satin ribbon handles. She added those to herother shopping bags, a small feeling of accomplishment swelling in her chest.
Maybe Adham thought shopping was stupid, but she felt as if she’d claimed some small portion of her life for herself, and there was nothing stupid about that.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked, his voice rougher than normal, his accent thicker.
“I am getting hungry. But we could just eat here …”
“I have my limits on shopping,” he said, his lip curled slightly. “Normally I hand women my credit card and send them on their way.”
He started to walk toward the exit doors and she followed him quickly. “What? Women you date?”
He turned and looked at her for a brief moment, his dark eyebrows drawn together. “I don’t know that I would call it that.”
Of course not. Men like him probably had affairs. He’d probably had lots of rich lovers who reveled in having such a tough, macho man for a bedmate. Except he really didn’t seem like the sort of man who would be content to be a woman’s plaything. And, as he’d said, he was the one handing out credit cards.
She looked at him, her heart stuttering as she took in that broad, muscled back, his tapered waist and slim hips. Oh, no, Adham wouldn’t be any woman’s plaything. He was too much a man for that. He would want the upper hand in every way. He would be dominant in every situation.
Not for the first time she thought he seemed nothing like the staff at the Turani palace. He didn’t defer to her. Ever. He acted like a man who was used to being in control, used to having his orders unchallenged, used to having his way. But then, he’d been in the military—likely as a leader—so it could be true.
“What would you call it, then?” she asked, curiosity demanding more than speculation.
“I don’t know that I’m ever in one place long enough to date. I have arrangements.”
That hot emotion stirred her stomach again, and this time she recognized it. Jealousy. Not really directed at the women, but because it was such a casual thing to him. He had
arrangements.
No one dictated to him whether or not he could have them, who he could have them with, how he conducted them.
Isabella was reasonably certain that even if she’d been given carte blanche to have relationships with men they wouldn’t have been casual
arrangements,
but having the freedom would have been nice. Learning her own moral code, her own limits—that would have been nice too.
It would be nice to know her parents had that kind of trust in her.
Of course relationships hadn’t been feasible, because an arranged marriage had always been a foregone conclusion. She’d been ten when it had been decided that Hassan al bin Sudar would be the man. There would never have been any point to her dating anyone. Even so, she was jealous of Adham’s freedom, of the casual way he spoke of it.
“I’ve never had a relationship,” she said, closing her eyes as they exited the store, as the cool air hit her face, the slight breeze ruffling her hair.
“You’re engaged. Most people would count that as a relationship,” he said, his voice tight.
“Well, most people who are engaged have met their fiancé, or at the very least selected him.”
“It’s different for royalty, Isabella. You know that.”
“Of course I do.”
Adham halted mid-stride and turned, taking her bags from her hands, his fingers brushing hers, sending a shock of heat straight to her toes. Then he turned and started walking again, as though the world hadn’t just tilted a little. Although she supposed the world had remained upright as ever to him.
“What about you?” she asked, suddenly wanting to know more about her scarred guardian. “Do you ever plan to marry?”
“No.”
“Just … no?”
“My life isn’t suited to marriage and family. It is full. And I have no desire for a wife.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t the High Sheikh, or you would be required to marry
Maybe Adham thought shopping was stupid, but she felt as if she’d claimed some small portion of her life for herself, and there was nothing stupid about that.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked, his voice rougher than normal, his accent thicker.
“I am getting hungry. But we could just eat here …”
“I have my limits on shopping,” he said, his lip curled slightly. “Normally I hand women my credit card and send them on their way.”
He started to walk toward the exit doors and she followed him quickly. “What? Women you date?”
He turned and looked at her for a brief moment, his dark eyebrows drawn together. “I don’t know that I would call it that.”
Of course not. Men like him probably had affairs. He’d probably had lots of rich lovers who reveled in having such a tough, macho man for a bedmate. Except he really didn’t seem like the sort of man who would be content to be a woman’s plaything. And, as he’d said, he was the one handing out credit cards.
She looked at him, her heart stuttering as she took in that broad, muscled back, his tapered waist and slim hips. Oh, no, Adham wouldn’t be any woman’s plaything. He was too much a man for that. He would want the upper hand in every way. He would be dominant in every situation.
Not for the first time she thought he seemed nothing like the staff at the Turani palace. He didn’t defer to her. Ever. He acted like a man who was used to being in control, used to having his orders unchallenged, used to having his way. But then, he’d been in the military—likely as a leader—so it could be true.
“What would you call it, then?” she asked, curiosity demanding more than speculation.
“I don’t know that I’m ever in one place long enough to date. I have arrangements.”
That hot emotion stirred her stomach again, and this time she recognized it. Jealousy. Not really directed at the women, but because it was such a casual thing to him. He had
arrangements.
No one dictated to him whether or not he could have them, who he could have them with, how he conducted them.
Isabella was reasonably certain that even if she’d been given carte blanche to have relationships with men they wouldn’t have been casual
arrangements,
but having the freedom would have been nice. Learning her own moral code, her own limits—that would have been nice too.
It would be nice to know her parents had that kind of trust in her.
Of course relationships hadn’t been feasible, because an arranged marriage had always been a foregone conclusion. She’d been ten when it had been decided that Hassan al bin Sudar would be the man. There would never have been any point to her dating anyone. Even so, she was jealous of Adham’s freedom, of the casual way he spoke of it.
“I’ve never had a relationship,” she said, closing her eyes as they exited the store, as the cool air hit her face, the slight breeze ruffling her hair.
“You’re engaged. Most people would count that as a relationship,” he said, his voice tight.
“Well, most people who are engaged have met their fiancé, or at the very least selected him.”
“It’s different for royalty, Isabella. You know that.”
“Of course I do.”
Adham halted mid-stride and turned, taking her bags from her hands, his fingers brushing hers, sending a shock of heat straight to her toes. Then he turned and started walking again, as though the world hadn’t just tilted a little. Although she supposed the world had remained upright as ever to him.
“What about you?” she asked, suddenly wanting to know more about her scarred guardian. “Do you ever plan to marry?”
“No.”
“Just … no?”
“My life isn’t suited to marriage and family. It is full. And I have no desire for a wife.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t the High Sheikh, or you would be required to marry
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