Desert Rogues Part 2

by Susan Mallery

  “I already do.”

  “Not enough to admit you were sincerely wrong to hold me prisoner and marry me against my will.”

  “Perhaps we could put that behind us and move forward.”

  She glanced up toward the stars. “Oh, look. There’s a flying camel.”

  He growled. “You mock me.”

  “I’m telling you what it will take for me to forgive and forget. It won’t happen without you accepting your part in what you did.”

  “We will speak of something else.”

  “I had a feeling you’d say that.” She reached for another piece of chicken.

  The night was cool but pleasant. Murat sat across from her, looking completely at home in the primitive surroundings.

  “Did you come out here much when you were younger?” she asked.

  “When I could. There were many things for me to do back at the palace. Studies, lessons. I was presented to visiting dignitaries and expected to sit through many meetings. But when time permitted I escaped to the desert.”

  Where he could just be a boy. She could imagine him riding hard and fast as he played with the other children. For an hour or two he wouldn’t be the prince, and how he must have treasured that time.

  Daphne shifted on her cushion. She wasn’t used to sitting so low on the ground. As she got more comfortable, she noticed a group of people walking toward them. There were maybe seven or eight, both men and women. They took a few steps, stopped, seemed to argue among themselves, then moved forward again.

  One of the guards rose and spoke with them. After a few minutes, they were waved forward. The walking, stopping, arguing continued as they got closer.

  “I wonder what that’s about?” she asked, nodding at them.

  Murat followed her gaze. “They are not sure if they should interrupt us,” he said. “The men resist, but the women insist. Some men should control their wives better.”

  “Some men are sensible enough to listen to a more intelligent opinion. What should we do?”

  “Greet them.”

  Murat wiped his hands, then rose and helped her to her feet. They stood by the fire and waited as the small group approached.

  Everyone bowed. One of the women elbowed one of the men but he didn’t speak. Finally the woman took a step forward and bowed again.

  “Greetings, Your Highness,” she said, speaking to Daphne. “May the new day find you strong and healthy and blessed with good fortune always.”

  “May the new day find you equally blessed,” Daphne replied.

  “I fear it will not.”

  “We should not be here,” one of the men said. He looked at Murat. “We are sorry to have troubled you and your bride.”

  “No!” The woman glared at him. “We are in need.”

  “How can we help?” Daphne asked.

  The woman sighed. “A family who travels with us has a camel in labor. There is trouble of some kind. The man who usually helps with such things did not come with us. We have heard that you are trained with animals. Is it true?”

  Daphne took in their robes. While the cloth was clean, it had been mended and patched in several places. She doubted these people could afford to lose a healthy, breeding camel.

  The man with her grabbed her arm. “In all this crowd, there must be one other who can assist us. You should not bother the wife of the crown prince.”

  “There is no time,” the woman said. “The mother grows weak.” She looked at Daphne. “Please help us.”

  Daphne wasn’t sure of the protocol of the situation. Nor did she know if she could help. “I’ve never delivered a camel before,” she admitted. “I’ve had a lot of experience with cows and horses. If that is good enough.”

  The woman sagged with relief. “Yes. Please. A thousand thanks. This way.” Then she hurried off.

  Daphne started to follow her and wasn’t all that surprised when Murat and his guards fell into step.

  “You have delivered cows and horses?” he asked. “In Chicago?”

  “No. In the country. It’s not all that far to the farmlands in the south. I would spend a few months there every summer. Nothing against your father and his hundred or so cats, but it was always a nice change to work on big animals instead of small house pets.”

  As she walked, she shrugged out of her robes, handing them to Murat who passed them on to a guard. By the time they reached the straw-lined enclosure, she was down to her jeans and a T-shirt. Both of which were going to be pretty yucky by the time this was done. Birth was never tidy.

  Three hours later a baby camel teetered on spindly legs. His mother moved close and nudged him until he began to nurse. Daphne leaned against the makeshift fence and smiled. This was the part she liked best—after, when things had gone well.

  “Impressive,” Murat said, stepping out of the shadows and moving close. “You were very confident.”

  “All that medical training paid off.” She stretched. “I didn’t think you’d stick around. It’s late.”

  “I wanted to see what happened.” He put an arm around her and led her away from the pen. “While you were working, I spoke with some of the elders of the tribe. The mother has died and the father is ill. There are three boys who tend the family’s small herd. They desperately needed this birth.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t know that,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have liked the pressure.”

  “Had the camel died, I would have compensated them, but you were able to give them back their livelihood.”

  There was pride in his voice, which surprised her. Her parents had never thought much of what she did for a living, why should Murat?

  He pulled her close, but she resisted. “I’m pretty stinky,” she said. “I don’t suppose we have a shower in our tent.”

  “No, but I can provide you with a bath.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  Their massive private tent had still been under construction at dinner so she hadn’t had a chance to see the interior. Now she followed Murat inside to a foyerlike opening. They removed their shoes. He held open a flap, and she stepped into an amazing world she hadn’t known existed.

