by Anne Herries
Chloe looked up, startled. ‘I don’t know. I just assumed you would be. Sashimi…Mohammed…I thought you must be.’
‘My mother’s people are all Christians. When I came to England, I learned their ways—and I liked them. I adopted their faith some years ago, though it is not widely known outside my immediate family. I do not speak of it, because of political implications. Sashimi does not know, although I believe Mohammed may. I have told Ahmad, of course. He is like a brother to me.’
‘I see.’ Chloe was surprised. ‘I am sorry. I did not think…’
‘Did you imagine I had brought you here to seduce you and make you my mistress?’ Pasha asked, and he was smiling now, that harsh look gone from his face. ‘And you still gave yourself to me, Chloe? Were you prepared to become a Muslim if I had asked it of you?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted honestly. ‘I came with you because I couldn’t help myself. I knew I loved you the first time you kissed me, Pasha, and I wanted the chance to be with you, to know you better. You asked me to trust you and I did.’
‘But you would have taken whatever I chose to give?’ He reached out to touch her as she nodded wordlessly. ‘Then you do love me—and I was a brute just now. Forgive me? I am a jealous man, Chloe, and I have a terrible temper. My passions are intense, sometimes so fierce that they frighten me. I think myself a civilised man, but there is a part of me that throws back to my warrior ancestors. I shall try to control it, but I do not think I could bear to lose you.’
‘But why should you lose me?’ she said and moved closer to him, offering her lips. ‘I do not give my heart or myself lightly, Pasha. I want us to be together always.’
‘So when will you marry me?’ he asked and kissed her. ‘That is why I brought you here to Spain rather than to one of my other homes, Chloe. We can be married here by the English church…there are many English who settle here in this wonderful climate.’
‘Oh, Pasha…’ Her face was brilliant with love and happiness as she took a step closer to him, lifting her head so that his lips met hers in a sweet, gentle kiss. ‘Whenever you want me to, of course. You must know that I am yours… I shall always be yours.’
‘Of course you will,’ he murmured huskily. ‘I am merely a jealous fool…’
Chapter Seven
Chloe stirred as she felt Pasha jerk violently beside her in the bed. She heard him muttering indistinctly, and realised that he was in the throes of a bad dream. Sitting up, she bent over him, hearing him mutter a name. She thought it might have been a woman’s name but she wasn’t sure. Perhaps he was having a nightmare about his half-sister, she thought, wondering whether she ought to wake him.
She sat watching him for a few moments as he tossed restlessly on the pillows, but then he seemed to settle back into a sound sleep. It would be a pity to wake him if the dream had passed, Chloe decided, and left him sleeping as she slipped from the bed. She reached for a dressing robe, but didn’t bother about shoes, padding bare-footed across the cool marble tiles.
Outside, there was already a kindly warmth in the air, although the sun hadn’t really risen as yet, but it was very still and promised to be a hot day. She walked over the grass to the edge of the gardens, which looked out over the rocky cliff to the sea below; it moved lazily, its waters deep blue and restless—as restless as Pasha had been in his dream.
It was so beautiful here! Chloe stood watching the movement of the waves, letting the peace and the sheer beauty of her surroundings work their usual magic on her.
She was so happy in this place. She had never expected to live anywhere this perfect, and she wished that they could stay here forever. Pasha had told her that they would come as often as possible, but that he had to return to England as soon as they were married.
‘Are you content to be married quietly here?’ he’d asked the previous evening as they lay together in the bed they had shared for the past two weeks. ‘Or do you want to go home and plan a big wedding?’
‘I think it would be best if we were married before we go back,’ Chloe said. ‘I don’t need anyone’s permission, but my father and grandmother are a little old-fashioned…’
‘As is my mother’s father,’ Pasha agreed. ‘That is why I felt it better to present everyone with a fait accompli…’
Pasha had told Chloe a little about the English side of his family, but apart from a few cryptic words about his uncle, Prince Hassan, being an important figure politically, he had refused to talk about that side of his life.
