Camelia was right; she must lock all these dreadful suspicions in a drawer and throw away the key. Aida had no doubt that she loved Phares and that her life would be miserable without him. She had won the prize. She could see it in the eyes of the women who had been present at the reception – some of whom had been delighted to see Phares happily married, but others, like Isis, had looked at her with eyes full of envy as he proudly introduced Aida to his friends, his arm lovingly and protectively placed around her shoulders.
Tension ebbed away from her and Aida kissed her friend warmly on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Camelia. You’re such a wise and good friend. You’re right, I must put aside my insecurities about Phares and have faith in our love for each other.’
Her friend grinned. ‘Good. Now, let me help you get ready. Phares must be waiting for you ala nar, on fire. The car is at the front door, ready to take you to the Winter Palace. The suite he has reserved is out of this world, and tonight the stars have never been so bright … a real night for romance!’
Camelia took down a dress from the rail where it was hanging and took off its cover. ‘This arrived yesterday morning, straight from Marcel Rochas in Paris.’
It was a magnificent silver lamé gown of pure, simple lines, with a plunging neckline at the front and back, and ruched shoulders.
Aida gasped. ‘It’s so elegant … Phares has already sent me so many presents!’
‘It’s his pleasure. He has chosen everything for you himself.’
‘You didn’t help him?’
‘I showed him a few magazines and photographs, but he did it all himself, I swear. His taste is amazing. I never realised my brother was so knowledgeable about clothes.’
‘Well, his last girlfriend was a model.’
Camelia looked at her friend reproachfully. ‘Forget about Nairy. He never loved her, despite what people say.’ She waved a hand dismissively. ‘It makes a good drama and to her, Phares was just a meal ticket. She’s renowned for being a social climber. The affair suited them both and now it’s well in the past. I hear she’s already replaced him with some Greek tycoon.’
Aida gave a wry smile as she began unfastening her tiara and veil. If that was so, what was the model doing coaxing a rendezvous out of Phares less than two weeks ago? But Camelia was right, she must forget Nairy, especially tonight. She flushed at the thought of what was to come. Phares and his kisses, his muscled arms pulling her against his hard body …
Aida slid out of her wedding attire and went to the bathroom to freshen up and retouch her make-up. She stared back at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes, she thought, looked larger and bluer tonight, the excitement in them hard to disguise. Her hair, which Dada Amina had insisted she wash with chamomile to enhance its goldenness, was silky and glistening. She gave it fifty energetic brushstrokes and let it fall in soft curls over her shoulders.
She came back into the bedroom and put on the lamé gown. It fitted her to perfection. Slipping on the matching silk-and-silver-mesh peep-toe high-heeled shoes, she checked herself again in the mirror, hardly able to recognise herself.
‘Beautiful!’ Camelia exclaimed. ‘Phares asked me to give you these, by the way.’ She handed Aida a navy-blue velvet box. ‘They belonged to my mother. It’s the only thing he took of her jewellery, I have the rest.’
‘But …’
‘Mama said that he could choose one parure to give to his future wife and he chose this one.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure.’
‘He’s given me so much already.’
‘That is Phares. He will shower you with love and presents, but he does also demand loyalty and total trust.’
Aida sat down at the dressing table and opened the large jewellery box. She sucked in her breath as she saw the spectacular double strand of pearls with three squares of diamond baguettes positioned midway on each side of the necklace. It lay on its velvet cushion alongside matching earrings, two bracelets and a ring. Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘I don’t deserve this.’
‘Of course you do. Come on, there’s no time to waste. Phares wants you to wear these with the dress. He’s waiting downstairs to see them on you. Here, let me do up the necklace.’
Aida obeyed meekly, so moved by Phares’s generosity that she was trembling, her heart pounding. Feeling guilty at how she had behaved today, she promised herself that she would make it up to him and be a truly loving wife.
‘You look striking. Those pearls were made for you, I swear.’
