“No,” he shrugged carelessly.
“No to which part?” She was breathless and it showed. She swallowed, but her throat remained parched.
“All of it,” his smile was lightly teasing. “You have said that before. This is not a real marriage. I presume you mean our physical relationship.”
“No!” She denied hotly, warm heat running through her core.
“Yes,” he laughed again, dropping his hands to her running shirt and lifting it over her stomach. His fingers on the smooth flesh were warm and fearless. She sucked in a shaky breath as he slowly skimmed his touch higher, over each small press of rib, to the undercarriage of her breasts. His fingers lingered there, pressed to the soft fabric of her exercise gear, and his eyes were taunting.
“I was not prepared for your lack of experience.”
“I realised that,” she promised.
“I hope you also realised how sorry I was for having taking that from you in those conditions.”
“Wedding night sex? Isn’t it a tradition?”
“Nothing about our lives has to be traditional.”
“Except for all those pesky royal customs,” she said with an arched brow.
He disregarded the glib comment. “If I had known, I would have been more gentle. I would have helped you acclimate to the sensations.” He lifted her shirt over her head and dropped it to the ground. Her bra was a sensible black sports crop. His fingers found the elastic and he loosened it as he spoke, his voice a husky kernel. “Laurie, I want to make love to you. Properly. I think you want that too. I know you might be a little afraid of the strength of what you desire. Out here, with just the sand and the sky as our witnesses, I want to show you how much I need you, and let you see that it is okay to need me too.”
Her lips were dry, her mouth was aching, her cheeks were flushed and her heart was pounding so hard against her body that she was sure he could hear its frantic tattoo.
But May was there, in her mind, and she groaned softly as she shook her head. “It’s so complicated.”
“Actually,” he tossed the bra away and brushed his fingers across her breasts. “It is surprisingly simple. You are my wife, are you not?”
She nodded, her blood raging in response to the feelings his light touch was evoking.
“I am your husband. I look at you and I want to have you. I touch you and I feel your body respond.” He kissed her gently, and then lowered his stubble-roughened face to her breasts, taking one aroused nipple into his mouth and tracing his tongue around it in a circular fashion. “Am I wrong, Laurie?”
“No,” she cried out, her fingers desperate now for skin. They pulled at his clothes, while her head tilted back and spirals of pleasure radiated through her body.
“Then do not make up excuses to ignore this.” She felt him smile against her breast.
“I can’t ignore it,” she said gravely, pulling at him now so that he tumbled on top of her to the sandy floor. “I wish I could.”
“Good,” he growled. “You want me with an honest passion that I could never tire of. Your first lesson is to be unafraid. Your desire is a beautiful thing. Touch me. Taste me. Scream if you wish to.” He moved his mouth to her other breast and clamped his teeth down on her nipple, very quickly, and just hard enough to make her body buck against his in arousal and surprise. “Tell me what pleases you. What you want more of.”
“But …” He was trailing kisses down her stomach, and then pulling her shoes off, and Laurie could hardly think straight. “You know what I like. You saw it the other night.”
“Oh, Laurie. There is so much more to pleasure than that.” He peeled her running pants from her slender legs; her underwear followed. He was impatient now to see her naked form.
Even through the protection of the calico, and with the setting of the sun, the warmth of the day was like fire on her flesh. Or was that just Laurie? She writhed on the soft floor, her body dancing to a tune she’d never heard, as Afida moved over her. His handsome face came close to hers, his eyes glowing with a challenge she wasn’t sure she understood.
“Do you like this?” His words were tinged with desert and spice, deep and husky. He ran his hand across the entrance to her womanhood and she bucked hard at the foreign contact.
His laugh was gentle. “Good.” He lingered, his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh. Laurie’s breath came in fast snatches; she gulped in air as desire began to simmer like a volcano within. She reached for him out of desperation; she was sinking and he was her life raft. Except he wasn’t! He was the tide on which she was marooned, being cast from wave to wave unable to find a safe-haven. She gripped his shoulders, her eyes squeezed shut, as the pleasure became almost unbearable.
He dropped his head lower, so that he could pull her lower lip between his teeth, and then he kissed her properly, plunging his tongue into her mouth as though everything in life depended upon it.
“Afida,” she moaned loudly into his kiss, her fingernails scoring marks into his smooth flesh.
“You need more,” he said the words against her ear and she nodded frantically, because that was exactly what she needed! More of this and more of him! More of everything.
He entered her painfully slowly, so that when his length finally took possession of her body, she was almost crazy with incantations, imploring him over and over and over again: “Please, please, please!”
He was gentle this time. It was completely unlike the first time they’d come together, when he’d been driven almost mad by his need for his wife – a need that had tipped over into anger and frustration when he’d discovered she’d offered him back to his mistress. Now, here in the unspoiled beauty of the dunes of Alija, nothing mattered except atoning for the way in which he’d taken her innocence. He had thought she was if not his equal, at least experienced enough to understand what their bodies were doing to one another.
