The Sheikh's Lost Bride - completed

Chapter Thirteen

A single table set for two with a chef cooking on a provided gas barbecue. Flavours permeated the air as they approached closer. Her hand tightened around his chest as her chin rested on his shoulder, her chest pressed against his back. "That smells so good."

Gently he edged her foot off his legs, so she had to sit up properly. "And you tried to come here without me," he challenged, eyeing her over his shoulders.

She gave him her most innocent smile. "Had nothing to do with me. So you invited yourself?" She teased in his ear. He stopped the camel, kneeing it to lower, and helped lowering her down onto the desert floor by holding her arm. One down, she looked behind her, grabbing at Tahir's arm as he joined her.

His hand rested on her waist, standing behind her. "What is it?"

"It's completely gone, it's like we are the only people in the world here," her voice barely a breeze on the night air. He guided her back against his frame, breathing her in as well as the night.

"Just the way it should be, you and me." She looked up into his eyes, heart melting and turned slightly as fingers touched her cheek, tracing down, cupping her chin and tilted as his head lowered, holding her gaze through hooded intense eyes, mesmerised. "Perfect for lovers," he whispered, then brushed her lips with the softest touch of butterfly wings, stealing her breath away.

Her knees weakened, holding onto him, fearful she would melt at his feet, which would never do. "Tahir," she breathed that was supposed to be of disapproval, not of wanting. He brushed her lips again, and then turned around, his hand rested on her waist, not intrusive.

It felt so right, and they walked across the sands, towards their table seating that wasn't actually a table of sorts. A large, thick Persian rug with two low divans with large red bolsters as backs and added pillows, in front a low wide legless table. A small campfire off towards the side.

They walked around, where Tahir took hold her hand and helped her down onto the low divan, he followed her down on the one beside hers, where he lounged on his side. She did the same that felt strange at first. A prepared tray was placed on the low table before them with a selection of Arabic Mezzeh, oriental salad with assorted breads and dips.

Tahir waved at her to eat. She looked over it with interest; however, there were no plates. Smiling, he first dipped his fingers into a bowl of water, and then he showed her how to eat with his fingers, thumb with first two fingers, making a pinching triangle. She watched then followed only allowed to use her right hand, she was informed.

"Too bad if you are a lefty," she teased.

"Just tradition, much more acceptable now, as long as one hand is used only."

"And you eat like this all the time?" He shook his head.

"Mostly eat with cutlery when out, at home when alone, sometimes, depending on the dish."

"An interesting way to eat. Are we allowed to lick our fingers after?"

"Who am I to discourage such delights?" He asked, eyes twinkling. She had such fun finding out, licking her lips. Pushing aside the side bolster between them, she shared his, so closer, relaxing, where they just talked, relaxed, and laughed, as they shared from the charcoal grill, a large selection that was placed between them consisting of Shish Taouk, Lamb Kofta, prawns, local fish, grilled vegetables with rice. A good variety.

So enthused with the different food, she insisted on feeding him after she had tried something, moaning with pleasure with the different spices, and tenderness of the cooked meat. His warm mouth on her fingers sent tingling sensations through her, warming her. His eyes darkening with approval. Followed by a selection of Arabic sweets and a fruit platter.