closed the door. She was nervous to turn around and face the man she knew she loved and would love for ever. But she had to be strong, had to say no, and that slight pause had given her a moment to regroup.
‘I left my phone …’ She felt his black eyes on hers and couldn’t quite meet them. ‘We went out before …’
‘I saw you return,’ Emir said. ‘I was waiting in my car for you. Now, we were talking about—’
‘Nothing happened,’ Amy broke in. ‘He just wanted …’
‘I do not care.’ She frowned, because surely he should care. ‘We were discussing our marriage—’
‘Emir!’ she interrupted him. ‘My ex-fiancé just came to the door, you know we’ve been out together tonight, and you don’t care?’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘You don’t have questions?’
‘None,’ Emir said.
She was less than flattered. A bit of jealousy wouldn’t go amiss—after all, she had just been out with her ex.
‘Am I supposed to take it as a compliment that you trust me so much? For all you know—’
‘You could take a thousand lovers, Amy.’ It was Emir who interrupted now. Emir who walked to where she stood. ‘But each one would leave you empty. Each one would compare poorly to me.’
‘You’re so sure?’
‘Completely,’ Emir said. ‘And you could sit through a hundred dinners and dates and your mind would wander even as the first course was served.’ He stood right in front of her, looked down at her, and spoke the absolute truth. ‘Your mind would wander straight back to me,’ he said.
And, damn him, he was right. Because tonight all she had thought of was Emir, her efforts to concentrate and to listen had been half-hearted at best.
‘And when you were kissed,’ he said, and put his mouth right up to hers, ‘you would crave what another man could not deliver. Because my mouth knows best what to do.’
She closed her eyes, opened her mouth to deny him. For there must be no future for them. She was going to say that she would find love again—except his tongue slid into her protesting mouth and he gave her a taste, and then he drew his head back, warned her again of the life she would lead if she did not say yes.
‘You would miss me for ever.’
‘No,’ she begged, though she knew he spoke the truth.
‘You would regret the decision for the rest of your days.’
‘No,’ Amy insisted, though she knew he was right.
‘We will be married,’ he concluded, through with talking. It had taken what felt like a lifetime to come to his decision, and now that he had he wanted it sealed.
He pulled her tighter to him, so close she could hear his heart—not galloping, but steady, for he knew he was right.
His hand lifted her chin and he looked down at her mouth. ‘There are so many kisses we have not had.’
He lowered his mouth and tender were the lips that met hers in an unhurried kiss that reminded her of nothing—for this side of him she had not met.
‘This is the kiss I wanted to give you one morning when I saw you walking in the gardens.’ His mouth claimed her for another brief moment. He ran his hands down to her waist and his lips tasted of possession and promise for later. Then he he let her go. ‘That was the kiss I wanted to greet you with when you joined the party.’
‘What is this?’ She would not cry in front of him. She had promised herself. Yet she was failing. ‘Guess the kiss?’
‘Yes,’ he said, and she started to cry.
He held her again and his mouth drank her tears. He held her as he had wanted to, comforted her as he had wanted to after the breakfast, when Clemira had said Ummi and her heart had ached for a baby of her own. He held her as had wanted to that day.
‘You will never face it alone again,’ he promised, for he knew his kiss had taken her back to that day.
Then he kissed her again, both hands on her face, and it tasted of regret. She was leaving him again. They were back at the palace and he was letting her go. His arms were around hers and his tongue met hers. He was ferocious as he rewrote that moment—he kissed her back to his world. Then he kissed her hard and with intent, and this was a kiss she recognised. His tongue