by Emma Wildes
"It was not entirely selfless,” he remarked in his almost flawless English, his accent only the barest trace. “You are very beautiful. And in the two years since I have seen you, changed from a girl to a woman."
The notion that he was attracted to her was a little startling. As was the way he watched her, with steady masculine appraisal. Sarah stammered, “I ... well, thank you, Your Highness."
"I give you leave to use my given name,” he responded, looking amused. “Surely you have been complimented on your matchless golden beauty many times, lovely Sarah."
A night bird called somewhere, a low cooing sound she had never heard before. Blushing slightly, she responded, “I am not at all like the women of your race."
"No,” he said, his dark gaze very still, “and I am not like the men of your race either. Some of the English find dark skin offensive and a sign of inferior bloodlines. Will it bother you to lie with me simply because I am of a different lineage?"
She had been trying to not consider whether he would expect conjugal rights, though she'd known logically that he would, and her blush intensified. However, if there was one thing she was not, it was narrow-minded. In fact, William had cautioned her before that her progressive ideas on the rights of all people—women most of all, were unladylike—though he had also admitted he agreed with her. “I judge a person by their actions, my Lord,” she said as calmly as possible. “Skin color aside, we are all human beings. If my appearance pleases you, I am glad. And you are very handsome. I am sure, prince or no, very few women would refuse you."
He laughed outright then, a low, musical chuckle as he reached for the bottle of wine. Refilling his glass, he said, “I forget how forthright you can be. Our debate over the system of slavery in the American colonies springs back fresh to my mind now. My ancestors having supported taking slaves as spoils of war for centuries, I recall I tried to take a more lenient position on the matter. Then you chided me with your arguments to the contrary, being both intelligently persuasive and charmingly passionate over the issue."
She, too, remembered that evening. It had been raining outside, a light furious burst that streaked the windows, and she and William and their guest had lingered over the dinner table. It had been odd, she recalled thinking, that Prince Ahmed did not seem to share the male view of most of the world and think women should relegated to the bedroom and nursery, serving no purpose but procreation and discouraged from developing their minds and opinions. “William scolded me afterward,” she admitted, realizing she was feeling much more relaxed and comfortable each passing second they talked, “for arguing with a guest. But the truth is, he has been a most indulgent guardian or he would never have allowed me to take this trip."
With an almost imperceptible gesture of his hand, Ahmed summoned a servant who brought another bottle of the sweet wine, unobtrusively refilling her glass. “William is a fine man. My secretary has already sent him a missive, announcing our nuptials, begging his forgiveness for the haste of it, and telling him your aunt is also under my care, free to stay as long as she likes."
While she would be there ... forever. Sarah swallowed, clutching her glass of wine. It was odd, since she had been so anxious to see this intriguing part of the world, to think she was now tied irrevocably to it. “He'll realize it was all my fault,” she managed to say in a hushed whisper. “I discovered today that I am more naïve than I thought. They told me at the hotel an armed escort would be a good idea, but I discounted the notion, thinking the guide would be enough."
The prince smiled ruefully. “I suppose you expected a civilization that has existed for thousands of years to be more ... civilized. Unfortunately, this is a port city that serves many and though my father is ruthlessly strict over enforcing our laws, there is still an abundance of crime. It is a very different place than what you are used to, but do not worry, you are safe.” Ahmed added quietly, “For you are mine."
For a long moment, they simply looked at each other, male to female, and Sarah felt an odd heat spread through her wayward body. “I am not very biddable,” she said lamely, her inexperience making her feel gauche in comparison to this enigmatic, attractive man. “It is a fault of mine you might find unacceptable."
His teeth were very white as he smiled. “I think,” he said smoothly, “you will be fine as you are. Do not worry, though I am a son of kings, I am not at all likely to be called upon to rule. The eyes of this nation will not be upon you, though our rules, I admit, are somewhat different."
"Women are considered chattel here."