Aida glanced at herself in the mirror. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to be with Phares and to read the admiration and desire in his eyes. Grabbing the matching shawl and her mother’s pearl clutch bag, she gave her friend one last hug.
‘Let’s go, Camelia. Thank you for everything.’
A few minutes later, a sea of smiling faces and a yell of welcome hailed Aida’s appearance at the head of the staircase. Everyone had gathered in the big hall to see the couple off.
At the bottom of the stairs, Phares stood waiting for her. Dark and powerful, his eyes were afire, sweeping the full length of her hungrily. Aida felt herself blush at the smile of devilment she saw there as she arrived on the last step and he took her hand. Sliding his arm around her waist, he caged her with his hard, muscled body. Yells, whoops and cheers erupted the moment he took her lips with his, and Aida felt herself melt, her knees trembling, loins flooding with the familiar warmth only his proximity could provoke.
For a moment, pressed against him, she forgot the gathered guests, but Phares released her suddenly, leaving her covered in blushing confusion as he turned to them.
‘Friends, colleagues, ladies and gentlemen, regretfully, it is time for us to leave you. This has been a wonderful day.’ Then, with a twinkle in his eye, and wearing his most charming smile, he added, ‘But we still have a long night in front of us.’
His unambiguous remark was greeted with laughter and whistles as he lifted Aida into his arms and made for the front door. With a final wave, he helped her into the waiting car as their guests threw rose petals, rice, sweet almonds and memento coins bearing Phares and Aida’s names over the happy couple.
* * *
Luxor’s Winter Palace occupied a wonderful position on the banks of the Nile, its elegant horseshoe terrace raised on colonnades with a sweeping double marble staircase leading down to the forecourt. The Victorian-style opulent hotel had become famous in the early 1920s with Howard Carter’s discovery of the sealed tomb of Tutankhamun. The tremendous find had captured the imagination of a global audience, bringing hordes of foreigners knocking at its doors in those years between the wars.
The prestige suite that Phares had reserved for their wedding night was huge, its tall, elegant French windows leading on to a small terrace with a wonderful view of the Nile, and across it to the emerald-green fields and the old town of Thebes.
‘You haven’t eaten since lunchtime, chérie,’ Phares noted, following Aida into the room. ‘I saw you didn’t touch any of the canapés that were going round at the reception. I’ll call room service and have them bring up a bottle of champagne and a big bowl of caviar.’
She smiled at her husband. ‘Thank you, though I’m really not very hungry, but go ahead and order it if you’d like something. You must be starving. I didn’t see you eat much either.’
He grinned. ‘Don’t worry about me. I tasted every appetiser on offer, chérie. They were quite delicious.’
Aida’s eyes fell on the huge bed, welcoming and inviting with its pure white silk sheets. On it, the beautiful nightdress that had been packed for her had been laid out. Phares followed her gaze and his full, sensual lips tilted at the corner in a wry smile of acknowledgement.
‘How about we eat later? I’ll leave you to undress,’ he murmured, his voice thick. The expression in his eyes told her everything he had left unsaid, and a spark of awareness flared low in her belly, spreading quickly outwards.
Anticipation shivered th
rough her as she ran herself a bath, into which she poured a few drops of the delicious bath oil the hotel had provided, called Nuit de Noces. It filled the bathroom with its heady fragrance of jasmine, rose, green oakmoss, fern, musk and fougère accord, impregnating her skin as she soaked in the hot water, leaving it soft and silky to the touch.
After towelling herself vigorously, Aida slipped into the delicate nightgown and stood in front of the mirror. The filmy chiffon and lace robe had a low, gathered neckline with romantic flowing sleeves and tight lace cuffs. It was so revealing, she went pink with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement, although she had to admit that she liked what she saw. Tying a robe around her, she walked barefoot on to the terrace and gazed at the beautiful scenery spread out in front of her.
Overhead, a huge silver moon hung like a great jewelled lamp suspended from a chain of brilliant stars. The whole world seemed a wonderful symphony of violet and silver, the shadows of rock and palm trees etched in deepest black upon a mauve canvas. Every small hillock on the opposite bank of the great dark expanse of the Nile stood out clearly, and the breeze blew deliciously over the sand and silver waters. Soft and balmy, it held the fragrance of a hundred southern gardens in its breath.
