Hot Sahara Wind

by Emma Wildes

  "The treaties would cripple to a certain extent the illegal market for the goods transported and sold against the wishes of your government. Do the ministers not see this?"

  "Some do,” Ahmed said neutrally, “and some do not want to acknowledge the smuggling occurs in the first place, since it indicates internal corruption. The palace does not like to cry treason, especially my father."

  "I understand,” Mrs. Rodriquez, a petite brunette with stunning eyes and an impish smile, said, “that you presented your new wife to the king yesterday, my Lord."

  He had, following Fahir's advice, and the trip to the palace had gone well, in his opinion. If one discounted Omar's glowering icy disapproval and obvious disdain for the ceremony. Ahmed smiled, lifting his glass in a small salute. “I did. He was ... enchanted, naturally."

  Sarah blushed, becoming color tinting her porcelain cheeks. “I was most anxious to not do something horribly gauche,” she candidly told the interested audience, “for though Ahmed is terribly patient, I still am learning the customs of my new country."

  Herr Frank said gallantly, “Who would not be indulgent with such a lovely lady?"

  Ahmed agreed at once. “My thoughts exactly."

  "It's so terribly romantic ... the two of you knowing each other back in England and subsequently getting married here the very day Lady Sarah arrives.” With a sigh, the wife of the Spanish ambassador pressed her hand over her ample bosom. “Rather like some fairy tale, isn't it?"

  "Or an Arabian Nights fable,” Madame Minetti pointed out, looking pleased with herself. “Complete with a handsome foreign prince and his lovely bride."

  Lifting a brow, Ahmed sipped his wine and refrained from pointing out that in his mind, she was the foreigner. “You are very gracious."

  Sarah's gaze met his briefly across the table, and there was a flare in those dark blue depths. She gave him a slow smile that managed to be intimate even in the crowded company. “I am very fortunate to have such a ... gallant hero come to my rescue."

  "The pleasure,” he responded meaningfully, “is all mine."

  When they departed what seemed like an lifetime later, the sky outside was brilliantly lit by a shimmering desert moon, gilding the streets and brick-fronted houses with pale ghostly illumination. Since the Minetti home was only a short distance from his own house, they had come on foot, and Sarah walked sedately next to him, one hand on his arm. Discreet but very present, two armed men preceded them, and two trailed behind.

  "You are very considerate, Ahmed,” his wife said softly as they passed under an avenue of towering date palms, their high leaves moving in hushed motion at the light evening breeze.

  "In what way?” he asked, glancing down at her.

  Her eyes were wide and glimmered in the moonlight. “You hated every moment of this evening, though you were unfailingly polite and I doubt anyone noticed but me. I suppose it was rather dull for someone like you.” Sarah pursed her mouth thoughtfully. “In fact, it wasn't until we sat there that I realized something that I don't think had really occurred to me before."

  A little amused because she looked so serious, he asked, “And what, beautiful Sarah, is that?"

  "You seem so soft-spoken and sophisticated and well-mannered. But it is just a veneer, isn't it? And we all accept it because what is the measure of man after all, but the cut of his coat and the way he can dance a waltz."

  Puzzled, he frowned. “I beg your pardon?"

  "Though you listened to the conversation; the boring stuffy stories, the light repartee, the teasing flirtation of Mrs. Rodriquez ... you were bored to tears. Even with your very Western clothes ... perhaps because of the way you are dressed even, you looked like something else entirely. Something more elemental than any of the other men.” She added quietly, “The other night ... when you killed the man in the garden, I told myself that self-defense would make any man take action. That you had no choice."

  A little nonplussed over being so analyzed, Ahmed wasn't quite sure what to say. “I am sorry that such a distressing thing happened and upset you."

  "That's just it.” Still walking next to him, she gave a slight shake of her head. “You are sorry it upset me, but are you sorry for taking that man's life?"

  "Any unnecessary loss of human life is tragic."

  "But you are a prince of a country steeped in ancient vendettas and tribal conflicts. You are also a warrior, and as such, you understand there are casualties, am I correct?"

