IT WAS, everyone agreed, a magnificent wedding. It went on for four days and included every ceremony that the bride’s and groom’s respective families could devise.
After the ceremonies came the feasting; after the feasting the entertainment. The Minister of Culture, in his element, hung the palace halls with cloth of gold for the occasion. The international photojournalists were in their element.
Leo went through it all without bumping into a thing. Every time she felt nervous she looked up. And Amer smiled at her as if he and she were the only people in the world.
Eventually she slipped away from the music and dancing and out into the courtyard where the fountains played. He followed her, as she knew he would.
‘Tired?’ The soft murmur was a caress.
‘No.’
‘So you would like to dance until dawn?’ he teased.
‘No.’
‘So what am I to do with you, then?’
‘Love me.’
His arms closed round her, hard as iron. ‘Always.’
‘Take me home, Amer.’ Her voice was a thread of pure desire.
He took her back to his own palace then; to his private room, with its books and the mountains beyond. And shut the world out.
Leo gave a little delighted shiver and went into his arms in total trust.
‘It seems too much. I can’t believe it. Hold me, my love. Make me believe it.’
‘Believe what?’ he said, his voice husky with desire. ‘That I adore you? That when I am away from you, I can barely wait to return to you? That when I return, all I want is you in my arms?’
Leo was trembling. ‘That I am the Sheikh’s bride, after all.’
He picked her up and carried her to the bed.
And in the end, dazed with delight, humbled by love and completely overthrown by tender laughter, she said, ‘I believe it. Oh boy, do I believe.’