Duty, Desire and the Desert King

by Jane Porter

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ON RETURNING to the palace they retreated to Zayed’s wing, where his rooms were dimly lit by the soft glow of candles and smelled faintly of fragrant sandalwood.

  “It’s nice,” Rou said, taking in the way the candlelight flickered, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls and stone floor.

  “I think my valet is determined to help me in the romance department,” Zayed said wryly. “He was worried when we didn’t spend last night together.”

  She set her small gold bag on the table behind his blue velvet couch. “He said that?”

  “No, but he asked enough indirect questions to make me understand that he was concerned and ready and willing to help, should I only seek his advice.”

  Her lips curved. “I take it you did not ask for any.”

  “I did not,” he affirmed, approaching her.

  Rou’s pulse jumped as he neared. When they were sitting down with a table between them he was so much less imposing, but standing, he was tall and muscular, handsome and elegant, and the combination of all those factors made him far too intimidating.

  He reached for her, putting an arm around her waist, and then drawing her toward him. The flutter in her middle became a wild thudding. The whole body contact thing was still alarming. As was the relationship itself. She still couldn’t quite believe they were together…married…and she didn’t quite know how to reconcile herself to the concept of married life.

  His head lowered, his lips brushed her ear. “I can see the wheels turning, Dr. Tornell. You live in a state of constant analysis.”

  His body was hard and yet warm, and that warmth penetrated her dress and skin, sinking all the way into her bones. It was such a seductive heat, promising all kinds of ease and pleasure. “I like to use my brain.”

  “It’s an excellent brain, but your body is excellent, too.”

  Her heart hammered. “Maybe we should spend a little more time getting to know each other before we start getting to know each other’s bodies.”

  He kissed the side of her neck. “We can’t do both at the same time?”

  How could just one kiss on her neck make her so weak? It wasn’t fair that he seemed to know where every nerve ending lay, too. Rou closed her eyes, trying to block the delicious sensations coursing through her so she could focus on what was important—and that was their relationship. “It’s not quite as effective. The body is easier to gratify.”

  He tilted her head back, kissed beneath her jaw. “I don’t know about that. You’re quite a challenge, my dear doctor.”

  If only he knew the truth, she thought, her breath catching as his lips moved along her sensitive jaw, and the curl of desire turned into something hotter, sharper, more urgent.

  He’d always been gorgeous, but these past few days he was more than just a physically attractive man. He appealed to something deeper in her, appealed to a part of her that no one else could touch. It was bittersweet to know that he had such power over her, too.

  What if she fell for him the way Angela did? What if she fell hard?

  Her breath came shallowly as he kissed the corner of her mouth and his hands slid up her back, shaping her to him.

  He was making her remember needs and emotions, making her want those needs and emotions, and yet he’d never once promised anything other than respect and protection. But they would be cold bedfellows.

  Be careful, a little voice inside her head warned her. You’re so close to disaster here. So close to total destruction.

  Rou’s self-preservation struck back, chasing away the fog of desire. She couldn’t afford to give him all the power. She had to remain an equal, a true partner. It was the only way for their relationship to survive. She pushed back from him now, creating space so that she could think properly.

  “It’s late,” she said, hoping her voice was even, hoping he wouldn’t know how difficult it was to break away from him. “I should return to my room.”

  “But these are our rooms now. Everything has been brought here from your suite, and that wing of the palace has been closed again.”

  She took another step back in her high, slim heels, her hands going to her hips. “Is that why you took me out for dinner? So the staff could scurry around and move me into your rooms without me protesting?”

  “Laeela, we are married, it’s proper that we share rooms.”

  “Your valet’s peace of mind is more important than mine?”

  Zayed laughed, a low, husky, sexy laugh that sent a ripple of awareness through her. He was so very male, and so very primal, and so very comfortable. Too comfortable.

  “I’m not trying to be funny, Zayed,” she added, feeling ridiculously emotional, which meant she was tired. She only became emotional when she needed sleep, and after two sleepless nights, sleep was what she craved most right now and there was no way she could get the sleep she needed in Zayed’s bed. “I haven’t slept well in days.”

  Zayed, with that uncanny ability of his to read her mind, smiled down at her. “You will be able to sleep here in our room just fine. I won’t bite you, and I promise not to pounce on you.”

  She never understood how he always knew what she was thinking. “It’s just that I’m used to sleeping alone. I’ve never spent the night with a man.”

  He gold gaze warmed. “It’s not much different from napping with me, except the night is longer.”

  “But I’ll feel you in the bed. I’ll know you’re there.”

  “Can’t that be a good thing?”

  A disturbing thing, she answered silently, aware that he still held her in the crook of his arm, aware that her pulse was now pounding like mad. Looking up into his face she felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest, which made catching her breath a struggle.

  How was it possible that this man, this gorgeous man, this king, was her husband?

  “Shall we go to bed?” he asked, his voice deepening.

  “Only if we can build a wall of pillows between us,” she answered coolly.

  “What are you afraid of? I’ve promised you I won’t seduce you tonight. You’ll sleep unmolested, laeela.”