He corrected, “They are considered inferior by some men, loved and honored by others. Just like your country. Do not make the mistake of interpreting a different culture for blind prejudice, which exists everywhere. I have lived in your country, my Lady, and females are also not allowed property or a say in government. We do not give so many freedoms, but then again, we guard our women closely in order to protect them from a less structured and more warlike world."
Considering her experience that day, she could hardly argue. Instead, she took a small sip of wine, gazing at her new husband.
He stood, sliding to his feet in one smooth athletic movement, his lean body tall in the flickering light. Holding out his hand, he said with compelling authority, “Come now, it is time."
For one short moment, her heart seemed to skip a full beat and Sarah sat there frozen, but there was something about the expectant weight of his gaze and the symbol of his outstretched hand, as if he was giving her a choice, that made her stand on wobbly legs and move toward him. Her cold fingers closed on his long warm ones.
He was taller by almost a foot, his wide shoulders imposing as he towered over her. Letting him pull her toward the low building, she followed with a sort of dreamlike obedience through a graceful curved arch into a passageway lined with doors, all heavily carved and ornate.
His bedroom was elegantly simple, she thought, her heart racing as she glanced around. The rug under her feet was thick and soft and patterned in muted colors, silken pillows the only ornamentation for the huge bed, and a screen painted in a depiction of a desert hunting scene sat in one corner, the vivid artwork compellingly lifelike as men on horseback chased a pride of lions. Releasing her hand, Ahmed said softly, “Tomorrow you may choose your own quarters, but tonight you will stay with me. Here, I have wanted to do this since the moment I first saw you back in England."
He loosened the intricate knot holding her hair, tossing the jeweled comb securing it aside with careless disregard of its undoubted value, his hands sifting through the heavy mass of curls that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. “Like pale amber silk,” he whispered, staring down at her with dark intensity, “and so fine and soft. It pleases me."
Yielding to the pressure of his hand as it curved around her waist, Sarah stepped closer until she was in his embrace, her breasts unsettlingly against his hard chest as he bent his head to kiss her. His mouth, she discovered, was warm and firm against hers and when he gently forced her lips apart with his tongue to invade and caress, she felt only mild shock overridden by a surprising enjoyment. Alternately kissing her lips and whispering in her ear melodious words in his native language, her husband began to undress her and though her mind registered she should feel embarrassment as her gown slid to the floor, leaving her naked for the heated inspection of his gaze, she didn't do anything more than look back at him.
Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to the bed and laid her down, stepping back to slip his shirt over his head. “You are perfection,” Ahmed told her, his dark eyes glittering with what even in her innocence she could see was true desire. And when he pulled loose the tie at his lean waist and his rigid erection was revealed as he shed his trousers, Sarah felt a small unfamiliar thrill coil deep in her stomach. His male organ looked huge, rising high against the flat plane of his stomach, his well-muscled body hard yet smooth, his toffee-colored skin a compliment to the glossy darkness of his hair.
Her new hus
band was very attractive to her also, Sarah thought in languorous anticipation as he joined her on the bed and took her into his arms to kiss her again. Winding her arms around his strong neck, she parted her lips willingly for him, liking the gliding friction of his tongue on hers. His skin felt hot, his hard chest pressing against her tingling breasts. In fact, her whole body felt on fire where it touched his, and there was no mistaking the iron-hard length of his long shaft where it throbbed against her thigh.
His warm mouth gliding to the curve of her throat, he murmured against her skin, “Do you understand what I am going to do to you, my lovely Sarah?"
Her hands rested on his broad shoulders, a small gasp escaping her lips as he touched her breast, his hand gently cupping and lifting her sensitive flesh. “I think so. Aunt Gillian explained it to me once."
"It is a dance as old as time between man and woman. If you will but follow my lead, we will both find paradise."
