Mirage

by Monica Burns

  “Indeed,” Jane snapped. As her friend walked away toward the hotel’s main stairway, Alex turned sharply to face Altair.

  “The earl might be rough around the edges, but he gives me the impression he has nothing to hide. You, on the other hand, my lord, seem to have more secrets than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Tension tightened his mouth into a firm line. “As I’ve said before, Lord Blakeney doesn’t exist here. And exactly what secrets are you referring to, Alex?”

  The way he said her name made her heart skip a beat. With difficulty, she fought to keep her mind focused on discovering the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me you were corresponding with my father?”

  “You never asked.”

  His elusive answer sent outrage surging through her. “I shouldn’t have to ask,” she snapped. “You knew who my father was. Why didn’t you just tell me you knew Sheikh el Mazir? Why didn’t you tell me you were his translator?”

  “I didn’t think it important.”

  “Of course it was important.”

  “I don’t see how it would have made a difference.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, her thoughts spinning and careening into one another. Fists clenched, she glared at him. “The difference would have been my ability to trust you.”

  Ignoring the grim expression on his features, she wheeled about and stalked away from him. Behind her, she heard his soft curse before his footsteps sounded quietly against the marble floor of the hotel foyer. When he reached her side, he grasped her elbow. As discreetly as possible, she tried to withdraw her arm from his clutch, but he merely tightened his grip.

  The pace he set easily allowed them to catch up with Jane. With a grim smile, he gestured toward the stairs. The three of them mounted the steps to the second floor where Altair guided them to a set of adjoining rooms.

  As they stopped outside the first door, he raised his hand in a commanding gesture. “Wait here, I’d like to ensure the room is safe.”

  He quietly opened the door and entered the room. After a few moments, he returned to the hallway. “I believe you’ll find the room spacious and quite safe, Mrs. Beacon.”

  Jane, her earlier irritation seemingly dissipated, smiled and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll look forward to seeing you at dinner this evening.”

  With a quick squeeze of Alex’s hand, Jane entered her room and closed the door. Altair didn’t look at her as he moved to the next door and inserted the key into the lock. As he disappeared through the doorway, Alex followed him into the room. In silence, she watched him search the suite. When he disappeared into the adjoining bath, she took in her surroundings. Spacious in size, the room held a large bed draped with white mosquito netting, while a small dresser rested against the opposite wall.

  A light breeze from the open window caused the sheer curtains bordering the casement to billow out into the room. As she moved to take in the view, the door behind her thudded shut. Jumping with fright, she whirled about as Altair charged out of the bath. Instantly, she realized the breeze must have caused the door to shut on its own, and she sighed with relief.

  Across the room, their eyes met, and she trembled slightly at the brooding expression on his face. Folding his arms across his broad chest, he studied her in silence. Tension charged the air as that tingling sensation he always aroused in her edged its way across her skin.

  “You’re to remain in the hotel for the rest of the day.” His soft command made Alex tighten her mouth in rebellion.

  “I did not come all this way to hide out in a hotel room.”

  “Nevertheless, you’ll do as you’re told.”

  Infuriated, Alex glared at him and braced her hands against her hips. “Or what? You’ll refuse to take me to Khatana-Qantir?”

  In an explosive movement, he unfolded his arms and strode across the floor. Towering over her, his large hands grasped her forearms as he gave her a slight shake.

  “No, I’ll not refuse you that,” he said through clenched teeth. “However, here is a demonstration of what to expect if you disobey my orders.”

  With a resolute movement, he enveloped her in his arms, and she uttered a small gasp. The heat of him swallowed her whole, and despite the knowledge that she should protest his actions, she couldn’t. In truth, she didn’t want to do anything except feel the touch of his mouth against hers once more.

