He swallowed. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Their gazes remained locked.
He looked past her bare shoulder at the pile of cushions, an image of her on her back there, with him on top of her, forming in his mind. He forced it aside. “Am I going to be able to see you again?”
“Yes. But it will be difficult. I’ll find a way.”
Xavier did not like her bold statement. “Perhaps I will have some degree of freedom in the next few days. How can I get word to you? I will think of a way for us to meet again.”
“It will be easier for me to arrange a rendezvous,” she said. “I am familiar with the palace, its inhabitants and customs.”
He stared at her, amazed, because no woman had ever told him what to do before.
She flushed. “I’m sorry. I just thought …”
“You are right,” Xavier finally said, reluctantly. “And you are very brave. Brave as well as beautiful.”
She hid a small smile, looking down. Her hands were clasped in her lap.
Xavier stared. He was a heartbeat away from giving in to the beast within himself. To seizing those hands, pulling them up, pushing her down. And placing his own hands there. He took a deep breath. “I need to meet with Neilsen,” Xavier said.
“Maybe I can help.” Her eyes were bright.
“No. I don’t want you taking any unnecessary chances.”
She smiled. “I don’t break so easily, Xavier.”
His expression softened. “Have you ever been told that you speak somewhat strangely?”
“Yes. Murad knows this palace intimately. He can get word to Neilsen.”
“Murad, the other slave?” She nodded. “He is free to come and go?”
“Not exactly. But he has more freedom than I do.”
“What, exactly, is your relationship with him?” Xavier asked curiously. He had seen the bond between them. They were close to the same age, as well, and Murad was a very handsome young man.
She did not respond at first. “We are both slaves—we are both friends.”
He was having the strangest thoughts. Did she and Murad comfort one another as they remained together in captivity? It would be so natural. He was, again, jealous. Xavier could not understand himself.
He stood up. Not trusting himself to remain so near her. “It is getting late.”
She quickly stood, not giving him a chance to help her up. She was, he saw, incredibly agile and graceful, almost moving like a man. Except that she was one hundred percent female and his body knew it.
“You must be exhausted and I’m being thoughtless.”
He smiled. “Hardly.”
She didn’t walk by him. Her gaze was level with his chest. It lifted slowly.
He could not move, he could not speak.
Her mouth opened, but no words formed immediately. “My heart … is beating overtime.” She laughed nervously.
Their gazes locked. And Xavier wondered if he really could keep his hands to himself. “So is mine.”
She was immobile. Moving neither toward him nor away. “I know,” she whispered.