* * *
Phares let himself into the room quietly in case Aida was asleep. He would wake her, but he would do so tenderly, lovingly, preparing her slowly for the night he had in mind for them. He immediately saw that she wasn’t in bed and moving to the open window, he saw that she had her back to him, her beautiful body silhouetted against the balustrade outside, every curve outlined through the flimsy material of her night clothes.
The night was so superb, the panorama of the great moon, silver behind the dark trees, so exquisite that he dared hardly breathe lest it all dissolved into mist, as so many of his dreams had done in the days gone by. Until the last minute he had been afraid that Aida would change her mind, and it wasn’t until the priest had pronounced them man and wife that he could relax.
But now, her proximity and her sweetness went to his head like wine, with the knowledge that she was his, and that he had only to put out his hand to touch her arm, so soft and warm and smooth. The gentle sound of her breathing in the otherwise silent place filled him with an overwhelming desire to draw her close to him. Phares had always believed that even when a man loved, he should be proud – always the confident victor, though in reality a suppliant. But now he knew better. Pride had ruled him too much before. The fear he’d experienced at the idea of losing Aida had taught him that love meant a great humility, that a man who would demand of a woman the immense sacrifice of marriage, with all its attendant obligations, must make the demand diffidently, not arrogantly as he had done, realising that from its very nature the bond must press more heavily on her than it would ever do on him.
Slowly, he moved away from the window and went into the bathroom to prepare himself. Her sweet scent was everywhere. He found her towelling robe hanging up on the back of the bathroom door and couldn’t resist burying his face in it, inhaling the smell of her mingling with the fragrances she was wearing. He closed his eyes. Something deep and powerful and primitive flooded every nerve in his body.
He washed, shaved and pulled on a robe. Already aroused, he was growing harder by the second, the throbbing of his loins almost painful, he wanted her so much. But he must be patient; he didn’t want to hurt her – Aida must be given as much pleasure as he intended to take.
Padding lightly on to the terrace, he stood on the threshold. Aida shimmered like a pearl under the moonlight, and as she turned to look at him he read in her eyes the same desire that was torturing him. She tilted her head with a shy, flirtatious smile, and he saw her gaze travel slowly over his torso before it was drawn towards the bulge of his virility.
Phares watched the enticing sway of Aida’s hips as she came slowly towards him, and caught a tantalising glimpse of her ripe, womanly cleavage as she let her robe slip open. It fell from her shoulders and she stood before him in just her transparent chiffon nightdress, revealing, like a mirage, the perfection of her naked frame, her taut nipples pushing against the thin silk.
He stared at her, dry-mouthed.
‘Phares …’
Coming out of the silence, his name breathed by her voice, rough with passion, shivered along his senses like a caress.
His eyes flickered in the darkness. ‘I want you naked,’ he murmured hoarsely. ‘I want to see all of you. Now. I want to feel you, taste you, love you, Aida.’
With a sensuous movement of her shoulder she pushed the nightgown down to her waist, baring her breasts to him, and then, as if she had always been an exotic dancer, he saw her let the flimsy cloth slip to the ground. Unbelievably beautiful in the moonlight, she stood there trembling, waiting … yes, he could read it in her eyes … for his touch.
Their eyes locked. She held him spellbound … the seduction of innocence, he thought. There was such contradiction in her. Instinctively, she knew how to be sensuous … yes, it was that combination of purity and wantonness that excited him, rousing his deep, genuine desire as no woman ever had. His blood buzzed, turning to molten lava as these thoughts rushed through his mind, but he didn’t reach out for her.
‘Anticipation is half the fun,’ he murmured huskily and rid himself of his robe.
He was naked and Aida’s gaze travelled over him, lingering on his manhood.
‘You want me,’ she whispered.
‘I’m burning for you.’
‘Then take me.’
