“You would not last a day in those hills,” Kosem replied.
“But the pasha will?”
“He knows them very well, since he was a boy.”
“So I just have to wait and see if he comes back with her?” James said resignedly.
“As we all have to wait,” Kosem agreed.
“Will you contact me if you hear anything?” James said, wondering why he trusted her. But she obviously cared about Sarah, and that had to be enough for him.
“You have my word,” Kosem said solemnly. “Leave your address with my captain of halberdiers. I will send a messenger as soon as there is news.”
James nodded. “Tessekur ederim,” he said.
“You are welcome.”
Kalid crouched behind an outcropping of rock and looked down on the bedouin camp. The tents were close together with an extinguished cooking fire in the middle, the horses tied in a string at the edge of the clearing.
Sarah had to be in one of those tents. But which one?
Kalid had tracked the tribe for a full day, racing Khan to catch up with them and then following at a safe distance, waiting until they had bedded down for the night and then approaching close enough to see details. He knew that they rose and retired early, sometimes even traveling by dark and sleeping during daylight to avoid the worst of the heat. But that was in high summer; now they were on their autumn schedule, which meant going to bed soon after sundown and awakening by 5:30 or 6 AM.
He had about two hours before the women would be up to start cooking.
He tied Khan to a tree, carefully marking the spot, and then moved slowly down the slope, traveling by inches, careful not to make noise. He knew there would be guards posted but he had no idea where they might be, so he cleared the space in front of him a foot at a time, his knife at the ready. Almost an hour passed before he reached the level of the camp, and then he was even more cautious, moving from tent to tent like a shadow, inspecting each one for a sign that Sarah might be inside it.
If he chose the wrong one the alarm would be sounded and all would be lost.
He was circling the largest tent, one embroidered with burgundy and navy Tikal designs, when he stopped short.
Tied up next to it, apart from the other horses, was a splendidly groomed sorrel, his mane braided and gleaming in the moonlight.
This, then, was the leader’s tent.
Kalid felt for his pistol in his belt. If he were lucky, he would not need it.
A knife was swift and silent, and he was an expert with one.
He knelt and began to cut through the back of the tent; the flap was at the front where he might be spotted more easily. It was tedious and painstaking work. By the time he had cut a hole big enough to admit his body his wrists ached and he was bathed in sweat. He fell full length to the ground and snaked into the tent, remaining frozen in a prone position until his eyes adjusted to the total darkness.
A man and a woman were sleeping on cushions to his left, still wrapped in their robes, ready to move at a moment’s notice, like all nomads. The leader and his first wife, most likely. Kalid looked to his right and saw Sarah, tied to the central tent pole, blindfolded and gagged, slumped like a bag of wet laundry.
It took every ounce of will power he possessed not to kill her bedouin captor immediately. But he had to be smart; he was outnumbered and he would be risking Sarah’s life as well as his own if he followed an emotional impulse. He had to take this one step at a time or it might cost him dearly.
Kalid crawled to Sarah’s side and put his hand over her mouth. She started and began to struggle. He cut away her blindfold and let her see who he was.
Kalid would never forget the look in her eyes when she recognized him. He removed her gag swiftly and then held his finger firmly to her lips.
She nodded, her eyes flooding with tears.
He cut the rope binding her hands and then rubbed her wrists briskly to restore circulation. He helped her to stand and she stumbled; they both looked toward the sleeping pair, who didn’t move.
Kalid led her by the hand to the hole he had made in the tent and pointed. She crouched and crawled through it and he followed. He was almost out when the man sleeping behind him sat up and said something in an alarmed tone in Arabic.
Kalid whirled and threw his knife with deadly accuracy. It landed in the bedouin’s throat and blood began to jet rhythmically from the wound, bathing the nomad in a scarlet flood. The Arab gurgled and grabbed his neck, coughing wetly. The woman at his side rolled over and gazed at him sleepily, then jumped up, gasping. A second later she looked around at Kalid and screamed.
Kalid dove through the tent after Sarah and grabbed her hand, running with her toward the leader’s horse. He cut its tether and jumped up on it, then hauled Sarah up behind him.
“Hang on!” he yelled, as he kicked its flanks and the camp erupted around them, the women wailing, the men bursting from the tents, pistols at the ready.
“Get your head down!” Kalid called, as the horse pounded through the camp and gunshots burst around them. Kalid pulled out his pistol and returned the fire as Sarah ducked and clung to him, feeling the trained response of his body as he twisted and turned, aiming at the bedouins closest to him. The last two dashed out of his way as he drove the horse past them, out of the camp into the open countryside and then farther up into the hills.
They rode at full gallop for some time, the wind whistling past their ears, Kalid turning frequently to look for pursuers until he was certain they were not being followed. Then he slowed the horse to a walk and led it to a grove of trees by a stream, where he moved to dismount.
Sarah clung to him, preventing him from stepping down to the ground.
“It’s all right now,” he said gently, prizing her arms loose from his waist. “Let me get down, Sarah, you’re safe.”
