Jane Porter by Duty Desire; the Desert King

Author:Duty, Desire; the Desert King [Duty, Desire; the Desert King]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-04-28T09:08:21+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

ROUslept fitfully, waking every hour from vivid, intense dreams. Zayed featured prominently in every one, and Rou didn’t know if it was the kiss or her feverish imagination, but she woke up afraid, terribly aware that today everything changed.

Today she became vulnerable. She married the man she loved, and yet he didn’t love her back. And she’d found what it was her clients all wanted, only for her, the wedding and marriage were just temporary.

Agitated, she turned on her side, her arm as her pillow, and she looked out the small, high window that showed the sky. It wasn’t dawn yet but the sky was lighter, the dark blue night sky giving way to a layer of light blue. Somewhere the sun was already up. Soon it’d be up here, too. Soon she’d be Zayed’s wife.

Her eyes closed, lashes fluttering against her cheek as she drew a frightened breath.

She didn’t know how to do this. Didn’t know how to become any man’s, not even his.

It wasn’t just consummating the marriage that filled her with anxiety, although that was terrifying in and of itself. At least she wasn’t completely inexperienced. She’d had sex a couple times many years ago, but it’d felt wrong—it’d hurt—and the doctor in her knew it was a combination of emotional and physical Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

pain. She didn’t love either of the men, and she wasn’t properly aroused, which contributed to her discomfort. But her fear today was different. Her fear was disappointing Zayed. He’d called her beautiful, called her passionate, but what would he say when he discovered she was useless, ridiculous in bed?

Sharif had once asked her why she didn’t date more, and she’d answered that her work consumed her, but it hadn’t always just been about her work. In her midtwenties when she’d tried dating, she’d discovered she was hopeless at it. Everybody wanted casual sex. She couldn’t have casual sex. And those two times a relationship developed sufficiently that she thought she should try to have a physical relationship, it went wrong, so wrong. Sex itself felt invasive. A man on top of you, surrounding you, filling you.

But later today it wouldn’t be just anyone with her. Today it would be Zayed.

Her stomach lurched, and she threw back the covers and swung her legs from the bed.

Calm down, she told herself, going to the living room to the French doors and opening them to welcome in the cool, sweet air. He might be disappointed, but he’ll have done his duty and you’ll both survive.

Manar arrived early with breakfast and coffee and elaborate plans to help Rou prepare for her ceremony. “In my country we henna the bride’s hands and feet,” she said, smiling as she poured Rou’s coffee and served her a selection of flaky pastries from the tray. “I think you would find it wonderful and unusual.”

Rou gratefully sipped her strong coffee. “You’re not from Sarq?”

The maid shook her head. “I am from Baraka, a country not far, and while not terribly different, we do celebrate marriage differently.

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