‘Well, if I surprised you, multiply that surprise by about a million and you might approach how big a surprise you’ve been to me,’ she retorted with feeling. ‘Talk about being in foreign territory with a foreigner…’
‘Yes!’ His eyes fiercely raked her up and down. ‘Extremely foreign territory with a foreigner!’
‘But we have found a lot of mutual ground, haven’t we?’ she quickly appealed. ‘And we might find even more pleasure in everything if we stay together. And I don’t mean only in bed, so if you think I want to tag along with you just for the sex…’
She ran out of breath. The tension in the room seemed to have a stranglehold on any free flow of oxygen. In fact, Emily felt hopelessly choked up and couldn’t think what else to say anyway.
‘Do I understand you now wish to accompany me on this journey without fear or favour?’ Zageo asked, cocking an eyebrow as though merely ascertaining her position, certainly not giving away his own.
Emily swallowed hard and managed to produce a reply. ‘I’d like to try it.’
‘Being companions and lovers.’
‘Yes.’
‘No more bartering.’
‘No. Complete freedom of choice.’
Let this woman go, Zageo fiercely berated himself. No more talk. No more delay. Let her go now!
‘Emily, freedom of choice is a myth. There is no such thing, not in your culture nor mine. We are bound into attitudes and values by our upbringing and we think and act accordingly.’
Her beautiful blue eyes begged a stay of judgment. ‘But we can learn more about each other, try to understand where we’re both coming from, be willing to make compromises…’
She was still tugging on him, getting under his skin. ‘No,’ he said emphatically. Abdul was right. His mind was barely his own around this woman. She drove him into excesses. He had to put a stop to it, regain control, make sensible decisions. ‘What we came together for…it is done, Emily.’
Her shoulders slumped. There was a flash of anguish on her face before her head bowed in defeat. ‘So this is goodbye,’ she said in a desolate little voice.
‘Yes,’ he said firmly, hating seeing her like this. She was a fighter, strong, resilient, resourceful. She had challenged him to the limit and beyond. Whatever she was feeling right now, she would get over it and move on.
As he must.
Zageo propelled his feet forward, determined on walking out of this suite, walking out of her life. It was better that the power she had exerted over him was brought to a close. Though he couldn’t help thinking there was a bitter irony in her surrendering to his will at the end. He didn’t like it. He liked it even less when a glance at her in passing showed tears trickling through her lowered lashes and down her cheeks.
Silent tears.
She had dignity.
Dignity that pulled hard on him.
Emily Ross was not just sexually desirable. She was a very special woman, unique in his experience. When she gave of herself, she gave everything.
He reached the door.
There was no sound behind him. No movement.
Did he really want to give up what he’d found in Emily? Did such a decision make him master of his life or did it make him less of a man for not meeting the challenge of keeping her at his side?
He sucked in a deep breath, needing the blast of oxygen to clear the feverish thoughts attacking what had seemed so clear to him all day. His hand was on the doorknob, ready to turn it. A few more seconds and his exit would be effected. No going back.
‘I forgot to say thank you,’ she jerked out huskily. ‘Not for my sister and her family. For me. All you did for me. Thank you, Zageo.’
The emotion in her voice curled around his heart, squeezing it unmercifully. His brain closed down, instinct taking over, driving his legs back to where she still stood with her head bent in hopeless resignation. He grabbed her waist, spun her around, clamped her to him with one arm, cupped her chin with his hand.
‘Look at me!’ he commanded.
She raised startled, tear-washed eyes.
‘I have decided our journey should not end here. We shall continue to be companions and lovers if you find this arrangement agreeable.’
Sparkles of joyful relief shone back at him. Her arms flew up around his neck, hooking it tightly. The soft lushness of her breasts heaved against his chest, reminding him how very delectable they were, as was the rest of her.
‘Sounds good to me,’ she whispered seductively, no hesitation at all about surrendering to his will, which Zageo liked very much this time. Very much indeed.
It drew his mouth to hers, the desire to taste and savour her giving was totally overwhelming, obliterating any possible second thoughts about having changed his mind.
It was a kiss worth having.
Emily Ross was a woman worth having.
And have her he would, regardless of where it led.
At least until this passion had spent itself and he was free and in control of himself again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE last hotel, Emily thought, looking out the tall windows of their suite, taking in the sparkling view of Cape Town’s waterfront. Their journey through Africa had been amazing—so many different facets of the country from wonderful wildlife to highly cultivated wineries—but it was coming to an end now. Once Zageo was satisfied that all was well with this perfectly sited boutique hotel, the next stop would be Dubai.
Emily didn’t know how their relationship was going to work in Zageo’s home territory. Perhaps he would decide to house her in Paris or London, avoiding too big a cultural clash. Emily didn’t mind what he arranged as long as they remained lovers. The thought of having no part of his life was unbearable.
‘I see Veronique wasted little time in mourning my departure,’ Zageo drawled sardonically.
The mention of his former mistress sent a frisson of shock down Emily’s spine. She’d just been thinking of Paris and now she was reminded that the model had been with Zageo for two years. Would her own relationship with him last that long?
Behind her came the rustle of the English newspaper he’d been reading over his after breakfast coffee. ‘According to this report, she’s about to marry the German industrialist, Claus Eisenberg. It will be his third trophy wife but I don’t imagine Veronique is looking for lasting love so they will probably suit each other well.’
His mocking tone goaded her into asking, ‘Do you believe that love can last, Zageo?’
The impulsive question was driven by her deep sense of vulnerability about her future with him and she hoped for a serious reply, needing some guide to where they were heading together.