The Warrior's Princess Prize

by Carol Townend

  Jasim rose. ‘What’s amiss?’

  ‘Hunter’s in here. He must be hiding.’ Half-expecting anger, for the concubines had warned her that men could be impatient if denied their marriage rights, she gave Jasim a shaky smile, lifted the cloth from a platter and picked up a date. She began to search. Behind the birdcage, no. Under the side table, no. Behind a heap of tasselled cushions, no. ‘A thousand apologies, Jasim, I thought he was downstairs. We shall have to get him out.’

  ‘Hunter?’

  ‘A pet monkey. Your presence must have startled him.’

  Jasim looked at her, face unreadable. ‘You have a pet monkey.’

  ‘Aye. He belonged to one of my sisters, I care for him now.’ She went back to the bed, dropped to her knees and peered underneath. ‘Hunter, come here.’

  Beady eyes gleamed from the shadows. ‘Come on, boy.’ She held out the date. Hunter snatched it from her and allowed her to lift him out.

  ‘Good boy. You are not really alarmed, are you? This is Jasim, my husband.’ Cheeks hot with embarrassment, Zorahaida sent Jasim a wobbly smile and hoped he didn’t think she was deliberately delaying their union. ‘I... I am sorry, Jasim. He will get used to you, I am sure.’

  She opened the door and put Hunter firmly outside. When she turned back, Jasim was sitting on the bed, a crooked smile on his face.

  ‘You’re laughing,’ she said, bemused and intensely relieved.

  ‘Not at you, my sweet, never at you.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come here, wife.’

  Moments later, Zorahaida was sitting on his knee as her husband studied her. ‘You’re nervous,’ he murmured. ‘You have no need to be.’

  Her chin lifted. ‘I’m not nervous.’

  He kissed her cheek, murmuring. ‘Don’t lie to me, Zorahaida. You are as nervous as I.’

  She frowned in disbelief. ‘You’re not nervous.’

  ‘Am I not?’ He shrugged, and the lights danced in his amber eyes. ‘Believe what you will, I do not make a habit of this.’

  Zorahaida felt her jaw drop. ‘You are innocent? You have no harem?’

  He laughed. ‘I am not innocent, though I do not have a harem.’

  Jasim reached up to gently remove her veil and headdress.

  He didn’t have a harem. As he carefully examined her headdress, Zorahaida’s mind worked. That didn’t sound as though he had other wives. It occurred to her that one of the subjects they had not touched on was whether Jasim was already married. Concubines aside, Zorahaida knew that many men had more than one wife. If a man had the means to keep several wives, and if he swore to treat them all equally, he could have as many as he wished.

  Her skin chilled. It was a shock to realise that the idea that Jasim might already be married didn’t sit well with her. She knew she didn’t love him, but since she was his wife, she wanted to be the only one. She wanted what her sisters had in Spain: a husband who would cherish her all her life. A man who wanted her to cherish him in return.

  She felt herself smile. Apparently, life with her father hadn’t succeeded in erasing the Spanish side of her character. The part she had inherited from her mother remained intact.

  ‘There are pins keeping this in place?’ Jasim asked. He was entirely focused on removing her veil and headdress.

  ‘Aye, start at the crown of my head and behind my ear.’

  Did Jasim have other wives?

  He kissed her cheek again, and a flash of awareness went through her. It was fortunate that she found his touch reassuring. As he deftly set to work on the pins, she noticed his fingers weren’t quite steady. He had spoken the truth, he was nervous. Clearly, this wasn’t the moment to ask him whether he was already married.

  Oddly, she was feeling less shaky. He was handling her with such delicacy. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for her silver hairpins, she could hear them tinkle as they hit the floor. She studied him as he worked. How handsome he was. His amber eyes were framed with thick eyelashes. They were simply stunning. His nose was well defined and beneath his beard, his jaw was strong. His skin fascinated her. It was so much paler than hers. His looks told her that, like her, he had mixed ancestry. Did he inherit his looks from his mother?

  He had finished with the pins. With a quiet smile, he eased off her headdress and veil and Zorahaida rubbed her scalp with a sigh of relief.

