by Mary Lyons
She tried to pull away, but she found herself drawn relentlessly back towards his bare chest, gasping as his fingers tightened to crush her fragile bones. A tortured moan broke from her lips, and completely losing her temper she sank her teeth into his hand. Badyr gave a grunt of pain and released her arm, but as she snatched it away, he reached for her again and caught his fingers in the neck of her gown. There was a thin screeching sound as the silk gave way beneath the force of his action and the garment split from top to bottom.
A long silence followed as Leonie threw back her long, wild flowing locks, staring down in numb horror at the display of her own nakedness. She was unaware of Badyr’s eyes devouring her glowing beauty: the sheen of her pale skin gleaming like pure alabaster in the warm morning light and the sight of her breasts, full and ripe, rising erotically between the torn fragments of material.
With a deep, husky growl of impatience he tore the towel from about his waist, moving swiftly to strip and toss aside the remnants of her nightgown. The next moment she found herself sprawled on her back, Badyr’s hard body pinning her firmly to the mattress as he stared grimly down into her dazed eyes.
‘Wallahi! Very well, my red-haired vixen--we shall see how long you can defy me!’ he breathed heavily. ‘And just how soon it is before you are begging for satisfaction, hmm?’
‘Never!’ she cried defiantly, beating her hands against his broad shoulders and trying to twist away from beneath his heavy weight. With contemptuous ease, Badyr captured first one hand and then the other, holding them firmly above her head and calmly allowing her to exhaust her strength in the vain attempt to escape him.
‘I am a very patient man, Leonie,’ he drawled softly as she lay panting wearily, and bitterly aware from the hardening muscles in his thighs that her desperate struggles had only served to increase his own arousal. ‘After all, I have waited for five years, and so a few more minutes are neither here nor there, hmm?’
‘I . . . I hate you! It . . . it’s nothing but rape!’ she gasped, tears of anger and frustration welling up in her blue eyes.
His lips curved into a savage smile. ‘No, you do not hate me, nor will I have need of force. On the contrary, my sweet, you will shortly be pleading for the merciful release that only my possession can assuage!’
Her howl of protest was smothered as his mouth descended to cover hers, the bruising, relentless pressure forcing her lips apart and allowing him to savour the inner sweetness in a devastating invasion of her shattered senses. She was scarcely aware of exactly when the pressure eased and his mouth softened, moving over her trembling lips with a sensual languor that ignited a fire deep in her loins.
Leonie desperately tried to ignore the warmth of his lips as he kissed her damp eyelids and willed herself, with all the remaining strength at her command, not to respond to the mouth that trailed slowly over her cheek to murmur soft words of endearment in her ear. But as he continued, his lips scorching a path down her neck and on across the soft swell of her breasts, there was nothing she could do to prevent a helpless moan of pleasure, her body shuddering with ecstasy as his tongue caressed her nipples; the rosy peaks hardening with passion beneath his erotic touch. His mouth left her breasts to brush delicate kisses across her stomach, her body aching and throbbing at the promise of release from its long starvation, tremors of shock quivering through her flesh beneath the explicit sensuality of his mouth and hands.
Her emotions finally reeling completely out of control, she was only aware of the driving need to surrender to the passionate desire racing through her veins, the dizzy spiralling excitement engendered by the masterly seduction of his touch. Possessed by an urgent desire that went far beyond anything she had ever experienced before, her body writhed and arched against him, powerless against the explosive, ever-increasing ache that overrode all thought and action.
‘Badyr—Badyr . . .!’ The caressing hands and mouth moving over her body paused for a moment as she moaned his name in a helpless refrain.
‘Umm?’ .
‘Badyr . . . please . . .!’ she gasped, tormented by overwhelming desire as she feverishly pressed her lips against his hot, burning skin
.
‘Do you want me, Leonie?’ His thick, husky whisper seemed to fill her whole existence.
‘Oh, God!I...I...Oh... Y-Yes...!’
With a harsh laugh of triumph, he swept his hands down over the sweet mounds of her breasts and the warm, undulating curve of her thighs, before parting her legs and possessing her with a thrusting, pulsating urgency that banished all conscious thought as their wild, physical rapture reached its climax.
Afterwards, as she lay silently within his arms, the realisation of her wanton response to his sensual mastery filled her with bitter shame. Fully intending to be as frigid as ice, she had been betrayed by her weak body into a raging inferno of passion.
‘You see?’ Badyr murmured softly, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he smoothed back the hair from her damp brow. ‘There was no need for the "rape" that you spoke of, hmm?’
His words only served to deepen her humiliation. ‘I loathe you for what you’ve just done--only slightly more than I hate and loathe myself,’ she grated bleakly, unable to prevent her lips from trembling as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. ‘How .. . how often will I have to be . . . be used in this way?’
He rolled his hard body over to cover her soft flesh, capturing her face with his hands and forcing her to meet the darkening gleam in his eyes.
‘Ah, my beloved, how I love the way you hate!’ he taunted softly, his mouth descending to brush away the escaping teardrops, before moving hungrily down to cover her quivering lips.
