Darker Side Of Desire

by Penny Jordan

  Her gibe had gone home, she could see by the sudden tightening of his mouth, but if he chose to come and go at will, he could hardly expect to find her waiting patiently while he did so. 'As you can see for yourself, apart from having been fed with too many sweetmeats, Saud is quite well.' She held up the sleeping baby, his face still sticky and slightly grubby. 'Whatever you might think to the contrary, I do take my responsibilities towards Saud seriously,' Claire added on a quieter note, unable to bring herself to tell this hard, unyielding man how much she loved the little boy, so much that it was almost as though he were her own child.

  'You have consistently shown a remarkable fondness for him,' Raoul agreed aloofly, spoiling it by adding cynically, 'but then when he is the heir to many thousands of millions of pounds, it is not hard to understand why.'

  Anger made the colour bleed slowly from her face, leaving her as white as Raoul's robe. 'You think that,' she whispered painfully. 'You think me as vile and avaricious as that?'

  'I think you are a woman whose devotion was bought for a mere fifty thousand pounds,' Raoul jeered at her hatefully. 'Oh, and by the way, I have a letter for you. From your lover no doubt. It was delivered to our Embassy in London and flown out with the rest of the mail. While you are living here as my wife, you will not receive letters from other men,' Raoul told her white-lipped, the sudden surge of anger she could see beating up behind his eyes frightening her with its intensity.

  'What did you tell him when you wrote to him, Claire? That your bed was lonely and that you missed his caresses, so much so that you were quite prepared to take to your bed a man who is little better than a cross-bred mongrel, possessing the worst traits of both his parents? Oh yes, I know what is said about me,' he added tightly. 'Small children never spare the sensibilities or the pride of their peers.'

  For one crazy moment she wanted to lean forward and smooth away what she was sure were lines of pain from beside his mouth, to hold him in her arms as she might have done Saud and comfort him, dispersing the hurt she could sense inside him, but the moment was destroyed as he flung her letter down on to the divan and walked through her room to the corridor that connected it with his own.

  On this occasion there was no Ali to request that she join his master for dinner, and telling herself that she preferred it that way, Claire dismissed Zenaide when she had bathed and fed Saud, telling her maid that she was quite capable of preparing herself for bed. Zenaide still looked chastened and Claire hoped she had not been chastised for not telling Ali where they were going. Like an injured animal she wanted to retire to her lair to lick her wounds in peace.

  How could Raoul have thought her so despicable? Surely he knew she would never do anything to hurt Saud? And as for his allegation that she might be deliberately fostering the child's affection for mer­cenary reasons… Her mouth tightened and then relaxed as unbidden a memory slid into her mind of Teddy shortly after their parents had died. They had still been living in the old family house. She had spent the morning filling packing cases and Teddy was supposed to be playing outside in the garden. She had gone downstairs to make lunch and, on finding the front gate swinging open and no Teddy in sight, panic had exploded inside her. She had been on the point of calling the police when he had turned up three hours later, muddy and astonished that she should be so concerned. And yet instead of relief, all she had been able to feel had been a searing, blinding anger. She could well imagine Raoul's reaction to the news that they were both missing and perhaps his suspicions were understandable if one took the logical view.

  Sighing faintly, Claire went through to the bathroom, filling the large marble tub with water scented with rose petals and relaxing into it while she read Teddy's letter.

  Matron had taken him to buy some new clothes and he was to spend half-term with his friend 'Porky Rogers'. However, when she reached the final paragraph of his letter, Claire started to frown, a small gasp of dismay escaping her parted lips. Teddy wanted to know if he could spend part of the summer holidays in Omarah with her.

  No! What on earth was she going to do? Having kept his existence such a secret from Raoul, she could hardly ask him now if her younger brother could come and stay with them. And Teddy was very astute for his age. She had allowed him to believe she had married for love. It wouldn't take Teddy long to discover what little regard Raoul had for his supposed wife. Hating to disappoint her brother but knowing there was little alternative, Claire tried to think of an adequate excuse. Perhaps she could tell him that she didn't have enough money for his flight. Yes, that would do it. She was always so chronically short of money that he would never suspect the truth. She would write to him later, and keep her fingers crossed that he wouldn't be too upset.