‘I cannot be entirely English, nor am I entirely free to do as I please,’ he told her. ‘But none of that need interfere with us, Chloe. You will be my wife, and I shall cherish and protect you. I am sure that you will like my grandfather and my English family—the rest need not concern you.’
Chloe had realised that he did not want to talk about certain aspects of his life, and she had accepted it. She already knew that his moods could change abruptly and with no warning, and she was aware that he could sometimes be very intense. But he was gentle and considerate with her, and she had been lavished with both love and gifts during their brief time together.
She was so lucky! Chloe could hardly believe that anyone like Pasha could have chosen someone as dull and ordinary as her. He must have met so many beautiful, sophisticated women!
She turned as she heard Pasha’s voice calling to her. He came to the door as she walked back towards the house, and she caught her breath as she saw that he was wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. His skin looked damp, little pearls of moisture clustering on the fine growth of hair on his chest, and her stomach clenched with sudden desire. His body, the strength and power of it, excited her much more than she could ever have expected. She loved to touch him, to stroke and please him intimately in the manner he pleased her, and the joy of being made love to by him was something that lingered always in her mind.
‘I woke and you weren’t there,’ he said, his eyes smouldering with latent heat as he looked at her. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘I was just looking at the sea,’ she said. ‘It is so beautiful here, Pasha.’
‘You are beautiful,’ he said, reaching out for her. His voice was husky with desire as he pulled her close into him, his mouth nuzzling against her neck as she arched into his body, thrilling to the scent and feel of him. She was aware of the hardness of his sex beneath the towel, throbbing against her, making her feel weak with need. ‘Have I told you recently that I adore you?’
‘Not for several hours,’ she teased.
She was beginning to feel confident in this game they played, to know she could please him, to be aware of when he wanted her—and he wanted her now. She could feel the burning heat of his arousal, and her body melted into his longingly. She turned her head so that their lips met.
His kiss dominated even as it caressed. He was a careful, considerate lover, but she was always aware of his power and strength. Had he used that on her she would have been crushed beneath him, but however urgent his need, he was always patient, always aware of her response, waiting patiently for her to reach her climax. She knew that he took as much satisfaction from her pleasure in their loving as his own.
‘Then perhaps I had better show you how much I love you?’ he suggested with a wicked lift of his brows.
‘Yes, please…’
Chloe laughed and whipped the towel from around his waist, challenging him to follow as she ran into the house. Of course he took up her challenge and caught her, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to their bed. He bent over her, untying the cord of her robe and beginning to kiss every inch of her body, starting with the rosy peaks of her breasts, licking at her delicately with his tongue, and working his way down to the quivering centre of her sexuality.
Chloe arched her back towards him as his tongue lavished her, making her jerk and moan with pleasure. Her fingers worked in his hair as she gasped, pleading with him mutely to come to her. When he slid into her, filling her, she w
as warm and moist for him. They moved together, slowly, deliberately, and then with mounting urgency, Chloe screaming his name as she felt the most exquisite sensation she had ever known. It was almost as if something deep inside her reached out to take hold of him, bringing him even deeper inside her, and the pleasure washing over her in waves made her body spasm again and again.
Afterward, they lay together, limbs entwined as Pasha idly stroked her back, his fingers tracing the hollow of its arch. ‘Only another week before you are my wife,’ he murmured throatily. He bent over her to flick a strand of hair from her eyes, a slight frown creasing his forehead. ‘It is a pity Amelia and the professor cannot be with us, but although I managed to get word to them, they have gone off on one of their treks again and it would be impossible for them to get here in time. The professor sent a small gift for you and a letter to say that he was happy we were to marry. I was keeping it as a surprise for you.’ He hesitated. ‘Of course, we could put the date back, if that is what you want?’ He raised his brows and she shook her head. ‘It cannot be soon enough for me. I would have arranged it earlier, but the Reverend Thomas was determined to observe all the rules.’