Sarah relaxed her grip and he slid to the ground, then reached up for her. She allowed him to set her on the grass and then she flung her arms around his neck again.
He held her for several minutes and then said quietly, “Let me go, Sarah. I have to tether the horse.”
She sat on the ground and watched as he tied up the bedouin sorrel and then rubbed it down with his shirt, finally giving it a drink in his cupped hands. Then he stretched out with his bare back against a tree and extended his arm.
“Come here,” he said, and she snuggled in next to him, her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed.
“Did they touch you?” he asked quietly, his breath stirring her hair.
She knew immediately what he meant. “No.”
“They were probably still deciding what to do with you.”
“What were the choices?” she asked, shuddering.
“Sell you, hold you for ransom, use you themselves. The leader would have been first until he tired of you, then the others would have followed in turn.”
Sarah moaned faintly.
“Don’t think about it,” he said soothingly.
“Why did you come after me?” she whispered.
He held her off to look down at her in amazement. “You didn’t think I would?”
“You were so angry with me,” she murmured, looking away from his penetrating gaze, his eyes luminous in the moonlight.
“So I would abandon you to the horrible fate of a bedouin whore? You have a very low opinion of me, kourista.”
“I know I’ve been a great deal of trouble.”
“Yes, a great deal. Maybe I should take you back.”
“That isn’t funny,” she said, nuzzling into his shoulder again. The scent of his exertions was on his skin, and under other circumstances this would have stimulated her to further action, but she was simply too exhausted to respond.
“Are you sure they aren’t following us?” she said drowsily.
“They would have been here by now if they were.”
“What about Kosem and Achmed? Are they all right?”
“Kosem was more frightened than hurt. Dr. S
hakoz is with Achmed, he has a head wound.”
“Is it serious?”
“I didn’t stay to find out. We’ll learn more when we return.”
“Did you kill him, Kalid? The one who kidnapped me?”
“Unless he’s immortal,” Kalid replied dryly. “An ordinary human could not survive that wound.”
“I was hoping we could just slip away,” Sarah whispered, almost asleep.
“It just saved me the trouble of going back and killing him another time,” Kalid said grimly.
Sarah didn’t answer, and he thought she was asleep. Then she said in a small voice, “Thank you.”
He kissed the top of her head, and in seconds he was breathing deeply also.
When Kalid awoke it was mid-morning and Sarah was gone. He sat up quickly, looking around, and then relaxed when he saw her splashing in the stream where he had watered the horse.
His relaxation changed to intense interest when he saw that she was naked. He got up and walked a little closer, leaning against a tree, ignoring the protests of his body, which had slept on the ground after engaging in mortal combat the previous night.
The scene before him was enough to drive all other thoughts from his mind. Sarah had discarded her clothes, the ones she’d been wearing on the outing with Kosem when she was kidnapped, and they fluttered on the riverbank like a pastel snowfall. A few feet away, standing in water up to her knees, she raised her arms and rivulets of water ran down them. The droplets sparkled in the sun as her breasts rose, taut and firm, the nipples stiffening in reaction to the cool water. Kalid was riveted, his mouth going dry as he watched.
Sarah bent over to rinse her back and his eyes traveled her spine, admiring the arc from slim shoulders to narrow waist, the dimpling of flesh at the swell of her buttocks. She turned and he saw the tangle of sandy curls at the apex of her thighs, darkened now with water, and he sagged against the tree, his stomach knotting with desire. He stared helplessly, spellbound, as she lifted her dripping hair from her neck and her rosy skin tightened with the movement, exposing the outline of her ribs. He found himself walking toward her almost involuntarily, and when he said her name his voice was hoarse.
She looked over her shoulder as he stepped into the water and slid his hands under her arms, enclosing her breasts from behind. She went limp as he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, sighing as he stroked her nipples, then moaning as he put his hands on her hips and forced her back against him and she felt his excitement.
He grasped her waist and spun her around to face him, kissing her wildly, his skin now wet from contact with hers. Sarah’s mouth opened under his and she responded in kind, running her hands urgently over the hard surface of his back. He picked her up and carried her to the riverbank, bending to lift her feradge from the pile of her clothes. He flung it wide on the soft patch of grass under the tree where they had slept and set Sarah down upon it. When he lay next to her she wrapped her arms around his neck and fitted herself against him, rubbing her face against his bare shoulder.
“You know what I want, Sarah” he said softly, stroking her damp hair.
She nodded. He felt the motion rather than saw it.
“Will you give me what I want?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. It was like a sigh.
“Not because I rescued you last night,” he said into her hair. “You don’t owe me anything.”
She nodded again.
“Only because you want it too,” he said.
“I do,” she whispered. “I always did.”
“Oh, Sarah, you have nearly driven me mad,” he said hoarsely, pushing her gently into a prone position and nuzzling her neck, then moving lower to take her nipple in his mouth. Sarah arched her back, sinking her fingers into his hair and holding him as he sucked gently, increasing the pressure until she was tossing her head from side to side. When he raised his head she clutched at him, trying to stop him, then sighed as he laid his flushed cheek against the smooth surface of her belly.
