by Raine Hughes
Unfortunately, his thoughts continued to churn, his groin still tingled, and he could still feel the whisper of her statically charged hair reaching for him.
He had to get his mind off of the brush-by! Noah settled the lid into the round hole on the stove and moved the kettle back farther so it wouldn’t boil dry during the night as it humidified the air. He drew in several fortifying breaths.
“Come,” he said when he couldn’t prolong the inevitable any longer. He made his way back to the long sofa. “The best way to keep warm is to get our bodies together.” Noah fluffed up the pillows at one end and took up a half-reclined position on them. Trying to act with detachment, he beckoned for Jasmine to settle down in the vee between his legs. He pulled the blankets up over them while the Corgis jumped up and settled down at their feet. “We’ll all be toasty warm. Just relax.”
Yeah, right! How was he supposed to relax when they would be sleeping together? No matter that they didn’t have much choice or that there was nothing sexual about it.
Unless he let it.
He wouldn’t.
She sank into his warmth without hesitation. Jasmine trusted him implicitly.
Could he trust himself that easily? Not, apparently, if he couldn’t prevent the way a certain part of his anatomy reacted to Jasmine’s bottom snuggled against him. She couldn’t help but notice but apparently Jasmine was more in control than he was, for she remained loose-limbed in his arms.
Her scent filled his nostrils; her body tantalized his. Around them he could hear the walls humming again, though he still had no idea if they emitted the music themselves or if something else was producing the sound for their benefit. With the electricity off, he knew it was from nothing he was familiar with. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on something other than the strange idea of living wall coverings and, equally disturbing, Jasmine’s softness and gentle curves.
As always, he turned to visions of the ferry, her hull proudly bearing the name, Noah’s Ark. He thought of all the animals that would be aboard. He thought of the people, customers for a boat ride that would be much more than just a tourist attraction. He thought of anything that would take his mind away from the exotic houseguest that was snuggled intimately against him.
* * *
Jasmine pondered why it seemed familiar to settle into Noah’s arms. Not that she felt exactly restful, not since becoming aware of a certain part of Noah’s body hardening beneath her. He wanted her, just as he had wanted her on the waterbed. She had yearned for his touch and his passions, too.
Then they had plunged through the floor. Apparently, their passion was not to be indulged. Not yet, anyway. This was just another test of the patience she had to learn as a Djinni. Her womanly yearnings, and of course her insatiable curiosity, were not so inclined to wait. She sighed inwardly at her inability to exercise more control, even as a part of her felt mounting excitement at the passions waiting to be experienced.
Noah’s solid body remained warm under her, bringing her back to the present. Their shared embrace was not the reason she felt that she had been like this in Noah’s arms before. She remembered feeling protected, of being surrounded by Noah, remembered being cold, then being deliciously warm, and of snuggling into that welcome warmth. She searched back in her memory trying to think of why she was certain that she had been held in Noah’s arms previously.
It came to her like a bolt of energy. “This is how you warmed me the day I fell off your roof.”
His body jerked at the sound of her voice.
“I am apologetic, Noah. You were asleep?”
“No.” After a long moment he said, “I mean, no, I wasn’t sleeping yet.”
His voice sounded gruff. Fearing he was angry with her, she twisted her head to determine if she was correct. In the dim light his eyes were dark and unblinking. Why had it not occurred to her until only moments ago that he had been with her that first time, before she had awakened in his bed? He had used his body heat to revive her. That time, too, had he been covered from neck to ankles in faded red cloth?
He did not look angry. Perhaps she was reading too much into a few simple words, or into a simple body reaction. Naturally their bodies would become sensitized. Turning back she relaxed into his warmth once more, careful of extra movements that would increase his arousal.
A part of her wanted to increase his temptation. Another part of her warned that life would never be the same if she gave into her wants. Was that necessarily bad? Noah was her master. However, he was not like the usual master. Considering how she wanted to experience a mortal, she saw him as the perfect candidate; she did not have to look for a mortal associated with him to do this.
His arms were strong yet gentle around her, his legs entangled with hers, warm against cold. She felt like she belonged, safe and cherished, maybe loved, too, not just desired.
She glanced back once more at the predatory stare that Noah fixed her with. This time she recognized that the gleam in his eyes was another illusion brought about by the reflected candlelight. Instinctively she knew better than to repeat the question, especially the way his sex remained hard under her.
The sexual reaction was thrilling, even while prompting her to wonder if she was misinterpreting lust for love. Maybe Noah was asking himself the same question and that was the real reason he was fighting their attraction. They should not simply experience each other. She wanted to know love with him, too.
She could dismiss the consequences with the Djinn. After all, she had mortal blood flowing through her veins so that there really should not be any reason for her not to fall in love with Noah, if he felt the same way about her. But, how would she know?
It was just too taxing to think about.
