Sheikh's Bed (Complete)

Chapter 11

"Now I truly cannot move."

Tamir's arms were wrapped around her while she spooned him.

It was the warmest feeling in the world.

"I'd believe you if you were sixty," she murmured through her smile as she caressed his forearms. It was the only part of her body she could move.

"You would allow me to make love to you if I were sixty?" Genuine awe laced his voice and caused her to shake with laughter.

"I'm sure you'll be just as handsome. I'd probably consider it."

"Fortunately, I would be able to provide well for you and hopefully still be able to have you."

"I don't care about that, Tamir."

"You should." His arm tightened around her a bit.

Dawn was edging the horizon, and despite the languid glow settling over her exhausted body, his words turned her head toward him. "But I don't. I'm so proud of you and your accomplishments, but it's not all you are."

He held her chin. "If I was not who I am, I never would have achieved the accomplishments. They are entwined."

"True. But I just want you to know that I can see past all this," she rolled over completely in his arms to face him, "to you."

Tamir slid his head forward on the pillow until their noses almost touched. His eyes were pools of midnight as dark as his hair: direct but kind and perceptive. "I wish to know what you want from life. Why did you choose a journalism career?"

"Dad wanted me to go into politics because he-"

"I did not ask about your father. We are taking about you."

He was right. She smiled before speaking. "I want to see the world. I want to know the world. And share knowledge and experiences with other people."

Tamir's smile was soft. "It is a profession perfectly suited to you. Keep your passion about it and you will do well."

He turned over in bed suddenly, his arms slipping from her as he looked toward the door.

Glancing back at her he rose from the bed and wrapped the gold blanket around his waist before making his way to the bedroom door.

He barely had it open when a black and orange terror slipped through.

Karen's laughter refused to be smothered by her hand, especially when Nairi began pouncing on Tamir's makeshift toga.

Later, Karen was sitting on the floor of Tamir's study, rolling a ball to the cub, when a throat cleared at the door.

She looked up to see Nidal, whose eyes quickly left her to stare at Tamir.

"Good morning," he began. "Hopefully I did not interrupt."

"No. You may come in," Tamir replied from his desk.

"I trust you've had breakfast?" Nidal inquired.

"Yes."

Karen wanted to snicker at Tamir's smile, but continued to play with Nairi while pretending not to listen.

"I wanted to remind you that the Grand Prix is tomorrow. You usually attend."

Karen wasn't sure if that was his usual tone, but he sounded hesitant. Likely due to her being there.

"I do," Tamir answered. "I have had a lot on my plate as of late. But give me an hour or so to mull it over."

He handed Nidal several papers. "Can you make sure Haseem receives these? They are signed; it all appears to be in order."