by Valerie Parv
Her thoughts swirled. Her fingers tangled in his hair without conscious intent, and she pressed back against the jeweled nest, expecting it to swallow her up at any second. When it did, she screamed her torment and delight, going rigid then boneless as wave after wave of ecstasy shook her.
He lifted his head, his eyes bright. “You’re amazing.”
“No, you are. I haven’t…I’ve never…”
His finger pressed against her lips. “I told you we’ve barely begun.”
Floating on a cloud, she felt unfocused, as if she’d shattered into pieces. He’d already given her so much. How could there be more?
Unbelievably, there was.
Through heavy-lidded eyes she watched as he levered himself up and reached for the mosaic box on the bedside. Opening it, he took out a bulblet of iridescent liquid. He set the box aside. “These are love pearls, to heighten one’s pleasure.”
Watching him tip a few drops of the liquid into his hand, she felt dizzy with anticipation. Her voice felt unsteady as she started to ask, “Then how do you…oh.”
He swooped over her and his touch became even more intimate, massaging and sensitizing her almost beyond belief as the contents of the pearl perfumed the air with the heady fragrance of exotic herbs. His fingers sliding over her skin as he anointed her threatened to drive her to melting point.
She couldn’t stop reaction cascading across her face, his enjoyment mirroring hers. “The pearls contain rare Arabian aromatics designed to enhance a woman’s readiness.”
She felt as if she was raging out of control. “What do you get?” she managed to ask.
He let his gaze linger on her before answering. “Isn’t it obvious? You.”
His breathing turned ragged. He rolled until he lay across her, propped up on his arms. “You have the most amazing effect on me, my Sima.”
With her hand trapped between them, she felt his heart hammering and her own keeping time. “What happened to agility and control?”
“The techniques are not foolproof, and can be overpowered if the hunger is strong enough.”
“And is it?”
He traced a line around her mouth, his hard body pressing her back against the cushions. “Need you ask?”
“No.” The answer was in the urgent way he pressed against her, his tongue circling her breasts until she was so swamped by sensation she couldn’t draw a whole breath.
If she spun much further out of control, she would shatter into bits. “Now, Markaz,” she urged.
He kissed her parted lips. “Very soon, my lovely.” He rolled away, opened the mosaic box and took out a condom this time.
She felt hot and aching. “That coffer is full of magic.”
He shook his head. “The magic is in us. In you, my Sima. You were made for this.”
“Only because of you.” No other man had ever made her feel so wanton, so desirable. Out of control, but not afraid because she had chosen this. Chosen him. In a fever of anticipation, she watched as he sheathed himself. Supporting himself on his arms, he moved over her, but held himself away a little, teasing her with gentle nudges until her excitement was almost explosive. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head down and feasting on his sensuous mouth.
When she stopped to gulp in air, he looked fully into her open eyes. Did he see the soul-deep connection she could feel linking them? Slowly, deeply, inexorably, he filled her, driving the breath out of her and replacing it with his potent maleness. His taste infused her as his movements became deeper, harder, more powerful than anything in her experience. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she absorbed sensation after sensation, taking all he offered and more, giving more than she’d thought she could possibly give.
Her precious control wavered, teetered then blew apart in a sudden surge of feeling sweeping her upward, higher and higher. She gloried in the way his body molded to hers as he held her. His mouth was hot and hungry on her lips. She was flying, shooting for the moon, and fear was a speck left behind on the ground.
When he threw back his head and howled her name, she felt herself plummet over the edge into the void.
The room took a long time to stop spinning. Weakly, but feeling like a cat with cream on its whiskers, she stretched, trying not to disturb Markaz who lay with his head pillowed against her breast. He awoke and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him into the curve of his arm. “Being out of control isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked, sounding as sated as she felt.
“I could get used it. With a little more practice.”
His mouth curved. “An invitation, my Sima?”
She sighed. More like wishful thinking. “You make my name sound so poetic.”
“This is a time for poetry. And for other things.”
Thinking of the other things, she felt her face heat. “Won’t someone be missing you by now?”
“The majlis is over for the time being. Normally I’d be busy with paperwork at this hour.”
“Instead of with me.”
He caressed her breast lightly, speeding her pulse. “I know where I prefer to be.”
“Oh, Markaz, I have no herbal pearls, no training in the bedroom arts.”
He kissed each breast in turn, laving her nipples with his tongue until she writhed in his hold. “Don’t discount the value of instinct.”
Hers was telling her she wanted him again, and she surprised herself by saying so.
“Already?” he asked, sounding pleased.
She could see his strength returning. “Unless it’s too much for you.”
He rolled over, finding her mouth. “We’ll soon see about that.”
Whoever said too much of a good thing was never enough had the right idea, she decided. Aching, but feeling more alive than she had in years, she lay in the crook of Markaz’s arm, listening to his even breathing. His broad chest rose and fell rhythmically. There was a faint, crescent-shaped scar under his ribs. Idly she traced over it with her finger.