With deliberation, Jasmine dropped her head back and closed her eyes. She willed her mind clear of thought. The last thing she remembered was the steady thump, thump of Noah’s heart under her as he held the blankets in place. It became her heartbeat as sleep overcame her…
The wind whipped the stranger’s pale clothing, the loose and billowy dress of a man of the desert. The hooded robe sheltered his features so that she could not see him clearly as he moved towards her. She sensed that he was her lover and held out her arms in welcome.
He did the same, but their hands never quite connected. He beckoned her to come closer and she tried, she really tried to get nearer. Something held her back, but she could not see any physical thing, could only feel it, the suction of a void. She recognized it as her glass urn, drawing her inside. A figure shrouded in black held it, holding the heavy brass stopper in his other hand, ready to slam it into place, to seal her inside, to lock her away.
At her cry, the man in white was suddenly close. She wrapped her arms around his torso and held on tight as he pulled back to prevent her from being sucked into the urn. He tried to draw her away from the black shrouded figure. But it was a slow, arduous job and it appeared that he would not succeed. The white hood swung as he shook his head and for a heartbreaking moment she thought he was telling her it was no use, he could not save her.
But she hung on with fierce determination. When he once more shook his head vehemently, she realized that he was directing his actions at the figure commanding the urn. Suddenly a violent obscuring force halted her would-be abductor, and she was quickly drawn away from him. Her panic faded. She was saved. But her savior was nowhere to be seen…
Jasmine jerked into wakefulness. She must have been dreaming. She never dreamed though she knew of some who did, while others reported their dreams as premonitions. Hers was disconcerting and she did not know what to make of it. She lay still and tried to figure out where she was.
It took a moment to realize she was in Noah’s arms. No, he was in hers as she lay on her stomach, head resting on his chest while her arms were around his waist, very much like they’d been clenched around the man in her dream. She consciously loosened her hold. It felt good to be holding him, sleeping with him as he kept her warm. H
e stroked her head, too, gently, lightly, ever so slowly and tenderly.
“That is nice,” she said quietly, dismissing her dream for now. Noah’s hand stilled. “Do not stop, please.” He began stroking her again. She breathed deeply, blissfully as the room turned from semi-dark to lighter.
* * *
“Time to get up, sleepyhead,” Noah said, reluctant to end the intimate contact now that he’d beaten down his wayward desires. He suspected that Jasmine’s dreams had been as disturbed as his own wakeful thoughts for she had been restless throughout the long night, twisting and turning herself. She had cried out towards dawn and clung to him, the Arabic words unintelligible.
He longed to know her words, to learn if they concerned him or if she was reliving the flinging of her urn into the unknown, or something worse. He burned with anger at her cruel father and wondered if all Djinn males treated their daughters so. Was it a culture that didn’t recognize women as having a worth beyond childbearing, sexual satisfaction and work?
He watched as Jasmine stirred herself with a moan, got up on all fours and stretched like a royal feline, slowly, one vertebra at a time then one limb at a time. Then she sat back with her feet folded under her and smiled at him so that his heart beat in double time. Her hair, loosened from its bindings as she slept, flowed over her shoulders and breasts in disarray. She looked enticing, exotic but still regal.
It took all of his willpower not to reach out and pull her to him, to kiss the slightly parted lips, to smooth away the sleep wrinkles imprinted on one side of her face, replicas of the weave of his underwear. He didn’t dare do that, not with them both only half-dressed. He needed the protection of real clothes and distance to dissuade his restless hands.
“Good morning, Princess.” His voice was breathy in his ears and he used her title to keep in mind that she was off bounds. He drew his feet up and concentrated on getting feeling back into them. “You look refreshed and beautiful.”
Jasmine gaped at him. “Does thee call tousled and sleepy-eyed, beautiful?”
He nodded and grinned. “Have a good sleep?”
“Oh, yes. I was nice and warm. Thank you, Noah.”
“Any time, Princess!” Now why did I say that?
Once she’d gone off to the bathroom, he unfolded himself and left to get dressed, to get himself in hand in the chilly air upstairs. He very much doubted he could handle another night with Jasmine innocently lying in his arms.
It had been the longest night of his life, a night that left him exhausted as he beat down impulses and longings and a hunger for a woman he’d never known before. Her restless movements and her tight hold on him had fueled his lusty thoughts. But he had won in the end, subdued his desires, or maybe he’d just worn himself out. He’d finally convinced himself that he was just Jasmine’s friend and landlord. Really, that’s all he should consider under the circumstances, though kisses weren’t exactly in the friend/landlord repertoire. In the next instant he realized that in all likelihood, it was too late to revert to that relationship.
What if all she wanted was, as she had once said, to experience him? What if…
A terrible screech and trembling of the house brought him to his feet. Yanking his jeans on, he raced to the head of the basement stairwell. The entire basement was lit up in candles. He was in time to see a wooden pillar move into position under a sagging beam.
“Is that enough, Noah?”
He swallowed what had to be his heart from where it felt to be lodged in his throat and stepped down to view her handiwork. The hole in the ceiling was gone, as was the debris of the destroyed bed. The floor had been mopped. There was no evidence of the catastrophe of last night. Too bad it wouldn’t be so easy to erase thoughts of a certain luscious lady’s body from his mind. He groaned inwardly. Apparently the talk he’d just had with himself had been for nothing; his thoughts bounced right back to forbidden ground.