Her strangled moan was stifled as his kiss deepened, storming her puny defences and sending waves of heat pulsating through her body.
‘I want you,’ Badyr murmured thickly against her mouth, his words merely underlying the throbbing urgency of his body. ‘And I will take you wherever and whenever I please. As for you, my dear wife . . . you will cry out for my possession, yearning for the intimate sweet pleasure that only I can give!’
Whimpering with despair, she found herself drowning in a deep pool of passion, before the hard pressure of his thighs ignited a flame of desire that was swiftly fanned into a white heat. Raging uncontrollably, it scorched through her body until she cried out—as he had said she would—eagerly demanding and welcoming his shuddering thrust and the sweeping, shattering sensation that exploded the universe around them into fragments of light and power.
CHAPTER SIX
‘SWEET dreams, darling.’ Leonie leant over to kiss Jade good night.
‘Can I ride my pony tomorrow, Mummy’?’
Leonie laughed. ‘Since you’ve been riding nearly every day for the last four weeks, I don’t suppose tomorrow will be any different, do you?’
‘Great-uncle Feisal says I’m very good. He says that I show a natural ap-ti-tude!’ Jade beamed up at her mother. ‘Did you know that he can ride a camel? Yes, he can, really! He’s going to show Miss Jackson how to do it, but he says I must learn to ride my pony first. Great-uncle Feisal is awfully nice, isn’t he? In fact,' she paused, before adding the highest accolade in her vocabulary. ‘In fact, I think he’s stu-pen-dous!’
Leonie smiled. ‘Come on, chatterbox. It’s time you went to sleep.'
'It certainly is!’
The deep, mocking voice from behind her shoulder made Leonie jump. Badyr moves as silently as a panther—and he’s every bit as unpredictable as one of those dangerous animals, she reminded herself, casting a sideways glance through her eyelashes at his profile as he sat down on the other side of Jade’s bed.
‘Doesn’t Mummy look pretty?’ Jade said, sitting up and winding her thin arms tightly about her father’s neck. ‘Are you going out tonight? I do wish I could come too.’
‘You are much too young, little one!’ Badyr laughed as he kissed her cheek and settled her back on the pillows. ‘But yes, I agree that your mother is looking
very pretty, and grows more lovely with each passing day.’
‘Your father is apt to apply flattery with a shovel!’ Leonie said lightly, rising to her feet and blowing Jade a good night kiss as she left the room. Walking back down the corridor, a glance at her watch revealed that there was no need for her to hurry. She had well over an hour to get ready.
Entering her suite of rooms, Leonie wandered over to the arched windows, sighing with pleasure as she gazed down at the wide expanse of green lawn surrounding the marble pools filled to the brim with cool, clear water from the high cascading fountains. Even though a month had gone by since she’d arrived back in the country, she was still having considerable difficulty in coming to terms with both the changes that had taken place in Dhoman over the past years, and her own emotional confusion about her relationship with her husband.
Hussa hadn’t been exaggerating when she had spoken so enthusiastically concerning the sweeping reforms which had been instituted by Badyr. During her first week in the country, Leonie had become sharply aware that there was an air of definite purpose, a new spirit abroad in the country, with new industries, schools and hospitals planned or being built in all the major towns. Indeed, not content with simply razing the old palace fortress to the ground, Badyr had also ordered the bulldozing away of most of the decaying, decrepit houses in Muria, replacing them with modern housing estates and brand-new shopping centres.
One of the most astounding sights of all had been a grand, spacious palace set on the waterfront of the capital city. Badyr had told her that it was used mainly for the formal entertainment and reception of important guests, and was also the place where he held his Majilis. This, she learned, was one of his innovations whereby, once a week, any member of the population had the right to see the Sultan.
‘It may be that they are experiencing difficulties over family matters, or wish me to settle a contentious dispute with a neighbour,’ Badyr had explained. ‘Whatever the problem, I feel that it is of prime importance that my people know that I care about them, and that they can always turn to me for help.’
Despite her resentment of the way she had been forced to return to Dhoman, each passing day had resulted in Leonie becoming more and more impressed both by Badyr’s reforms, and by the obvious love and affection with which he was regarded by the populace.
Not that she’d been possessed of any such charitable thoughts that first evening after her arrival in the country. Staring silently down at her plate, she had been hardly able to eat any of the delicious food which had been placed in front of her, her whole being filled with deep anger against the man sitting on the other side of the table.
‘Well, now . . .’ Badyr had murmured as the servants poured the coffee and swiftly left the room. ‘We must find something for you to do here in Dhoman, hmm?’
‘I thought you’d already taken care of that!’
His only response to her bitter retort was a low, mocking laugh. ‘Ah, my dear wife, although I might wish to spend all my waking hours pleasurably occupied with your delicious body . . . I’m afraid that I also have other matters to occupy my time. Alas, one must work as well as play, hmm?’