Soon duty would call him away. She didn’t want to think about that. Or about leaving Nazaar when the time came.
So she thought about how far she had come. Not only in distance from her birthplace, but in her own growth. Markaz was right, she sensed. Her need to be in control of her life had been driven by fear. Knowing she could let go without the world coming to an end was a big step.
It wouldn’t last, but she could enjoy the feeling for now. Time enough to worry about the real world when they were forced to rejoin it.
“You’re thinking again,” Markaz said, stirring. He laced his fingers through hers. “Are you curious about the scar?”
She was curious about everything to do with him. “Tell me you got it in a sword fight, or an altercation with desert raiders.”
“Nothing so romantic. I tried to drive my father’s favorite car before I could see over the steering wheel. I crashed it in the palace grounds at Raisa.”
“Not very princely behavior.”
“No, but as the younger son, I wasn’t being groomed for the throne so I was permitted more freedom than my brother, Esan. I thought I could do anything I wanted.”
She could imagine him as a headstrong child, full of boyish exuberance. Traces of those qualities lingered in the man, although under much tighter control nowadays. “What else did you get up to?”
“When I was nine, I tried to sell copies of my father’s signature to the boys at my school.”
“How enterprising.”
His hand strayed over her breasts, idly caressing. “My father didn’t agree. I was kept at home with a tutor for a month.”
Arousal slid through her, although she was aching already. “Hardly sounds like a punishment.”
“When you grow up surrounded by security who accompany you everywhere, school is a blessed relief. Only on the playing fields and in the classrooms could I feel as if I were like everyone else.”
She nodded her understanding. “Being confined to the palace must have been like a ja
il sentence.”
A flick of his hand dismissed the memory. “I learned my lesson, and also to cherish the limited freedoms available to those of royal birth.”
Did he count this afternoon with her? “Our experiences weren’t so different,” she acknowledged. “Both of us had limits placed on us by our heritage.” Except that he had grown from his, while she’d allowed fear to limit her.
She wasn’t fooling herself that one afternoon of letting go would change years of conditioning, but it was a beginning. The lesson wasn’t over yet, she realized as he stroked the length of her body, lower and lower, until he had her arching her back in excitement.
When he came to her, she was open and willing and eager, using her arms and legs to bind him closer, deeper, until all boundaries blurred and she couldn’t tell where his ended and hers began.
The next thing she knew, he was rousing her gently. He was dressed but for his headdress and i’qal, and had a gold tray in his hands.
Her dreams had been filled with him, or were they only dreams? “You should have woken me.”
“It was only a nap, and I enjoyed watching you sleep.”
She stretched. “I don’t usually sleep during the day. This is your fault.”
“I’m sure I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
She could think of several. None involved leaving this chamber. To distract herself, she reached for one of the figs glistening on the tray.
He playfully batted her hand away. “Let me. I don’t often get the chance to serve food to a beautiful woman.”
“And the refrigerator just happened to be well stocked. You realize how calculating this looks?” Her light tone echoed his mood.
“If this were the majlis, I would have to plead guilty.”
In the midst of his demanding schedule, he’d taken the time to plan this interlude for her. Confused by the feelings swirling through her mind, she sat up and pulled a section of the rainbow-colored coverlet over herself. If he kept being so thoughtful, she might imagine she was falling in love with him.
Since that was out of the question, she reached for humor. “What’s the penalty for seducing a member of your harem?”
“Pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.”
“Typical,” she retorted, reminded of just how wild those dreams had been. “In every society, the man gets off scot-free.”
“You’re assuming he wants to.”
“What else could he want?”
“Home, family, intimacy with one special person. Men want those things, too.”
“Even a sheikh?”
His gaze leveled. “Even the sheikh.”
Her question had been general. His answer sounded personal. She felt her throat dry. Home, family and intimacy also meant giving up control over your life. More so if you were royal and on duty twenty-four hours a day. No, she wasn’t in love with him. In lust, perhaps, and what was wrong with that? But never love.
He began to feed her the succulent figs, slivers of melon and bites of pastry, dabbing her lips with a fine cotton napkin after each mouthful. Then he gave her sips of sparkling water from a crystal goblet. As he ministered to her, arousal began to burn through her anew. She’d never thought of eating as a sensual experience, but Markaz made it so. “I’d better get dressed, too,” she said, annoyed to feel so unsteady.
He fixed his headdress in place with the i’qal. “There’s no hurry. I have a meeting to attend. Now you know the way out, you can stay for as long as you wish.”
There was only one reason to wait. “Will you come back after your meeting?”
He shook his head. “Hamal has security concerns to discuss with me.”
Every word proved her belief that Markaz was wrong for her. But she couldn’t keep resentment out of her tone. “Then I’d better get back to the women. They invited me to go with them to a restaurant featuring belly dancing.”
With his hand on the hidden door control, Markaz paused. “I’d prefer you to remain in the lodge.”
