"Why shouldn't Nizea lead my sort of life?"
"Because she hasn't been brought up in the same way. You have a different cultural background."
"Then how can you believe we'll be happy together?"
"We love each other and our love will make the differences unimportant. But Nizea is still a child, given to dramatization. She says one thing to you, but I can assure you she believes something quite different."
"That isn't true."
"I don't want to talk about my sister. I want to talk about us—our future." His hands were warm across her back, moving over the curves of her body and pressing them close to his own. His breathing quickened and his muscles grew firm, as if he were tensing himself. "How soon will you marry me, Fleur? I can fly to England with you to meet your parents, and we can be married there."
"No!" she cried. "I need more time."
"Time will only feed your doubts. The best way to solve them is to make you mine."
His lips closed on hers, making further argument impossible. Blindly she clung to him, entranced by the broken endearments that escaped from him as he rained a storm of kisses upon her face and along the curve of her neck. Her strength left her and she clung to him, powerless to resist the onslaught of his passion. Silently he lifted her off the ground and carried her over to the bed. He placed her on it, then still keeping his arms around her, swung himself up and he rested upon her. His weight pressed her back into the softness of the coverlet and though he kept his arms firm beneath her back, she was conscious of every muscle and movement in his body. It set off a thousand answering responses in her own, awaking desires she never knew she possessed.
Until Karim had come into her life she had accepted her beauty without being aware of its power. Now she reveled in the knowledge that her beauty was causing his passion. It was foolish to be afraid. Karim loved her and wanted her happiness, seeing it as the only way of achieving his own. Of course they would have problems, but every marriage had them and, as long as there was love, the problems could be overcome.
"I need you," she whispered.
For a brief instant he resisted, then he lowered his arms, and his weight pressed her deeper into the bed. He rested upon her and she heard the swift thudding of his heart as his chest flattened her breasts. His breathing was quick, as if he had been running, and she lifted her hands to cup either side of his head. Before she could do so he swung himself off her but, as her eyes widened, he half smiled and slid over the coverlet until their bodies were again touching. His hands were deft upon her dress, making it clear why he had moved. Buttoas were undone, disclosing the soft contours of her breasts, covered by a lacy brassiere. This too was undone, then the narrow belt at her waist, so that the folds of her dress slipped open.
Karim's breath caught in his throat as his eyes feasted on the creamy skin, the violet shadows between her breasts and the deeper shadow in her navel.
"Each time I see you, you grow more beautiful."
Cheeks flaming, she resorted to humor. "You see almost as much of me in a bikini."
"But in a bikini by the pool you are untouchable. Here…"
With infinite gentleness his fingers covered her nipples, then moved lower to let his mouth take possession. His teeth gently nibbled them, the movement arousing her to a fever pitch of desire that destroyed her embarrassment and made her cling to him. His hands curved upon her hips, the fingers delicate as feathered wing tips as he found the most intimate parts of her body, caressing, massaging, awaking sensations that lifted her to heights of undreamed of ecstasy. Yet it was ecstasy that left her wanting more, that made her curl her arms around his chest and twine her legs through his, pressing ever closer to him, as if that was the only way she could appease the aching longing within her. He writhed convulsively and, with a gasp, pushed her away from him.
"Fleur, don't! I can't take any more."
Through tangle lashes she looked at him. The muscles in his throat were visible, as if it were a physical effort to hold his need of her in check. She raised her arms towards him, and with a groan he buried his head upon her breast. His body shook as though with fever and he muttered words she could not understand. But their meaning was clear and made even clearer by the increasing intensity of his grip and the rapid thrusting of his body.
"No!" This time it was almost a shout that he gave, and he tore away from her and jumped up, keeping his back to her. His shirt was loose and with unsteady fingers he buttoned it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I had no right to tempt you."
"You had every right." He swung round to look at her, backing farther away from the bed as if afraid the sight of her would tempt him again. "It was only your innocence that protected you. You still don't realize how potent you are."
"Only because I'm not used to you."
"I'll never get used to you," he said drily. "The more I have of you, the more I'll want." Fire glinted in his eyes. "Does the prospect frighten you?"
"I'm only frightened that my innocence might…" Remembering the last half hour, she frowned. "There's so much I don't know."
"I wouldn't worry about it." The words were spoken quietly. "For an amateur you did better than well. A couple more hours in my arms, and you'll be giving lessons to me!"
Her laugh was tremulous, and she loved him deeply for his sympathetic understanding of her fears.
"You have nothing to worry about, my heart." He was close beside her again, bending low to gaze into her eyes. "Don't you know what it does to me to feel you beneath me? Your softness and warmth; the way your breasts swell and grow hard and the roundness of your belly which is so soft." He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. "Go on blushing, my flower of the desert. You don't realize the power you have over me, nor do you realize that I will love you until the end of my days."
"Oh, Karim, I love you too. But I can't say it in such wonderful words."
"Actions speak louder than words," he reminded her and drew her hand on to his body. For a moment he held it there, then with a sigh he let it go.
