In Her Name

by Esther Mitchell

  "I don't need an explanation," he murmured as he drew nearer, pulled to her by a force beyond his control. It wasn't exactly the truth; eventually he would need to know how and why she came into his life. For this moment, however, he didn't care. All he wanted was to explore the mystery of this exotic angel before him. "Who are you?"

  Her breath grew bated, and her eyelids were heavy as smoldering heat built in her eyes. Hazy memories of a dream flitted through Matt's mind, and he blinked. He knew who she was.

  "Mukarramma."

  She startled, and her gaze cleared as she clutched her abaya closer, her eyes full of instant fear. "This... This cannot be."

  He wasn't sure what she meant, but he got the idea. A guy could only take so much rejection. Still... He told himself she hadn't rejected him; she rejected sex. Even the oddity of it didn't dampen the burst of shame. As guilt ate at him, Matt sank back and closed his eyes, giving her time to clothe herself. For reasons he didn't even try to explain to himself, he knew her modesty was important to her.

  If he tried hard enough, maybe he could block out the vision of her naked body. He doubted it. He could still hear her breathing and the soft sound wrapped around him and imprinted visions on his mind. Inwardly, he cursed his libido for getting him into this mess. Damn it, would he never learn? He could sense her gaze on him, as palpable as a touch, and his body responded with another surge of desire. Matt clenched his jaw against the almost painful needs spiraling through him, fighting the urge to beg. God help him, he still wanted her, more than he should. More than he ever needed anyone. Well, he'd blown that idea all to Hell. Worst of all, he'd probably never even learn her name.

  "Manara." Her soft voice startled him as it abruptly broke the strained silence. Willing himself under control, he rolled to look at her.

  "Excuse me?"

  "My name," she said, gazing levelly back at him, "is Manara."

  "Manara." He rolled the syllables on his tongue, liking the sound of it. It was soft, mysterious and altogether feminine. Like her. "Do you know why I'm here?"

  She huffed out a quiet sigh of exasperation. "I know a great many things, Matthew."

  Her solemn gaze hit him square in the gut. Her next words about bowled him over. "What I do not understand is how you came to maul me in my sleep."

  "Maul...? Jesus Christ, lady!" He launched himself into a sitting position in spite of the pain that lanced through him at the sudden motion. He couldn't believe she would accuse him of harming her. She might have been asleep, but he'd bet his life she was as into their kiss as he. "I. Did. Not. Maul. You. You get all of that?"

  She crossed her arms protectively across those amazing breasts, a frown marring her lovely features. "But... I was asleep. How could I..."

  He released his breath in a frustrated sound. "You're asking me? Hell, I barely know why I'm here. Besides, why are you surprised? I've heard of a lot of whores who--"

  "Whore?" She exploded from the bed, cutting him off, her face engulfed in rage. "How dare you presume to call me by any such name, Commander Raleigh! You toss that label around like filth and dump it on me like an ill-fitting coat. Is it not your own profession to accept pay for services, from he who offers the most? If I were a whore, at least it would be my own body I would barter and not men's lives! Live with your own sins, mercenary. Do not saddle me with them as well!"

  Matt sat frozen, stunned by this impassioned oration from a woman whose words and actions had, until this moment, seemed frugally used. She was glorious in her fury, like some willowy warrior-queen. Power buzzed around her like a live wire so intense he swore he could actually see it. The fire flashing in her dark eyes kindled a new desire in him. He wanted, more than anything, to know what brought this willful, breath-taking woman into the middle of the unforgiving desert.

  "Who are you?" He asked in awe, before he could halt the words. "Why are you out here in the desert? Why, if you have such a low opinion of mercenaries, did you save my life?"

  Manara's gaze lowered. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her head bowed as if in prayer. Finally, in a voice so faint he barely heard it, she replied, "Because you were injured and the fault was mine."

  Her gaze rose to meet his then, dark and pleading. "I do not believe you a monster, Matthew. However, what happened... what we nearly did here... it must not happen between us again. I am still... untouched."

  His jaw went slack as her meaning sank in. "You mean you're...?"