‘He wanted us to be sure before we committed ourselves,’ Chloe teased. She felt languid and content wrapped in his embrace, all passion spent for the moment. ‘I think he was shocked that we were living together, especially as we had known each other such a short time.’
‘I have waited all my life for you…’
‘I feel the same way, but it doesn’t matter. I already feel that I am your wife, Pasha.’ There was not one small piece of her that he had not already made his own!
‘Where do you want to go today? Shall we ride, stay here and be lazy, or visit the market?’
‘Let’s go to the market,’ Chloe said. ‘I love to shop with you. It makes me laugh to watch the way you never pay what the traders ask.’
‘They expect it,’ he said. ‘It is a matter of honour on both sides. They ask too much, and they enjoy the tussle of reaching the right price as much as I do.’
Chloe smiled and snuggled into his side. Her hand moved over his flat stomach, finding the source of her pleasure to stroke and caress. ‘Or we could just stay here like this…’
‘You are insatiable, woman,’ he mocked, and threw back the thin sheet that covered them. ‘Get up and have a swim while I make us something to eat.’
The back seat of Pasha’s car was filled with baskets of fruit and fresh vegetables when they arrived back later that day. Chloe was feeling happy and relaxed as she carried two of the heavy baskets into the house.
It had been fun walking around the colourful market in the warm sunshine, and she had enjoyed the haggling as much as Pasha. She had bought him a soft Moroccan leather belt, and he had bought her a fine gold bangle engraved with Arabic signs which he told her were a message of love, which he had promised to explain later.
The woman Pasha employed had been in while they were out to clean the house, and a meal had been prepared for them—rice, fish and salad. All Chloe had to do was bring it to the table.
She spent some time unpacking their baskets, then decided to ask Pasha whether he wanted to eat inside or out. On a warm evening like this it was pleasant to take their food outside and have it on the patio.
Pasha should have been in by now. It usually took him only a moment to lock the gates and put the car away into the cool of the garage at the side. She went to the back door to call him, halting in surprise as she saw that he was talking to two men. Before she could decide what to do, the men turned and walked away.
Something seemed familiar about one of them, and she frowned as she tried to remember where she had seen him before, but the memory eluded her. She didn’t think that either of the men were Spanish locals; they had looked as if they might be Arabs. Of course there had been a Moorish influence in this part of Spain for years, and some of the local people could be mistaken for Arabs—but these two had looked as if they would be more at home in the city.
‘Who were they?’ she asked anxiously as Pasha came to her. ‘What did they want?’
‘Nothing important,’ he replied. ‘They work for me sometimes—it was business. I was giving final instructions about something.’
Chloe nodded. This was the part of Pasha’s life that he did not wish to tell her about. She felt a little shut out, wishing that he would share his thoughts with her. She wasn’t a child to be protected from everything but the pleasant things in life, but she didn’t really know him very well yet and she wasn’t confident enough to insist that she be told what kind of business the men were involved in.
She had an odd prickling sensation at the nape of her neck, and something told her that she might not like what Pasha had to say if he did tell her. There was, she sensed, a darker side to his nature, and she was a little afraid to inquire too deeply in case she did not care for what she discovered.
‘Why so thoughtful?’ he asked, and she shook her head.
‘I was going to ask if you wanted to eat outside this evening.’
‘We’ll eat later,’ he said and reached for her. ‘At the moment it’s you I want, not food.’
Chloe’s doubts faded as he took her into his arms, his mouth seeking hers, urgent and needy. Desire flared between them, hot and hungry. As he scooped her up in his arms, she gave herself up to the anticipated pleasure of his loving.
What did his business matter? What did anything matter but this feeling between them?
Chloe was surprised at how many people had come to see her being married. Pasha was relaxed and content, seeming proud of his new wife as he introduced her to the guests. Most were Spanish people who lived in the area, though there was also an English couple who lived nearby.