  ‘Thank you, I wasn’t very comfortable.’

  His smile grew as he reached about her and brought her hair over her shoulder. ‘I don’t imagine you were; it is far too hot to wear such things. And your hair is too glorious to hide.’

  Zorahaida found herself frowning at his turban and before she knew it, she boldly reached for it. ‘Is this hot too? Where does it undo?’

  She heard his sharp intake of breath and watched dark colour run into his face. She saw something else. Stark hunger. Whatever Jasim’s reasons for marrying her, he desired her. She was not going to let shyness and naivety mess this up.

  This was going to be perfect.

  He guided her fingers to the sapphire in the centre. ‘First, remove this brooch.’

  Carefully, Zorahaida unfastened the pin and set the sapphire on a nearby ledge. Jasim shifted slightly beneath her and she became aware that his breathing had changed. It had deepened and she received the impression he was struggling to control it. He was caressing her back with one hand, keeping her firmly on his knee. And, inexperienced though she was, she knew enough to recognise that he was fully aroused. She mustn’t disappoint him.

  She reached up with both hands and slowly, holding her breath, unwound his head-covering. Waves of glorious rose gold tumbled out and she did what she had been aching to do, she slid her fingers into it, teasing it out, releasing the faint fragrance of sage mingled with a scent she already recognised as being unique to Jasim. Her mouth dried. His hair was silky and—she hid a smile—so beautiful. Fire and gold.

  ‘Now this,’ she murmured, ‘is truly glorious.’

  He gave an inarticulate murmur, pressed his face into her neck and somehow, she ended up lying on the bed with Jasim half on top of her.

  ‘Zorahaida, my wife. With your permission...?’

  She gave a shaky nod and watched his eyes darken.

  Their mouths met in the gentlest of matings. She loved that he was handling her gently. He stroked her clothes aside, his touch determined, yet as light as gossamer. The mix of resolution and subtlety was incredibly arousing. For her part, she was less gentle with him. She dragged up his tunic and almost tore it from him. When she finally bared his chest, she was stunned into silence and simply stared. She had no idea a man’s muscles would be so pronounced. Or so attractive. She yearned to touch, to taste. Dazzled with desire, she bit her lip, wrestling with a rush of embarrassment that this new husband of hers, a man who was virtually a stranger, could elicit such a powerful, visceral response.

  His amber gaze met hers. ‘Don’t think, my princess. Follow your instincts.’

  As one, they reached for each other. He caressed her flank, waking her body to more heat and more sensation. Her breasts ached, her womb clenched. Shocked by the intensity, half-fearing she’d lose herself in a storm of passion, she took his hand and kissed it.

  He had elegant hands. Long, strong fingers, with callouses from swordplay. A small scar ran up his inner arm. ‘You have the body and the scars of a warrior,’ she murmured, kissing the callouses before running her tongue along the length of his scar.

  His breathing quickened.

  ‘You like that, husband?’

  He let out a choked laugh. ‘It is unbearable. Don’t stop, I beg you.’

  She kissed his mouth and was unable to pull back. Their kisses were hot, open-mouthed kisses, drugging in their intensity and when they had finished their clothes had gone. As she kissed his shoulder, she was delighted to discover that Jasim seemed bent on matching he
r kiss for kiss.

  He was kissing her everywhere. When he kissed her neck, she felt the sensation in her breasts. She smothered a gasp.

  He lifted his head. Warm amber eyes met hers. ‘All is well?’

  She managed a nod. ‘The concubines didn’t tell me everything. I feel as though I’m melting.’

  His eyes glittered. ‘Excellent.’

  Was it? ‘It’s hard to breathe too, that can’t be right.’

  ‘Zorahaida, that sounds perfect. I can’t breathe either.’

  He caressed her stomach, tracing gentle circles on her skin with his fingertips and her breasts ached. She wanted his touch there too. The desire was so powerful, she frowned.

  He noticed, of course, that intent gaze didn’t miss a thing. ‘Zorahaida, what’s amiss?’

