by Dana Marton
“I feel like I discovered something,” she said, turning to him. “Something enormous.”
He came to his elbow to look at her, one eyebrow raised, a wide grin spreading on his handsome face.
Not too conceited, was he? Well, okay, with reason. “I mean like a lost city of legend in the desert. I feel like I should map the route or something and share with the masses. It seems unfair to keep it to ourselves.”
“Sometimes it’s good to be selfish,” he said. “I’m keeping you for myself.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but she ignored it smoothly and went on. “Not that I know how we got there, or if it ever could be done again.”
“Oh, it can be done. I’m planning on sending many, many caravans there.” He stood, surprising her.
Where did he get the energy? Her bones were still good and melted. As if knowing her inability to stand, he picked her up and carried her to the pool.
He walked in with her, lowering her into the cool water inch by inch. The water felt wonderful against her skin, almost as wonderful as Saeed’s hands running down her body. He rearranged her slightly, pulled her against him, cupped her buttocks and lifted her. She wrapped her feet around his waist and felt the heat of his hardness nestled against her. “Another caravan so soon?” She toyed with his lips.
“Leaving immediately,” he murmured.
HE COULD NOT GET ENOUGH of her. Saeed captured her mouth, rather than dwell on the unsettling thought. A part of him had already decided he would not let her go, while on another level he knew he must.
That he had brought her here, where he had never brought anyone, was insanity, perhaps even more—a betrayal of his tribe. But he trusted her, trusted her with his life.
When had that happened?
He kissed her lips, then tasted her fully, kept his gaze on her face, wanting to see her eyes darken when he slid into her tight, wet welcome.
She was like the water that surrounded them—a gift from above, necessary for survival.
He didn’t like his need for her, the weakness of it.
She wasn’t the right woman for him. She was a foreigner. An American. They had different backgrounds. She could never fully understand his family, his people. And he wasn’t sure his people could ever fully accept her. Could Salah?
He was some kind of an assignment for her, nothing more. It cost him to remember that, but he could not afford to forget it, not even when every cell of his body was screaming for him to make her his. Forever.
He rubbed his hardness in a circular motion around her opening, watched her struggle for control then give up. And when he couldn’t bear it any longer, he pushed into her quick and hard. He pushed deep, over and over, taking everything, wanting desperately to satisfy his hunger. When she moaned into his mouth, he drank the sound, and thought he could feel their souls merge until they were one.
He took her like a man possessed, wanting more than her body, wanting it all, wanting her to understand.
Then he felt her muscles tighten around him, squeezing him with sharp convulsions, and he pushed into her one last time, deep to her womb, and melted into her heat.
His knees were shaking as they clung to each other in the water.
When he felt steady once again, he washed her then carried her back to the tent. He wrapped her in silk and fed her meat and flat bread and dates. He watched her while she slept in his arms.
DARA AWOKE ALONE, but could hear him moving around in the back of the cave. She felt depleted physically and emotionally. And it wasn’t just from the great sex—okay, once-in-a-lifetime-phenomenal sex—it was more. More had happened between them than the sharing of their bodies.
The question was—what was she going to do about it?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Even if he wanted to go somewhere with this madness, she couldn’t. She wasn’t the settling-down type. She had lived in more places than she cared to count. A long succession of military housing flashed through her mind.
She wasn’t fit for long-term relationships. She had inherited that from her mother. It just wasn’t in her. And that suited her fine—one of the things that made her a good candidate for the SDDU.
She had to extricate herself from this carefully with finesse, but with finality. She had to make sure Saeed knew that what had happened between them could never happen again.
The thought hurt, but she was tough. She was a soldier. She could handle it.
She glanced at her clothes, which were drying on the rocks by the pool, then wrapped a length of silk around her body.
“Is it time to go?” She walked to him, careful this time where she stepped.
“Almost.” He riffled through the contents of a crate, closed it, started on another. He stopped when she reached him, drew her in and kissed her long and well.
She blinked her eyes and tried to clear her brain when he finally let her go. So much for keeping him at arm’s length. But this was it, the last kiss, no more.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, all business, pleased with how together she sounded.
“Something light but valuable that we can take back. What money Nasir keeps on hand for our fakhadh won’t get us far without being able to access the rest in the banks.”
“Don’t you have foreign accounts?”
“Of course. But I don’t have time to go to Europe to make withdrawals.” He lifted out a sack and opened it.
She gasped at the sight of thumb-size gold nuggets.
“Too heavy,” he said.
The next crate held ivory, the one after that jewels.
“How exactly did your grandfather come by this?”
“Most of it was passed down to him by our ancestors, although as I understand he did add to it before raiding became illegal.” He pulled out a heavy brace let, a flowering vine twisting like a spring, and pulled it on her right arm. The petals were made of sapphires, coming from a ruby center.
It distracted her for a moment.
“Your ancestors were bandits?” she asked when she recovered.
