Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride

by Marguerite Kaye

  She was wet. She was fevered. She was already close. He licked into her. He licked around her. He circled her with his tongue and slid his fingers into her. And then he repeated each deliciously intimate action. He could feel her climax building, see it, taste it. His name on her lips was a plea now, but still he teased her, slower and slower, until neither of them could bear it any longer.

  * * *

  Constance’s climax swept her up like a powerful wave, threw her high, and then held her there, pulsing forcefully around her, making her cry out, holding on tight to Kadar’s shoulders for surely if she let go she would fall. But even as the waves began to ebb she was caught up again in another fierce need that made her sit up, wrap her legs around him and kiss him savagely. Driven by a different force she dug her fingers into his arms, plunged her tongue into his mouth. She wanted more. She slid from the divan on to the floor of the tent, rolling him onto his back, claiming him with the ferocity of a wild animal. His tunic had long ago been discarded. His trousers quickly followed.

  Naked, fully aroused, he was magnificent. She touched him. She couldn’t prevent herself from touching him, wanting to have all of him, the memory of all of him, to take away with her, to have always, in her mind and in her heart. Lying beside him, toes touching, knees touching, thighs touching, she wrapped her hand around the thick, hard, silken girth of his arousal, pressing her lips, her tongue, to his nipples. Kissing and stroking and licking. Slow strokes, mimicking the actions he had used to tease her to the edge. But that wasn’t enough either. She wanted everything.

  She kissed his mouth again, rolling closer, releasing her hold of his shaft to press herself against him. He moaned. And then he pulled himself away. No! She wrapped her arm and her leg around him, and deepened her kiss. He moaned, kissed her back with equal fervour. She could feel him pressing between her legs now, and she wanted to know, she wanted to feel him inside her, have him possess her, just once, just once. She arched herself against him, felt him shudder, and arched again.

  ‘Constance, I...’

  Her name a protest. ‘Kadar.’ His name a plea. ‘Please,’ she said, ‘please.’

  ‘Constance.’ This time her name was a surrender. ‘Constance,’ he said, kissing her hungrily, rolling her onto her back.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said fervently, as he eased her legs apart, opening her eyes to meet his, to see the blaze of passion there, catching her breath at the vision of him, the breadth of his shoulders, the rapid movement of his chest, the sinewy muscles in his arms, the ripple of the taut muscles under the skin of his flat belly. And the sleek, fascinating length of his arousal.

  He was careful. He watched her closely as he entered her, easing himself inside her, but there was no need. Higher, he slid in, and higher, and then he waited, his breath on her cheeks. She reached up to kiss him deeply. And then it began. A slow thrust provoked the most delicious scintilla of friction, making her tense around him, cling to him, and another thrust that set her throbbing and pulsing, and another, a little faster and more urgent this time, a little higher, and she could feel it building in her, and building, as he thrust vigorously, moving with him now, matching his rhythm, higher and higher, until she came again with a wild cry, her climax sending him spinning out of control, tearing himself free of her just in time, her name a harsh, guttural sound on his lips as his shuddering climax took him.

  * * *

  Enveloped in a fragile state of elation, Constance did not trust herself to speak. To love Kadar with her mind and her body as she had just done was beyond all she had imagined. Now she would not have to imagine. Now she would have this to remember, always. But what she needed to remember right now, at this moment, was to try to erase all sign of her thoughts from her expression, and therefore the last thing she could do, which was the only thing she wanted to do, was to curl into his side, to wrap herself around him and tell him what was in her heart. Tell him that she loved him more than life itself. But even as she made to move, he put his arm around her to still her.

  ‘I should not have allowed myself to lose control like that.’

  ‘I wanted you to lose control. I wanted to know how it could be between us,’ Constance said, speaking at his chest for though it was not a lie, it was hardly the whole truth. She risked a glance up, blushing. ‘Besides, I quite wantonly provoked you.’

  He laughed. ‘Which you have done, without realizing it, from the first moment I set eyes upon you. But that is no excuse. I should not have...’