  She nodded, glancing away briefly before her gaze returned to his face. "Until now, I have been as pure of a man's touch as is possible. I was delivered of a woman, by a woman, and raised, tutored, and attended to by women. I may not know a man until the appointed time."

  Awkward shame filled Matt, like a randy boy caught peeping in a convent window. Manara's anger was entirely justified. He'd called her a whore, when she was a virgin. Why she curled into him the way she had was a mystery, but he found when he examined the events logically, her actions could have been entirely innocent. In the desert, nights were freezing, and she could've subconsciously sought him as a source of warmth or comfort from her obviously painful dreams. Even now, ramrod-straight at the end of the pile of cushions, she was shivering violently from the cold.

  "I'm sorry," he murmured, knowing the words were small consolation. "I promise you're safe with me. I won't harm you or let anyone else harm you. Please, come back here and get warm. You'll freeze standing there."

  She eyed him warily as she edged slowly back across the cushions. After a time, she slid beneath the thick blankets, drawing them up to her chin as she lay shivering uncontrollably. She nearly leapt away when Matt drew her close against him, tucking the blankets more securely around her.

  "Shh," he soothed, rubbing her shoulder lightly. "I wouldn't harm you for the world, Manara. I promise you're safe here."

  After several long, tense moments, she finally relaxed against him and drifted off to sleep. Matt sighed, tucking her snugly against him to add his warmth to the blankets. He told her the truth. As badly as he wanted her, he wouldn't harm her for anything in the world. With her quiet admission of innocence, she bound him more securely to her side than any sexual liaison could ever have. He wouldn't leave her to this cruel, barbaric world, where innocence was so easily torn away. He would protect her from all the predators that stalked the night. Yet, the secrets glimmering in her liquid eyes whenever she looked at him tortured Matt with doubts. Just what did this beautiful innocent have to hide?

  Chapter Six

  She was trying to make a fool of him. The voice of Allah's messenger whispered in his ear that she lied to him and kept secrets dangerous to his plans. Ra'id whirled from the window where his furious pacing carried him and fixed his glare on the woman who lounged, naked and unafraid, on his bed. He did not like the smug smile curving her lips.

  Whore! The voice in his head snarled the word and he felt dirty, ashamed. He needed to cleanse himself and pray, but he couldn't do either while she remained here, watching him. Nor could he make her leave. Not until he had what he summoned her here for.

  "You swore they would be here, woman! Where are they?"

  A languid smile spread across Black Widow's ruby-tinted lips as she stretched seductively.

  "You're too impatient," she purred silkily as she slid across the sheets and rose smoothly from the bed, unabashed in her nudity. "And far too tense."

  He wasn't about to be swayed by her lascivious posturing or suggestive comments. Did she believe this all a game? Foolish woman! His face turned beet red in rage and he thundered, "You swore to me on Holy Qur'an!"

  "And I won't be made a liar of." Her seductive mien evaporated as she yanked her clothes on, her eyes suddenly as deadly as a viper's hiss. "I said noon, dammit. I meant that!"

  Ra'id glanced at the pocket watch in his hand, his temper unabated, but at least controlled again. He would not let this Infidel woman rattle him or remove him from his cause. He had a destiny to fulfill and he would l
et no one bar his path -- least of all, this woman or her unholy Brotherhood. They were merely tools Allah chose to make use of. Eventually, their usefulness would wither away and he could rid himself of them all.

  "You have two minutes more," he muttered darkly, "and I see no one."

  "They'll be here!" The fury in her gray eyes might have cowed a less devout man. He was not so easily swayed by fear, he told himself as a chill crossed his skin. There was an aura to this woman that was terrifying, and never more so than now, as she shoved past him to the window. He didn't dare remove his attention from her as she scanned the streets below and then pointed. "There."

  He moved cautiously to look over her shoulder at where she pointed. Then he saw them. Two men, clad in desert camouflage and carrying Uzis, made their way down the narrow street, each laden with a bulging sack. Black Widow's tanned face turned toward Ra'id, and the glitter of triumph in her eyes unsettled him. Then her ruby-tinted lips turned up in a cold, calculating smile and a cold sweat broke out across the back of his neck. Perhaps he miscalculated the danger of this woman. "You'll soon have what you asked for. Now, I believe you have something for me."