  Starting to follow the direction of her words, Ahmed looked down at her bent head and averted profile with sudden comprehension. Limed by the flooding lunar radiance, her face was as pure as a marble statue. He said with a tinge of defensive bitterness, “You are worried you have married a barbarian, is that it, my Lady? That fine clothes and a proper English education cannot overcome centuries of desert warfare and bloodshed that might well be bred into my very bones. Sitting at the table with true gentlemen emphasized that the man you are tied to for life is not entirely what you envisioned when you thought of your future."

  Her head came up at the tone in his voice and she looked genuinely surprised. “Did I offend you? If so, you misunderstand, my Lord. I meant quite the opposite. Sitting there and listening to the type of conversation I have heard all my life, I realized how meaningless it all is and how much more there should be to someone than a perfectly tied cravat or whether or not they won their latest wager at Whites. By marrying you, I have eschewed that existence, and if I ever worried I would miss it, I do so no longer."

  In the shadow of a high garden wall, the scent of blooming jasmine drifting in the warm night air, Ahmed stopped abruptly, uncaring of the men guarding them. He caught Sarah's shoulders, feeling the warm resilient flesh under his fingers, his gaze searching hers with uncharacteristic uncertainty. Revealing his deepest insecurity, he said slowly, “You did not choose me of your own free will."

  "No,” she agreed, her mouth curving in a teasing smile, her face tilted upward as she looked back at him. “I think fate was a little worried over my judgment, my Lord, and chose for me. Most wisely, I might add, for I have always longed for adventure in foreign lands. You,” her hand came up to lightly touch his mouth, “are most certainly a wonderful adventure."

  Though the street was not deserted even at this time of night, Ahmed pulled her into his arms, heedless of anyone watching and captured her mouth with almost violent ardor, the kiss neither restrained nor in the least gentlemanly. When he lifted his head, he said with husky emotion, “If adventure is what you crave, my beautiful Sarah, rest assured it will be my honor to give it to you."

  * * * *

  Taking a shuddering breath, Sarah braced her arms on the softness of the bed, pushing backwards to her husband's forward thrust, pleasure invading every pore just as his rigid erection invaded her burning feminine passage. His hands on her hips, he was on his knees behind her, his breath warm on her neck as they mated with an almost wild need, the position both scandalous ... and intensely erotic. Panting, she felt the helpless tide rise with each smooth long stroke inside her body, the force of her escalating need making her fist her hands in the bedclothes and cry out.

  Whispering in her ear, his lean hips hard against her bottom as he drove in, Ahmed tantalized and possessed at the same time, his masculine control and greater strength exhilarating, as was the growing thickness in his voice. He murmured indecipherable phrases that even without comprehension sounded sexy and aroused her with the suggestive dip of his tone or the emphasis on a word...

  Here and there, if she had been able to concentrate on anything except for the overwhelming need of orgasmic release, she thought she caught something she understood, but comprehension was not important at this particular moment.

  "Oh...” she gasped, “Ahmed ... please."

  His hands slid to her breasts, grasping both of them firmly in his palms as he pushed in as far as possible. Her tremors started almost immediately, racking her body, causing her thighs to clamp together
to keep him inside as she found rapture with an echoing low scream that tore from her throat. He kept her there, impaled and shaking, until her body went limp and she sank facedown on the bed.

  Sliding out, still hugely swollen and aroused, her husband gently turned her over, his dark eyes shimmering with need as he pushed her legs apart and positioned himself between them. “I hope you don't mind if I continue?"

  The earth could spin off into the heavens at this moment, Sarah thought, so sated, she felt sublimely indifferent. When he pushed his pulsing shaft into her heated depths, she thought dreamily that sexual passion was a magical thing and if it could be bottled and sold no one would buy anything else...