The urge to open her mouth and scream like a fishwife, telling him exactly what she thought about his notions of pleasure and play, was almost irresistible. Never had she felt so achingly tired and exhausted as she did at this moment, and no wonder, considering that she’d hardly been allowed out of bed all day! Desperately trying to banish the memory of his passionate lovemaking--and the humiliation of her own eager, feverish response--Leonie gritted her teeth as she struggled to control the flush spreading over her pale cheeks.
‘Leaving aside your undoubted . . . er . . . wifely talents,’ Badyr murmured with amusement, well aware of her suppressed fury, ‘I also know that you are a competent businesswoman. And if you can run Dimitri Kashan’s firm, then I am sure you will have no difficulty in organising some of the new projects I have in mind.'
‘Such as . . .?’ .
‘Such as the formation of a carpet and rug-making industry; and the setting up of a modern textile industry, concerned not only with producing the cloth but also with fabric design. Dhoman is one of the few places left in the world where the people still use indigo to dye material, for instance, and I thought you might be able to think of a way to make that a commercial proposition.’
Shocked out of her unhappy self-absorption, Leonie looked at him with bewilderment. ‘I--I might be able to offer advice on marketing rugs, but Dhoman has no tradition of carpet-weaving. It’s a marvellous idea, but it would take years to train the craftsmen needed, and I don’t see how I could do that on my own. Besides, I haven’t the slightest idea of how things are run in this country.’
‘I have discovered that ruling a country requires exactly the same qualities as the management of a large firm,’ Badyr said firmly. ‘And I would not ask you to start organising new industries, badly needed in the outlying towns and villages, if I did not feel you were capable of doing so. You would have the support not only of myself and my ministers, but we would also make sure that adequate funds were made available as well as any technical advice you might require.'
Leonie stared blindly down at the table, aware of a rising tide of excitement. She could scarcely believe that Badyr meant what he said; that he wasn’t going to insist on her spending her days shut away in the Harem. It seemed as if he really was going to give her the opportunity to do something useful with her life. There would be tremendous difficulties, of course, but what a challenge! Her euphoria was suddenly checked as she remembered that she was now living in Arabia.
‘I--well, I think it’s a wonderful idea, and I’d love to have the opportunity, but I don’t see how it can work, I’m afraid. Being a woman in a Moslem country . . .' she gave a shrug of resignation. ‘Well, you know the problems as well as I do.’
‘I am not going to pretend that you won’t occasionally experience difficulties, Leonie, but times have changed, certainly as far as Dhoman is concerned.’ Badyr leaned back in his chair. ‘Since becoming ruler, I have actively encouraged the return of all those of my countrymen who went to live abroad to escape my father’s persecution, and there are also generous terms of employment for foreigners who have the necessary technical skills that we require.’ He paused. ‘I’m sure you’ll be interested to know that we have also given asylum to a flood of refugees escaping from the war between Iran and Iraq---many of whom are carpet-weavers.'
‘That’s great! We could use their expertise, and . . .’
‘Exactly!’ Badyr smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘Now, maybe you can see why I believe we can start a new carpet industry. And since many of the newcomers to this country have been used to living in more liberal areas of the world, I have relaxed the traditional rules regarding Moslem dress and habits. l am, in fact, hoping to promote a more laissez-faire rule in this country. Those who wish to keep to the old values are perfectly at liberty to do so, while modern dress, albeit reasonably discreet, is also freely permitted.’
‘Is it working?’
‘Most of the time. However, I am aware that I must make haste slowly if I am to unite my people into a cohesive whole, hmm? So, you will find that you are free to go about this country--always provided you will accept the presence of at least two guards, who will be there merely to protect you and not to pry on your business. Moreover, I am not expecting you to wear a veil, and when in our home I am happy to permit you to wear your own western clothes. Only on official occasions would I deem it a favour if you would dress in the discreet manner expected by our guests.’
Leonie hesitated, still trying to assimilate the fact that she was to be allowed some personal liberty, and the opportunity to do something positive. It all sounded far too good to be true—there must be a catch somewhere. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about all these reforms when we were in London?’ she asked.
‘Would you have believed me? Since you so firmly persist in regarding me as a wicked, las
civious villain, it would surely have been a waste of time, hmm?’
‘Well, I . . . er . . .’ She blushed, glancing up through her eyelashes to find Badyr’s face creased into a broad smile. A smile of such intimate warmth and charm that she suddenly felt as if she had been stunned by a blow, leaving her feeling dazed and confused.
‘I am still waiting for your answer,’ he murmured as the silence lengthened between them. ‘Are you willing to help me develop my country'? Or is it a task for which you don’t feel suitably qualified--something that is far beyond your mental and physical capabilities?
‘No--of course it isn’t!’ she retorted quickly, stung by his dismissive words, and also annoyed with herself for being so susceptible to his overwhelming masculinity.
‘So, it is agreed. Excellent!' Badyr rose from the table.
‘But there’s so much to discuss . . . and I haven’t exactly agreed to anything . . .’ she protested breathlessly as he took her hand, leading her reluctant figure purposefully from the room and up the long, wide staircase to their suite.