This time, he knew that he wanted it to be perfect for her. He watched as she reached the peak of pleasure and then delighted in sending her over the edge. Her face contorted as her body racked with pleasure. When her second wave built to a crescendo, he chased after her, releasing himself into her with a roar that travelled the sandy desert.
He rolled, but kept his wife pinned to his chest, unwilling to break the physical connection. Laurie listened to the thumping of his heart, and she knew then. It was a heart that commanded hers. Though they’d known one another for such a short time, Afida was right. Time alone was not a determinant for love. It was chemistry and it was magic.
And the all-powerful Sheikh Afida Masou-Al was both magic and fantasy, wrapped up in one deliciously sexy package.
CHAPTER NINE
“It’s so cold now!” She said with a small laugh, wondering if it was just because, after hours of exploring one another in the calico tent, her body was its own again. No hands running over it, no lips sending her nerve endings into space, no passion and arousal stoking her fires to explosion point.
Afida’s strides were long, bringing him swiftly back from the helicopter. In the silver bath of moonlight, it glowed like a raven on the crystalline sand. “Nights out here are.”
He handed her a small dish and then sat down beside her.
“Something you prepared earlier?” She quipped, peeling the lid off so that she could see what was inside. To her chagrin, her stomach let out a loud grumbling noise of appreciation at the hint of food and she smothered it with a laugh. “I haven’t eaten since … I don’t know when.”
He brought his mouth to hers knowingly. “And we have used much energy,” he pointed out sagely.
Her cheeks might have blushed at his comment, once upon a time. Instead, she simply nodded, a droll expression on her pretty features. After all, they were now more intimately acquainted with one another than anyone had ever been, surely.
Her blood was volcanic lava in her veins. If she didn’t put some space between them, she would beg him to make love to her again. And she didn’t even know if that was p
ossible. How many times had they been together? Their lust was, apparently, insatiable. With no concept of if that was usual or not, she simply had to presume it was. But how did anyone ever get anything done? How were people not rushing back to their lovers or husbands half way through the day to make love? As far as drug addictions went, Laurie could understand sex was the most tempting. Sex with Afida.
Would it be like this with anyone? Her pale eyes clouded as they drifted to his face, and the sharpness of observation she saw in his made her startle. “What is it?” She said hurriedly, looking back at the food self-consciously.
“Ensatha.” Like almost everything he said, it was magical sounding coming from him.
“Ensatha,” she repeated.
“Perfect. Your accent is native-like.”
She shrugged her slender shoulders but the compliment pleased her.
Afida’s eyes roamed her face. He was unable to understand why he was feeling oddly unsettled despite the excellent afternoon they’d shared. He spoke distractedly. “It is lamb, rice and currants, wrapped in vine leaves. They are a specialty of the province.”
“That sounds a bit like dolmades?”
“Yes. Some of the first Bedouin desert tribes were ancient Greek warriors, displaced from war and seeking a new land. They influenced existing cultures in many ways. Art, architecture, culture.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said, thinking of the history book she’d been reading.
“I will get you some more books on the matter, if it interests you,” he said casually, but Laurie was left wondering how he seemed able to read her mind so effortlessly.
“Thanks.” She looked back at the dish; it contained perhaps ten of the rolled delicacies. “Is your helicopter just kept stocked with food, in case you decide to go somewhere on a whim?” She teased with disbelief.
“Yes.” A simple admission, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Seriously?”
His smile was stunning. In the wilderness, beneath a blanket of pristine silver stars, he was heaven-sent.
“Seriously,” he mocked with a sexy wink. “My preferred jet and helicopter are stocked for me every day, in case I need to travel somewhere without notice.”
“So, somewhere in the capital, there’s an aeroplane waiting for you to arrive?”
“Yes.”
“Your preferred jet?” She prompted, lifting a brow.
“The palace has seven.”
“Seven? Is that all?”
“You are judging me, I know, for being excessive, but I have scaled back the royal fleet considerably in the last five years.”
“Have you?” She shook her head. “It does seem excessive, but it’s not really my place to say that.”
“Of course it is. In fact, one of the jets is yours.”
“Mine?” She was mid-way to picking up an Ensatha, but she paused. “Really?”
“Of course. Any time you wish to travel, it is at your disposal.”
“And is it kept stocked, like yours?”
His laugh was a soft rumble. “No. But I can have it made that way, if you wish.”
“No.” She flushed. “It’s wasteful.”
“Wasteful?”
“Yes! What happens to all this food if you don’t happen to decide to whim away one day?”
His smile was one of indulgence and amusement. “All of the palace food that is surplus to requirements is donated to a homeless charity in the city. Two vans are loaded up each morning to deliver the food.”
Laurie’s smile was weak. “I had no idea.”
“You wouldn’t. It is a private initiative, not one that needs to be known about widely.”
Her heart turned over, and she remembered something Elon had said about Afida. That he was generous beyond belief. “Do you do many things like this? These secret acts of altruism?”
