by Penny Jordan
The prince had come to see how she was progressing earlier in the week and he had brought his wife and their young family with him. The sight of the four dark-haired and dark-eyed children clustering round their parents had filled her with such a physical ache of longing that she had felt as though her womb had actually physically contracted.
She was desperate to have her own child, Mariella recognised. And not just because she was missing Fleur. Fleur’s birth might have detonated her biological clock, setting it ticking away with such frantic urgency, but the longing she felt now was beginning to consume her, eating into her dreams and her emotions.
Now she felt she understood why she had wanted Xavier so much. Her body had recognised him as a perfect potential baby provider! Knowing that had in a way eased a lot of the anxiety she had been feeling; the fear she couldn’t bear to admit that she might actually have fallen in love with him. Now, though, she felt secure that her emotional defences had not been breached. Now it was easy for her to admit to herself just how much she had wanted him and how much she still wanted him. She wanted him because she wanted him to give her a child!
It made so much sense! Didn’t she remember reading somewhere that a woman naturally and instinctively responded to the ancient way in which nature had programmed her and that was to seek the best genes she could for her child? Quite obviously her body had recognised that Xavier’s genes were superlative and her brain fully endorsed her body’s recognition.
And this of course was why she was being bombarded by her body and her brain with messages, longings, desires, images that all pointed in the same direction. Xavier’s direction! Her maternal urges were quite definitely on red alert!
* * *
‘XAVIER HAS TELEPHONED to say that he will be remaining at the oasis for another week,’ Xavier’s great-aunt informed Mariella with a small sigh as they sat down for dinner. ‘It must be dull here for you, chérie, with only your work to occupy you and me for company.’
‘Not at all,’ Mariella denied.
‘Non? But you do miss la petite bébé?’
Now it was Mariella’s turn to sigh.
‘Yes, I do,’ she admitted.
‘Then perhaps you should consider having enfants of your own,’ Madame Flavel told her. ‘I certainly regret the fact that I was not blessed with children. I envied my sister very much in that respect. I have to confess I cannot understand why two people like Xavier and yourself, who anyone can see are born to be parents, should decide so determinedly against marriage.
‘You are working very hard on your frieze. It would do you good to have a few days off.’
She had been working very hard—but if truth were told, the frieze was practically finished. But Mariella had been painstakingly refining it to make sure it was absolutely perfect. Could she take a few days off? To do what? Have even more time to miss Fleur and to ache for a child of her own? Even more time to wish passionately that Xavier had not brought an end to their intimacy before they had... If only she had pressed him a little harder, persuaded...seduced him to the point where he had not been able to stop, she considered daringly, then right now she could already be carrying within her the beginnings of her own child!
Restlessly her thoughts started to circle inside her head. Once they had finished eating Madame Flavel retired to her own room, leaving Mariella to walk through their private garden on her own. If only Xavier were here in the villa now, she could go to him. And what? Demand that he take her to bed and impregnate her?
Oh, yes, she could just see him agreeing to that!
Why would she have to demand? She was a woman, wasn’t she? And Xavier was a man... He had already shown her that he could be aroused to desire for her...
But he wasn’t here, was he? He was at the oasis.
The oasis... Closing her eyes, Mariella allowed herself to picture him there. That night when he had thought that she was Tanya, he had come so close to possessing her. Her whole body was aching for him now, aching with all the ferocity of a child-hungry woman whose womb was empty!
* * *
IRRITABLY, MARIELLA THREW down her sketch-pad, chewing on her bottom lip as she glowered at the images she had drawn: babies...all of them possessing Xavier’s unmistakable features. She had hardly slept all night, and when she had it had merely been to be tormented by such sensually erotic dreams of Xavier that they had made her cry out in longing for him. It was as though even her dreams, her own subconscious, were reinforcing her desire for Xavier’s child.
In fact the only thing about her that was still trying to fight against that wanting was...was what? Fear... Timidity... Did she really want to look back in years to come and face the fact that she had simply not had the courage to reach out for what she wanted?
After all, it wasn’t as though she would be doing anything illegal! She had no intention of ever making any kind of claim on Xavier—far from it! She actively wanted to be left to bring up her child completely on her own. All she wanted from him was a simple physical act. All she had to do...
All she had to do was to make it impossible for him to resist her! And whilst he was at the oasis he would be completely at her sensual mercy! It was even the right time of the month—she was fertile.
A wildly bold plan was beginning to take shape inside her head, and the first step towards it meant an immediate shopping trip, for certain...necessities! There was a specific shop she remembered from a previous trip to the busy souk in the centre of the city, which specialised in what she wanted!
* * *
SLIGHTLY PINK-CHEEKED, MARIELLA studied the fine silk kaftan she was being shown by the salesgirl, so fine that it was completely sheer. Surely the only thing that stopped it from floating away was the weight of the intricate and delicate silver beading and embroidery around the neck and hem and decorating the edges of the long sleeves.
