“Of course it does,” Fahim said with a smile. “Laura loves this place. She had it installed not that long ago. Do you want to see?”

  “Oh yes, please,” Rose said, because it was true. There had been precious little time in her life for anything like stargazing before, and she watched with interest as Fahim flicked a switch to set the advanced telescope whirring to life.

  “What do you want to see?” he asked, tapping the display. “Mind you, the stars here might be different from what you've seen at home.”

  “Don't get to see many stars from a tour bus,” Rose said with a grin. “Polaris.”

  Fahim blinked and then keyed something into the display pad.

  “Polaris, the north star. Is there a story there?”

  “Not much of one. When I was little and in the Girl Scouts, my scout leader pulled out a telescope and showed us how to find Polaris, how people could depend on it to always guide them. For the ancient voyagers, it was always there. It was like…”

  “Finding a way home,” Fahim said, and a shiver ran up her spine.

  “Yes.”

  They were silent as Fahim looked into the eyepiece, fiddling with the telescope a little longer, but then he stepped back.

  “There you are,” he said. “Take a look.”

  Suddenly, she didn't want to. She didn't want to take her eyes off of him. She didn't want to look away from Fahim, but she forced herself forward, looking down into the eyepiece.

  It shouldn't have surprised her that the telescope at the royal palace of Yeni was far nicer than what her old scout leader had been able to afford. The gleam of Jupiter was bright and vivid, the curve of the planet almost visible.

  “Oh,” she said softly, her breath suddenly gone. “It's still there, even after all this time.”

  Rose heard her own words and flinched. It sounded ridiculous—of course Jupiter was still there. She started to apologize for sounding like such a little idiot, but Fahim made a satisfied noise.

  “It is, no matter where you are or what you do. It's still there. Much like home, even if you haven't seen it in a long time.”

  Rose stepped back from the telescope and turned around. Fahim was much closer to her than she thought he would be, and suddenly she was looking up at him. In the dim lights of the observatory, his eyes looked nearly black, but there was something almost painfully soft and sensual about his mouth, his parted lips. He looked hungry, as if he were suddenly starved for something only she could provide.

  Her hand rose up as if to touch his cheek, but she couldn't quite bring herself to complete the gesture. Fahim captured her hand, pressing it to his cheek and she gasped at the sensations running through her.

  “Want me,” Rose whispered, barely aware of what she was saying.

  “Since I laid eyes on you tonight, I have wanted you,” he said fiercely, and he took her hand, bringing it with a sudden, stormy passion to his lips. Rose let out a quick breath as she felt the softness of his mouth nuzzling the cup of her palm, and the next moment, she was in his arms, dragged to his body and whimpering as his mouth crashed down on hers.

  The kiss they had shared before was nothing compared to this. If that had been a fire, this was an inferno, raging out of control as Fahim crushed her against his body, devouring her as she gave herself up to being devoured. It should have been too much, but instead it was just right. She had asked him to want her, and it was because she couldn't stand to be alone in wanting him this much.

  “Please,” she found herself saying. “Fahim, please.”

  To her dismay, it made him pause, pulling back though his strong hands stayed on her shoulders. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. Right at this moment, she would have staked her life on it, but he gazed at her as if he was searching her face for something.

  “Fahim…”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and urgent. “Are you utterly sure? Rose, I would never want to be someone you regretted, someone who hurt you.”

  It should have brought up shades of her past. It should have made her hesitate, but instead, all Rose could do was laugh, as if she had somehow been entirely freed, released from some terrible weight that had been pressing down upon her.

  “I am sure,” she said breathlessly. “I have never been more sure of anyone else in my life, Fahim, never sure of anyone like I am sure of you.”

  Fahim hesitated another moment, and then he simply took her in his arms again, this time scooping her up in a princess carry as if she weighed nothing at all. Rose marveled at his strength, and then his lips were on hers again, slower and sweeter this time even as he carried her to the couch. It was perfectly soft as he laid her on it, the cushions sending up a soft scent of something crisp and floral.

  Rose thought that he would come to rest beside her, but instead he stood by the couch, looking down on her with that same banked need that had flared up in their kiss.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “You are so very beautiful,” Fahim whispered. “I can never look at you enough.”

  Rose found herself smiling up at him.

  “I love to look at you, too,” she offered shyly. “I would…would you let me see more?”

  She thought that she had offended Fahim with her bluntness, but instead Fahim only gave her a flashing grin, his teeth white against his dark skin. He didn't exactly strip for her (though for perhaps the first time, the idea had some appeal), but he was slow and deliberate in his motions as he removed his clothing, never breaking eye contact, his hands removing his clothes with a sweet, sure grace.

  He was, Rose thought dreamily, one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. It was more than just the strong, lithe body or the gracefulness of his movements. It was the intensity of his gaze as well as the hunger she saw there. He wanted her. For the first time, she realized that the bone-deep need in her had found an equal partner.

  The moment he was naked, Fahim returned to the bed to kiss her again, lying down next to her and capturing her mouth again in a deep and longing kiss.

  “Perfect beauty,” he murmured. “Everything I have ever wanted.”