  The slick slide in and out made a soft, wet rhythm and he moved slowly, as if waiting for her to recover, loving her with gentle penetration and withdrawal. It was clear from the stark desire in his eyes that Ahmed exerted tremendous control, and she found herself sighing in enjoyment despite her lethargic sexual exhaustion. Her hips lifted in acceptance of his potent lovemaking, her body still tingling from her incredible climax, and when she found the strength, her hands slid up his muscular arms to grasp his shoulders almost of their own accord. She moaned involuntarily.

  Her husband kissed her neck, his lips lingering and firm. “You have an incomparable passion, Sarah. Feel the way your body moves, wanting my seed. You are ripe, like a luscious fruit, and as delectable. When I am inside you, I feel I have reached paradise."

  His hair felt like thick silk, moving over her fingers with each thrust. “I cannot believe what you do to me."

  "Accept my word; I feel the same.” Lashes half-lowered, he watched her as he moved in supple, urgent need between her open thighs.

  On a suffocated breath, she protested the spiraling wonder centering in the throbbing juncture of her sex. “God in heaven ... I can't so soon..."

  But she could, she discovered moments later as her body exploded with delirious joy, her nails raking his broad shoulders. Ahmed didn't seem to notice, going very still, his eyes tightly closed, his erection flexing as he poured into her with a low oath, his muscles twitching and his powerful body tense as he found release.

  The aftermath is almost as good as the consummation, Sarah thought hazily when he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his damp, strong body. In his embrace, she felt more than just safe, she felt cherished. Disheveled, languorous, their slowing breathing in tune, they lay supine as lovers, body to body, heart to heart.

  It seemed like forever before he suddenly laughed, the slight expulsion of breath ruffling her hair. “Fahir is a wise man."

  Comfortably sprawled across his chest, Sarah asked sleepily, “What on earth made you think of him at this particular moment?"

  His fingers drifted through her hair and down her bare back. “Because he advised guards be posted outside our bedroom. When I protested that I could easily protect you, he reminded me that when I am with you, I am beyond a doubt extremely distracted."

  Not wanting the outside world to intrude in any way on her current state of sublime contented happiness, nevertheless, Sarah frowned. “You do not think the man in the garden the other night was a simple intruder; that much I have gathered, but neither do you explain. Hamet is also reticent, which if you are keeping the danger a secret to not frighten me, it is not working. In fact, I promise you I am more worried, because I do not know just what it is you are protecting me from."

  Her husband lay silent, but she could feel the slight tension in his muscles and his hand went still, resting lightly on the base of her spine.

  Lifting up on one elbow so she could see his face in the darkened room, Sarah said slowly, “It is your brother, isn't it? You say you have enemies, and I would guess all men must to a certain extent, but his hate is a palpable thing. When we were at the palace, I could feel his enmity, though he didn't say a word."

  It was true, when she had been presented to the king, much of the royal family had been there. Though all Ahmed's older brothers had been intimidating and formal, the one called Omar had made no secret of the contempt in his gaze or the glittering malice when he looked at her husband. It had been startling, since almost everyone she had met so far seemed to hold him in affection and esteem.

  After a short silence, Ahmed murmured, “You are too perceptive for your own good, beautiful Sarah."

  "Why?” she asked point blank, not able to quite read the expression on his handsome face. “He is your brother, so I find it hard to understand."

  "I am not certain I understand it myself.” He sighed, suddenly looking weary in the shadowed light. “But we have always clashed. Even as children, we fought constantly. I think I am lucky, actually, that we were born so close in age, for had he been significantly older, I might have suffered more at his hands. As it was, we were separated by the time Omar reached ten years of age, given different tutors and guardians, and for a while, the distance worked. We simply ignored each other for years. However, now that we both occupy high positions in our government, we cannot help but interact.” He looked into her eyes, his dark gaze direct and heavy. “You must realize how volatile the situation is in this country right now. We hover on the brink of the Modern World, but are tied to the archaic customs of the old. Progress is viewed with suspicion, outsiders considered the enemy until they prove to be otherwise. Yes, more Europeans come here every day, and our harbor teems with commerce. We have foreign merchants who hunger for the opportunity to sell our wares and produce to the world ... but, the question is always how will this affect our people? Some, like myself, feel that the overwhelming poverty of the masses needs ease. Others argue that it has been so for thousands of years and who are we to change it?"