  One strong hand slid behind her neck. His thumb circled over her skin, skimming her earlobe. The sensual touch only emphasized the impact he had on her senses. This was not the way she’d planned things for her trip into the desert. She’d not counted on meeting a man so mysterious and devastatingly handsome that she was willing to offer herself up like a sacrificial lamb on the altar of the Egyptian goddess Hathor. Unable to drag her gaze away, her eyes locked with his and her breathing grew rapid as he lowered his head. In the next instant, his mouth singed hers, pulling a soft moan from her throat.

  Part of her knew she should be pushing him away, but something stronger held her fluid in his arms. Hard lips demanded a response, and she pressed her body into his to answer the summons. As his tongue swept into her mouth, the bittersweet taste of hazelnut coffee mixed with the unique flavor of him and teased her senses. Her heart spiraling out of control, she responded with an intimate, probing stroke in return.

  His deep groan warmed her mouth like a fiery oven. Strong fingers stroked across the top of her breasts through the thin cotton of her dress as she pressed her body into his. Delight shivered through her. Sweet heaven, she didn’t want anything between them. She wanted to feel his hard muscular body beneath her fingertips—against her skin.

  Blind desire made her push at the jacket he wore, and he obliged her by sliding out of the garment and quickly unbuttoning his shirt. Trembling, she stared at the bronzed muscles of his chest before she reached out to glide her fingertips across his sculpted body.

  He was beautiful—just as she’d imagined. No pharaoh could ever have been as devastating. The sun had drenched his hard, sinewy body until it was a golden hue. Her fingertips grew hot as she touched him. Her thumb scraped over a nipple, and he drew in a sharp breath. The sound told her she’d pleased him. She loved touching him and his unsteady breaths provoked her to do more than just touch him with her hands. Slowly, she leaned into him, pressing her lips to the hardness of his body. A shudder tore through him, and she marveled at his solid warmth. Her tongue flicked out to taste him. A faint trace of licorice tantalized her taste buds. He tasted hot—spicy. She inhaled the exotic aroma of cedarwood and sweet fennel. It heightened his powerful, masculine scent.

  Beneath her hands, his muscles rippled. Lost in the pleasure singing through her veins, she offered no protest as his hands slid from her shoulders to her back where he undid the buttons of her dress. Instead, she continued her exploration of his upper body, her mouth and fingers recording every rough edge of him.

  Seconds later, the laces of her corset were undone, the offensive undergarment removed. She stiffened, aware that she was close to the point of no return. Then the burning touch of his hand brushed across her breast and she was lost. Delight sped through her, washing away any protests her mind tried to offer up. As she arched away from him slightly, her breasts rode higher on his chest. The sensation of his skin scraping across her nipples hitched her breath. When his mouth took possession of one nipple, a wild tremor shook her. His hot tongue swirled around the rigid peak in a torturous motion as intense gratification held her in its grip.

  A pulsing need grew inside her, clenching her muscles with an unwavering need for release. She should be protesting, ending this wild, passionate encounter. But she didn’t. She couldn’t have even if she wanted to.

  The need curling through her was in total control as a delicious ache settled near the apex of her thighs. She sensed movement, but the pleasure weaving its spell over her didn’t allow her to comprehend anything u
ntil she felt the bed pressing against the back of her legs.

  She fell backwards onto the soft mattress and stared up at him. He towered over her, his dark eyes coveting her naked flesh. The white lawn of his shirt, splayed open almost to his waist, revealed a hard, muscular chest. From the middle of his torso, a dark line of hair dove toward his navel. Down to where his arousal swelled beneath his trousers.

  He stared down at her, drinking in the creamy smoothness of her skin. She was even more voluptuous in the sunlight. He’d never seen such full, succulent breasts. Slowly, he reached out to trace the darkened areole surrounding her nipple. Her eyelids fluttered at the light touch, and the skin around her hard peak dimpled.

  Another moan parted her lips as his thumb rolled over the taut nipple. The sound stiffened his cock until it ached with a relentless demand for satisfaction. He was playing with fire where she was concerned, but at the moment he didn’t care.