“Going on razzia was perfectly acceptable at the time. All Bedu did it. It so happens a couple of major caravan routes crossed through my ancestor’s territory.” He was more matter-of-fact than defensive, as he pulled out a ring, diamonds set in a circle of gold, and put it on her finger.
She had never been into jewelry, but somehow in this place, with this man, it fitted. None of this was real anyway. They were in a dream—a fairy tale.
He searched some more and came up with a necklace that matched her bracelet, looped it over her neck, let the back of his hands caress her breasts when he laid the large pendant between them.
Her nipples just about poked through the material.
“The man had an eye for jewelry. His wives must have loved all this,” she said to cover her embarrassment.
“One wife only, and my grandmother wasn’t into baubles. She was a very sensible Englishwoman.” He grinned at her.
She stared at him. “Your grandmother was English?”
He gave her a haven’t-I-just-said-that look.
“Well, that explains the eyes.”
He nodded. “I got her baby blues.”
Baby blues weren’t exactly the right description. His eyes were masculine and exotic, mesmerizing. She felt herself lean toward him, drawn by his gaze, but pulled herself back. “Your grandfather went to college in England, too?”
“Never set foot out of the country.”
And then it occurred to her. But no, it couldn’t be. The idea was too fantastic. “Are you saying he stole her?”
His handsome features stretched into a look of shock. “That would have violated the sharaf, the Bedu code of honor. And above all, my grandfather was an honorable man.”
She drew up an eyebrow.
“For your information, the Bedu are a lot more civilized than given credit for in the West. We do not steal women.” He lowered his voice and added with a conspiratory wink, “W
e do not have to.”
“Oh, please.”
“Sanctity of women is an important part of our code of honor. Even in the old days of raiding, women and children were never harmed and enough camels and provisions were left with them to reach safety.”
“So your grandmother came to your grandfather’s tent, how?”
“She was the only woman in the caravan, traveling with her uncle who was trying to establish trade relations along the main caravan route that used to pass by not far from here. My grandfather was conducting a perfectly civilized, and at that time legal, raid to make up for animals lost in the severe droughts in the previous couple of years. The traveling English had a hard time parting with their possessions and put up an unnecessary fight. My grandmother was the sole survivor.”
She shook her head. “And seeing how a Western woman could not get out of the desert on her own, out of the goodness of his heart, your grandfather took her into his protection.”
“Exactly,” Saeed said with a smile. “He was a very generous man.”
“And I suppose he tried at once to return her to her country?”
He shrugged. “Well, not at once. Those were hard times, you understand, with the drought and all. They had to cover enormous distances just to find enough grazing to keep the herds alive. He didn’t have time for travel right away.”
“And by the time he could have taken her, his devilish charm had won her over?”
“Well, that. All the men in my family have that. If it weakens women, we are hardly responsible for it, are we?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She rolled her eyes, turning to walk away, but a small leather sack he pulled from the pile of jewels drew her attention.
It was a work of art, the leather barely visible under the intricate flower pattern made of turquoise beads of every size.
He untied the black silk string as she watched, and dumped the contents on his palm, lifted a long necklace, heavy almost to the point of a chain, with a more delicate string of gold hanging from it. A single thumb-size oval ring of gold hung on the end.
He went still, blinked, then looked at her with so much heat it took her breath away.
“Now, this is what I would really like to see you wear,” he said, a dangerous light sparkling in his eyes. He held it out for her, and she took it, looping it around her neck.
“No. Not like that.” He shook his head.
He snatched the silk from her body, the cool air of the cave a shock on her heated skin. She grabbed for the material but he held it out of her reach, so she dropped her arms and stood before him naked, letting him slip the chain over her shoulders until it came to rest on her hips.
“A belt?”
He nodded. “I think you are going to like it.”
He adjusted the gold string with its medal to hang a hand width below her navel, nestled on top of the V between her thighs. Her nipples tightened, and from the way his eyes narrowed, she knew he had noticed.
She felt a thrill of excitement shoot through her. To wear jewelry under her clothes such as this, knowing it was for his gaze alone… But she could not sink into that fantasy. One of them had to maintain reason.
She stepped back, her naked bottom coming into contact with the rough surface of a crate. “Look I don’t think we should—”
With a single movement he stepped after her, reached for the medal, and parted her flesh with his long fingers to place the gold ring against her most sensitive spot. Before she could protest, he rubbed the medal in a circular motion a couple of times then left it there, allowing her body to close over it.
Kaboom. The shock of her system going from zero to a hundred in two seconds left her gasping for air. The sensation was such exquisite torture, she could find no coherent thought in her mind, every nerve ending in her body alive and screaming for release.
Resolutions be damned, she moved forward and pressed against him.
“Not yet,” he read the onslaught of desire in her eyes. “We have work to do.”
He took her hand and led her forth to another stack of crates.