  If she hadn't already been falling madly in love with the man who was both her lover and protector, his underlying sense of duty and upright honor coupled with the inner struggle over preserving the heritage of his past would have toppled her over the edge. Ahmed was not just brave and intelligent; he was truly honorable. Sarah leaned forward and kissed him very gently, a subtle pressure of mouth to mouth. “I think,” she said, pulling back a fraction, “that this country is very lucky to have someone like you to help shape its future.” She smiled, liking the muscled feel of him underneath her, inhaling the faint masculine tang from his sweat-dampened skin. “And, of course, so am I."

  The corner of his mouth lifted and his lashes dropped a fraction. “Omar is not to be taken on lightly. I do not want to believe that he would seek to do you harm in order to wound me, but I cannot say with certainty that he would not, either. Therefore you must be careful, accept the guards as a necessity, and we can hope my worry is for nothing."

  Recalling the utter cold, almost reptilian flatness of Omar Aziz's regard, Sarah shivered. The man in the garden had been real enough and a definite threat, and if her husband's perfidious brother was to blame, the danger was not imagined.

  Ahmed's arms tightened around her. “Do not worry, you will be safe. I vow it."

  "But will you be safe?” she asked, the feeling of vulnerability a new one.

  He laughed, though it held no mirth. “I have been defending myself from him all my life.” One long-fingered hand lifted gracefully and caressed her cheek. “Tell me, my lovely English bride, would it pain you then if something happened to me?"

  Was it possible to feel so strongly about someone she had known, no matter how intimately, for such a short time? Sarah felt tears spring to her eyes, the depth of her emotion was so shattering. She whispered shakily, “Yes, my Lord, it would pain me greatly."

  * * * *

  The chamber was somber, but the vote not as divided as Fahir had anticipated, the majority of the dissention focused more on the details of the agreements rather than the trade treaties themselves. After the long hours of debate, he felt weary and a little stiff from sitting the entire time, but also more than just a small measure proud of the young man he viewed as more a son than a pupil. Ahmed had argued convincingly and without defens
iveness, extolling the virtues of a progressive allied connection with the rest of the world, and it had worked, his calm demeanor a contrast to his older brother's ranting diatribes.

  In the end, as he always hoped it would, reason had triumphed over fanatic anger.

  Crossing the great antechamber, Fahir leaned on his cane, promising himself a cool drink in the garden and some of Halide's special salve for his aching joints. Though he had been invited to dine with the king, he had politely declined, knowing his sovereign would understand his growing ailment caused the most pain in the evenings.

  "She is very pale, my brother's infidel bride."

  The menacing voice came out of the coolness of the tiled hallway, darkened from the brilliance of the setting sun by stained glass that cast blocks of light like blood. Fahir paused, glancing over to see Omar lounging against one of the pillars, his dark face wearing a sullen, almost wolfish expression. Fahir said calmly, “She has nothing to do with your arguments being in vain and the council's decision. That you accomplished alone by your lack of control and vindictive jealousy."

  "I hear he uses her as often as if she were a common prostitute one could buy on the street."

  Though he hadn't approved at first of the prince's choice in a bride, he had since come to the grudging conclusion that Sarah Stewart was bright and beautiful and, perhaps most of all, a generous and kind spirit. What was more, she gave every indication of feeling as intensely for Ahmed as he did for her, and that alone endeared her to almost everyone in the household. “Your brother's private life is his own. If his wife is very appealing in every way a woman can be, that is his good fortune."

  "I wonder if her skin would be cool to the touch.” Omar insolently lifted a dark brow, baring his teeth in the parody of a smile. “And if she would scream in pleasure for any man the way she does for my brother."

  Knowing more than he wished to about the king's third son's mistreatment of women, Fahir felt a surge of disgust. “You are not fit to touch the hem of her robe, Your Highness."