  The fabric ceiling stretched up at least ten feet. Carpets were piled on top of each other underfoot. Her toes curled into the exquisite patterns and softness.

  Low benches and plush chairs provided seating around carved tables. Old-fashioned lamps hung from hooks, providing illumination. The faint but steady rumble of a generator explained the flow of fresh, cool air she felt on her face.

  “This way,” he said and led her deeper into the tent.

  There was a dining area, a huge bed on a dais, and a tub filled with steaming water that nearly made her moan with delight.

  She had to resist the urge to dive in headfirst. Instead she tugged off her socks, then glanced down at her filthy T-shirt.

  “Good thing I didn’t pack light,” she said. “I think this one is past recovering.”

  Murat shrugged out of his robes and left them draped over a low chair. Then, wearing only loose trousers and a white shirt, he moved close and held out his hand.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Your clothing.”

  She took a step back. “I’m not getting undressed in front of you.”

  “You forget. I have seen you bare before.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  Actually, it was exactly the point. Getting naked with Murat around would only lead to trouble. Even talking about it made her body start to react. Tiny pin-pricks of desire nipped at her skin. Her belly felt hollow and hot and an ache took up residence between her thighs.

  “I’m perfectly capable of bathing myself,” she said.

  “I am offering to help.” His dark gaze caught her and wouldn’t let her go.

  “Not necessary.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “Murat, I’m not playing that game. Now shoo so I can get cleaned up.”

  Instead of leav
ing, he moved closer. “I am here to help you with your bath, my most stubborn princess. I give you my word that I will make no attempt to seduce you in your bath. I will not make suggestive remarks or touch you in any inappropriate way. Now, take off your clothes.”

  Was this how the cobra felt in the face of the snake charmer, she wondered. She didn’t want to listen or do as he said, yet she found herself reaching for the hem of her T-shirt and pulling the whole thing off, over her head. She handed it to Murat.

  Her jeans were next, leaving her in a bra and panties. Turning her back on him, she unfastened the former and pushed down the latter. They tumbled to the carpeted ground. Then she stepped into the steaming tub and sank down into the water.

  The heat soothed aching muscles. She reached up to keep her hair out of the water, but Murat had moved behind the tub and brushed her hands away.

  “I will do it,” he said as he gently coiled her hair, then took pins from a nearby tray and secured her hair on top of her head.

  “Here.”

  He handed her a bar of scented soap and a washcloth. She breathed in the smell of flowers and sandalwood.

  The water was clear, which made her feel awkward about being naked. Murat stayed behind her, and there weren’t any mirrors, so she tried to tell herself he wasn’t really there…watching. Still, as she smoothed the soapy washcloth across her suddenly sensitive breasts, she felt his gaze on her.

  She turned only to find him with his back to the tub. He stood by the wooden dresser, opening a drawer and drawing out a nightgown. Okay, so her imagination was putting in some overtime. Obviously he’d meant what he said. This was just a bath.

  Being female and completely comfortable supporting two opposite ideas at exactly the same time, her next thought was one of annoyance. Didn’t he notice that she was naked? Didn’t he find her sexually appealing? Wasn’t he aroused by the situation? They were married, and a man was supposed to want his wife.

  She quickly finished washing and wrung out the cloth. Annoyance made her slosh the water as she stood.

  “Could you hand me a towel?” she asked.

  Murat reached for one and handed it to her. From what she could tell, he barely looked at her naked, wet body. How perfect. Now that he had her, he didn’t want her anymore. Just like a man, she thought as she rubbed herself dry. Fine. She could “not want” him, too.

  She wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out of the tub. He passed her a nightgown. The soft, pale silk was unfamiliar, but at this point she was too much in a temper to care. She let the towel drop to the floor and slid the nightgown over her head.

  The see-through fabric left nothing to the imagination. The front dipped down nearly to her stomach, and the back consisted of a few lacy straps and nothing else. Ha! As if Murat would care.

  She wanted to kick him. She walked to stalk out into the night and scream her frustration to the heavens. What was wrong with him not to react? And more important, why did she care? She didn’t love Murat. Lately she didn’t even like him very much. So why did it bother her that he hadn’t pounced on her like a cat on catnip?

  “I’m going to bed,” she said curtly. “Good night.”

  “You enjoyed your bath?” he asked from his place just behind her.

  “It was fine.”

  “You would consider it finished now?”

  She turned until she could look at him. “As I’m out of it, dry and dressed, I would go with yes.”

  “Good.”

  A rush of movement followed the word and she found herself caught up against him as he hauled her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers.

  She had no time to think or react or even feel. His hands were everywhere. Her back, her sides, her breasts. He kissed her hotly, ravishing her. Somehow she managed to part her lips, and he swept inside with the purposefulness of a man set on claiming his woman.

  Even as he cupped her breast and stroked her hard nipple through the thin fabric of her nightgown, he squeezed her rear and pulled her into him. She felt the pulsing hardness of his arousal.

  “You want me,” she murmured, her mouth still against his.