  Back in her room, dressed in one of the soft silk nightgowns Raoul had purchased for her in Paris, her hair a silver cloud on her shoulders, Claire found her thoughts returning to the scene in her room when they had returned from the oasis. Perhaps she ought to go and apologise to Raoul, and assure him that there was no question of her absconding with Saud. She could also tell him of her suspicions that his grandmother had suspected the truth. Not for one moment did she doubt the old lady, but it paid to be extra careful.

  Before she could change her mind, or investigate her reasons too deeply, she shrugged on the soft peach negligee which matched her nightdress, unaware of how the silk-satin clung to her body, moulding itself lovingly to her curves, the soft peach fabric emphasis­ing the silky pallor of her skin.

  She knocked briefly on Raoul's door and hearing his voice pushed it open, puzzled when she saw that the room was empty, until she realised he was in the bathroom beyond. She heard him call out something in Arabic and as he emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped across his hips, his surprise at seeing her very evident as he frowned and pushed his fingers into the damp tangle of his hair.

  'When I heard you knock I thought you were Ali. Is everything all right? Saud?' He sounded so formal and distant that Claire found herself wishing she had never been foolish enough to come to his room, on what she realised now was the flimsiest of pretexts and born more of her own need to be near him than any more logical motive.

  'Saud's fine,' she assured him, dismayed by the husky, uneven pitch of her voice, dragging her eyes away from his gleaming torso, and the droplets of water still coursing hypnotically over his skin, darkening the tangle of hairs arrowing down over his flat belly. 'I just wanted to tell you that… that I'd never do anything that might endanger him,' she managed, before panic overwhelmed her and she turned instinctively back towards the door, cursing the foolish impulse that had brought her into Raoul's presence.

  'A pity you don't extend those sentiments to include yourself,' Raoul murmured softly, somehow reaching the door before her and leaning against it, blocking her exit, his mouth curling in a smile that increased her agitation. 'Because by coming to my room you have definitely endangered yourself, Claire, or is that what you had in mind? Did reading your lover's letter awaken a longing inside you that only a man's possession can assuage? This afternoon when I returned and found you gone, I wanted to seize your slender body in my arms and break it in two. But now my anger has found other channels and when it mingles with the desire I feel whenever you are close to me there is a dangerous alchemy between them. I want you, Claire,' he said softly, 'and by coming to my room you have admitted that you want me too.'

  'No.' Her denial was a strangled protest which he ignored, smothering the sound with the raging heat of his mouth which told her that he hadn't exaggerated the dangerous chain reaction she had set off inside him. His tongue forced her lips to part, hotly exploring the hidden recesses of her mouth, compelling her to give him the fervid response his kiss demanded, and by doing so feed his desire.

  'Too many times I have wanted you like this,' he muttered thickly, sliding his fingers into her hair and curling the silver strands round them. 'My desire for you is like a leech sucking at my life blood and my reason, and until I assuage it I cannot be f
ree. You arouse me to a lust I heartily despise,' he continued, each word a poisoned barb in her heart, 'but I know if you tried to leave this room now I would come after you and drag you back to my bed, and even perhaps enjoy doing so. Strange that such a pale, golden beauty should arouse the darker side of desire.'

  The darker side of desire. Claire shuddered deeply, trying to wrench her mouth away from the renewed possession of his, telling herself that she would despise herself to the end of her days if she gave in to the tug of sensation she could feel exploding through her now. He had told her quite plainly what he wanted, how he felt about her, but if she aroused dark, dangerous passions in him, he aroused a blind need in her that would not listen to reason or logic, and her fingers, encountering the hard smoothness of his body, could no more be stopped in their wanton exploration of his skin than her heart could be prevented from beating.

