“We are going to an old retreat of my family's, one high in the mountains,” Makeen said, his eyes focused on the hazy sky out the window. “It is a place that has been kept for the Sheikhs of Zahar and their lovers for generations, a place of peace.”
Olivia couldn't keep herself from stirring at his use of the word lovers. “Is that what we are?” she asked, keeping her voice low so the woman at the rear of the plane wouldn't be able to hear.
“It is what we will be,” he said shortly. “It is what you agreed to, what you offered to me, unless you are pulling back?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I am only curious as to what you might … want of me.”
Makeen's gaze turned back to her, and it was so possessive, so very dominant, that it made her heart beat faster just to see it. No matter what the situation was between them, no matter what had brought them together, there was something that drew her to this man. Who knew what they would have been in other circumstances, but in the here and now, they were lovers.
“Everything,” he breathed, and her heart beat faster.
Even if she had had a response to that, the attendant returned, setting a small plate of delicate morsels in front of her. For a moment, Olivia simply stared at the plate, taking in the beauty of the food before she could bring herself to eat it. It made Makeen chuckle a little.
“Have you always been such a connoisseur of beauty, little bird?” he asked, and she glanced up at him.
“Since I was a little girl, I was often ready to sacrifice practicality for beauty,” she said. “It was something that drove my parents mad, but David, unfortunately, encouraged it. He would bring bits of glass, ornaments, things that got broken when we inevitably moved or had to leave. They broke my heart, but he still brought them to me …”
Makeen nodded, his face softening slightly. “Then your brother did he what he could to preserve your spirit, and that was well done of him.”
“It was, or at least I thought so. It turned me into someone who likes pretty food at least.”
“Pretty as it is, you should still eat it,” he said, and for some reason, it made Olivia feel slightly defiant.
“Or what?” she asked daringly, and from the slight smile that curled his lips, she could tell he understood her.
“Or I will feed it to you.”
She wasn't sure what made her lean forward, her hands crossed primly in front of her and an expectant look on her face. For a moment, Makeen only stared at her, and then he laughed.
“All right. I can see that whatever kind of bird you are, you are a stubborn one.”
She watched, more fascinated than she thought she would be. His fingers were lean and graceful as he scooped a small amount of shiny black caviar onto a rye cracker and held it up to her lips. When he did that, she leaned forward, taking the morsel from his hand gracefully. She felt the momentary warmth of his fingertips as they brushed her lower lip, and then it was gone as she chewed the morsel with relish.
“Oh my gosh, that's so good,” she sighed happily. “More?”
Makeen laughed again, shaking his head. “Whatever else your parents did, they did not stop short of giving you nerve,” he said with admiration, and picked up another bite of food for her.
“Not like they could stop me,” she said, slightly smug.
“I think very little could,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.
In surprisingly short order, she finished the meal that the attendant had brought to her, and she sat back in her seat, smiling with contentment. Throughout her entire strange meal, he had looked curious and fascinated with her, as if she were some kind of strange animal that he had tamed. In some ways, she supposed that he was.
“Do you do this often?” she asked, her voice soft. She knew that she might be buying trouble by asking her brother's benefactor something like that, but she had to know.
He settled back into his own chair, templing his fingers in front of him thoughtfully. When Makeen looked at her, it was with a shuttered glance that she couldn't read at all.
“Do you think I do?” he asked.
Olivia took the question seriously, examining it from every angle. Finally, when she thought she had her answer, she shook her head.
“No, not really. I think that you are a kind man, but I also think that you were surprised. You didn't expect me.”
That startled a laugh out of Makeen. “Honestly, I don't know if anyone would expect you, little songbird. And you are right. No, I have never done this before. However, it might be a habit that I have to take up if I start pulling in girls as pretty as you.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes. She wasn't sure why the idea of Makeen finding another woman the way he had found her was distasteful, but she couldn't help but feel a stab of anger. She pushed it away, because it wasn't a useful feeling as well.
“What do you expect from me?” she asked instead.
He raised an eyebrow. “What can I expect from you?” he responded, and she bit her lip.
“You can expect me to be myself,” Olivia said finally. “You can expect me to be grateful. You can expect me … to do what you want.”
He nodded, and if there was something sad or distressed about his expression, he hid it quickly. “This isn't something we can truly answer for each other right now,” he said firmly. “Later. We can speak about it later.”
They lapsed into a silence that was strangely companionable despite the strange road that had brought them there, and as she drowsed to the sound of the plane's engines, she watched him through the thick tangle of her eyelashes.
I don't know what I am doing, she thought, but I am not unhappy to be here with him.
Chapter Five
Olivia couldn't stop staring around her. The plane had dropped them off at what at first glance seemed like an enormous cabin in the mountains. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, with gorgeous stained glass windows and a green shale roof, but when she stepped inside, she was astonished by the modern conveniences. It really was a small mansion camped high on the mountain top.