It was a soft shade of turquoise, and designed to be worn—the salesgirl had helpfully explained without so much as batting an elegantly kohled eyelid—over a matching pair of harem trousers. Their cuffs and waistband had been embroidered to match the kaftan itself. It was quite plainly an outfit designed only to be worn in private and for the delectation of one man. The sheerness of the fabric would leave one’s breasts totally revealed—and Mariella had not missed the strategically embroidered rosettes, which she doubted would do anything more than merely make a teasing pretence of covering the wearer’s nipples—and as for the fact that the harem pants incorporated an embroidered and beaded v-shaped section at the front, which she had an unnerving suspicion would draw attention to rather than protect, any wearer’s sex...
‘And then, of course, there is this,’ the salesgirl told her, showing Mariella a jewelled piece of fabric, which she helpfully explained was self-adhesive so that the wearer could easily fix it to her navel.
Mariella gulped. Her normal sleeping attire when she wore any tended to be sturdily sensible cotton pyjamas.
‘Er... No...I don’t think...it’s quite me,’ she heard herself croaking, her courage deserting her. Seducing Xavier was going to be hard enough without giving herself the kind of self-conscious hang-up wearing that kind of outfit would undoubtedly give her!
‘I...I was thinking of something more...more European,’ she explained ruefully to the salesgirl.
‘Ah, yes, of course. There is a shop in the shopping centre run by my cousin, which specialises in French underwear. I shall tell you how to find it.’
Mariella sensed that the girl was amused by her self-consciousness, but there was no way she intended to pay a sheikh’s ransom for an outfit that would take more courage to wear than going completely naked!
The souk was busy, and she paused on her way back through it to admire the wares on some of the other stalls, especially the rugs.
There was far more to seduction than merely wearing a harem outf
it, she tried to comfort herself as she headed for the modern shopping centre. Far, far more. Sight was just one of man’s senses, after all.
* * *
BY THE TIME she finally returned to the villa Mariella felt totally exhausted. She was now the proud owner of a perfume blended especially for her, and a body lotion guaranteed to turn her skin into the softest silk; she had also given in to the temptation to buy herself some new underwear, from the harem outfit seller’s cousin, in the shopping mall. French and delicately feminine without making her feel in any way uncomfortable. Low-cut French knickers might not be as openly provocative as beaded harem trousers but they did have the advantage of being perfect to wear underneath her jeans!
It didn’t take her very long to pack. All she said to Hera when she summoned her was that she wanted her to hand the note she was giving her to Madame Flavel when she woke up from her afternoon nap.
By that time she should have safely reached the oasis, and her note was simply to calm the older lady’s fears and told her only that Mariella had driven out to the oasis because there was something she wanted to discuss with Xavier.
She took a taxi to the four-wheel drive rental office, where the car she had organised earlier by telephone was waiting for her.
This time she made sure she had the radio tuned in to the local weather station, but thankfully no sandstorms were forecast.
Taking a deep breath, she started the car’s engine.
* * *
WITH A SMALL oath, Xavier pushed the laptop away and stood up. He had come to the oasis to put a safe distance between himself and Mariella but all his absence from her was doing was making him think about her all the more.
Think about her! He wasn’t just thinking about her, was he?
The tribe were currently camped less than thirty miles away and on a sudden impulse he decided to drive over and see them. The solitude of his own company was not proving to be its usual solace. Everywhere he looked around the oasis he could see Mariella. There might be a cultural gap between them, but, like him, she had a very strong sense of responsibility, and like him she would not give either her heart or herself easily. Like him, too, once she was committed, that commitment would be for ever. And did she also ache for what they had so nearly had and lie awake at night wanting...needing, afraid to admit that those feelings went way, way beyond the merely physical? And if she did, then... Could she love him enough to accept his duty to the tribe, and with it his commitment to his role in life...to accept it and to share it? Dared he lay before her the intensity of his feelings for her? His love? Could he live with himself if his secret fears proved to be correct and his love for her overwhelmed his sense of duty?
Switching off the laptop, he reached for his Jeep keys.
* * *
SHE COULDN’T EVER remember a time when she had felt more nervous, Mariella acknowledged as she urged the four-wheel drive along the familiar boulder-strewn track. Up ahead of her she could see the pavilion and her heart lurched, slamming into her ribs. What if Xavier simply refused to be seduced and rejected her? What if...?
For a moment she was tempted to turn the four-wheel drive round and scuttle back to the city. Quickly she reminded herself of the sexual tension stretching between them in the garden of the villa. He had wanted her then, and had admitted as much to her!
She had half expected to see him emerging from the pavilion as he heard her drive up, but there was no sign of him.
Well, at least he wouldn’t be able to demand that she turn round and drive straight back, she comforted herself as she parked her vehicle and climbed out, going to the back to remove her things, and then standing nervously staring at the pavilion.
Perhaps if she had timed things so that she had arrived in the dark... Some seductress she was turning out to be, she derided herself as she took a deep breath and walked determinedly towards the chosen fate.
Five minutes later she was standing facing the oasis, unwilling to accept what was patently obvious. Xavier was not here! No Xavier, no four-wheel drive, no seduction, no baby!