  ‘Kadar, I wanted you to. And unless you have concluded that this once was enough, I am pretty certain that I will want you to again,’ she said, astonished by her breathtaking audacity.

  Heat flared between them. He pulled her roughly against him. ‘How often would be a sufficiency, do you think?’ he asked.’

  ‘I don’t think I could ever have a surfeit of this.’

  ‘So, Lady Constance Montgomery, you confess to being insatiable?’

  She chuckled, arching unashamedly against him. ‘I do believe I might be. Perhaps we should put my claim to the test.’

  * * *

  Much later, they climbed to the highest point of the little island which had panoramic views of the whole archipelago. Kadar pointed out a long promontory of rock that formed another little harbour. They walked down to it, perching on the end with their feet dangling in the water, and he caught some fish, brightly coloured grouper and snapper, for their dinner. Returning to the tent with their catch, they watched the sun set over the chain of islands, idyllically blue sea tinted with gold as the flawless blue sky crimsoned and the sun sank.

  A perfect day gave way to a perfect evening. Kadar grilled the fish, stuffed with herbs and lemon, over a fire lit on the beach. They ate with their fingers, seated at the edge of the surf, wavelets caressing their feet. The moon rose, a mere sliver in the night sky.

  ‘Would you like to go for a night swim?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s very dark.’ She eyed the inky water, listening to the soft shush of the waves. ‘I won’t be able to see anything.’

  ‘Then you can’t be afraid. It’s a completely different experience from swimming in the daylight. Are you willing to trust me and give it a try?’

  A final test? If it was, she had no intentions of failing. Constance stood up and began to shed her clothes. ‘I sincerely hope that the sea sirens are not lying in wait,’ she said, ‘for they would surely try to lure you into their arms.’

  ‘Impossible,’ Kadar said, casting off his own clothes. ‘I am already in thrall to one of their own. But there is only one way to be certain they don’t spirit me away.’

  They were both naked. In the dying flames of the fire she could see the sleek lines of his body, the tantalizing shimmer of his muscles, the glint of his smile. ‘How do you intend to do that?’

  He scooped her up into his arms, holding her high against his chest. ‘By keeping you very, very close,’ he said, carrying her into the shallows.

  * * *

  The water was cool on their naked skin. In the dark, the sea had a viscous feel to it, like liquid silk. Constance’s hair tickled his face. Her arm was around his neck, her breasts brushing his chest. Unable to see more than a glint and a shadow, his other senses were attenuated. The heat of her skin on his. The hard peak of a nipple. The soft flesh of her buttocks. The scent of her. And pressing his mouth to hers, the taste of her.

  She slithered down his body as they kissed, gasping as the water reached up over her legs, her bottom, her waist. She pressed herself against him, full breasts warm against his chest, cool thighs under the water. She tasted of salt and sunshine. He could drown in her kisses. They waded deeper into the water. Her breathing quickened. Was she afraid? Most likely, but she was also determined.

  She let go of his hand and took off, her beginner’s stroke causing loud splashes to echo in the still darkness.
Thinking wryly to himself that he’d have no trouble locating her if she got into difficulty, Kadar swam by her side, careful to give her enough room to keep herself afloat, never enough room for her to be in danger, guiding her towards the shore when she strayed out of her depth, and then, when she began to struggle, finally surrendering to the need to hold her. He floated on his back with Constance anchored to him, his sea siren, who was now quite free to sail to the ends of the earth if she so desired.

  A thought which should have filled him with pride. A month ago—was it only a month ago?—when he had first encountered her, he had wanted to set her free. He could not claim the credit, but he had provided her with the means to free herself. He was proud of her, but he had to confess that the notion of her sailing away, whether it was to the ends of the earth or merely to Egypt, was a melancholy one. He pictured her on the deck of a Red Sea dhow, her lovely hair a halo-like cloud around her, the delightful body he was holding, receding ever further away from him until she became a tiny speck. What would she do, once back in England? She seemed so determined not to accept his help, but he was equally determined to try once more. He told himself it was for her sake. He knew that it was equally as much for his own. He could not bear to think that once she set sail he would never hear from her again.