  She hesitated. The women in the harem hadn’t said anything about asking one’s lover for more caresses. She should be the one pleasuring him, not the other way about.

  ‘I... I should be giving pleasure, not receiving it.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Jasim said. ‘We should both have pleasure.’ He was lying naked beside her, one leg slung possessively over hers. He was leaning his head on his hand and when he moved, that incredible rose-gold hair brushed her shoulder, sending tingles everywhere. ‘In any case, you are giving me more pleasure than I’d dreamed possible.’

  Zorahaida swallowed. He was certainly fully aroused, she could feel him, hard and hot against her hip. She knew what she should do...

  Cheeks burning, she eased back. ‘My friends in the harem told me a husband would welcome my touch everywhere. Especially here.’ Boldly, she reached for him.

  He jerked in her hand and hissed out a breath.

  Tentatively, she began stroking him. ‘Tell me how best to please you. Like this?’

  His face went tight and his throat worked. Gentle fingers closed on hers. ‘Only if you want to.’

  ‘I want to.’ Surprisingly, that was the truth. When Zorahaida had listened to the concubines talking, she’d been baffled, never imagining for a moment she could do such a thing. With Jasim, she could do anything. Which reminded her, there was more. The women had advised her to use her mouth on him. Men, the women had insisted, loved it. They’d warned her to mask her distaste. ‘Master this,’ they’d said, giggling knowingly. ‘And you master the man.’

  Well, that was an intriguing idea.

  Using her free hand, she nudged and pushed him on to his back.

  ‘Zorahaida?’

  ‘Lie still. I want to try something.’

  She kissed his chest and ran her tongue over the fine golden hairs running down his body. A choked moan urged her on. His scent surrounded her; musky and masculine, it both aroused and reassured. So far, she’d not felt any of the distaste the women had mentioned. Perhaps she never would.

  ‘Zorahaida, no, this can wait until we know each other better.’

  Despite his words, his voice urged her on, it was thick with what she recognised was desire. He was lying against the pillows with his eyes closed, a dark slash of colour across his cheekbones. His face was tight with expectation. She had no doubt that he wanted this. She shifted over him to give him the most intimate of kisses.

  ‘Zorahaida, that’s...’

  His voice faded and she felt his hand on her head, carefully guiding her.

  It wasn’t as she expected. He tasted salty. The intense silence told her she was doing something right, all she could hear was the thud of her heart. She had the impression he was struggling for control.

  Covering him with kisses, she took him fully into her mouth. The harsh intake of breath and the tightening of his muscles were her guide. She kissed, she licked, she did everything the women had talked about, until...

  His chest heaved and the fingers tightened on her scalp. ‘Enough.’

  He hauled her into his arms, took her mouth with his and gave her a mind-numbing kiss.

  She pulled back, breathless. ‘I dare say I need practice.’

  ‘Practice?’ He huffed out a breath, he was laughing again. ‘You are a natural.’

  Zorahaida smiled. Laughter was the last thing she’d expected when bedding her husband. It was wonderful. Such a blessing. They were strangers and laughter gave her hope that one day they might become friends.

  ‘Your turn.’

  Jasim eased her on to her back and nuzzled her breasts. As his hair trailed across her, she trembled with need. Friendship? Beautiful though this was, it was dawning on her that with this man, friendship might not be enough. He took turns in kissing first one breast and then the other. Tiny, tantalising kisses that had her arching encouragingly towards him.

  He fondled and kissed her so tenderly that she barely noticed when he pushed her legs apart.

  A light touch made her jump.

  ‘Relax. Let me pleasure you.’

  Confused and slightly embarrassed at the intimacy, she gave a jerky nod.

  ‘Jasim, what are you doing?’

  ‘I hope to give you joy.’

  Deft fingers sent shivers of delight running through her and she jerked again. Why had no one mentioned this? What he was doing was positively indecent. It was fabulous. She’d had no idea her body was capable of feeling this way.