"Comb your hair, and we will go downstairs and see my parents. They are expecting us."
Panic brought her to a sitting position. "Can't we leave it until tomorrow?"
"And have you spend a sleepless night worrying what my father will say? No, dearest, we will go down now."
His look brooked no argument and she smoothed her dress, ran a comb quickly through her hair, then followed him out, deeply afraid yet drawing comfort from the warmth of the fingers entwined with hers.
Eleven
To Field's surprise, Ibrahim Khan received. her as his prospective daughter-in-law with far more conviviality than she had expected. He even suggested that they give a party to introduce her to all their family and friends, an offer with delighted Karim, who couldn't understand Fleur's dismay at the prospect.
"I still want time to get to know you," she explained. "I can always meet your relations later."
"Later—later. What's wrong with the word 'sooner'?" He was half angry, half joking. "Don't you know how impatient I am to make you mine?"
"Of course, I know. But I don't feel as if we've had any courtship."
It was the best thing she could have said, for he was instantly contrite.
"Now I feel I've cheated you out of something wonderful. But I was so afraid of losing you that I didn't have time to woo you slowly, the way you would have liked."
She smiled. "I can see I'll have to get used to an impatient lover."
"Never impatient as a lover," he said against her mouth. "No matter how great my need for you, I will always wait until you are ready for me." His tongue snaked along her lips, lightly penetrated her mouth, and then withdrew. "Though the last few times I've held you in my arms doesn't make me feel I will have to wait long!"
She buried her head against his shoulder. "I hope I'll be able to satisfy you."
"Never." He deliberately misunderstood her. 'I'll always be hungry for you
. That's a feeling I must learn to live with." He tilted her chin until he could gaze into her eyes. "From now on I will give you a courtship to remember."
"It isn't necessary," she protested, but knew from the look on his face that she might as well save her breath.
During the next month, Karim was the personification of an ardent suitor, returning twice a week to spend the night at the villa, and telephoning her on the nights when he was away. Each weekend he arrived with lavish gifts for her, not one or two, but half a dozen, sometimes even more, until finally she was forced to protest that this was not courtship but outright spoiling.
"You won't know what spoiling means until we are married," he said.
"I thought that's when the spoiling stopped!"
"Not for us." His look was a caress and she marveled that this quick-witted, masterful man should have chosen her to be his wife from among all the other beautiful and intelligent women he knew.
"But none are as intelligent and beautiful as you," he said later that Friday evening, when she mentioned it to him. "How much longer are you going to keep me waiting before you set a date for our wedding?"
"I've been thinking about it," she said. "Would Christmas be all right?"
The look on his face told her it wouldn't, and she added defensively: "I can't walk out on Madame Nadar. My contract with her doesn't end until next April. But if I explained why I wanted to leave earlier…"
"I won't wait until Christmas." Karim's voice held a | silkiness she had come to expect when he was holding his I temper in check. Had he ranted and raved, it would have been less frightening, for quietness meant he was also in control of himself. "You will write to Madame Nadar and I ask her to release you at once. At the latest I wish to marry you in October."
"I can't walk out on the school. They'll need to find another teacher to replace me."
"There's no shortage of teachers in Teheran."
"There's a shortage of English teachers." It was an effort not to snap but she was anxious to be as cool as he [ was. "You said you'd give me time, Karim, and now you're going back on your word."
"No, I'm not." His voice was silkier than ever. "I have ft given you plenty of time, Fleur, and now I'm becoming I impatient."
They were sitting together in the garden, and he slid along the seat until his leg was touching hers. The hardness of his thigh set her blood racing.
"Is it so hard for you to understand why I'm anxious to make you my wife? This life we're leading is unnatural. To have to say goodnight to you each evening… you don't know what it does to me."
"Yes, I do," she admitted. "It does the same to me."
"Then why make us wait? Marry me soon, my heart."
His gentleness was her undoing, as it always was, and she nodded. "I'll write to Madame Nadar tomorrow and ask her to find a replacement as soon as she can."
"And then we'll fly to England to meet your parents," Karim whispered against her mouth.
As her arms came up around his neck, she heard footsteps and drew back. Ibrahim Khan came into view, his cream-colored tropical suit gleaming pale in the moonlight.
"Do you want me, Father?" Karim asked, rising.
"There is a call for you from Paris. It is Monsieur Legrand."
Touching Fleur lightly on the shoulder, Karim strode off.
Fleur wished she could follow him but knew it would be rude. She remained where she was, stiffening slightly as Ibrahim Khan settled beside her.
"I am sorry to interrupt your tete-a-tete," he said.
"It doesn't matter. We were only talking about—about setting a date for our wedding."
"Only?" He paused. "I have the impression you are reluctant to do so."
"Engagements are fun." She tried to keep her voice light. "But Karim is impatient for us to be married."
"My son has always been impatient when he has wanted something. Occasionally he has regretted that impatience."
The implication was obvious, and she took up the challenge, faintly surprised that he should have made it.