‘What are you feeling?’
‘I want you to touch me, Phares. Touch me everywhere …’
‘Everywhere?
‘Everywhere.’ The word came out as no more than a whisper, but he heard her.
Fierce lust seared his veins and the throb in his groin was agonising. Ungovernable longing for her took hold of him, he needed some release. His legs threatened to buckle; pulling her against him, he fell to his knees and leaned his head against the small triangle of curls between her thighs. He longed to explore it, his fingers trembling with the need to feel her, to take what was his, and his alone. He heard her breath catch as her hands pressed him even closer, meeting him with her hips.
He ran the tip of his fingers along the inside of her thighs, up and down her silky skin, making her moan and shiver from top to toe as he trailed them over the dewy, delicate skin that no one but him had touched. His middle finger found her slick folds and thrust deep into her soft, moist core. She sucked in a breath and let it out on a whimpering sigh of pleasure. Her sensitive flesh enveloped his finger completely as he stroked her inside, feeling the heat and moisture of her. Then, putting his warm mouth to those same lips now swollen with her passion and need for him, he parted them, flicking his tongue between the hot, unfurled petals, passing it over the flooded glistening bud, making her shudder. She jerked. Her legs wobbled and she cried out his name.
‘Phares, oh, Phares, don’t stop!’ Her passionate pleading resonated in the night as she reached out for something to hang on to, and he felt her nails digging into his shoulders to steady herself while he fondled her wetly with his lips and tongue, using his fingers to apply ruthless and almost painful pressure to intensify her pleasure. She was surrendering herself in her usual generous way, parting her legs so he could reach deeper into her, lustfully enjoying this rapturous torture. She tasted smooth and sweet and delicious. The scent of her, the warmth of her skin, her whimpering sounds of ecstasy all seemed designed to urge him on, and she rocked backwards and forwards in rhythm with his playful strokes. Cupping her bottom with both hands, he pulled her closer, holding her tightly against him … he wanted to reach inside her with his tongue … drink all of her … devour her.
He could feel her climax was coming; her muscles contracting and relaxing faster. She was moving quicker, her moans becoming stronger. His lips now closed firmly around the throbbing bud of her desire as he sucked and delicately nibbled it gently between his teeth. Aida c
ouldn’t muffle her scream. She writhed and almost lost her balance, but Phares held her steady and continued to nip at the fiercely swollen bud until he thought every last burst of carnal pleasure had subsided. Only then did he let her fall to her knees in front of him, her arms clasped around his neck as her breaths came in heavy pants.
And then suddenly, he felt her hands leave his shoulders and move downwards tentatively over the dark hair sprinkled over his chest. Bending over a little, she trailed them sensuously lower, following the line of his hair to his navel, and below to the brazen statement of his arousal.
Yes, he thought, touch me, Aida, release me, I’m burning for you! And as she closed her fingers around his turgid sex he inhaled sharply, a hoarse groan escaping from deep in his throat. Her touch was firm, but tender, her palm warm and soft as she stroked him from base to tip, harder and faster in a steady rhythm, her other hand running over the curve of his buttock as she continued to torment him.
Before he had time to react, she’d pushed him against the bed and leaning down, had taken him in her mouth, licking and sucking, loving him with ferocious tenderness, using her hand, her tongue and lips, while the fingers of her other hand squeezed in turn each of his nipples.
‘Oh, God, Aida, you’re killing me,’ he rasped.
She was moving him to the edge; any time now he would peak. His breathing deepened, his body quivered … he could feel the rush coming.
Phares’s groans clamped down into hard, primal grunts, which seemed to urge Aida on. Gradually she built up the speed of her fondling, the moisture from her mouth mingling with the heat of her palm. As she caressed the smooth head of his shaft, applying the right level of pressure to it, he could feel himself becoming even harder in her mouth, which she opened wider and wider at his frenzy for her to take him in; he felt himself thrusting, burying himself deeper in her throat, delirious with the pleasure it was giving him.
Song of the Nile Page 51