  Kadar gave himself a mental shake, reminding himself that the reason he was here on Koros with her was to celebrate his new-found freedom too. His future awaited him, and though it was a considerably brighter future than he could have believed a month ago, it was one which would require all of his energy and attention. He was already spending far too much time thinking about Constance, talking to Constance, stargazing with Constance. She was, in fact, a quite considerable distraction, when he needed to devote his time to his people. When she sailed, she would not be leaving a hole in his life but a chasm which his kingdom was clamouring to fill.

  When she sailed. He had never met anyone like Constance. No one could ever replace her. He would miss her terribly. When she sailed...

  When she sailed, he would forge on with his plans for Murimon. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight he would devote himself to Constance. Kadar stood up, pulling her once again into his arms. She sighed, that soft little sound that sent the blood rushing to his groin, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him slowly, sensuously, her wet skin clinging to his, bringing his member to hard, clamouring life. He picked her up, carrying her quickly ashore, setting her down on the sand by the embers of the fire. The few steps to the tent were too far to contemplate, and Constance seemed to think so too, her mouth and her hands already hungrily possessing him. A whole night, Kadar thought. A whole night to pleasure her, to coax the flames of her passion to new heights, to taste her and to touch her, to lose himself in the sweet wet heat of her, to imprint the memory of her body on his mind deeply enough to last a lifetime without her.

  They sank to their knees, kissing. ‘Show me,’ Constance said, as if she had read his thoughts. ‘Show me what to do to please you,’ she said.

  ‘Constance,’ he muttered, pulling her down astride him, cupping her breasts in his hands, feeling the heat of her sex damp against his as she straddled him. ‘Constance, there is nothing you can do that will not please me.’

  She laughed, a throaty, husky laugh that gave him gooseflesh. ‘What about this?’ She leant over him, brushing her breasts against his chest.

  ‘Yes.’

  She kissed him deeply, lifting herself, to enfold the tip of his erection. ‘What about this, Kadar?’

  He groaned, digging his fingers into the sand to prevent himself from thrusting.

  Constance lifted herself again, guiding him inside her. ‘And this?’ she asked, lowering herself onto him in one swift, delightful thrust.

  Kadar, fighting the rush towards an almost unstoppable climax, had no words, but he did not require them.

  * * *

  ‘See just there? That is Aquarius,’ Constance said, ‘one of the oldest recognised constellations, listed by Ptolemy. It also happens to be the sign of the zodiac associated with my birthday.’

  They were lying side by side in the hammock, naked and for the time being sated, under a thin blanket. Though the canvas hammock was large, their bodies rolled naturally towards each other. In the pitch dark, Constance had no fear of her feelings showing too clearly, and so felt free to indulge them. Kadar had his arm around her. Though they both had their eyes trained on the night sky, her hands strayed every so often to touch him, to stroke him, to memorise the feel of his skin, the contours of his muscles and sinew, and when she touched him, she mouthed the declarations of love she could not speak aloud.

  ‘So you were born under the sign of the water carrier,’ Kadar said. ‘Somewhat appropriate, given the circumstances of your coming here.’

  She chuckled. ‘Ganymede, the water carrier, was Prince of Troy, and so beautiful that Jupiter was captivated by him when he spotted him tending to his father’s flocks. Jupiter transformed himself into a bird and flew poor Ganymede off to the heavens, where he became Jupiter’s wine bearer.’

  ‘Not a particularly exciting fate, but a great deal less bloodthirsty than many you have told me relating to the stars,’ Kadar said. ‘Aquarius is in the quadrant of the heavens known as the Sea, is it not?’

  ‘Yes. If you look, there is Pisces the fish, and the whale, Cetus, beside it. And though it’s not visible tonight, there is a river, Eridanus.’ Constance snuggled closer, her cheek resting in the hollow of Kadar’s shoulder. She could feel his heart beating. ‘If we had the telescope we could see Jupiter tonight, over there by Ursa Major. I was looking at it just last night. I have all but completed your star map.’