  Chapter Eight

  An explosive need pulsated its way through Altair’s limbs. Inside his trousers, his cock throbbed its demand for satisfaction as she stroked him through the material. Her bold move intoxicated him.

  His thumb circled the tip of her again. Another soft mewl of pleasure escaped her lips. The sound encouraged him to cup a full breast in the palm of his hand. The milky white globe was a sharp contrast against his brown skin, while small goosebumps puckered the dusky-colored skin of her areoles. Hard and swollen, her nipples uttered a silent invitation.

  He leaned forward to suckle her. Milk and honey danced inside his mouth, while a citrus scent wafted from her hair into his nostrils. With each flick of his tongue across her hard nipple, a tiny shudder vibrated through her. The poignancy of her response increased the level of his desire. Her skin was aglow with passion, just as he’d envisioned it earlier today.

  Beneath long, silky eyelashes, her hazel eyes glowed with a fire he knew his own gaze echoed. He wanted to see all of her. To press his mouth against every inch of her silky skin. Would the curls between her legs be the same golden-brown as her hair or darker? More importantly, would she be wet with liquid heat, ready for his cock to slide into her, filling her? Would she be as tight around his cock as he thought?

  The thoughts racing through his head made him harder than he ever believed possible. The excruciating need to plunge into her drove all sense of reason from his head. Bracing his hands on either side of her, he teased first one breast, then the other with his mouth and tongue. Gently, his lips clamped onto a nipple and tugged it. The action pulled a husky cry of delight from her throat.

  As he suckled the sweetness of her, the hard bulge of his cock pressed into the softness of her thigh. He swallowed the gasp of pleasure parting her lips with a deep kiss. The fresh tang of her tongue against his reminded him of the ocean, while the sweet smell of her honeyed skin tantalized his senses almost as much as the feel of her did.

  His hand gathered a handful of her skirt and slid it up her leg. Fire engulfed his fingers as they traveled up her firm calf to the fullness of her thigh. She was soft and pliant beneath his hand. God, he needed her. Needed to bury his cock in her and feel her body gripping him.

  The garter holding up her stocking gave way easily under his quick movements. His breaths came hard and fast. Never had he craved a woman the way he did her. He wanted to see his dark legs entwined with hers as he took her from one height of pleasure to another. The feel of her, the scent of her, the taste, they all rolled together to pull him into a whirlpool of lost reason.

  The smoothness of her thigh made his fingers itch to ride higher and explore the nest of curls he knew existed at the apex of her legs. As his hand slid across her mound, she bucked against him. Damn, but she was ready. He could smell her heat, the musky scent of her. It was intoxicating. His fingers parted her folds, needing to feel the creamy heat of her desire.

  Reality crashed through him as a loud knock sounded on the door. Shock washed over her face at the noise, before a deep crimson flooded her cheeks. Berating himself for losing control, he straightened upright, pulling her with him. Quickly, he helped her adjust her clothing. With a gentle touch, he brushed aside her trembling fingers to button her dress for her.

  “Tell them to wait a moment,” he whispered as he passed the buttons through their slits. She did as he instructed, and the husky sound of her voice tightened the desire coiling inside his cock. Tendrils of hair had escaped the knot at the back of her head, while her cheeks were flushed with pink. She looked ripe and sensuous. The look suited her, and he ached with the need to release his physical tension inside her. With difficulty, he swallowed the urge to order her visitor away.

  Her slender hand reached up to smooth the front of her dress, and his eyes focused on the hard nipples pushing through the thin material of her gown. Suppressing a groan of desire at the enticing sight, he pushed her corset under the bed with his foot. When was the last time he’d lost control like that? His fingers slipped slightly on the buttons of his shirt. He couldn’t remember. Bending over, he picked up his jacket and shrugged into it. He glanced in Alex’s direction as he crossed the floor to answer the door. She’d moved to the window and she didn’t turn around as two women entered the room with hot water and towels. The women disappeared into the bath leaving him alone with Alex once more.

