“Of course you do.” He sounded amused.
Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head. “It’s beautiful. Even though it’s fake.”
“Fake?” he said.
“The builder tried to make it look older, Moorish in design, but with those art-nouveau elements in the windows… I’m guessing it was built in the 1920s?”
He gave her a surprised look. “You got all that from a single coffee-table book?”
Her cheeks colored slightly. “I might have spent a few hours lingering over books at my favorite couscous restaurant.”
He grinned at her. “Well, you’re right. This was built as a hotel when Morocco was a French protectorate.” He looked at her approvingly. “There’s no way Bree is smarter than you.”
Her heart fluttered. In spite of her best efforts, she was still beaming foolishly beneath his praise as he led her past a shadowy cloistered walkway to the open courtyard at the center of the palace. The white merciless sun beat down in the blue sky, but the center courtyard garden was cool, with lush flowers and an orange tree on each corner. Soft breezes sighed through palm trees, leaving dappled shadows over the burbling stone fountain.
“Josie?” Kasimir was staring at her.
She realized she’d stopped in the middle of the courtyard, her mouth open. “Sorry.” Snapping her lips shut, she followed him across the courtyard to a hallway directly off the columned stone cloister.
He held a door open for her.
“This will be your room,” he murmured. She walked past him to find a large bedroom with high ceilings, sumptuously decorated, with two latticed windows, one facing the courtyard, the other the desert. “You will need something to wear while you’re here.”
“No, really,” she protested. “All I need is a washer and a dryer—”
He opened a closet door. “Too late.”
Peeking past him, she saw a huge closetful of women’s clothes, all with tags from expensive designers. She said doubtfully, “Whose are these?”
“Yours.”
“I mean, where did they come from? Were they… left here by your other, um, female guests?”
“Female guests.” His lips quirked. “Is that what you call them?”
“You know what I mean!”
“I wouldn’t come all the way to Marrakech for a one-night stand.” His smile lifted to a grin. “Why would I bother going to the trouble?”
“Yeah, why,” she muttered. Her husband could seduce any woman with a smile. He’d melted Josie into an infatuated, delusional puddle with a single careless, stolen kiss.
She scowled. “Look. I just want to know if I’m wearing clothes you bought for someone else.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “They were purchased in Marrakech for you, Josie. Specifically for you. And if you don’t believe me…” He gave her a wicked grin as he opened a drawer. “Check this out.”
Her lips parted as she looked down at all the lacy unmentionable undergarments.
“You’ll never have to go commando again,” he said smugly. His eyes met hers. “Unless you want to.”
She swallowed, then turned away as her cheeks burned. “Great… Thanks.”
“And for your information,” he said behind her, “I would never bring a female guest here.”
She didn’t meet his eyes. She was afraid he would notice how she was trembling. “I’m the first?”
“Ah,” he said softly. “But you’re more than a guest.” Reaching over, he tucked a tendril of her hair off her face. “You are my wife.”
As his fingertips stroked her skin, she felt his nearness, felt his powerful body towering over hers. Swallowing, she turned away, pretending to look through the expensive items in the closet to hide her confusion.