  He quickly disposed of her negligee, stroking the liquid softness of her body until she was shivering delicately in his arms, welcoming the fierce, almost brutal urgency of his kisses, even though his hunger bruised her mouth and through her delirium a small voice warned that there could be only one outcome. It was with relief that she felt him remove her nightgown and carry her to his bed, her body stretched languorously on the silk covers as he stood over her, shrugging aside his towel. His body was totally male, his stomach flat and his lean hips narrow; her fingertips automatically followed the path of her eyes down his body, the hard tautness of his buttocks and the muscled solidity of his thighs, darkly shadowed with soft hair. He turned and she caught her breath, half-awed and half-dismayed by the aroused maleness of his body as he moved towards her, his fingertips drifting upwards over her body with far more assurance and knowledge in their touch than she felt she could ever possess.

  'You want me. Tell me it's true,' he urged, as he came down alongside her, taking her in his arms, his mouth finding the vulnerable area behind her ear and teasing it until she was trembling against him, gasping out that she wanted him more than she wanted life itself.

  'As bad as that?' He almost seemed to purr with satisfaction and alarm shot through the haze of sexual need engulfing her. This was wrong. She might love him but he most certainly did not love her, and worse still she suspected he was going to be very angry when he discovered that she was still a virgin. It occurred to her that she ought to tell him, but his hands were doing such delicious things to her body, his mouth and tongue were inciting such a fevered response from her that she felt incapable of discussing anything at all, much less something that would surely put a stop to his expert love making.

  'Still want me?' His tongue teased her erect nipples and she raked her nails protestingly across his back, the tempo of his lovemaking suddenly changing as his body tensed against her, his mouth now avid in the demands it made on her body as his hands slid to her hips and his knee parted her thighs.

  The intrusion of his body was unexpectedly painful, making her tense, her eyes widening in shock, the deep kiss she had been enjoying broken as she pulled instinctively away. But Raoul was still holding her hips and his possession continued even though she cried out to him to stop, her world turning from pleasure to a pain she fought instinctively against.

  Something was different, but what? Slowly, Claire opened her eyes and then closed them again as reality hit her like a bath of icy water. She was still in Raoul's bed. She moved gingerly, feeling his body close to her and winced as she remembered his anger. Mercifully, she had passed out before he had been able to give full vent to it. He was asleep now, if she turned her head carefully she could see him. The lamp which was still illuminated threw dark shadows across his face. Even in sleep he looked hard and unyielding and she shuddered sickly, remembering what had happened.

  Dear God, how could she have been so… so stupid? No wonder he had been angry. She bit her lips, her face flaming as she remembered some of the comments he had flung at her. She had wanted to leave then, she remembered, but as she had sat up the room swayed muzzily round her and he had pushed her back unceremoniously telling her to lie still. And that had not been the worst. Even though her mind shied away from it, she forced herself to remember how he had left the bed and come back with a sponge and some towels and had made her lie there while he soothed away the worst of the pain. She didn't think she could forget until her dying day how grim and furious he had looked. Never, as long as she lived, would she ever endure anything quite as humiliating. That at least was something to be thankful for, she told herself drily. She had acted like the heroine out of a Victorian romance, swooning away because a man had…

  'How are you feeling?'

  Raoul was awake! Colour burned up under her skin. Why, oh why had he insisted that she remain here with him? Still, she would have had to have faced him some time. Perhaps it was as well to get it over and done with now.

  'I… I'm fine, thank you,' she said quickly, edging towards the edge of the bed. 'In fact, I think I'd better go back to my own room, Saud might wake.'

  'No.' His hand shot out, his fingers imprisoning her wrist. 'Not yet. I've been lying here waiting for you to wake up.'

  He had? Misgivings smote her. Why? So that he could lecture her again? Hadn't it all already been said?

  'I'm sorry.' Heavens, why was she apologising? He ought to be the one doing that. But then, of course, men did not expect to find themselves with an inexperienced virgin in their bed these days.

  'So am I,' Raoul agreed evenly, 'but what's done is done. You must have been missing your boy-friend very badly, although he'll hardly be gratified to learn what form your frustration took.'