She looked for the men who had come to the house on business, but there was no sign of them. Clearly Pasha did not mix business with personal pleasure. She was still trying to place them, but although the memory was there at the back of her mind, she could not quite capture it. No matter, it would come to her in time.
‘Sorry about springing that on you; I know it was awkward for you, not knowing anyone,’ Pasha said after their guests had gone. ‘But I thought we’d better invite a few people round. Your family might doubt that I had actually married you if we’d done it in complete isolation.’
‘I enjoyed meeting your friends,’ she said. ‘Mr Milligan was rather sweet…’ She saw the flash of fire in his eyes and reached up to kiss him, her fragrant body arching into his provocatively. She felt his instant reaction and laughed up at him. ‘You don’t have to look like that—the only man I shall ever want is you.’
‘Just make sure you remember you are mine, Mrs Armand,’ he said, his voice grating harshly with desire. ‘And in case you are wondering, I changed my name by deed poll when I applied for my British passport. Yes, you are legally my wife.’
‘I never doubted it,’ she said. ‘But why do you find it necessary to have two names, Pasha? What is it that you need to hide?’
He frowned at her, letting her go and stepping back. ‘What makes you think I have anything to hide? It is just more convenient, that’s all.’
‘More convenient for what?’ she asked, determined to break down this barrier of silence. ‘Don’t you think you could tell me at least a part of it, Pasha? I am your wife, and I think I’ve proved that you can trust me not to reveal anything you tell me.’
‘I have already told you that it is necessary for me to use another name at times, especially when travelling,’ he said, his eyes narrowed, slightly wary. ‘And you know that my uncle is important politically.’
‘In what way?’
‘He owns land that is very rich in oil,’ Pasha said. ‘Between them, my father and my uncle were in possession of a vast tract of valuable land. I inherited my father’s land along with the title of Sheikh, which merely means the head of the family. It is more like a feudal baron than a great lord or prince, and a Sheikh’s political power comes f
rom his wealth and standing in other ways.
‘My land is already a British protectorate, and I receive a certain amount of money for the leases while various people set up a company for producing oil. In time it will be worth a great deal of money, and I shall be paid revenues on whatever is produced in perpetuity—but my uncle is the ruler of a small state and he has so far refused British protection. It is his right to do so, of course, but it makes him vulnerable. There is a great deal of unease in the area at the moment, and an attempt was made on his life a short time ago. Because he has to be so careful, I often negotiate on his behalf and for that reason I sometimes need to be able to travel under another name.’
‘Oh.’ Chloe was conscious of relief. She wasn’t sure what she had been worrying about, but a tiny doubt had been nagging at the back of her mind, and she was glad to have it dispelled. ‘I see…thank you for telling me.’
‘Are you satisfied now?’ he asked, and there was a glint in his eyes, as though it had annoyed him because she had asked. He did not like being questioned, that much was clear. ‘You say you love me, Chloe. You should trust me. Believe me, I would never do anything that might harm you. You are too important to me.’
‘As long as you don’t do anything too dangerous.’ She reached up to touch his cheek, and as she did so something clicked in her mind. ‘You never did tell me what you discovered about those men I heard in the garden—’ She broke off and stared at him as memory flooded back. ‘But they were the men who were here the other morning! You were talking to them outside…’
‘What are you talking about?’ Pasha’s eyes narrowed, his expression becoming withdrawn, cold. She sensed anger and something more. Guilt perhaps? ‘For goodness sake, Chloe, you have a very fertile imagination. It comes from watching all those silly films I suppose. Now what are you imagining?’
‘I heard them talking,’ she said and something inside her resented the way he was looking at her, and his constant reference to the fact that she admired certain films. ‘That night in the hotel gardens. And then I saw them. One of them looked at me as if he thought I was a threat to him, but his friend told him to forget it. Most of what they said was a mystery to me, because they spoke in a language I did not understand—but they mentioned your name, and they talked about someone being killed. I know they did, Pasha, because just that little bit was in French. One of them made a mistake, because I understood that he was talking about having a man killed!’