“This place is incredible,” she murmured, looking around. “I've never seen anything like it.”
“And you won't again. This is a place that has been in my family for generations, and each one of us has left a mark on it. It will never be featured in any magazines, and the number of people who are not related to me who have been in it in the past twenty years can be counted on one hand.”
She turned to him in surprise. “Have you ever brought someone up here?”
“No,” he answered, but before she could read too much into that, he gestured towards the hallway.
“Your room is the second door on the right. Mine is across the hall from you. Move around, make yourself comfortable. Until and unless I need you for something, you are free to roam as you like.”
He paused, thinking for a moment. “Give yourself a few hours to get settled. At six, I would like you in the living room and ready to perform.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“At six, I want you in the living room and ready to play something for me. I'm open minded. I doubt you could play something that I'd hate.”
“That's what you want me to do? Play you music?”
“Is that a problem? You brought your violin.”
She had to admit that it wasn't. When Olivia went to her room, she found it to be far more luxurious than any place she had ever stayed. It was easily the same size as the apartment her entire family was living in, and for a moment, she felt a pang of guilt. Then she put it aside because she had stranger things by far to worry about.
Olivia did as Makeen instructed her to do. She stretched out after the long flight, resting on the bed with her eyes closed for a little while, but she found she couldn't sleep. Finally, she reached for her violin. After all, if he wanted her to play, she needed to warm up. The moment she touched the familiar warm wood, Olivia felt a sense of peace go through her. She had this. She would alwa
ys have this, no matter what happened.
When six o'clock rolled around, she was calmer than she had been in what felt like years. She rose up from her seat and with her violin and bow in hand, she went to the living room.
Makeen was already seated there and waiting for her. He had taken off his suit to dress in linen trousers and a shirt she recognized as a traditional Zahar tunic in deep red. He sat on the couch, ankle propped on the opposite knee and with a drink in his hand. He looked every inch a man bred to rule, and in that moment, she understood what it must have been like to be a musician in times long gone, brought before a man who held the power of life and death over his people and told to play.
Somehow, she did not feel nervous. She had never played for an audience of one before. She had certainly never played in front of someone who had so much power over her. Instead, she seated herself on the ottoman a few feet in front of him. She could feel his dark eyes on her, and there was something oddly sensual about the moment. In some ways, what she was about to do for him was more personal than taking off her clothes, and she thought that he understood that.
She fitted the violin under her chin, took a deep breath, and brought her bow down into the first delicate notes of Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 5. It was a light but startlingly difficult number, one that required all of her concentration. However, as she played, she realized that she was exquisitely aware of Makeen in a way that she had never been before. It felt as if her music was acting as a bridge between them, as if it could say the things that she didn't have the words for, or was too afraid to say.
At some point, Olivia realized that she had never played that piece better. Her hands were sure on her instrument, and her mind was nearly blank. It seemed to flow out of her, and when it was over, she transitioned to another piece with ease. She existed in a place where all she wanted was to play music for this man, and it was a place that made her feel safe and grounded and peaceful all at once.
When she finally set down her violin, Olivia was startled to see that almost half an hour had passed. It had grown dark while she was playing, and now she and Makeen sat in deep shadow. She couldn't read his expression in the dimness. She sat silently and tensely, waiting for his response.
“Set your violin aside. Come here.”
Hesitantly, she laid her violin back in its case and picked her way carefully to the couch. After a moment of hesitation, she sat down next to him, but she was only there for a moment as his arms went around her, and Makeen pulled her halfway onto his lap.
The kiss he gave her was unlike the one that they had shared before. Instead of being fiery and consuming, there was something terribly deliberate about. He kissed her as if they had known each other for years—as though this was what they had always done together.
Olivia might have wanted to keep herself separate from the kiss, but she found that she couldn't. Instead, she felt herself sinking into it, letting the deep warmth of his body suffuse her own. It felt as if there was a deep river of heat and desire in her that he could tap when he wished to do so, and she was helpless to resist it.
When she felt his hands move to her waist, sliding up under the loose hem of her T-shirt, she gasped a little. For a moment, she went stiff, and then she melted into him as if she was wax in the sun. She felt soft and open, receptive in a way that she barely understood. She shivered as she felt his hands roaming the skin of her back, raising goose bumps wherever he touched her.
His mouth moved from her lips down to the sensitive skin of her neck, and without thinking of what she was doing, Olivia bared her neck to him, aware of the exquisite vulnerability of her position. When she felt the white sharpness of his teeth against her throat, a shiver ran through her body, but she couldn't move to protect herself; she didn't want to. She wanted to bare all of herself to this man, whether it was wise or foolish. She wanted more, and right then, she would have offered it all to him.
It was Makeen who pulled back. Suddenly, he pulled his head away, and with a gentle motion, he pushed her back on the couch even as he stepped away.
“Thank you for the performance,” he said, his voice slightly uneven. “That will be all for tonight.”