  Rose lay back with a sigh as Fahim started to pull her clothing off, his mouth worshiping every bit of skin he bared. She had always been shy about removing her clothing in the past, but right now, there was no room for shyness at all as Fahim showed her how much he loved every inch of her skin as it was revealed.

  By the time she was down to her underwear, she was already shivering and hanging on to him for dear life. The sweetness of her skin against his dazzled her, and she clung to him, wanting more and more. He reached back to unfasten her bra, and Rose whimpered with surprised pleasure when he took one pink nipple into his mouth, laving the hard peak with unfailing care and gentleness.

  “Oh!”

  Fahim pulled back, keeping one comforting hand on her hip.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly. “Was that too much, too sensitive?”

  “No, no…it's just…”

  “What?”

  “I never knew that that could feel so good.”

  A number of different emotions flickered across Fahim's face, and he reached up to run gentle fingers along her cheek, the gesture so sweet her heart ached.

  “Let me show you how very good it can be,” he murmured, and he was still until he saw her nod.

  He mouthed her breasts, which had never felt so very sensitive before, and the pleasure at the very core of her surged like a flood, pushing and pulling until she thought she might burst out of her skin. She was just on the edge of fraying entirely to bits when Fahim moved down her rounding belly, down to the place between her legs. With a gentle touch, he pulled her underwear down her legs, and then he kissed his way from her knees up her thighs.

  “Here, can I look?” he asked, pressing a gentle hand against her hip, and biting her lip, Rose opened for him. There were perhaps a million things going through her head just then, worry and exhilaration and fear and wonder, and then he sealed his mouth to her sensitive flesh, driving all those thoughts away except one.

  Oh God.

  Whatever Rose thought she knew about sex went right out the window, and instead, she found herself reduced to nothing more than sensations and pleasure held together by her grasp on Fahim's hair. She lost herself utterly to the pleasure he gave her, swept away in his skilled and heated touch. His fingers, his lips, his tongue—the sensations all came together to make her wail with need.

  Fahim's touch swept her higher and higher, bringing her up to some peak that she couldn't help but reach for, and then just at the moment where she would have tumbled over for sure, she shook her head hard and pulled away, making Fahim sit up in alarm.

  “Rose, are you all right, did I—”

  “I am so close,” she panted, “so very close—”

  “Rose…”

  “I want you,” she said, looking at him beseechingly. She knew that she likely looked wrecked after everything he had done to her, but it didn't matter in the least.

  “Please, Fahim, I want you. I want you so very much. I want you with me, please.”

  Understanding swept over him, and the next moment, Fahim pushed her onto her back. Through the clear dome of the observatory, she caught a glimpse of the star-dazzled sky, and then Fahim's welcome warmth and weight was on her, his mouth over hers, and the blunt tip of his manhood probing her entrance.

  “Tell me if it's something you do not want,” he murmured. “Tell me if it is too much for you.”

  She nodded, but there was no fear in her at all as Fahim entered her. There was only pleasure as he sank into her to the hilt, one long sweet motion that only pushed the heat and the pleasure in her higher.

  “Oh, Fahim,” she murmured, and when he started again to ask if she was all right, she wrapped her legs around him in answer.

  “Want you,” she murmured, and with a groan, Fahim began to move, thrusting into her with a rhythm that felt as natural as the turn of the stars or the pull of the tide.

  Her body remembered the pleasure he had been giving her, and it responded. This time, Rose let it grow high and hot, heedless of any danger and trusting Fahim to take care of her. In response to her trust, her body opened, and some timeless while later, as Fahim thrust into her, murmuring sweet things, hot things into her ear, she spilled over, the tide crashing to shore at last.

  Rose gave in to the pleasure as if her body had been made to do nothing else, and she shouted, clinging to Fahim as the heat finally won over. It was like the crash of a symphony, the boom of a timpani drum. It was music, and she had never been able to resist music, not when the musician was as skilled as Fahim.

  She drifted in a soft gray space as she came down, smiling dreamily as Fahim found his fulfillment as well. She clung to him, and somehow, she knew that his pleasure was the match of hers, everything she had ever wanted without being aware that that was exactly what she wanted.

  In the calm afterwards, she lay in Fahim's arms, almost purring as he kissed her hair. She was still a long way from thinking about what might come next or the consequences of what they had done, and she would put that time off as long as she could. This was so good, so right, and when Fahim stirred, she uttered a soft sigh at the thought that it might be over already.

  “I haven't been with anyone in a long time,” Fahim said, and then as if it was costing him a great deal, “I didn't do this on a whim, Rose. You are far too precious to only be a whim.”

  She waited, but he didn't say anything else. She looked up into his dark eyes, reading a tension there that hadn't been there before. Suddenly, she realized what he was saying, and she took a deep breath.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered, and Fahim grinned suddenly, bright as the sun, and he gathered her into his arms for a kiss.

  One kiss turned into two, and then three, and then half a dozen more, but Fahim stopped, shaking his head.

  “I want you in my suite, in my bed,” he said, and she smiled up at him.

