His eyebrows knitted together. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Never more so.’
There was another pause during which he was clearly testing her resolve before he got out of bed. Towering over her, seemingly unaware that he was totally naked and very aroused, he held her gaze for a fraction too long before heading off in the direction of the kitchen.
It was a small victory but one which pleased her inordinately, and once he’d gone Catrin took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom, where some of her composure left her. She stared at her face in the mirror. The no-sex of the proceeding night and this morning’s role reversal made what was happening seem almost like a dream. But it was not a dream, she reminded herself. It was real.
And after this weekend, he would be gone from her life for good.
She hated the fear which iced her skin as she tried to imagine life without Murat. What would fill the great empty space in her life, once her sultan lover was no longer coming home to her?
She felt panic wash over her but she forced herself to push it away, telling herself that she had come through much worse than the end of a love affair. Did she really want to carry on living her life like that—docile and submissive and completely under the thumb?
Like hell she did.
Defiantly, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a light, silky shirt and went to find Murat in the kitchen, now dressed and pouring out two cups of delicious-smelling coffee.
It was strange to see him in such an unfamiliar role and she walked over to one of the high stools around the breakfast bar, and sat down.
‘Smells good,’ she said as he handed her a cup. She took a cautious sip. ‘Tastes good, too. It’s funny, but I never imagined you adapting to domesticity with so much ease.’
‘Didn’t you realise that there’s no end to my talents?’ The glance he shot her was mocking. ‘Maybe you should have asked me to make you coffee before.’
Catrin nodded. Maybe she should. ‘Although you have had servants running around after you all your life, so I wasn’t entirely sure you’d be able to cope.’
‘I don’t think you’d need to be an astrophysicist to be able to decipher the instructions on the side of a packet of coffee,’ he commented wryly. ‘And I have learnt the art of self-sufficiency in the desert.’
‘Really?’ She took another sip of coffee.
‘Really.’ His dark gaze swept over her. ‘Even a sultan must know how to fend for himself. I have made meals from roots and brewed pots of sweet tea when I have been setting up camp with my troops. Fundamental lessons of self-sufficiency are essential when preparing for warfare—and all men are equal in the desert.’
Cat heard the sudden hard note of passion which had entered his voice. Had he enjoyed that kind of self-sufficiency and equality? It must have been elusive to someone who had grown up in a palace. But she’d never really given him the chance to do that, had she? With her, he hadn’t had to lift a finger. She had taken over every domestic element of their life together as she’d tried so hard to be his textbook lover. And maybe he hadn’t wanted her to try that hard. Maybe he had wanted more equality than she’d been prepared to give him. It was a sobering thought.
‘The desert sounds...amazing,’ she said, aware of how wistful her voice sounded.
‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘Although it is also a barren and unforgiving place, where the instinct for survival takes precedence over everything else.’
The instinct for survival.
Catrin’s heart began to pound as she thought about her own survival instinct. Where was that instinct now? Forgotten beneath that undeniably hungry look he was slanting at her, making her wish that things hadn’t changed and that she could just go over to him and lose herself in his embrace. She forced herself to focus on the sunlight which was spilling onto the pots of flowers on the terrace outside. ‘It’s a gorgeous day.’
‘I know it is. What do you want to do?’
She knew the answer he wanted. The answer she was longing to give him. She wanted to go straight back to bed, only this time to make love. She wanted his kiss and the hard thrust of his body. She wanted him to take away this ache of desire which was pooling softly at the base of her belly and to rid her of this terrible sense of frustration.
But something told her that would be a cop-out. And right now she felt much too vulnerable to risk having sex with him.
‘I’d like to do something different. Something on my terms for once.’
‘Such as?’
She looked out at where the rest of the city lay far below them. ‘I’d like to go somewhere without you being shadowed by a whole team of bodyguards. I’d like to get in a black cab and go to the cinema and eat popcorn without anyone knowing who you are. I’d like to pretend that we’re just the same as any other couple.’
‘Anonymity, you mean?’
‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
He looked at her for a moment and then, brilliantly and unexpectedly, he smiled. ‘Then I place myself in your hands completely, Cat,’ he said softly.
She felt a warm glow of satisfaction as she finished her coffee and went off to get ready, while Murat spoke quietly to his bodyguards. And although they weren’t happy, they agreed to a very low-key presence throughout the day.
For Catrin, it felt like another small triumph. She knew it didn’t mean much, but for her it meant a good deal. The hours which lay before them seemed to have endless possibilities. And she was the one making all the choices.
* * *
They walked across Hyde Park and ate breakfast croissants in a café overlooking the glittering waters of the Serpentine. They walked along the riverbank, before making their way to Covent Garden, where they found a small art gallery which was, inexplicably, almost empty. It felt liberating to walk from painting to painting, discussing each one in detail, and she almost forgot the shadowy presence of the bodyguard hovering discreetly in the next room. She made Murat stand in the queue at the cinema and could tell from his attitude that queuing was an entirely new concept for him. She knew that one word would lead to them being whisked into the grandest seats and generally being fussed over, but Catrin didn’t want that. She didn’t want anyone to know who he was.
She wanted him all to herself.
Afterwards they went to Soho, mingling with crowds of tourists and theatre-goers beneath the gaudy lights. They ate hot slices of pizza and then found a quiet pub in one of backstreets, where they sat quietly drinking cola.
In the taxi home he held her hand, turning it over to study her palm as if he were reading her future. And Catrin felt stupidly choked by the simple gesture, quickly turning her head to look out of the window before he could see how suddenly vulnerable she felt.
‘Cat,’ he said.
Blinking away the sudden moistness in her eyes, she waited until she had composed herself before she turned to look at him. ‘What?’
‘Don’t ordinary couples usually kiss in taxis?’
She shrugged. ‘I have no experience of kissing in taxis.’
‘You do now,’ he said roughly as his pulled her into his arms.
This was no semi-chaste kiss like the one they’d shared in bed last night. This was lust: pure and potent. Her breathing grew erratic as his finger traced a provocative line over the zip of her jeans and she gasped helplessly into his mouth.
‘I want you,’ he whispered. ‘And if I could, I would have you now. Right here. In the back of this cab. I’d like to pull your wretched jeans down to your ankles and thrust myself deep inside you. I’d like to watch you writhe around on the seat and