Noah nodded as he took the last steps down. “I see the torn electrical wires.”
Moments later, Jasmine watched over his shoulder as he reconnected the wires. “I will know, next time, what to do.”
He gave her a withering look. Much to his chagrin, she remained blissfully unaware of its importance as she smiled back. He left to restore the power by resetting the main breaker out on the yard pole.
“In here, Noah,” Jasmine called as he returned to the house.
He followed the sound of her voice and stepped into her bedroom. A simple pallet on the floor had replaced the exotic waterbed. It was piled high with thick quilts and pillows as before, inviting despite its simplicity in contrast to her exotic waterbed.
Impulsively he looked upward, relieved to see the heavy chandelier gone. No doubt it too would soon have fallen from its moorings with its great weight, especially with his bed right over top of it! He was happy to see the statue of the woman gone, too. Maybe it had broken in the calamity. He wasn’t going to ask.
The window, however, had been expanded considerably, letting in a great deal of light. Pointing his chin in that direction he said, “That’s something I’ve been thinking of doing for years but I just never got around to it. I like it.”
“I learned last night that one does not need the exotic to be at home.”
Did she realize what she had just implied? No, he decided. Hers had been an innocent remark as indicated by her next words.
“You will allow me to bring light and cheer to the rest of your house?”
He wanted to say no, he liked his house the way it was. Maybe that was one of his problems—resistance to change made for a dull and boring man. Carol had called him predictable, along with some less flattering things. It was time to change, take a chance, spice his life up. “I’d like that.”
“I will… ” She spread her arms to show that she meant to enlarge things.
“No!” With a little less force he said, “We don’t want it to look obvious. People would wonder how such change could be made overnight and I wouldn’t be able to tell them.”
Jasmine bowed. “Your wish is my command.”
I wish you could truly be mine forever. Instead he said, “We’ll work together on it. That is my wish.”
* * *
With his barn filling up with livestock, Noah had to buy more hay and straw. He surveyed the stalls containing his Jersey, the Shorthorn bull, one donkey, a free-roaming rooster, and two dogs that followed him about as he worked. Lastly there were Ham and Porky—the black and white belted pigs that just appeared one day. He didn’t ask Jasmine how that had happened but they were welcome.
His menagerie of animals for the ark was growing. Did he dare believe that this adventure would succeed? He hated that he still had doubts about the project he’d thought of as a kid. He wanted to believe Jasmine was capable of handling things that would require exacting supernatural powers. On one hand, he resisted using her skills for his own gain, but he suspected the project wouldn’t succeed unless he took advantage of what she could do. Then there was the fact that she had to use the powers she was given or she’d lose them.
She kept expecting to do a multitude of things for him, things that required magic and were only material things, but that was what she had always been asked to do in her life as a slave to a mortal master. It inflamed him that each and every one of them had taken advantage of her, but he was hardly in a position to declare himself different, even though he was denying himself material requests. Denial was no problem—he really had no desire for riches and extravagant pleasures.
It crossed his mind to wonder if those previous masters had taken advantage of her in other ways, too. Of course they would have been attracted to Jasmine, just as he was. Having heard their stories, he doubted she would have welcomed their passions. The mere thought of another man using Jasmine for his own pleasure was like a double-edged sword to his gut.
He was jealous. He had no business harboring such feelings for a woman he had no rights to lay claim to! He had to turn his thoughts from that
track.
Ah, yes, livestock needs. His farmer neighbor, Walt Doer, had feed and bedding straw to sell. He told Jasmine his intentions at noon.
* * *
“But I can put more hay into your loft,” Jasmine protested, “and straw onto the floor.”
Noah shook his head adamantly. “We’ve had this argument before. I won’t use your magic when I’m capable of providing for myself. You can work your magic in the house.”
“As you desire,” Jasmine said, crestfallen as he left the house. Even though they had discussed the subject at length, she was puzzled by Noah’s reluctance to let her do things for him.
She had worked her magic to redecorate parts of the house. He appeared to have no doubts she could suitably refurbish the old ferry when the time came; they had discussed extensive plans while going over the blueprints. But he was still set on providing for himself. He was a proud man who refused to rely on her for his personal needs.
She decided to soak her depression away in the bathtub, but unless she took care of a few details, like expanding the tiny room and getting rid of the low, short tub, it would be impossible to lighten her mood.
Warming to the task, she created an illusion of size much larger than the bathroom’s present parameters. Noah should not object to using optical illusion since he could explain that to visitors, a fact he set great store in, apparently. With a nod, the change was effected and she settled gratefully into the spacious new tub.
The water was warm and scented, the bubbles high. As she luxuriated in the tub, Jasmine focused on the figures of her dream, specifically the man in a white robe. She was sure it was Master Noah, though she could not see his face clearly, only that the man was distressed. Surely the dream indicated that Noah was destined to be more than her master?