  What was she afraid of? I’m afraid of you, she wanted to tell him. Afraid that I’ve fallen in love with a man who will never love me back. But she held back the words, keeping the truth to herself as she understood the importance of appearances and the need for dignity.

  With her emotions now well under control, she managed a mocking smile. “Just afraid of not getting the rest I need. But know that if you do get amorous I will poke you, and it’ll hurt.”

  And Zayed, he of the ghosts and dark, haunted past, laughed, a rich, boyish laugh, which made his lips curve and his eyes light up. “You know, you are the first woman who has threatened me if I touched her.”

  “Because I’m the first woman you’ve tried to seduce that has any common sense.”

  Rou saw his eyes warm, the golden depths gleaming, and she realized belatedly that he loved the challenge she presented him. It stirred him, brought out the primal male in him. Not something she wanted before she slipped between his sheets. “I hope Manar remembered to pack my nightgown,” she said.

  “I would hope not,” he answered. “You’ll sleep better naked—”

  “Ha!”

  “But if she didn’t,” he continued with a grin, “I’m sure I can find a shirt for you to sleep in. But there is your closet. Have a look, see what you can find.”

  Rou opened the doors to the closet and was greeted by a rainbow of color and a low dresser filled with her silk and satin underwear, which did include a nightgown or two. She grabbed the first gown she found, a sleek ivory number made of silk with the thinnest of shoulder straps, and after changing in the ensuite bathroom, Rou cleaned her teeth and combed her hair, giving the blond strands a vigorous brushing before heading for Zayed’s oversize bed.

  Leaving the bathroom, she walked toward the bed as though she didn’t have a care in the world, walked as if it were a Sunday stro
ll in the park, walked as if oblivious to the fact that Zayed sat in an armchair watching her, a smile playing at his sensual mouth.

  Beast, she muttered to herself. He’s no gentleman, she added, as she reached the bed and realized she didn’t know which side he preferred to sleep on.

  Rou hesitated, and, gritting her teeth, turned toward Zayed, aware that she was giving him an eyeful of silk-clad curves. The nightgown was ridiculously form-fitting and far more sheer than a nightgown needed to be. “Which side do you sleep on?”

  His gaze traveled slowly, appreciatively, from her head to her bare feet and then back up again, lingering indecently long at the juncture of her thighs and then her breasts. “I usually just sleep in the middle.”

  She could feel her nipples harden beneath his gaze, and it took all of her self-control not to cover herself. “Unfortunately tonight you only get half the bed. Which half is it to be?”

  “The half you’re sleeping on.”

  Heat stormed her cheeks, burning her skin. “You promised me.”

  “But that was before you came out looking like whipped cream, vanilla ice cream and marshmallow sauce.” He rested his gaze on her face, and she saw the hunger in his eyes. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. “I could very easily eat you right now,” he added.

  From the look on his face she didn’t doubt it. “Well, I’m sleeping here, on this side, and you’ll just have to take the other side, and tomorrow we can discuss whatever else we need to discuss.” Then, climbing into the bed, she plumped a pillow beneath her head, pulled the covers up to her neck and closed her eyes. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Zayed didn’t immediately join her in bed. He’d said earlier at the club he had reading to do, and although she hadn’t thought she could sleep in his room, in his bed, he dimmed all the lights except for his reading lamp and then settled in to read for hours.

  Rou gave up trying to stay awake, and the next time she woke, she did because she was very warm. Very, very warm, and a little too confined.

  Frowning, she tugged on the covers, trying to free herself and then realized it wasn’t the covers pinning her down. It was the big male arm attached to the big male body holding her snugly around her middle and securely against his body.

  She stiffened in alarm. Yes, they’d slept close yesterday after they’d made love, but that was different. They’d had sex and there was the whole postcoital cuddle thing, but she didn’t just cuddle on demand. And she didn’t cuddle when she was sleeping. Sleep was sleep.

  “Take a deep breath in, now exhale,” Zayed said, his voice raspy with sleep. “Do it again—”

  “Maybe I’ll relax if you move over.”

  “Maybe you need to address your intimacy issues.”

  She lifted her head, looked over her shoulder at him. “My intimacy issues? Mine?”

  He laughed softly, his breath warm against the back of her neck. “Calm down before you get all excited. You’ll never fall back asleep if you’re kicking and screaming.”

  She held herself as rigid as she could. “I’m not kicking or screaming. I’m just communicating my discomfort at being held so close.”

  “But it feels good.”

  “To you.”

  “And you.”

  She threw an elbow, jabbing him in the ribs. “It doesn’t feel good to me. You don’t feel good to me. And trying to convince me that it does is a waste of time and breath.”

  “Really?”

  All of a sudden she realized that he wasn’t merely holding her around the waist anymore. His arm was higher on her rib cage, and his hand was dangerously close to her breast. “Zayed.”

  “Yes, love?”

  She closed her eyes, held her breath, tried to ignore the deliciously pleasurable sensation of his fingers stroking the soft skin beneath her breast and then the soft fullness of the side. He had the seductive touch of the devil, she thought, lips parting in silent protest as his palm circled over her jutting nipple, making her entire breast tighten and ache. “I’m not your love,” she gasped defiantly.

