over one small pouting mound crowned by a prominent rosy peak. ‘You are exquisite…’
She quivered at that glancing caress, forcing her spine back down to the bed. No need to wow him with overenthusiasm, she warned herself. ‘You’re bound to think that too after a year of celibacy—’
‘And what would you know? Only days ago you were a virgin.
’ Tariq gazed down at her in exasperated challenge.
‘I was only stating an opinion—’
‘Don’t.’
‘Do you think other men would have the same opinion, then?’ A little devil was dancing in Faye’s head, priming her tongue.
Tariq ground out, ‘Why would you ask me such an inappropriate question?’
‘It’s on a par with you having asked me that night how many other men I had invited to dinner and slept with.’
‘I was upset by your behaviour—’
‘Oh, were you? I thought you were just trying to make me feel cheap—’
‘It was cheap.’ Winding both hands into her tumbling hair as if he were imprisoning her, Tariq possessed her angrily parted lips with so much potent force, she lost her grip on her thoughts. She clutched at his shoulders, dizzy with pleasure.
But then he made the serious error of pausing to extract her from the dress. ‘And you’re not cheap—’
‘No, indeed—to date, at my estimation, I have cost you upwards of a million pounds!’
Tariq froze at the reminder.
‘Nobody could call that cheap,’ Faye agreed sweetly.
Tariq glowered down at her, pale beneath his sun-darkened skin, superb cheekbones taut in his lean, strong face. ‘You’re worth it. Are you happy now?’
She wasn’t but she nodded, wishing she had not mentioned the money: the bank draft Percy had purloined, the cost of her brother regaining his freedom.
Tariq traced her tremulous mouth with a soothing forefinger. She was blinking back tears but he didn’t miss a trick and he smoothed them away. ‘We are finally together. Think only of that.’
The instant he kissed her again, the hunger stormed back, intensified by her raw emotions. She loved him. She wanted him. She would not allow herself to think one step beyond those realities. A fever had got hold of her. Her hands roamed over him, adoring the flex of his hard muscles beneath his hair roughened skin. Trembling beneath her exploration, he pulled her over him, depriving her of that freedom and locking her into the hard heat of his aroused body while he plundered her lips.