  She wished she had not said so, for it was a reminder that the sands of her time here had almost run out. The last few grains were trickling through the hour glass. Her eyes filled with unbidden tears. She shifted, lest one should fall on to his chest and give her away.

  ‘Are you pleased with your efforts?’ Kadar asked.

  ‘Yes, though it is not nearly so detailed as it might be, and I am sure that my measurements would benefit from being reviewed by someone with more experience.’

  ‘And I am sure that you underrate yourself. What you have achieved in such a short period of time is remarkable.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She gazed up at the celestial dome above them, losing her tears in the rapture that always filled her at the sight. ‘I have a—a dream, I suppose you would call it. To create a complete star map for every season, with the story of each star incorporated into it, all the myths and legends. And illustrations too.’

  ‘It would be your magnum opus,’ Kadar said. ‘Tell me more.’

  She did, losing herself in the descriptions of her favourite constellations. ‘Skies for all seasons,’ she concluded. ‘Stars and planets intertwined with their mythology. I know it’s likely impossible, but...’

  ‘I think it sounds very possible, and I can’t imagine anyone better suited to create it,’ Kadar said, capturing her hand and kissing her palm. ‘If it could be commissioned, if I could find someone capable of producing it, would you...?’

  ‘No.’ She sat up, making the hammock rock. ‘No, I don’t want you to— I can’t allow you to...’ Couldn’t bear him to. She bit back the words just in time. Could not bear him to be an elusive presence in her future, the tantalizing promise that she might one day see him again as a result of his patronage hanging like the Sword of Damocles over her head, a promise to be unfulfilled for ever, yet a possibility that would never recede. ‘I think that when I leave here, it would be best if it is final,’ she said, thankful for the dark, thankful that her voice sounded considerably lighter than she felt. ‘I must stand on my own two feet.’

  ‘You do not wish me to help you? Constance, it would mean a great deal to me if you would allow me to—think of it as legitimate payment for all that you hav
e done here.’

  ‘I have already earned my keep, I hope. Truly, Kadar, you have given me so much, I cannot take any more from you.’

  ‘You wish to be free of all encumbrances, all obligations,’ he said heavily.

  A shooting star blazed fleetingly across the night sky. A wishing star. If only that were true, Constance would wish for the freedom to love, safe in the knowledge that she was loved in return. That, she knew, was not possible, but she was still free to be herself. ‘Yes,’ she said gently, deliberately allowing him to mistake her meaning, ‘I wish to be free.’

  ‘Then I will not press you, though I wish— But I shall, of course, respect your wishes.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She lay down again. He put his arm around her again. She settled her cheek against his shoulder, placed her hand on the heart of the man who did not love her but who had listened to her simple wish to sail on the open sea, to lie on the sand and gaze up at the stars, who had transformed it into something beyond her wildest dreams. ‘Thank you,’ she said again. ‘For this. For everything. It is absolutely perfect.’

  * * *

  They sailed back to the port of Murimon in the morning with the sun behind them, and their night of passion too. They were both subdued, lost in their own thoughts. At Kadar’s insistence, Constance took the tiller once more while he tended to the sail. She could not imagine that there would be a call for her new-found skill in the new life that awaited her, but on the other hand, she was determined to think positively. There was no telling what might happen. The future lay before her like the huge sands of the desert, limitless and uncharted. Not a depressing thought at all, but an exciting one, she told herself sternly.

  Beside her, Kadar was facing out to sea, his face in profile. The Sphynx had returned. Was he thinking of last night, of the passion they had shared? Or was he too thinking about the future? The challenges which faced him made hers look trivial by comparison. She had no doubt he would succeed, but how, and in what order would his plans be implemented? Would his precious kingdom embrace change or resist it? So many questions, and she would never know any of the answers. She would never see this beautiful kingdom flourish under his rule, see his people come to love as well as respect him. It hurt so much, but she knew there could be no other outcome.