  “No, you’re my wife,” he answered, flipping her onto her back and settling between her legs. He supported his weight on his arm but dipped his head to kiss her, his mouth covering hers in a hard, urgent kiss that demanded a response. Rou’s heart pounded hard and her veins felt thick with hot desire.

  So many things in life didn’t feel right, but this did, she thought, twining her arms around his neck to hold him close as he parted her lips and drew fire with the tip of his tongue against her own.

  His tongue played her lips and tongue, wakening nerves and heightening sensitivity until her hips were arching helplessly against his, her body craving release. But Zayed wasn’t in the mood to rush, and he sucked on her tongue, a fierce rhythmic caress that made Rou wriggle and pant, more desperate than ever for relief.

  “Yes, laeela?” he murmured against her mouth, stroking her hair back from her flushed face.

  “You know what I want.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t.” He nipped her neck with his teeth. “Apparently it doesn’t feel good when I touch you.”

  She nearly groaned with frustration as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the pulse running below her ear. It was a move designed to make her toes curl and her spine arch and her belly ache and it was regrettably most successful. “It feels good,” she choked from between gritted teeth.

  “What was that?”

  He was touching her, caressing her, licking her, and there was no way to think clearly, rationally, when he made her body feel like a lovely sweet. “I was wrong,” she gritted. “You do feel good.” And then she gasped as his lips found her nipple through the cool silk of her nightgown. His mouth was so hot against her skin, and her breasts, already swollen, grew even more heavy and sensitive as he sucked on the nipple, making the fabric wet, which felt almost cold against her feverish skin.

  She was beyond control now, and, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she ground her hips up against him. He groaned against her breast as she discovered the rigid length of his erection straining against his thin cotton pajama pants. Wantonly she pressed and rubbed herself against him, feeling the hard shaft, the thick smooth head, the satisfying length.

  He groaned again as her movements grew wilder, more desperate, her legs kicking up her nightgown to tangle with his. And then his control snapped, and he shoved the delicate fabric up over her hips, exposing her legs and the blond curls at the juncture of her thighs. Head lifted, he watched her as he stroked a hand over her flat belly and hip and then back up again to the other side.

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, voice husky. “You make resisting you very difficult.”

  She’d been biting her lip as his fingertips caressed her stomach and hip bones, the sensitive inner thigh and outer thigh and then just when she didn’t think she could stand it, he’d found the cleft of her, her body hot and liquid and melting for him. “Then don’t,” she panted. “Because I don’t think I can handle resistance now.”

  He parted her knees with his own, pushing her legs wide enough to accommodate his body and then he was between her thighs, the silken knob of his erection pressing against her body. With a smooth, hard thrust he entered her, and she inhaled sharply as he filled her, pleasuring her.

  Amazing, she thought, pressing her mouth to his shoulder, amazing as he drove into her again and again, waking every nerve with each hot, hard, insistent thrust until she gave up control, giving her body and will over to him. The orgasm was wrenching, catching her by surprise and sending shock waves of sensation through her as her body tightened and spasmed around his. And just when she thought it was over, she was hit by another ripple of pleasure, and the tension started to build all over again, wave after wave building even hotter, higher into a second orgasm even more powerful and unrelenting than the first.

  Rou went limp beneath Zayed, perspiration beading her skin, her pulse still racing. She opened an eye and looked
at him. He was trying hard not to laugh. “Are you alive?” he asked.

  “Barely.”

  “Two, laeela? Isn’t that a bit greedy of you?”

  She blushed and wrinkled her nose, hating that she even had to ask him about his own satisfaction. “Did you…uh, um…come?”

  His lips twitched and his warm eyes glowed. “Yes, I managed, thank you.”

  “It’s not my fault,” she protested defensively. “You’re the one that does this to me. You weren’t content to stop at one—”

  “I wondered if you could manage two.”

  “And thanks to you, I did.”

  He lowered his head, kissed her gently, and again. “My iceberg runs hot,” he murmured against her mouth before kissing her again.

  And Rou’s heart just turned over. She loved him.

  She loved him.

  She was in such trouble now because she loved him, and her gorgeous, brilliant, sexy, tormented husband loved another.

  There were no words. She had no words, so she met his kiss with hunger and urgency, using her lips to convey what her heart longed to say.

  She loved him. And she hoped, prayed, that maybe one day he’d love her back. Even just a little bit.

  The next morning, Zayed had breakfast brought to Rou in bed. Rou had still been sleeping when Manar arrived with a tray filled with fruits and pastries, yogurt, juice and coffee. Zayed waited while Manar arranged the tray on Rou’s lap. “I’ve a phone conference in a few minutes,” he told Rou, “but once I’m done I’ll return for you and then we’re going to sneak away.”

  She was adding cream to her coffee and nearly spilled the cream when she jerked her head up to look at him. He’d showered already and dressed and looked immaculate with his combed hair, smooth jaw and pristine robes. “Sneak where?”

  “To my summer palace in Cala. It’s a beautiful retreat right on the water, and we do need a honeymoon.”

  She flushed at the mention of honeymoon, remembering how they’d spent the very early hours of the morning. “Can you afford to leave now?”