“Do it again,” she whispered.
“What?” he said, tonguing her navel. But he knew.
“What you did to me last time,” she said, her eyes closing as she felt his warm breath on her sensitive skin.
“Did you like that?” he said softly, slipping his hand between her legs. She made a small sound and pressed against his caressing fingers, yearning toward him.
“Did you?” he said again, and she seized him, pulling his head down as her legs fell apart. When his mouth finally touched her she whimpered with gratification, writhing as his cheeks, roughened with stubble, abraded the skin of her inner thighs and then succumbing to ecstasy as his lips caressed her. His arms and shoulders knotted with the strain of controlling himself in order to pleasure her. She lay supine, awash in sensation, until the need to join with him was so overwhelming that she dug her fingers into his shoulders fiercely, trying to raise him.
“What?” he said, looking up at her, his eyes slitted, his amber skin flushed deep crimson, his mouth wet.
“Come inside me,” she gasped.
“Are you sure?” he said huskily. If she stopped him this time he would not be responsible for what he might do. But he could see that she was too far gone to resist him; she was dewed with perspiration, her eyes almost closed, her nipples pebble hard and darkened to a rosy hue with excitement.
“Please,” she moaned, reaching for him. He bit his lip as she cupped him, her inexpert caress more erotic than the skilled enticements of the most experienced courtesan. He closed his eyes as she felt him through the cloth of his trousers, stimulating him until he rolled away from her, unable to take it a moment longer.
“Kalid?” Sarah said questioningly.
“Wait,” he said, his breath coming harshly as he stripped off his pants and threw them aside. Then he lay next to her again, stroking her flank, marveling once more at the intensity of her response. She reached up and hooked her arms around his neck. His skin was slick with sweat and he felt hot to the touch, the cords in his throat full and taut, his muscles fairly vibrating with tension.
“Sarah,” he said, his voice almost unrecognizable.
“Yes,” she said. “Now.”
He rolled her under him, positioning her, and he would retain the memory of the way she clung to him trustingly, giving herself up to him completely.
He meant to be careful, to take her slowly and gently, but he had waited so long and he wanted her so much. He plunged into her too quickly, too deeply and she froze, gasping. He stopped, his arms rigid and trembling as he held himself poised above her.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said in a small voice, but she felt stiff and unyielding in his arms. He withdrew and cradled her against him.
“It often hurts the first time, I should have told you,” he said soothingly, kissing her reassuringly, cursing himself. It was many years since he had taken a virgin, and he had never in his life been so emotionally involved with the object of his desire. It made more of a difference than he could have anticipated.
Despite what seemed an eternity of thinking about it, he really wasn’t prepared for this.
“I knew that,” she said, not wanting him to feel responsible for her pain.
“Should I stop?” he asked, as his body urged him onward, impelling him to do just the opposite. She had fit him so well, the sensation of entering her had been so fulfilling, that his offer to end the pursuit when the quarry was so near was costing him every shred of restraint he had left.
“No, no,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his torso, feeling the wide shoulders tapering to the slim waist, the silken mat of black hair on his chest pressing her breasts. “I want you so much, and I want it to be you.”
“It?” he said, lifting her against him.
“My first lover,” she said shyly.
“Only,” he replied fiercely. “Your only lover.” He began to stroke her thighs, slowly, luxuriousl
y, until she was weak with need, opening her legs invitingly for his more intimate caress. It was some seconds before she said, in a slurred tone, “Again.”
He poised above her. “Sure?” he said.
She reached for him, encircling him with her fingers, and he groaned helplessly.
“Please,” she said.
This time when he entered her his throaty sound of satisfaction was echoed by hers.
“Yes?” he said, beginning to move slowly within her, barely able to speak.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed, wrapping her legs around his hips and digging her heels into the backs of his thighs.
He dropped his head to her shoulder and closed his eyes, taking her along with him on the ancient journey of discovery.
“Let’s never leave this place,” Sarah said dreamily. “Couldn’t we stay here forever?”
Kalid didn’t respond. She lifted her head from his shoulder and peered into his face.
“Are you asleep?” she demanded.
His eyes opened. “Not any longer.”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon!”
“I’m tired.”
She smiled. “Are you saying that I’ve worn you out?”
He sighed and adjusted his position more comfortably. “Draw your own conclusions.”
“Well, you’ve disappointed me. All you did was rescue a fair maiden from a band of evil gypsies and then deflower a virgin. That should be an easy day’s work for the Pasha of Bursa.”
“That’s all very well for you to say,” he intoned in his best British accent, and she giggled, then stretched like a satisfied cat.
“I think I’ll start a new career,” Sarah said.
Kalid grinned. “As what?”
“Your lover.” She turned her head and kissed his shoulder.
He lifted her hair off her neck and wound it around his hand. “I always knew it would be like this,” he said quietly.
“How could you tell?”
“From the way you looked at me.”
“How did I look at you?”
“With a very hot eye,” he said, smiling.
“I thought you were the most beautiful man I had ever seen.”
The Panther and The Pearl Page 19