Not certain why she wasn't more frightened, she registered his words, but her true concentration centered on the pleasurable sensation of his fingers stroking her breast, circling the nipple lightly, making it hard and tight. Between her legs, she felt an odd heat, and both her breasts began to ache as he continued to caress and fondle them. His mouth followed, taunting the straining crests with wicked, light pressure, sending a jolt of awareness straight to her womb when he finally settled his mouth over the straining peak of one and began to suckle. Involuntarily, she cried out, and Sarah arched upward, pleasure pouring through her entire body. Her hands glided through his thick hair, holding him closely, not able to believe she was so shameless, but at the same time needing to ease an unknown longing. The exquisite torture continued until her breathless little cries turned to small unrestrained moans that echoed through the vast space of the bedchamber, and all at once she realized that Ahmed had distracted her to the point that when his roaming hands urged her thighs apart, she allowed it. His touch was too intimate for words, his fingers shockingly parting her cleft, stroking her labia and grazing the sensitive tissue between the moist folds.
"So gloriously female,” he said in a husky tone as he continued his deft and insistent manipulation. “You are so wet and warm as you ready yourself to accept me. But first,” his smile was both masculine and compelling, “let me show you what awaits."
Floating, not resistant to his marauding touch, Sarah let her lashes drift low, finding that her body moved helplessly in trembling need as his long slender fingers continued to stroke between the folds of her sex, her legs spreading farther apart, her breathing growing uneven. He was right, she could feel the rush of heated moisture saturating her cleft as he rubbed a certain spot that sent spiked spasms of delight through her whole body, making her pant and arch, begging for more with the explicit way she shamelessly lifted her hips.
Escalating rapture built, taking her to a summit from which she fell suddenly, plummeting as she gave a low scream, her body shaking in convulsive quivers of incredible pleasure.
Ahmed kissed her lips with lingering pressure when she finally went still, her heart throbbing in time with the pulse between her legs. She gazed back at him in dazed incredulity, her voice throaty when she whispered, “This is a dream, isn't it? It must be."
In answer, he said softly, “Yes, it must be."
* * * *
Adjusting his position so he knelt poised between the slim, pale thighs of the woman he desired so intensely, Ahmed was glad he had agreed to allow her wine to be drugged with a small portion of an elixir, one that acted to loosen inhibitions and enhance sexual response. Her lovely body lay lax beneath him, still tinted with orgasmic afterglow, her glorious breasts, so full and tipped with high pink nipples, rising and falling quickly, the generous silken flesh quivering. The mass of her tumbled, golden hair framed her delicate face, and her eyes, vividly blue and darkened with passion, were half-veiled by thick lashes. From her damp skin floated the elusive scent of English lilacs in spring, the evocative contrasts of their differences adding to his powerful hungry arousal.
Wet, open, and willing, she didn't even make a motion of virginal resistance when he took his rigid penis in his hand and guided the engorged tip into the sublime tightness of her vaginal opening. Fierce, fiery need shot through his veins as he felt how hot and small she was, a shudder racking his body as he pushed forward with excruciating patient penetration. The last thing he wanted was to make her afraid of him or cause her pain, so he moved forward with restrained force, finally finding his erection checked by her unbroken hymen. “They tell me the pain is more for some women than others,” he told her with quiet, reluctant honesty, “and you are deliciously tight. Though I vow to care for you in every way I can, there is no choice but to break through. Hold on to me and relax."
"I am relaxed, my Lord,” Sarah breathed, a half-smile curving her soft lips. “Please ... don't wait any longer."
His tantalizing new wife told the truth he discovered in the next moment as he pushed forward and found himself fully imbedded in her hot wet sheath. Other than a tiny choked sound, she didn't seem to react, her small hands clutching his shoulders. Waiting a moment, he slid cautiously backward, observing the slight flutter of her lashes and registering the exhale of her sweet breath against his neck.