  Claire had to bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from crying. 'I… I must go back to my own room,' she protested again. She suddenly felt weak and shaky, and wanted to put as great a distance as possible between Raoul's powerful body and her own frailer one. As though he read her mind he turned towards her, cupping her face with his free hand.

  'I'm sorry if it didn't live up to all your maidenly expectations. It was quite a shock for me too, you know.' He saw her expression and laughed derisively. 'Oh yes, it isn't exactly a turn-on to find the woman in your arms is crying with pain and not pleasure. Not unless you're a sadist, that is, which I am not. Do you still want me?'

  Claire could only stare at him, her disbelief showing openly in her eyes. He laughed again, his thumb rub­bing slowly along her jaw. 'But you did want me,' he reminded her softly, 'you told me so, and I wanted you.'

  'But that was…'

  'Before I hurt you?' He bent towards her and Claire could see the smoky flames burning in his eyes. 'What happened was unfortunate, but it needn't be a tragedy. I suppose I should have guessed, but your response to me was so complete that I took you for an experienced sensualist.' He bent his head, capturing the frantic pulse beating at the base of her throat, and stroking his fingers along her flesh as though he enjoyed the vulnerability of her skin beneath them. 'No… keep still,' he told her when she tried to struggle. 'I'm not going to hurt you.'

  She moved, and anger suddenly blazed in his eyes. 'Damn you,' he swore suddenly, 'have you any idea what it was like to see the fear and pain in your eyes? Why didn't you tell me, you stubborn little fool? But I will see pleasure in your eyes, Claire,' he added softly, 'and before dawn pearls the desert sky. You will melt beneath my touch and murmur your pleasure against my skin.'

  He pushed back the covers he had heaped over her, exposing the full length of her body to his probing gaze, his hands moving slowly over her skin. She wouldn't respond, she couldn't respond, Claire thought numbly. What was the point when it would only end in pain? But against her will his touch communicated a wanton need to her nerve-endings, his slow caresses stimulating a desire she was surprised she could still feel.

  'Touch me, Claire,' Raoul murmured against her ear, nibbling the lobe with sharp teeth. 'Wouldn't you like to touch me as I am touching you?'

  Of course she wouldn't, but somehow she was, the tension expelled from her body o
n a soft sigh as his coaxing fingers drifted against her breast, stroking the rounded flesh gently so that Claire found it impossible to tell where acceptance ended and need began. So gradually that she was barely aware of what was happening, her body began to respond until it was no longer enough simply to lie in Raoul's arms letting him caress her, she wanted to touch him too. His skin burned strangely beneath her lips, moist with a perspiration she hadn't expected. The small satisfied sounds of pleasure he made as she touched him gave her the courage to go on, touching him more intimately, letting her tongue brush teasingly over his flat male nipples, half-exultant and half-shocked by his immediate response.

  'I think I was right first time,' Raoul muttered hoarsely, pulling away from her. 'You are a sensualist.' His fingers touched her thigh, moving along the tender inner flesh, his eyes locked on hers as he witnessed her involuntary response before she re­membered her earlier pain and tensed in panic, trying to push him away, her heart thudding erratically until he moved, soothing her with light kisses until her fear was lost beneath a rising tide of need. Something was happening to her, something she hadn't believed possible when she opened her eyes less than half an hour ago; and when Raoul's hand returned to her thigh she only tensed momentarily, her fear forgotten as his tongue teased her nipples until her fingers tightened in his hair and she was abandonedly urging his mouth against her, her hands leaving his hair to clasp the smooth muscles of his back as he tugged gently on the aching peaks of her breasts.

  Suddenly it wasn't enough simply to feel the contraction and expansion of his muscles under her fingers, she wanted to touch and taste every part of his body. A wild, heated urgency flooded out fear, even when Raoul's fingers stroked upwards, touching her intimately, making her gasp and tense and then relax beneath their knowledgeable caress. Her small teeth bit urgently into his skin, feeling his shoulder muscles clench and his body harden, pleasure banishing fear as she strove to communicate to him the delight he was giving her.