She shook her head. She’d sensed that control of her life would leave her hands once she gave in to him. Gave in? She gave. Pure and simple. And took as much in return. “If I agree to stay here tonight, what comes next? You order me to remain in my quarters until we return to Raisa?”
“If necessary,” he said through narrowed lips.
“It isn’t necessary,” she denied. “I know you want to protect me. That was always my father’s excuse, too. But I’ll be fine. There hasn’t been any sign of Business Suit since we got here.”
The bed rocked as he sat down beside her and grasped her hand. She wanted to pull away but he held fast, forcing her to meet his glare. “You’re wrong. At the souk, one of my mother’s attendants saw a man answering Business Suit’s description. That’s why Fayed was so close at hand. I sent him to look for the man.”
Fear tightened her breathing. “Did Fayed find him?”
“No, he got away after Abdl told us you’d been taken.”
The implication was clear. “If I’d stayed with the group, Fayed might have caught up with him. Oh, Markaz, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“You knew there was danger.”
“Yes, but I managed to forget for a short time. I won’t forget again,” she vowed.
“Good. Then you will remain within the lodge from now on?”
“I’ll take greater care,” she hedged.
He wasn’t fooled. “I want your word that you won’t go off on your own, no matter what.”
“How can I give my word, when we don’t know what might happen next?”
His grip tightened. “Precisely why I require your promise. Don’t force me to have you locked in your room under guard.”
How many times when she was a child had her father confined her to her room for her own good? “I know there’s danger. I’m not stupid. I won’t venture away without taking care. But I won’t be dictated to like a child.”
He stood up. “There will be a guard at your side from now on.”
Bitterness forced the words out, “Even when we make love?”
“This room is like a vault. We have no need of guards here.”
“They won’t be needed anyway. From now on, I don’t want you to touch me.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Because I consider you precious enough to be worthy of protecting?”
Don’t go there, she warned herself. “You make me sound like one of your possessions.”
He looked really angry now, and utterly magnificent. “Don’t try me too far, Simone.”
Not Sima now. Strange how bereft the change made her feel. “Which one of you, the lover or the monarch?” And which one had made love to her?
“They cannot be separated.”
Her anger deflated. “No, they can’t. My mistake.” One she wouldn’t readily make again, she promised herself.
He made nonsense of the intention by crushing her to him and claiming her mouth. Fueled by anger, this kiss was not in the least gentle, but echoes of their lovemaking churned through her, making her ache.
Needs and wants and desires clashed with her temper. But she wouldn’t allow him to sidetrack her. She fought free. “Stop. The price is too high.”
He didn’t ask what price. She could read the understanding on his chiseled features. “You paid it willingly enough in this bed,” he stated.
“Never again.”
“Never is a long time.”
An eternity of never again allowing herself to know his power and passion. “I can live with that,” she lied.
His gaze told her he knew. But he took her at her word. “As you wish. I must attend my meeting now. You will be safe in here, and there will be a guard waiting in the hall of justice when you’re ready to return to your room.”
So he would have his way. What did she expect? “Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”
At her sarcastic tone he looked as if he was about to say more, but instead clamped his mouth into a hard line. In a
swish of robes, he went to the wall. Unwilling to watch him leave, she closed her eyes. Moments later, she heard the grating sound as the secret door slid shut behind him.
Dragging the coverlet up to her chin, she lay back. Every part of her felt tender. Her spirit, most of all. Letting him make love to her had been a mistake, granting him power over her beyond his rights as a monarch. She’d known the risks, yet she’d taken them out of simple desire.
No, not simple. Nothing was simple about the way Markaz made her feel. True, she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man. Enough to forget her need to run her own life? Yes, she thought bitterly. And now she had to face the consequences.
Well, to hell with that. She was still a free agent. Hearing that Business Suit had been snooping around the souk didn’t exactly thrill her, but what could he do to her in the royal lodge? She could identify him as the last person seen with Natalie alive, but he could have established an alibi by now. So why was he following her?
Something nagged at the back of her mind, not for the first time. Had she seen something more without realizing the significance? She thought back to when she’d first seen Business Suit at Al-Qasr. He’d walked toward Natalie’s car. Then he’d forced the other woman into the vehicle, before pursuing Simone. Not much to go on.
Impatiently she wound the coverlet around herself like a toga and got up. Much as she hated to admit it, Markaz’s insistence on providing her with a guard was starting to make sense. Not that she had any intention of telling the sheikh so. He might get the idea that she liked being ruled by him. And she didn’t. She didn’t like anything about this arrangement at all.
Her eye was caught by a flash of color on a side table. The mosaic coffer. She picked it up and sprung the gold catch. The bulblets of massage oil called love pearls were nested in velvet alongside two more silver foil pouches. Telling herself he came prepared didn’t help. He had said she was the first woman he’d brought here, and she believed him.
Slowly she closed the coffer and put it down, not wanting to think about how he had made her feel. It was time she got out of here and back to the real world.