had no lover since she’d gone away. It hadn’t been intentional. After she’d been declared dead, he’d grieved her loss. But he hadn’t been heartbroken because of it. He’d grieved because she was Rafiq’s mother, because he’d been fond of her.
He’d taken her presence in his life for granted, and he’d regretted that immensely. But that wasn’t what had stopped him from attending to the sexual part of his life after she was gone.
He’d always intended to take a mistress. Or another wife. It had just never happened. He truly had been busy, first with taking care of Rafiq and finding a decent nanny for him. Adan had fired three nannies before he’d finally begged Kalila to come raise his son.
After that, he’d been busy with his business interests and then with the aftermath of his cousin’s death and becoming the heir to the throne. There’d been no time in his life for casual affairs. He’d missed sex, missed women, but he’d had little time to worry about it.
Now that he’d brought Isabella out here, all he could think of was sex. He’d intended to stay busy and stay away from her as much as possible. But then she’d toldhim in the car about her memory of their wedding night, and he’d realized the futility of that plan.
He wanted her. And as he’d sat with her tonight and listened to her sing, as Rafiq had fallen asleep on her lap, he’d realized that his intention was to take her to his bed at the end of the evening. He’d pushed everything from his mind but her.
Then she’d told him she’d kissed another man. Until then, he’d purposely avoided thinking about what she’d been up to for the past two years as a lounge singer.
Hearing it had made him crazy. It was ridiculous, because it was nothing really, and yet the knowledge of that kiss had sliced into him with the utter unfairness of it. He’d been celibate, and she’d been kissing another man.
It was nothing, and everything.
He’d wanted to pick her up and carry her to his room that very minute. He’d wanted to make her his. Irrevocably.
But it was wrong—wanting her was wrong—because in two weeks, when this was all over, he would wed Jasmine.
It was late when he shoved the covers aside and got out of bed. His body was heated and his brain wouldn’t settle down. He was restless, like a caged lion. He padded naked to the en suite bathroom, then pulled on a pair of shorts, not really certain what he intended to do other than leave the bedroom.
Outside the window, movement in the garden caught his eye. And then he realized what it was: Isabella walking the labyrinth by moonlight.
The path was dark, but the moon gave enough light to make out the pattern. Isabella moved slowly throughthe labyrinth, wondering when illumination was supposed to happen. She walked closer to the inside, and then farther away again. Just when she thought she was almost there, another twist in the pattern took her to the outside of the circle.
She didn’t know why she was doing this. She lifted her head to look at the dark walls of the small palace. A light burned in an upper window, but that was all. The torches had been turned out hours ago, and the garden was dark and still.
She’d gone to bed and slept fitfully, her dreams filled with Adan and Rafiq—but mostly Adan. She’d dreamed of lying in bed with him, of telling him she loved him and of him stiffening beside her. Then she’d dreamed of waiting for him to come to her bed and falling asleep in tears when she realized he wasn’t coming after all.
The dreams had disturbed her. She’d wanted to know their meaning. It was silly to think that walking a dark path in the moonlight was going to teach her anything, but she’d been drawn out here by the idea that it would calm her.
She wasn’t feeling calm so much as frustrated, however.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered as another turn took her away from the center. Then she stopped in the pathway. This wasn’t working. It
He’d taken her presence in his life for granted, and he’d regretted that immensely. But that wasn’t what had stopped him from attending to the sexual part of his life after she was gone.
He’d always intended to take a mistress. Or another wife. It had just never happened. He truly had been busy, first with taking care of Rafiq and finding a decent nanny for him. Adan had fired three nannies before he’d finally begged Kalila to come raise his son.
After that, he’d been busy with his business interests and then with the aftermath of his cousin’s death and becoming the heir to the throne. There’d been no time in his life for casual affairs. He’d missed sex, missed women, but he’d had little time to worry about it.
Now that he’d brought Isabella out here, all he could think of was sex. He’d intended to stay busy and stay away from her as much as possible. But then she’d toldhim in the car about her memory of their wedding night, and he’d realized the futility of that plan.
He wanted her. And as he’d sat with her tonight and listened to her sing, as Rafiq had fallen asleep on her lap, he’d realized that his intention was to take her to his bed at the end of the evening. He’d pushed everything from his mind but her.
Then she’d told him she’d kissed another man. Until then, he’d purposely avoided thinking about what she’d been up to for the past two years as a lounge singer.
Hearing it had made him crazy. It was ridiculous, because it was nothing really, and yet the knowledge of that kiss had sliced into him with the utter unfairness of it. He’d been celibate, and she’d been kissing another man.
It was nothing, and everything.
He’d wanted to pick her up and carry her to his room that very minute. He’d wanted to make her his. Irrevocably.
But it was wrong—wanting her was wrong—because in two weeks, when this was all over, he would wed Jasmine.
It was late when he shoved the covers aside and got out of bed. His body was heated and his brain wouldn’t settle down. He was restless, like a caged lion. He padded naked to the en suite bathroom, then pulled on a pair of shorts, not really certain what he intended to do other than leave the bedroom.
Outside the window, movement in the garden caught his eye. And then he realized what it was: Isabella walking the labyrinth by moonlight.
The path was dark, but the moon gave enough light to make out the pattern. Isabella moved slowly throughthe labyrinth, wondering when illumination was supposed to happen. She walked closer to the inside, and then farther away again. Just when she thought she was almost there, another twist in the pattern took her to the outside of the circle.
She didn’t know why she was doing this. She lifted her head to look at the dark walls of the small palace. A light burned in an upper window, but that was all. The torches had been turned out hours ago, and the garden was dark and still.
She’d gone to bed and slept fitfully, her dreams filled with Adan and Rafiq—but mostly Adan. She’d dreamed of lying in bed with him, of telling him she loved him and of him stiffening beside her. Then she’d dreamed of waiting for him to come to her bed and falling asleep in tears when she realized he wasn’t coming after all.
The dreams had disturbed her. She’d wanted to know their meaning. It was silly to think that walking a dark path in the moonlight was going to teach her anything, but she’d been drawn out here by the idea that it would calm her.
She wasn’t feeling calm so much as frustrated, however.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered as another turn took her away from the center. Then she stopped in the pathway. This wasn’t working. It
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