Lost to the Desert Warrior

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘Very well. What did you do this afternoon?’

  ‘I read. Explored a bit. Enjoyed the surroundings. I’ve never been this close to the border with Zubran before. It’s beautiful. You’ve known the Sultan and his wife for a long time?’

  ‘Mal and I have been friends since childhood. I often stayed in his house. His father and mine were close—’ He broke off but she read his mind easily.

  ‘United against a common enemy,’ she said quietly. ‘My father.’

  ‘We are not going to talk about that now.’

  He cupped her face in his hands and the touch of those strong fingers on her skin made her go hot inside.

  Was that really all it took? One touch. One touch and she was hopelessly lost. Suddenly all she wanted was more. Just how badly she wanted more was embarrassing to contemplate.

  ‘I moved Zahra into the room next to ours so that if she wakes we will hear,’ she said.

  His finger traced her jaw. ‘That was thoughtful of you.’

  ‘And I met your cousin,’ Layla said desperately. ‘The one who manages this place. She is very impressive. And she was welcoming. I didn’t know you had business interests. Hassan has no idea you own this. No one does. No one knows you have a home here.’

  ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘Finished?’

  Those dangerous dark eyes burned into hers. ‘You are chattering and I’ve never known you chatter before. You’re nervous.’

  ‘I’m not nervous.’

  ‘You can be honest with me. I want you to be honest.’

  How honest? Was he waiting for her to admit she thought about him every moment of every day? Did he want her to say she just wanted to tear off his suit, his tie, his perfect white shirt and everything else he was wearing until the only thing between them was bare skin? What would he say if she confessed that night had become her favourite time? That she wished away every hour of daylight in the hope he might come to her?

  ‘I’m not nervous.’

  He stared down at her—held her eyes with his as if he were drawing all her thoughts inside him so that he could read them and know every detail.

  Terrified of what he’d find inside her head, Layla tried to pull away. But his free hand slid behind her back and he locked her against him with a strong arm.

  She felt the hardness of his powerful body against hers and goosebumps raced down her spine.

  ‘Raz—’

  ‘My daughter is asleep,’ he said softly. ‘We should probably move this conversation to the bedroom so that we can hear her if she wakes.’

  The bedroom.

  ‘Yes.’

  Except that it felt so good being this close to him she didn’t want to move. Didn’t want him to let her go.

  Fortunately when he did it was only briefly, and then he took her hand and drew her close to him as he led her from library to bedroom. She was aware of every movement he made. Aware that he shortened his stride to match hers, aware of the brush of his arm against hers as he stepped back to allow her through the door first, aware that he drew her closer as they passed the door of Zahra’s bedroom and the sleeping forms of the ever devoted Isis and Horus.

  ‘They are very protective of her.’ She followed him into his luxurious bedroom and he closed the door behind them.

  ‘It has been that way since she was a baby. I believe they would give their lives for her, but I am conscious that you are uncomfortable around them so I have given orders that they should not be allowed to roam freely.’

  ‘Zahra’s safety is more important than the fact I’m a little nervous with dogs. They must be allowed to do as they have always done.’

  ‘A little nervous?’

  His eyes were gently mocking and she gave a half smile.

  ‘Terrified—there, I admit to being that pathetic.’

  ‘Not pathetic. Nothing about you is pathetic.’ His expression serious, he pulled her towards him. Tension shimmered between them. ‘You accused me of turning out the lights so that I didn’t know I was with you, but the lights are still on and if you want them turned off you’re going to have to say so.’ His eyes were dark on hers and the hunger she saw in him shocked and thrilled her.

  ‘I don’t want you to turn them off.’ She wanted to see him. All of him.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ Just as she was sure if he didn’t kiss her soon she’d be the one to do the kissing. In fact she was close to doing just that when he cupped her face and lowered his head to hers.

  His mouth was hot on hers, his kiss sure and clever, and just like every other time the explosion of sensation was instantaneous and all-consuming. Just like every other time her mind blanked. She felt dizzy with it, and the fact that this time there was no doubt he knew who he was kissing somehow intensified all those feelings.

  As his mouth seduced hers she felt his palms on her shoulders, easing off the simple, modest dress she’d selected earlier that day, felt the skilled glide of his fingers down her spine. And this time, whatever happened to her, whatever she felt, she was determined not to close her eyes.

  Perhaps he sensed it because he took her hand and placed it on his chest. ‘Undress me.’

  His soft command made her pulse sprint.

  She felt the steady thud of his heart under her palm and then her shaking, useless fingers fumbled with first one button and then another. But the speed of her fingers wouldn’t match the desperation building in her and she gave a murmur of frustration and tugged at his shirt, sending buttons flying.

  Layla froze. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘For what?’ His eyes glittered down at her. ‘For wanting me as badly as I want you? That isn’t something to apologise for.’

  Releasing her briefly, he wrenched off his torn shirt, leaving her face to face with his muscular male chest. She stared at the dark hair that shadowed the centre of his chest and then narrowed down and disappeared below the waistband of his trousers.

  She wondered if he was going to make the next move. Felt his eyes on her as he waited.