  Ra'id's jaw clenched as the voice in his ear whispered he was weak, unworthy, if he let a mere woman frighten him. He was not weak. He had a plan. He could hold her captive by her desire and he knew how badly she wished for the artifacts he so easily acquired from his contacts at archeological digs around the world. He had no clue what she planned to do with them, but he had her artifacts. His was the price to name, and the power rushed to his head. She had toyed with him long enough. Now she would taste how it felt. Walking to a cabinet along the outside wall, he withdrew a small, burlap pouch.

  He didn't need to tell her what was in the pouch. Black Widow's gaze fixed on the bag and she wet her lips. "You found them."

  Cold, dark humor curved his lips. Oh, yes, the taste of power was sweet and addictive. "Indeed. You may have them, once I have seen my merchandise and verified its authenticity."

  "Verified its..." The greed melted away and that terrible fury was back, telling him he might have overplayed his hand. She slinked toward him, covering the distance with alarming speed, her eyes tinged with a red glow. His breath caught in dread. "You bastard! I've spent every penny to my name securing those damned tablets! How dare you!"

  "I dare because there is nothing to dare," he cut her off coolly, determined to not let her see fear. This woman fed off terror; he wasn't fool enough to give her such power.

  "You admitted to me when we first met that you would do anything to get these." He brandished the pouch in his hand. "I am not besotted with you. Nor am I foolish enough to believe you would never cross me. You want these?" Again, he displayed the bag, icy satisfaction winding through him at the naked hunger in her eyes. "You will get them when I am certain you have not crossed me, and not a moment before. If you have played me for a fool..." Ra'id left the threat unfinished, knowing she could well imagine her fate if she tricked him.

  Uneasiness crawled over Ra'id's scalp when the fury abruptly vanished from her face. She gave in far too easily. The chill still clung to her dove-gray eyes, telling him he might live just long enough to regret insulting her, even as she purred, "Why would I play you? We're partners. We have to trust each other."

  As if he believed that. She was a viper in disguise and he was well acquainted with the dangers of turning his back on deadly serpents. "Partners. Trust. Fine words from you, Black Widow, but I trust no one with my mission. Allah has deemed my path and it is mine alone. I make only temporary alliance."

  The cruel smirk on her face as she turned away was not comforting. He would swear Black Widow knew something he did not. From an agent of the Brotherhood of Spiders, this was not a comforting turn of events.

  *****

  Manara entered her tent on light feet, careful to remain silent as she removed her dark cloak, and then moved to stand over the occupant of her bed. Soft snores confirmed he still slept, and a tender smile curved on her lips as her heart squeezed. This situation was a dangerous one for them both. Ever since she finally came to understand her destiny, she prayed the man Ishtar would call upon her to guide would be scarred or disfigured in some hideous way. Anything to make her task easier to bear without falter. Not that she was so shallow as to believe she would be immune to such a man, but it would be easier to recall the consequences. She was not so fortunate. Though his body bore scars of his life, Matthew Raleigh was a handsome man with hair the shade of rich river mud and eyes roiling with the power of the mighty Tigris -- a power she was certain he was unaware he possessed. He wore his thirty-three years well, even if the weathered lines on his face told a story she didn't yet understand. He unsettled her, his obvious appeal heightened by the soul within, tempting her when she was strong and nearly overwhelming her in moments of weakness. Ishtar forgive her, but this man's presence was not at all difficult to tolerate.