"Are you saying you think he will regret marrying me?"
"I think it is quite possible."
"I'm sorry you do," Fleur said shakily. "I suppose it's because you… because you disapprove of me?"
"I do not disapprove of you, my child, only of your suitability as a wife for my son. You are too intelligent for me to enumerate my reasons."
"Yes," she sighed. "I know them all."
"Yet you deny their truth?"
"I deny their truth as applied to Karim and myself. We love each other enough to work things out."
"That is the age-old cry of lovers," came the answer. "But you will find that your marriage will be no different from anyone else's. In a year, maybe a little longer, you will find your differences growing, not lessening."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I know my son. For the moment he is willing to give you your own way in everything. His passion for you is making him weak. But once his passion has been satiated, his strength will return, and with it will come his desire to be master in his own house."
"It will be my house, too," Fleur said quickly. "Marriage is a partnership."
"If by that you mean that a husband and wife each have their own duties to perform then I agree with you. But you must make sure you know what those duties are. Yours will be to take care of your home; to bear your husband's children, and to put your heart into everything that is of interest to him. His duty will be to provide for you and his family and to treat you with honor and respect. But there will never be any question as to whose word is law."
Fleur was silent. To say she did not believe Karim thought this way would only lead to an argument.
"I know you don't believe me," the older man went on. "Even if you asked Karim, he would deny the truth of what I'm saying."
"He wouldn't lie," Fleur said sharply.
"Of course not." Ibrahim Khan looked affronted at the very idea. "My son would believe he is saying the truth, because at the moment he thinks he is. But once you are married he will find it impossible not to follow the traditions he has been taught."
Again Fleur held her tongue.
"I am sorry you still disagree with me," the man went on. "For I am your friend and wish only your happiness. You won't find that with my son. Of that I am sure."
Fleur tried to hold herself away from the words but they absorbed her, weighing her down with their import. How wily was the man who sat beside her. He knew full well that to rage at her would have given her the strength to refute what he was saying. Instead he had approached her with guile and subtly planted his seeds of doubt.
"If you are so much against our marriage, Mr. Khan, why did you offer to give a big party for us?"
"Because to argue with my son would encourage him in his obstinacy."
"But if you don't argue, then he'll marry me."
"I know. But he will also retain his respect for me and will not be ashamed to come and tell me when . . Ibrahim Khan rose. "Shall we walk to the pool?"
She rose and bravely finished his sentence. "Even before I marry your son, you're looking ahead to the divorce."
"I am a realist. I do not think it would be kind of me to lie to you."
"Even a realist can be wrong!"
"Perhaps. If you love my son enough and are willing to give in to him and be the wife he wants, then your marriage may well satisfy him."
Fleur was repelled by the word "satisfied." It seemed to turn her into a chattel. But that was the way Ibrahim Khan regarded women. Even his wife, despite her luxurious life, had to ask her husband for everything she wanted and would not dare cross him in any way. But things would be different between herself and Karim, no matter what his father said to the contrary.
With relief she saw Karim approaching, his long legs diminishing the distance between them until he was by her side, his warm hands finding her cold, trembling ones. Instinctively, he knew she was upset, and the way he stroked her fing
ers reassured her.
"I think I've managed to explain to Monsieur Legrand why I changed one of the clauses in the contract," Karim addressed his father. "But I'll send him a resume of our telephone conversation, and if he has any other queries, he can tell me."
"He is a nervous man," Mr. Khan said. "He knows your reputation as a lawyer and thinks you're trying to get the better of him."
"I know," Karim said wryly. "When I saw him a few months ago, I happened to mention I'd worked in London for a year with Benson & Bates."
"You must be first-rate," Fleur commented. "I don't know many law firms but even I have heard of them."
"They wanted my son to remain with them as a partner," Ibrahim Khan said proudly.
"Why didn't you?" Fleur asked.
"I preferred to be a big fish in a little pond," Karim smiled.
"And now you are a big fish in a big pond," his father added.
"I regret that, too. If I had my time again, I'd keep my practice small and maybe have only one or two big clients."
"You are being foolish. You have worked like a Trojan to reach your present position. You are internationally known, and you are your own master. If you were a small-time lawyer you would be at the beck and call of others."
"Not all men set great store on being their own masters," Fleur intervened.
"You are talking of unambitious men," Ibrahim Khan dismissed her statement. "And it is foolish of you to encourage my son in his childish talk."
Fleur gave Karim a beseeching look, but he ignored it There was a brooding expression on his face that she would have given much to be able to decipher.
"Let's go for a walk, Fleur," he said quietly, and at the same time put his hand on his father's arm in a gesture which she saw as placatory.
"Do you think your father's right?" she asked the moment they were out of earshot. "Is that why you didn't defend me?"
"I didn't think you needed defending. You have always stood up very well for yourself in any discussion."
"But do you agree with what your father said?" she persisted. "That I'd be wrong to encourage you to be less ambitious?"
Roberta Leigh - Flower of the Desert Page 13