  Face hot, Layla reached for the fastening of his trousers. She heard the sharp intake of his breath, felt his board-flat abdomen tense against her fingers, and paused.

  ‘Do it.’ His tone was raw. ‘Do what you want to do.’

  She was too self-conscious to do exactly what she wanted to do, but she undid the button and slid down the zip, freeing him. The only sound in the room was the harsh rasp of his breathing and she heard the sound change as she took him in her hand and stroked him.

  He felt hot and hard, and the thickness of him in her palm made her own body heat. It was the first time she’d touched him like this and for a moment she stood still, unsure of herself, and then he covered her hand with his and showed her, guiding her movements, teaching her what no man had taught her before. And she learned fast what pleased him, discovered the instant high that came from hearing the sudden intake of his breath or feeling the bite of his fingers in her flesh as he struggled for control.

  Her palm cradling the most intimate part of him, she lifted her face to his. ‘I’m sorry you have to teach me.’

  ‘That proves how little you know about men, because I’m not sorry.’ His tone was rough and his features were as tense as his shoulders. ‘I am traditional enough to be pleased that everything my wife has learned in bed she learned from me.’

  Layla hid a smile. ‘That’s not very progressive, Your Highness.’

  ‘In some areas progress is overrated.’

  ‘It’s your own fault. If you’d let me keep the book—’

  ‘You will not need a book.’

  His tone thickened, he pulled her into him, taking her mouth in a hard, burning kiss before he tumbled her back onto the bed. Dispensing with the rest of his clothes, he came d
own on top of her, his weight pressing her into the soft mattress.

  ‘Tell me if I’m too heavy for you.’

  ‘You’re not. I like it. I like the feel of you. All of you.’

  His gaze darkened and he shifted slightly so that she felt the roughness of his thigh against the smoothness of hers. ‘I promised myself I’d be patient.’

  ‘You don’t have to be patient.’ Layla gazed into his handsome face, so hungry for him she ached in every part of her body. She slid her palm over the smooth skin of his powerful shoulder and felt the tension there, felt his own struggle to hold back. ‘I don’t need you to be patient.’

  ‘If anything I do makes you uncomfortable—’

  ‘It won’t.’

  She was about to say that nothing he did could make her uncomfortable but he was kissing her again, the slide of his tongue against hers driving all rational thought from her head. He kissed her with slow, deliberate expertise, and although he’d kissed her like this before she discovered that the light changed everything because now she could see. She kept her eyes open and so did he, and she could see the fire in his eyes, the flare of heat as he looked at her, the raw hunger that she knew was mirrored in her own gaze.

  She needed to see him.

  Needed him to see her.

  And if she’d been worried he couldn’t look at her she wasn’t any more, because it was soon obvious he couldn’t not look at her as he slid down her body, exploring every shivering, trembling inch while the lamps threw golden shadows over her skin.

  Layla watched as his fingertips grazed her nipples and then felt the skilled flick of his tongue. And then he took her in his mouth and the delicious heat of it intensified the ache in her pelvis until she was only able to stay still because the weight of his body was holding her down.

  Her only outlet was to moan, and moan she did as she felt the brush of his erection against the soft flesh of her inner thigh. He eased away from her and slid his hand down one bare leg, parting her.

  It was possibly the most intimate action of their relationship so far.

  It was the first time he’d seen her. The first time any man had seen her. And she realised that the light offered no opportunity for modesty or concealment. Spread and exposed, there was no hiding, and when his gaze lifted to hers she knew her cheeks were burning.

  ‘It makes me feel—’

  ‘I know how it makes you feel,’ he said softly, ‘but you can trust me. I want you to trust me.’

  Light shone from the two lamps positioned right by the bed. His eyes shifted from her flushed face to her breasts and lower still. To that part of her that lay between the shadows of her thighs—that part of her that now lay open to him. And if she were embarrassed it soon became clear that he wasn’t. Nor did he intend to allow her to hide. Trembling with anticipation, she felt the warmth of his palm on the inside of her thigh, the gentle slide of skilled male fingers against her wet, sensitive flesh, and then he moved again and the next thing she felt was the scorching heat of his clever, knowing mouth.

  Layla closed her eyes. He’d done this before but she was discovering that in the dark it was different. She knew how wet she was already, and then she felt his tongue on her and in her, parting her, exploring her in the most intimate way possible, until she was writhing against the silk sheets, only his firm grip on her hips keeping her still.

  He drove her to orgasm again and again, and when he finally hauled her under him and thrust deep Layla was so dazed and disorientated, so weakened by pleasure, she could do nothing but move with him, lost in this new version of reality.

  * * *

  ‘Tell me about the dogs.’

  He’d picked his moment carefully. Picked a time when she was at her most vulnerable. A time when she was more likely to trust him with those secrets she’d buried inside herself. Because she was wrapped in the curve of his arm he felt the tension ripple through her slender body as she tried to roll away from him.

  ‘I can’t.’ The fear in her voice was so sharp it was almost visible.

  ‘Try.’