A crushing sense of disappointment engulfed her. Where was he? Could he have changed his mind and returned to the city despite informing his great-aunt that he intended to stay on at the oasis? How ironic it would be if by rushing out here so impulsively she had actually denied herself the opportunity of achieving what she wanted!
But then she remembered that his laptop was still inside the pavilion, and surely he would not have left that behind if he had been returning home? So where was he?
The sun was already a dying red ball lying on the horizon. Soon it would be dark. There was no way she was going to risk driving all the way back without the benefit of daylight!
So what exactly was she going to do? Spend yet another evening enduring her rebellious body’s clamouring urgency for the fulfilment of its driving need? It had simply never occurred to her that he wouldn’t be here!
The pavilion was so intimately a part of him. Dreamily, she trailed her fingertips along the chair he used when working at the laptop. The air actually seemed to hold an echo of his scent, a haunting resonance of his voice, and she felt that, if she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could almost imagine that he was there... She could certainly picture him behind her tightly closed eyelids. But it wasn’t his mental image she wanted so desperately, was it?
She knew she ought to eat, but she simply wasn’t hungry. She was thirsty, though.
She went into the kitchen and opened a bottle of water. Fine grains of sand clung to her skin, making it feel gritty. Hardly appropriate for a would-be siren! The long drive in the brilliant glare of the desert sun had left her eyes feeling tired and heavy. Like her body, which felt tired and heavy and empty. A sense of dejection and failure percolated through her.
Slowly, she walked out of the kitchen intending to return to the living area, but instead found herself being drawn to the ‘bedroom.’ Standing in the entrance, she looked achingly around it.
A fierce shudder that became an even fiercer primal ache gripped her as she looked at the bed and remembered what had happened there. It was just her biology that was making her feel like this, her fiercely strong maternal desire. That was all, and of course it was only natural that that urge should manifest itself in this hungry desire for the man whose genes it had decided it wanted, she reassured herself as she was confronted with the intensity of her longing for Xavier.
Just thinking about him made her go weak, made her want him there so that she could bury her lips in the warm male flesh of his throat and slide her hands over the hard, strong muscles of his arms and his back, and then down through the soft dark hair that covered his chest and arrowed over his belly to where...
She needed a shower, Mariella decided shakily. A very cool shower!
* * *
‘SAFE TRAVELLING, ASHAR.’ Xavier smiled ruefully as he embraced the senior tribesman whilst the others went about the business of breaking camp ready to begin the long slow journey across the desert.
‘You could always come with us,’ Ashar responded.
‘Not this time.’ Xavier shook his head.
All around him he could hear the familiar sounds of the camp, the faint music of the camel bells, the orderly preparations for departure. The tribe would travel through the night hours whilst it was cool, resting the herd during the heat of the day.
Ashar’s shrewd brown eyes surveyed him.
Ashar remembered Xavier’s grandfather as well as his father. Alongside his respect for Xavier as his leader ran a very deep vein of paternal affection for him.
‘Something troubles you—a woman, perhaps? The tribe would rejoice to see you take a wife to give you sons to follow in your footsteps as you have followed in those of your grandfather and your father.’
‘If only matters were that simple, As
har.’ Xavier grimaced.
‘Why should they not be? This woman, you are afraid perhaps that she will not respect our traditions, that she will seek to divide your loyalties? If that is so then she is not the one for you. But knowing you as I do, Xavier, I cannot believe that there could be a place in your heart for a woman such as that. You must learn to trust what is in here,’ he told him, touching his own heart with his hand. ‘Instead of believing only what is in here.’ As he touched his hand to his head Xavier hid a wry smile. Ashar had no idea just how dangerously out of control his emotions were becoming!
He waited to see the tribe safely on their way before climbing in his vehicle to drive back to the oasis.
A sharply crescented sickle moon shared the night sky with the brilliance of the stars. Diamonds studded onto indigo velvet. For Xavier it was during the night hours that the desert was at its most awesome, and mystical, a time when he always felt most in touch with his heritage. His ancestors had travelled these sands for many, many generations before him, and it was his duty, his responsibility to ensure that they did so for many, many generations to come. And that was not something he could achieve from behind the walls of a high-rise air-conditioned office, and certainly not from the fleshpots of the world as Khalid would no doubt choose to do. No, he could only maintain and honour the tribe’s traditional way of life by being a part of it, by sharing in it, and that was something he was totally committed to doing. He must not deviate from that purpose. But his feelings, his love for Mariella could not be denied, or ignored. The strength of them had initially shocked him, but he had now gone from shock to the grim recognition that it was beyond his power to change or control the way he felt.
* * *
HE SAW MARIELLA’S vehicle as he drove up to the oasis. Parking next to it, he got out and studied it warily. He did not encourage anyone to visit him when he was at the oasis and he was certainly not in the mood for uninvited guests, right now! Where and who was its driver?
Frowning, he headed for the pavilion, not needing to waste any time lighting the lamps to illuminate the darkness, his familiarity with it enough to take him from the entrance to the opening to the bedroom without breaking his stride.