He waved a hand dismissively through the air. “I do what I am able. The donation of palace leftovers is barely a Kingly gesture.”
Laurie’s soft, weak heart, turned over in her chest. She pinned her eyes to his so that he saw the sincerity of her words. “I think it is a perfect example of a Kingly gesture. And it shows what kind of King you are.”
A muscle flexed in his cheek. She lifted a finger to it, feeling the strength of his stubble beneath her light touch. A night-bird flew over head, letting out a delightful song as it went. It didn’t break the spell that was weaving around them. It added to it. Magic seemed to weave in and out of their bodies, forming an unstoppable web of understanding.
“Eat,” he murmured, lifting a grape leaf roll to her lips and tracing the lower lip with its cool shape.
She parted her lips, just enough to bite an end of the roll. Her eyes clung to his as she chewed it; she was powerless to look away. She tasted the roll with delight. “It’s good.”
“It is a favourite of mine.”
“Then I want to learn to make it.” The words escaped her soul and her lips before her brain could catch them. What was such a statement if not an admission of her love?
“It is not necessary,” he demurred instantaneously. Has she embarrassed him with her blatant desire to please? Had she crossed some invisible line between a marriage of convenience that included sex, and something far murkier?
“Of course. Not when you have an army of chefs at your disposal.” Her smile covered her hurt, but it was there. She had offered unconsciously, and he had rejected her offer with ease.
“I like to cook,” she lied, trying desperately to pedal back the stupid, weak suggestion.
“I had no idea.”
Neither had Laurie! “It’s a hobby. You know. Stress relief or something.”
He nodded, but was silent. He lifted the roll back to her lips, and she bit another segment. It really was delicious. But maybe that was this place too. The magic and freedom of the untamed wilderness was sparking something in her soul to life, making everything look and feel as though it pulsed with vibrancy.
Her eyes lifted to the sky. A thick blanket of inky darkness was jewel-studded by stars that shone far more brightly than she’d ever seen them.
Never doubt how much I have loved you, and do not ever let yourself be loved less than this. I will live on in your forever, and I will guide your darkest night. In moments of worry, look up, and you’ll see me.
Of course, she didn’t actually believe her mother had taken physical existence in the form of a star, and yet somehow, Laurie just knew she was out there. She reached for another roll and ate it silently. What would her mother have made of this?
It was the first time she’d really thought about it. Would she have been pleased with the marriage? Or desperately disappointed?
You may meet someone, one day, who you decide you love, and want to spend your life with. Make sure he is good enough for you before you take that step. For most people, and I cannot tell you how greatly I hope you are one of them, life is a lengthy journey, filled with many twists and turns. With the right person by your side, such as I have had with your father, it is an adventure that will never, even over a thousand years, feel long enough. Most importantly, it is a ride, and you know my philosophy on those – they must be fun!
Was Laurie having fun? She swallowed the roll and reached for another on autopilot. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she wasn’t aware of how Afida was studying her unashamedly. Make sure he is good enough for you, the letter had urged.
Was Afida ‘good enough’? She had thought him a heartless bastard at one time. Her cheeks flamed when she recalled the attack on Afida she’d launched at Elon, his closest friend. She’d expressed feelings that she was far from recognising now. What did that mean?
His touch was gentle on her cheek. “You’re crying.”
She blinked in genuine surprise. “Am I?” Her green eyes thudded to his, landing with a soft pause at the same time her heart rolled in her chest.
He made a soft noise of assent.
“I didn
’t realise.”
“Why?” He traced another tear with his finger, catching it as it threatened to roll off her chin.
She shook her head from side to side and laughed; a small, tremulous sound in the vastness of the desert. “I don’t know. I didn’t realise I was.”
“You are unhappy.”
“No!” She shook her head quickly as her heart thumped faster. “I was just thinking about my mother, that’s all.”
“And?”
Her smile was dismissive. “It’s silly.”
“What is?”
Laurie focussed on a shape in the distance; the outline of a craggy tree visible as a ghoulish silhouette against the blackened sky. “My mother left me a note. She knew she was dying, and she wanted me to have some words, I guess, in my future.” Her expression flashed with discomfort. “She would have hated this marriage.” Her laugh was shy. “She would have been furious with me. Even more so with you.”
The words he should have said were right there. He needed to release her. Because Marjorie would have been right to despise his heavy-handed management of the situation. Though his intentions had been honourable, the pain he’d wrought in Laurena’s life did not justify his success. He had used her as a pawn, and he’d had very little concern for how she might be affected by the marriage.
She had not mattered to him.
Yes, even to save her beloved David, Marjorie would not have approved of Afida’s actions.
Afida knew the strong thing to do would be to release his wife from her commitment to him, and yet … for almost the first time in his life, Afida wanted to be selfish. What was right and what was good no longer mattered if he couldn’t enjoy the pleasure of being with his wife.
* * *
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Bound to the Sheikh: An ancient debt. A deathbed promise. A marriage of duty and obligation. Desire too strong to control. Page 12