  Manara sighed as she sank to the cushions beside him, careful not to jostle him awake. In her current state, she feared she would be unable to resist him. She was lonely and afraid, and his spirit called to her until she was nearly powerless to resist. She found excuses to avoid him when she could, and told herself it was because she did not want him to learn how she came to rescue him. However, she knew she avoided him because she so looked forward to the times when her duties permitted her to be by his side, it frightened her. She knew he wouldn't make any sexual demands of her -- since the night she admitted to being a virgin, he was nothing if not proper toward her. Manara squeezed her eyes shut against the pressure of tears. He must never know how her heart prayed to be cherished in just such a way again. The reverent imprint of his kiss was imbedded on her soul, and she craved its return more than her next breath. Her gaze landed on his lips and her pulse skipped a beat as desire crowded her chest. Manara had no illusions about her physical desire for Matthew Raleigh. Unlike him, she knew the genesis of this passion between them. Unfortunately, she also knew how dangerous and forbidden it was. As a child, she swore she would not be a slave to this desire. She would not give him the chance to break her heart or the power to destroy her destiny. No matter how much she wanted him, he was beyond her reach. She could not love or make love with this man.

  Manara reached to tug the blankets gently back over his bare chest, unabashedly aware it was just an excuse to touch him, as so many motions were these days. It was as close as she would permit herself to be to him.

  She froze as her eyes fell on the thin, crisscrossed lines of the scar on his left pectoral. She saw them every time she dressed his wounds. It mocked her with the terrible secrets hidden beneath her destiny. The debts she paid for another tasted like ash as she stared at his scar. It was a perfectly shaped eight-pointed star, ringed by an equally perfect circular pattern. As if carved there by an unseen hand.

  He will appear as if touched by the Goddess Herself and he will do Her bidding in his time.

  Manara swallowed hard against the memory of the temple Oracle's prophesy. As a child, she prayed the vision would never come to pass. Over the months she studied him, she knew something about Matthew Raleigh was different, but she wasn't certain how until the moment on the docks of Sidon when she first met his gaze. She'd never known such fear in her life.

  Instinctively, her hand went to her neck where the silver necklace of her station lay, life-warm against her skin. They were a perfect match, her necklace and his scar. Duty and Pain. When she first discovered his scar after rescuing him from the canyon, the fear and dismay nearly overwhelmed her. She almost let his wounds claim him that day, convinced it was the only way to escape a future she did not want. She was not ready to take up her destiny yet, though she felt the pull of power at work, a will greater than her own. She could not turn her back on him. Not then, and not now.

  Manara's hand trembled as she traced a finger lightly over the scar. The feel of smooth, warm flesh beneath her fingers catapulted her into a vision she was already too late
to escape.

  Desire curled deep within her womb as her hand covered the branded mark on his chest, just below his shoulder. She met his dark, heated gaze from where she straddled his body, fear and fascination coiled within her. She knew this was wrong and yet she could not help herself. Still, they remained unjoined. She could still end this before the oaths she swore were broken. Uncertain which she wanted more, she rallied the last of her defenses.

  "We should not do this, my lord."

  His hands grasped her hips, and she felt him pressed against her center. "Tell me why we should stop."

  "It is forbidden."

  His smile clenched a fist of desire in her belly, even as she felt the nudge of him against her and gasped. Her thighs quivered with the effort of resisting him. The skim of his hands over her body, from breast to hip, roused an unbearable ache deep inside. She met his gaze again and the emotions there were a flood that nearly swept her away. She bit her lip, knowing she must remain strong.

  "Love is never forbidden," he murmured the words, and her heart forgot to beat as she absorbed them. He was not making this easy.

  "Ours is." She clung stubbornly to her position, as terrified of the Goddess' wrath as she was desperate for this man's touch. "Inanna demands it."

  His expression grew somber and his hands left a trail of warm gooseflesh over her thighs. However, the pain in his eyes touched her more deeply and she wished more than anything in the world to heal him.

  "I have conquered kingdoms I care nothing for, created an empire I would give up in an instant, all for you. And still you would deny me?"

  Her eyes widened as dismay wound through her. He could not mean these things he said. "You did those things in Her Blessed name."

  "And I would sacrifice them all for you, sweet Mukarramma."

  It broke a sacred commandment of Inanna, and they would pay for lifetimes to come for the crime, but she no longer cared. She stared into his eyes even as she sank onto him, and awareness of her body disappeared in the joining of souls destined to grace the heavens.