For a moment, Olivia sat on the couch, staring at his back and hardly able to believe what he had just said. Then his words penetrated her mind and she gaped at being spoken to as if she were a member of his household staff, someone who was paid to come in and clean his house or see to his business affairs. Her cheeks flaming, she stood up straight, stepping back to grab her violin case.
“You're very welcome, sir,” she said, her voice almost syrup sweet. “Thank you for the honor of allowing me to entertain you.”
“Olivia …”
She didn't hear the rest of what he had to say because she stalked to her room. She managed to stop short of slamming the door after herself, but it was a near thing. She set her violin carefully off to one side and threw herself onto the bed.
What was wrong with her? Shouldn't she have been relieved that he was willing to respect her, and to leave her alone? She knew that she should count herself extremely lucky for the way things were playing out, but her skin still tingled with fire, still burned with need.
Instead of lying down to sleep, she stared up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what was going on. Was she not desirable to him? Was she not enough?
A sudden thought entered her mind, one that left her chilled with fear.
Had he decided that she wasn't enough? Was he so disappointed in the deal he had made that he was regretting it? Even worse, would he decide to go back on it if he continued to be displeased?
Olivia and her mother had never had much to say to each other, but one of the lessons that her mother had taught her was that a man who felt cheated was a dangerous man. So far, Makeen had acted honorably about David's release, but unless she was able to keep him happy, he might decide to do otherwise.
I can't let David be hurt, I just can't, she thought.
She had to find a way to get Makeen's favor again, and apparently, she wasn't going to do it with her violin or with polite conversation.
As the night drew on, she began to plan.
***
After Olivia stalked back to her room, Makeen went back to his own and resolutely walked underneath the cold shower in his bathroom. If he thought about her too hard, imagined the silky feel of her skin, thought of her pale eyes dilated dark with desire, he would lose control, and that was the last thing he wanted right now.
Instead, he stood under the cold water until he was surprised he wasn't blue, and after that, went to lie down in bed.
For the first time, Makeen was wondering if he had bitten off more than he could chew. When he had made the bargain with the little hellion in the next room, his thoughts had been dark things, full of the kind of pleasure he knew he could force from her tender body. Then, after he had spoken with her longer, learned about who she was and what she would do to keep her family safe, his respect for her had grown. He had begun to feel like a bastard for what he wanted to do with her, and he had come to a decision.
He might tease, and he might have her play her violin, but beyond that, he wasn't going to tempt fate. There were hidden depths to the street violinist that he had found, and suddenly, the last thing he wanted was for things to get out of hand.
He sighed, climbing into the large bed. Things had seemed far simpler when he was dealing with the investigative forces to free her brother. Tomorrow. He would deal with it all tomorrow. Hopefully by then, his thoughts would have cleared.
Makeen dozed off, his thoughts troubled and strange. He dreamed of a woman whose face he could not see. She was laughing or crying, he could not tell which, but he could not reach her to comfort her.
He moved from sleep to wakefulness in a single moment, unsure of what had woken him. He started to sit up in bed, but a soft hand pressed him back down.
“Olivia, what …”
Before he could voice his question, she lea
ned her weight over him, pressing him back to the bed even as she levered herself up for a kiss. He knew that he should stop to figure out what was going on, but instead he gave himself up to the sweetness of her lips, the weight of her body on his, the brush of her dark hair over his arm.
“I want to please you,” she whispered huskily, and it was as if her words sent an electrical charge through his body. Suddenly it wasn't enough that he was kissing her. He wrapped his arms around her body, dragging her further on top of him. Her weight was nothing but perfect on him, and when he held her close, he realized with a start that she was naked. There was nothing between them but a sheet, and soon that would be gone too.
“Why are you here?” he asked, breaking their kiss for a moment. Though his body raged at him to continue what he was doing, he couldn't allow himself to keep going, not while that question hung over everything.
“Because we made a deal,” she said, reaching for him again. “Because I want to keep up my end of it.”
Ever after, Makeen would regret the fact that he kept kissing her. He couldn't help himself. He heard her words, but despite the way they made him cringe, he couldn't help holding her close, feeling the way her lush body pressed against his. It was pure heaven, and the more his hands roved that perfect body, the more convinced he became that she was made for him.
It wasn't until he felt her begin to move the sheet away that he came to his senses. With a muffled swear, Makeen sat up and pushed her away. When she made a startled longing sound, he almost gave in, but instead he growled, bringing himself under control again.
“Stay there,” he said, and for a wonder, she obeyed. He reached over to turn on the light above the headboard. When he turned back, he took a single moment to relish the picture of her utterly naked, her dark hair streaming down her shoulders, her lips slightly parted with lust.
“Now what the hell do you think you're doing?” he demanded.
“Are you telling me you don't know?” she asked. “Because that would surprise me a great deal!”
He groaned slightly, shaking his head. “Answer the question. Why are you here?”
Bad Sheikh's Surrogate Mistress Page 14