Never in his life, Ahmed thought as he began to move slowly in and out of his wife's body, had he ever felt such inflamed need to release himself inside a woman. His English bride was passionate, too, he discovered in the next moments, for her body undulated in a natural sequence of acceptance and loss to his thrusts, their mating escalating almost at once to a faster pace. Wanting to bring her to climax again, he controlled himself with a tight rein, reaching between their melded bodies and touching the small bud between her legs as he sank in hard, feeling her inner muscles clench in response. She was even more beautiful as she shuddered in expiring abandoned joy for the second time, and the wild feverish peak of his ejaculation was hard against her womb, his face falling to the wealth of her silken hair, his chest heaving as he kept his weight from crushing her with shaking arms when he filled her passage with his seed.
He didn't withdraw for a long time, simply holding her as she drifted in what was obviously an exhausted but contented state, no doubt a result of their lovemaking, the drug, and the stressful hours of her capture and incarceration.
Life was sweetly ironic sometimes, he pondered, replete after such spectacular orgasmic release, savoring the light curvaceous weight of her in his embrace. And though Fahir was undoubtedly right and having a young foreign wife was going to present some difficulties, after a taste of her innocent passion, he was convinced more than ever that Lady Sarah would be worth it.
Chapter 3
The ancient city was awake, teeming with life in the busy streets, but the garden was lush and quiet. Fahir sat there, as was his custom, amid the orchids and palm trees. He said neutrally, “I saw him this morning. My impression was that the girl must have pleased him well."
Halide, nearly his age, sitting on an opposite bench with her needlework, nodded. “Surely it was the work of Allah that she would be delivered to Ahmed in such a way. I helped her bathe and ready for the wedding, and she is very beautiful, her skin like alabaster and without a flaw, her hair a river of soft gold. There is also spirit and courage in her, for despite the circumstances, she did not complain or show fear."
Glancing at the woman who had once been the prince's nurse and now acted as head housekeeper for his household, Fahir observed dryly, “You have a woman's romantic view. All you see is that they are both young and comely and can take pleasure in each other's arms."
Her lined face placid, Halide agreed, “I would see Ahmed happy, even if this pale foreign girl is the source. Since returning from gaining his education in England, he has been restless, and I suspect she is the cause. No woman has captured his attention other than to fulfill his needs for a night or two."
Sighing, Fahir used his cane to adjust his position on the bench, wa
tching a turtle dove settle on the garden wall, a gentle cooing filling the air. “I am afraid you are right,” he admitted darkly. “But we must be prepared for trouble."
"Omar.” The word was muttered with a tinge of venom.
"He covets whatever his brother has, especially if it is precious to Ahmed. I would not see him within the same room as the new princess, and she must be heavily guarded if she ventures from the house."
Halide's busy fingers stilled, her dark eyes looking troubled. “You think he will try to have her abducted?"
Not all of the king's sons were cast from the same mold, and, in fact, though Omar was older than Ahmed and therefore, closer to ascending the throne, he was not an admirable man. Treacherous and jealous of the close relationship between his younger brother and their father, Omar constantly plotted and schemed to undermine it, often causing trouble. “I think he would have her abducted and use her himself if he could, just to spite Ahmed. And Allah help her if such a thing happened, for he is capable of more than just soiling her body with his perverted touch, and if he knew Ahmed held her in genuine affection, he would kill her cruelly."
"Surely Ahmed has thought of this himself.” Halide looked frightened at the conviction in his words.
"When his favorite mount, the black who could run like the wind, was found butchered in his stall and I suggested Omar was behind it, he denied it being possible and forbade me to investigate it.” Shaking his head, Fahir murmured, “He does not want to acknowledge his brother's perfidious nature, nor does he quite believe, I think, that one related so closely by blood would gladly betray him. I will talk to him and try to persuade him to take caution. If he does not agree, I will hire secret guards, have them posted outside, and some must be in the house as well, disguised as servants."
"Ahmed gives me free rein, he will not question any addition to the staff,” Halide agreed at once, her head bowing in a slow nod. “The question is, should we warn the princess of her danger? To be unwitting of Omar's black nature is a weakness."