  ‘You don’t understand—’

  ‘I want to.’ He wondered how far he could push before she shut herself down and refused him access. ‘Were you bitten?’

  Without warning, she pulled away from him and sat up. She stared blankly ahead of her and then drew up her knees and hugged them with her arms, as if giving herself comfort. ‘When we were young Hassan used to make us play a game called Hide.’

  ‘Hide and Seek?’

  ‘His version of Hide and Seek. We were given an hour to hide and then—’ The words seemed to jam in her mouth so he prompted her.

  ‘Then they tried to find you?’

  ‘Then they sent the dogs to find us.’ Her voice was flat, the words factual, as if it were only by stripping out the emotion that she could bear to speak them. ‘Saluki. Four of them. Although people keep them as pets, the Saluki is a hunting dog. But I’m sure you already know that. The Bedouin use them for hunting hares, gazelle, and foxes and other prey. In this case we were the prey.’

  Shock stunned him into silence. When he finally managed to speak, he found himself devoid of words, because there simply were none. What could anyone say in response to a revelation of that magnitude? ‘Layla—habibti—’ The endearment flowed off his tongue so naturally he didn’t notice. All his attention was focused on her.

  ‘A Saluki is the fastest dog there is—did you know that?’ She swept her hair away from her face with a shaking hand, her face ghostly pale in the dim light of the room. ‘Some claim it’s the Greyhound, but over long distances the Saluki is faster. Its paws are padded so they absorb the impact. Believe me when I say that no child, however terrified, could ever outrun a Saluki. I know because we tried.’

  She was speaking quickly now, her breathing shallow, as if she were remembering what it was like to run with fear in her heart and menace at her heels.

  The image she painted was so vivid Raz felt nausea settle in the pit of his stomach. He sat up slowly, staring at her frozen profile. ‘You are saying he sent the dogs to hunt you?’

  ‘It was Hassan’s idea of entertainment. Yasmin was terrified—just terrified.’ Her teeth were chattering as she remembered. ‘Her little body used to shake so badly she couldn’t run, but it didn’t really matter because running was pointless. And they didn’t want us to run. They wanted us to hide. Do you know how terrifying it is, waiting for the moment when they find you? Because they will find you. And you hear them before you see them—you hear them panting, and the muffled thud of their paws as they pick up the scent and follow your trail. And you brace yourself for that moment, never knowing if this time they’ll rip you apart before the humans call them off. All you can do is close your eyes and hope.’

  For the first time he noticed a mark on her upper arm—an old scar, a silvery twist of damaged flesh that ran from shoulder to elbow. Lifting his hand, he touched it with his fingertips and felt her flinch. ‘They did this?’

  ‘I used to lie on top of her...’ Her voice whispered over the pain. ‘And the dogs used to try and pull me off. And she was screaming and screaming and it drove the animals crazy and I kept telling her not to move, to try and keep still, because it made it worse. But it was impossible to lie still when you could feel the heat of their breath on your neck and hear that horrible, rumbling growl—’

  It explained her behaviour whenever Isis and Horus were around. She was always still. She never moved. It explained her behaviour on that first night in the tent when she’d been frozen to the spot and he hadn’t understood why.

  Now he understood, and his anger was black and lethal as he pulled her into the circle of his arms, holding her as she shivered and shook. ‘I will find him,’ he vowed in a thickened voice. ‘I swear to you I will find him and he will pay for what he did to you bo
th.’

  ‘He is already paying. What he wanted was power and he’s lost that. Between us we’ve taken that from him and it feels good.’

  ‘I will not allow Isis and Horus near you again.’

  ‘I don’t want that. I want to get used to them.’ Her voice was fiercely determined. ‘I need to get used to them. They’re good dogs. I know they are. Nothing like the others.’

  Her lips were bloodless, her eyes dark and bruised in the soft light. She was so pale he felt guilt rip through him

  ‘I shouldn’t have made you talk about it, habibti.’

  ‘You were right to make me talk about it. Why should I expect you to share things with me if I share nothing with you? On that first night you asked why a woman would cross a desert on a horse she couldn’t ride to find a man she didn’t know. Now you know the answer.’

  ‘Your father knew what Hassan did?’

  ‘My father had no interest in us beyond our use to him in his political games.’

  ‘I am starting to understand the reason for your sister’s night terrors.’

  ‘That was just part of it.’ She eased away from him, her eyes wide with anxiety. ‘You don’t think Salem would use dogs to track her?’

  ‘No. You can rest assured that Salem utilises far more sophisticated methods than dogs. By now he will have tapped his many contacts in various shadowy government organisations and be using the most up-to-date technology that exists.’

  ‘I let her down. I was the one who made the decision to leave the palace, and because of me she is lost and alone.’

  ‘You made the right decision. By leaving you took control away from Hassan.’ He smoothed her hair with his fingers and lay down in the bed again, taking her with him. Keeping his arm round her, he pulled the covers over them. ‘You’re safe. I’ll never let him touch you again. This is your life now. This is your home.’

  ‘But when everything settles in Tazkhan you will have to move there. The people will expect it.’