Each step, each movement, rubbed the medal against her, sending jolts of pleasure through her body, arousing her to the point of mindlessness. She wanted him and she wanted him now. But he would not relent. He inventoried his ancestor’s treasure as if he had no care in the world, making her walk from pile to pile, from one end of the cave to the other.
“Ottoman gold coins.” He lifted another long necklace. “You don’t see many of these anymore. It is customary for a Bedu woman’s jewelry to be melted upon her death.”
She nodded weakly, and he dropped the necklace back into the crate and moved on. Her knees were trembling slightly now. If he wasn’t leading her by the hand, she doubted she could have followed.
He looked through another crate, tipped another jar—silver coins this time.
“I don’t suppose my ancestors were worried about weight back in the old days. Plenty of camels. But I can’t put sacks of this stuff on Hawk’s back. He already has to carry the two of us.”
He moved on. “Maybe we should have brought camels. Ever rode one before?”
A few seconds passed before she realized he had asked her a question. She nodded, having no idea what that question had been.
He walked to a stack of small bamboo crates, used his knife to pry one open. The lid was stuck, some of the bamboo breaking before he succeeded.
“Empty,” he said. “I wonder what had been in it.”
She wondered if she was going to lose her sanity. Her body hummed with arousal, every nerve ending begging to be touched.
He pried off the seals from a few more jars, then he was done with the last one.
“Now,” he said, as he lifted her onto the top of a large crate and shed his clothing.
She opened her legs for him, wet and needy, and he took her in one smooth thrust, medal still in place.
Sweet heavens.
It frightened her how completely he possessed her, how he could push her to mindlessness in seconds. Her muscles quivered as she floated in a sky of pleasure, soaring higher and higher until she reached the stars.
And he made her reach them again, and again, and again.
“I wish we could stay here forever,” he said after their hearts slowed.
Oh, hell, it was pure insanity. They could not keep this up. She could not keep this up.
She pulled away, forcing her mind back to reality, to the task they faced. “Your people need you more than I.”
His sensuous lips curved into a smile. “Progress then, finally. You admit you need me.”
He scared her, and she wasn’t easily scared. She had to go, leave him now before it was too late and she couldn’t leave him at all.
She slid off the crate without denying his words, slipping off one piece of jewelry after another. “When do we leave?”
“Now. Hawk is saddled.” He would not take the gold from her when she held it out to him. “They’re yours to keep.”
She hesitated for a moment before setting them on top of the crate. “I can’t.” She walked away from him, fast, while she could, to find her clothes.
She didn’t belong here. God help her, she was no longer sure where she belonged. She drew a deep breath. She couldn’t doubt herself now. She belonged to the SDDU. She was a soldier, not some lost soul like her mother.
“Can I help you to carry anything up?” she asked him when she was dressed.
He was closing the crates. He shook his head, went on to the tent, put a hand to one of the poles, then after a moment stepped away, leaving it standing.
“You first.” He pointed to the opening in the wall, his mood strangely pensive.
She crawled through the narrow shafts, out into the twilight, and waited for Saeed, knowing he was probably sealing the passageways. When he finally pushed through the hole, he took care to conceal it with rocks. The rock slab they’d removed with Hawk’s help was too heavy to move, and this time the h
orse couldn’t help. They needed pushing not pulling.
He held his hand out for her once he was up in the saddle, and she took it and mounted behind him. She slipped her arms around his waist and held on as they rode.
The desert was as endless around them as the night sky above. Endless possibilities, endless dangers, endless opportunities for her to lose her way. Had she lost it already?
Out in the open with the magic of the cave left behind, it was easier to see how much they didn’t belong together. The time they spent in the cave seemed like a dream, another world that did not fit with this one, with the here and now where they were riding to battle, where she was a U.S. soldier and his bodyguard.
She had broken the rules, both personal and professional. She had broken them big time.
It could cost her military career, the only thing she ever knew. She panicked at the thought. She didn’t know how to be anything else but a soldier. It was an identity she had bought with blood, because more than anything in life she wanted someplace to belong without questions, unlike her mother, a lost leaf blowing in the wind, getting worn down and broken up.
The one thing she had consistently striven for since childhood was to avoid that weakness. To be strong like her father, to know with a certainty when her name was called who she was. Dara Alexander, United States Air Force. And now, the SDDU. She had reached as high as she could, had succeeded in her own world. Her father would have been proud of it had he lived to see.
But now, for the first time ever, she had broken the rules of the world she had sacrificed so much to belong to. And in truth, it could cost her more than her career. What she had done could cost her heart.
Within the next days or weeks, the fate of Beharrain would be decided. And then she would be recalled.
For a while, back at the cave, she had so lost herself in Saeed, in their bodies’ response to each other, that she forgot everything else. Reality kept shifting like the sand. But she had to keep the upper hand or she would get sucked under and risk losing herself completely.