  She turned around to face him, a lost look in her eyes. The confusion furrowing her brow made him wince. For a long moment, he studied the bewildered expression on her face. What could he say or do to explain how he’d lost control? He took a step toward her, but stopped as she recoiled from him in dismay.

  Without realizing it, he clenched his hands into fists, the muscles in his body tightening at her reaction. Did she think he was about to ravish her? Of course she did—hadn’t he nearly accomplished that very thing? Even if her ultimate safety was his goal, using a kiss to coerce her into obeying his orders had been a mistake.

  The kiss had escalated into something far more intense than he’d expected. He needed to keep his distance from Alex Talbot. She had a way of making him lose control, and losing control would only lead to trouble where she was concerned. Furious with himself at the misstep, he bit the inside of his cheek.

  “Stay in the hotel,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “My advances are not nearly as dangerous as the hazards outside the Billôr Sarâya.”

  Not waiting for her response, he strode angrily from the room. As his long stride ate up the distance to the stairs, he berated himself for his behavior. He’d taken advantage of her. Caroline had been right all along. He was a savage. No gentleman would have acted with such disrespect.

  Only a barbarian would succumb to his desire so easily. Once again, he’d played on her vulnerability. He’d sunk to a level of uncivilized behavior that sickened him. Reaching the hotel lobby, he saw Hakim hurrying toward him.

  With a disgusted sigh, he halted as the smaller man bowed in front of him. “Excellency, the ladies’ trunks have arrived. Miss Talbot has far more luggage than will fit comfortably in her room.”

  “Miss Talbot is used to working in tight spaces, Hakim. If necessary, line the damn walls of her room with the bloody things.”

  Not waiting for a response, he strode out of the hotel all too aware of the man’s look of astonishment. Damn it to hell, the woman had tied him into knots. If he didn’t take care to keep his distance from her, he’d find himself in a worse state altogether when she discovered it was him and not Medjuel who had agreed to take her out into the desert. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d be furious. She’d made it quite clear she didn’t like someone lying to her.

  The forbidding thought shot tension through each of his muscles. Why the devil didn’t he just tell her who he was? What he was? No. He needed her to trust him if he was to keep her safe in the desert. Telling her now would destroy what little confidence she had in him.

  A small voice in his head scoffed at his
excuse. His continued deception wasn’t just about maintaining her trust. He immediately silenced his innermost thoughts. Whatever the reason was that kept him spinning this web of lies and deceit—he didn’t want to examine it too closely. Instinct told him the answer would rock him to his very core.

  Half aware of the floral scents mingling in the dry air, he walked back toward the docks. His stride long and swift, he tried to outdistance his morose thoughts, but failed. They pursued him with all the zeal of an outraged Englishman determined to humiliate him at all costs.

  The tight coil of regret inside him pulled a harsh breath out of him. He’d grown used to the idea of being a man without a country, but Alex was a potent reminder of what he craved and yet could never have. If he’d told her the truth from the beginning, he wouldn’t need to worry about her trusting him. Her father’s confidence in him would have been good enough for Alex.

  Ahead of him, he caught sight of a familiar dark blue gambaz only worn by the Mazir. To his amazement, the blue-robed figure stopped in front of a tavern that was a stronghold of the Hoggar, an enemy tribe of the Mazir. Astonishment turned to anger as the tribesman glanced furtively about before darting into the tavern.

  Who would dare betray the tribe? Unable to see the man’s features from where he stood, Altair hurried down the street and entered a shop across from the Hoggar tavern. The traitor would come out soon enough, and he would find out who had dared to consort with Sheikh Tarih, leader of the Hoggar.

  Inside the shop, he moved away from the door and examined a number of different beautifully woven rugs. Every few seconds, his gaze scanned the street in front of the tavern. The shop owner approached him, and Altair gestured to the first rug he saw.

  “How much?”

  “For you Excellency, ten thousand piastres.”