‘If you’re tired?—’
‘I’m fine. Just don’t wake the baby.’ She nodded towards Mira, who was curled up on the divan. She didn’t so much as open one eye. ‘Have a seat.’
He walked over to the table and slid into one of the chairs, looking her over. ‘So, you’re all right?’
She poured him some water from the jug and slid the cup towards him before taking the seat opposite him. ‘I think so.’ She watched him drink. ‘Thanks to you.’
He watched her as he placed the cup down. ‘The evening was… intense.’
‘Nothing ruins the appetite faster than your mother’s murderer taking a seat at your table.’
‘I’m sorry about that.’
She waved his apology away. ‘You did the right thing. Better my table than theirs.’
‘That’s what I figured.’
‘I have you for protection, and they only have me.’
His eyes moved between hers. ‘I hope you know my protection extends to everyone you love.’
She felt her eyes sting as tears rose to the surface. ‘I know.’ The words came out a little choked.
He looked away. ‘Just as well with Safiya walking around the castle armed.’
‘I promise to have a word with her about that.’
Tariq exhaled through his nose. ‘I don’t mind. I like that she’s protective of you.’ After another silence, he said, ‘There was no colour left on your face at the feast. You were white as a sheet.’ His concerned eyes returned to hers. ‘I’m glad to see it has finally returned.’
Aisha’s throat tightened. ‘I never thought I’d have to see him again, and if I did, I thought I’d have time to prepare.’
He slid his hand across the table, the tips of his fingers meeting hers. ‘He’s going to be here for the wedding.’
‘I know.’ She watched their fingers touching. ‘I’ll get through it. I’m just not sure my father will.’
He nodded. ‘You should write to Zara and warn her.’
That was all she could do.
At some point, her fingers had entwined with his. She felt the temperature in the room rise slightly. And when Tariq’s fingers flexed against hers, she felt that too.
Standing slowly from her seat, she walked over to him, her bare feet silent on the floor. Tariq tipped his head back to look up at her, that familiar crease forming between his brows. She smoothed it with her thumb.
His hands settled at her waist, palms blissfully warm through the fabric. She found herself imagining their warmth against her bare skin.
Aisha brought her hands to his shoulders, feeling them rise and fall with his breath. For the first time that evening, the tension in her stomach loosened. Her fingers travelled from his shoulders to his collar, brushing against the soft edges of the embroidery. Tariq’s grip on her waist tightened, just slightly.
‘Do you still think we shouldn’t let our feelings get in the way?’ she asked softly.
His eyes turned liquid as he stared up at her. ‘It was a solid plan at the time.’ He reached up to touch her now-messy braid. ‘But plans change.’
She lowered her forehead to his. ‘Best we keep plans flexible.’
Tariq turned in his chair to kiss her. There was nothing rushed about it, only a slow unravelling of restraint. His hand moved to the back of her neck, drawing her down, and her fingers slid into his hair.
When he stood, she moved with him instinctively, breathing against him. His desire bled into every kiss. He lifted her gently, and her legs curled around him.
Mira didn’t stir, and the world outside the room didn’t matter.