  “Only if we can keep doing exactly what we're doing right now,” she said, and he laughed.

  “I don't think that will be a problem. Come on, let’s get dressed. We can't actually run through the palace naked.”

  They didn't run through the palace naked, but they were barefoot and terribly rumpled. They held hands the entire way, dashing through the silent halls in the dead of the night, and for once, Rose wasn't worried about a single thing.

  11

  A week later, Rose smiled wryly as Jamila and Hasan ran off with Laura, shaking her head at the mess they had left. She had just about gotten them to put their instruments away, but the music stands, the scratch paper, and the books were another story. She was just gathering up the music stands to stow in the back when the door opened again and Fahim came in.

  “You just missed the children,” she said, and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “Yes, because I have come for another rousing performance of ‘Clair de Lune’ on Jamila's recorder,” he said.

  “Hey, everyone's got a favorite,” she replied, and then when he came to hug her from behind, she murmured softly with pleasure. “Come on, let me at least get the music room in order,” she said, and with a sigh, Fahim pulled back and went to clear the desk.

  “So what are you doing this afternoon?” Fahim asked, and she shot him a mock-sultry look over her shoulder.

  “Oh, I don't know,” she said. “I was maybe thinking of hooking up with this really handsome lawyer, maybe inviting him back to my place, letting things run their course…”

  “All right, but if things fall through with him, you'll definitely be available for me, right?”

  Rose laughed, and Fahim came closer.

  “I was thinking we should go out,” he said, his tone determinedly casual, and Rose frowned, chewing on her lower lip.

  “You know I would love to, but we're keeping things quiet for now, right? I don't know if it's a great idea. We thought we were doing so well when we went to that concert and—”

  Fahim took Rose's hand and she met his eyes. “Rose. Please have a little faith in me. What happened last time was a regrettable incident, but we can't deny ourselves every pleasure in the hopes of avoiding trouble. Some risks are worth it.”

  “Risks,” Rose repeated, and Fahim nodded firmly.

  “Yes. Rose, you are more than worth any risk I may be taking, and I hope you trust me to evaluate any risks that might hurt you.”

  “Of course I trust you,” Rose said right away, and Fahim smiled at her, bringing her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss.

  “Then let me take you out tonight. I've done the groundwork, every step has been thoroughly vetted and examined. I am very thorough, and I promise you, I wouldn't put you heedlessly at risk.”

  Rose could feel her old fears pulling her back. She had grown used to the safety of the palace, but now she could feel how it bound her as well, how it trapped her and kept her inside. It would be so easy to simply let it hold her, to grow only so far as the walls allowed her to.

  She shook her head, because despite all that safety, despite the security that she had thought was the only thing that mattered, she trusted Fahim.

  “All right,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Where are we going tonight?”

  Fahim winked at her, leading her out of the music room.

  “Some place they'll never think to look for us…”

  Two hours, a private jet, and a cab ride later, Rose turned to Fahim with an impressed look.

  “Okay, I'm glad you didn't tell me to guess where we were going, because Tel Aviv was really not on the list at all. I was more thinking a trip to a national park or maybe some place up in the mountains.”

  “We can do those too, at some point,” Fahim said as the cab came to a stop in a modest neighborhood lined with trees. Fahim got out first, handing Rose out as if she were a princess, and then he took her hand.

  “Come on,” he said. “I think you are going to enjoy this.”

  The house he took her to had a small courtyard filled with flowers, a garden fit for royalty. The air was heavy with the scent of something Rose was pretty sure she had only smelled imitations of in expensive perfume, and the entire place had a fairy tale quality to it.

  When Fahim pressed the doorbell, a pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman came to the door and ushered them to the back of the house. She opened a heavy door to them, and Rose breathed in perfume of a different kind: waxy rosin, fresh wood shavings, polish, and curing sheep's-gut strings.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, and she looked around in wonder at the violins hung up on the wall, some little more than frames, others complete and gorgeous in the afternoon sunlight.

  “Fahim,” she whispered, and he nudged her as an old man rose from a table at the rear and approached them with a warm smile.

  “Welcome! You must be Fahim Khalid,” he said. “I am Elazar Dahan, and this is my shop…”

  Entranced, Rose listened as the man told them about his business, how before him, it had been his father's business, and his father's before him. He showed them instruments that were more than two hundred years old, took them around to see every part of his operation, some of which had not changed in centuries.

  Rose had no idea how long they had been in Elazar's shop when the old man paused, tilting his head at her.

  “I see you have a good eye,” he said, and she blinked.

  “I do?”

  “Yes. Over and over, I see your gaze turn towards this beauty.”

  He went to the wall and took down an extraordinary-looking violin, the wood darker than she was used to, the curve of the body sensuous in its perfection.

  “This is a violin made similar to a model we used almost a hundred years ago. You see the bridge is a little higher than a modern violin's and the body a little thicker and heavier.”

  “It's gorgeous,” Fahim said, and Elazar turned to him.

  “Would you care to play?”

  “Oh, it's been years,” Fahim said, but Rose suddenly needed to hear Fahim play, to have that part of him that she could sense he did not allow out any longer.