  The tension was winding tighter and tighter. Zorahaida was getting hotter and more restless by the moment. She moaned and wriggled. She wasn’t so innocent that she didn’t know what she was asking for. The girls in the harem had aroused her curiosity long ago, and one evening, after returning to her lonely bed in the tower, she had begun to experiment. She knew what her body liked. And what she had learned paled into insignificance as compared to what Jasim was doing to her.

  ‘Jasim, please.’

  ‘Relax, my sweet.’ His voice warmed, taking on that slight edge of humour. ‘I am doing my best to ensure that you want me as much as I want you.’

  That did it. The instant she realised that her pleasure was important to this man, the sweet moment of oblivion swept her away. Blind with bliss, her body convulsed.

  In a haze of pleasure, she was vaguely conscious of Jasim kissing his way back up her body and of that strong body settling between her legs.

  In a distant part of her memory, she recalled the concubines mentioning that there was likely to be pain, the first time. Entirely unafraid, she met her husband’s gaze. If anyone could take away the pain, she thought, it would be Jasim.

  ‘I will be gentle, I swear,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’

  Thankful he could control himself and that he cared about her well-being, she nodded. Pain? Perhaps. He was so much larger than her, in every way. She could feel him against her thigh, fully aroused.

  Bedclothes rustled as he bent over her, kissing her breasts, toying with them, suckling even as his hands moved down her belly, exploring, both teasing and tempting.

  The ache inside returned, stronger than before. His every stroke had her trembling all over again. She shifted impatiently and when he positioned himself, she moaned in relief.

  He entered swiftly, she felt a slight pinch and he braced himself on his arms and looked at her.

  ‘Zorahaida? All is well?’

  She smiled and nipped his shoulder and he pushed fully in. It was a strange sensation, not at all as she had expected. ‘We are one,’ she murmured.

  ‘Aye.’

  He rocked out a little and then back in. The pinching sensation had gone. The pain had been negligible, likely because he’d taken care to arouse her.

  Jasim was a fine man. Zorahaida’s last thought as she gave herself up to more sensation was that nothing she’d been taught had prepared her for Jasim.

  With Jasim, reality was better.

  Chapter Eight

  The rest of the day was filled with earthly delights.

  Zorahaida and Jasim made lo
ve countless times and in countless ways, breaking apart to sip wine from Venetian glasses they discovered on a ledge by the bed. Sama or Maura must have prepared well earlier, for there were pastries too, delicate almond pastries that melted in the mouth, and fat black grapes.

  At length, a soft footfall outside the door reminded them of the world outside. Jasim left the bed, padded to the door and opened it a crack. Zorahaida lay where she was, wrapped in bliss, and admired her husband’s well-formed body. Her gaze took in that wild mane of hair, those wide shoulders, that slim waist and the sensuous curve of his buttocks. His legs were incredibly long, no wonder he was so tall. The man was perfectly proportioned, he made her melt just to look at him.

  The concubines hadn’t told her the whole. None of them had ever hinted that sharing your body with a sensuous, attractive man could be so addictive.

  Zorahaida had no illusions about love. This wasn’t about love for either of them. Notwithstanding, that didn’t stop her wanting him. All over again. It was not a sin to enjoy one’s husband. And how blessed she was, for he seemed to be genuinely kind.

  Jasim went out on to the landing. There was a brief pause before his voice floated back to her.

  ‘How hungry are you, my love? Someone has left us some rice with spiced chicken.’

  ‘I’m hungry,’ she said, as he came back in with another tray.

  He’d called her his love. She reminded herself that it didn’t mean much, that it was simply a phrase lovers used.

  Jasim set the tray next to the wine, bright hair gleaming. He was a lion, a beautiful golden lion. Her lion.

  Her stomach clenched. Was he hers? In the rush of joining with him, she’d still not found out whether he was already married.

  Since Zorahaida’s sisters had gone, she had set aside her dreams of marriage, though in her heart she’d often wondered what she might be missing. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that God would see fit to bless her with a husband who wanted her satisfaction as well as his own. Against all the odds, she had married one. It was such a blessing. A blessing she didn’t want to share. Theirs wasn’t a love match, was it wrong of her to want him all for herself?