  He raised his head and stared at her. “Of course. Why would you think otherwise?”

  “Because I was naked and you just ignored me.”

  “I gave you my word I would not bother you while you were in your bath.”

  Of all the times for him to keep it, this would not have been her first choice.

  “You’re the most annoying man,” she told him.

  He bent down and swept her into his arms. “Let me annoy you some more,” he said as he carried her to the bed on the other side of the tent.

  There were candles hanging everywhere and fresh-cut flowers in vases all over the room. The white linens had been folded back invitingly. Murat knelt on the mattress, then lowered her onto the smooth surface.

  She kept her arms around his neck and pulled him close so she could kiss him.

  Once again he claimed her with a kiss that marked her as his. She supposed she should protest, or at least not like it so much, but she couldn’t help squirming in delight as he nipped on her lower lip, then drew the sensitive curve into his mouth. He nibbled her jaw and down her throat. Lower and lower until he settled over her tight, aching nipples.

  The silk was so thin, he didn’t bother pushing it away. Instead he licked and sucked her through the fabric. She ran her fingers through his hair, to touch him as much as to hold him in place. He moved to her other breast, repeating the glorious touching and teasing, until she felt hot and strung far too tightly.

  Wanting poured through her. She couldn’t seem to keep her legs still, and between her thighs a pulsing hunger began.

  “Murat,” she breathed as she began to tug at his shirt. “I need you.”

  “No more than I need you.” He took the hint and shrugged out of the garment.

  She took advantage of his distraction to pull up her nightgown in a shameless invitation. She knew this wasn’t her smartest act of the day, but she couldn’t seem to stem the tide of need rushing through her. She might have had other lovers, but she’d never wanted one the way she wanted Murat. Desperation made her reach for his trousers. He had to be in her. Now!

  “Impatient?” he asked with a smile as he shed the rest of his clothing, then slipped between her legs. “Let me take the edge off, my sweet.”

  Instead of filling her with his hardness, he bent low and gently parted her swollen flesh with his fingers. Then he pressed his mouth against her hot, damp center.

  She had only a second to brace herself before the impact of the pleasure nearly had her screaming down the tent. Vaguely mindful of their neighbors, she held in her cries of delight as he licked all of her before settling on that one single point of pleasure.

  He traced quick circles, making her breathe more quickly. Tension made her dig in her heels and grab on to the covers. She tossed her head from side to side as he gently sucked that one perfect spot.

  She rocked her hips in time with his movements, moving closer and closer to her ultimate release. Every brush of his tongue, every whisper of breath pushed her onward. When she finally clung to the edge, so ready to surrender all to him, he slipped two fingers inside of her.

  The combination was too much. She tried to hold back, to enjoy the moment longer, but it wasn’t possible. Passion claimed her and she called out Murat’s name as she sank into the waves of pleasure.

  Fast, at first, then slowing, but not really ever ending. Not even when he raised his head and stared at her with wild, hungry eyes. He continued to move his fingers. Back and forth, back and forth. Mini-waves rippled through her. Climax after climax. As long as he touched her, she came.

  She stared at him, unable to control her body’s response to his touch.

  “Murat,” she breathed.

  He shifted closer, at last replacing his fingers with his arousal. He thrust into her, filling her until she thought she might shatter.


  It was too good. There was too much. She came again and again. Every time he moved into her, she gave herself over to the release. Faster and faster until they were both breathing hard, and then she lost herself again in a violent shuddering that left her both shattered and satisfied down to her bones.

  Chapter Twelve

  Daphne awoke the next morning with the sense of being one with the world. She could hear the birds outside and the low voices of people in the encampment. The smell of cooking made her mouth water, and the sounds of laughter made her smile. She had a feeling that when she climbed out of bed, there was a very good chance she would float several inches above the carpeted tent floor.

  What a night, she thought as she pushed her hair out of her face and sat up. Murat was long gone. She vaguely recalled him kissing her before he’d left their bed sometime after dawn.

  They’d continued to make love, each time more passionately than the time before until she’d been afraid she would never be able to recover. Her body ached, but in the best way possible. Her skin seemed to be glowing, and she knew she would be hard-pressed not to spend the entire day grinning like a fool.

  Everything had been perfect. Except…She pressed her hands to her flat stomach and wondered if they’d made a baby last night. She and Murat had made love several times without any kind of protection. The thought had never crossed her mind. She knew the price of having his child—she would never be able to leave.

  Now, in the soft light of the morning in the beautiful tent, she wondered if perhaps she should make her peace with all that had happened. Was his behavior really that horrible? He’d only—

  “Earth to Daphne,” she said aloud. “Let’s think about this.”

  Rational thought returned, pushing away the lingering effects of the night of pleasure. Of course she couldn’t give in. Even if she wanted to stay married to Murat, she would still need to make him understand that he couldn’t have his way in everything. That for their marriage to be a happy and successful union, they both had to make decisions, and he couldn’t simply bully his way into what he wanted.

  Which meant getting pregnant was a really dumb idea. She was going to have to avoid his bed.