Her yearning was as itchily uncomfortable as being tickled by feathers. Feeling that she would burst into flame if she didn't move, Juliet shifted her weight slightly, but though her intention was to ease herself away, instead she found herself settling more closely against her husband.
Mentally she uttered an oath, displeased by the knowledge that she was not fully in control of her body. She concentrated on breathing evenly, praying that Ross would not become aware of what she was feeling.
Then, abruptly, she realized that she was not alone in her desire. Ross's groin was resting against the curve of her hip, and she felt growing, unmistakable evidence that he was also aroused by their closeness.
She bit her lip to suppress what would be hysterical laughter if she let it out. They were both mad. While a murderous storm pounded all around them, both of them were experiencing inappropriate passions. And maddest of all, each pretended complete ignorance of what was happening.
Juliet's mouth was so dry that she felt on the verge of suffocation, so she reached down for her water bottle. As she did, her mind flashed back a dozen years. The darkness and intimacy of their present situation were like the midnight privacy of their marriage bed, when she had had every right to touch her husband, and he had encouraged her to do so. There had been no barriers, no doubts, between them then....
Wholly without conscious volition, her hand moved past the water bottle and came to rest on that warm, irresistible ridge of male flesh. He pulsed against her palm, hardening further at her touch. Her mind more in the past than the present, she drew an entranced hand along the familiar length.
Remembered delight lasted only an instant before his whole frame went rigid. "Jesus Christ, Juliet!" Ross exploded, knocking her hand away. "This is a hell of a time to play idiotic games."
Shocked back to the present and horrified at what she'd done, Juliet gave a strangled gasp. Mindlessly, wanting only to escape, she shoved herself away from him, tore the mantle from her face, and tried to clamber to her feet. Gritty, suffocating sand instantly filled her mouth and nostrils.
As Juliet collapsed, choking, Ross wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled back so that her spine was pressed against the front of his body. Then, with precise angry movements, he drew the mantle over her again and recreated their safe haven.
Juliet was shaking violently, as much from humiliation as from her frantic need for air. Ever since this journey had begun, she had worked to conceal how much she was attracted to her husband. Now her weakness was revealed. She felt more exposed than if she had been stripped naked.
This time it was Ross who held the water bottle to her lips so that she could rinse away the stifling sand. Soon she could breathe again, but still she trembled. The barrier they had so carefully constructed between them, of words unsaid and deeds unadmitted, now lay shattered, a victim of the storm.
Despairingly she said, "I'm sorry, Ross, I didn't mean to do that. I wasn't playing games—it's just that... I couldn't help myself. I know it's wrong and shameless and bloody inconvenient, but even after all these years, I still desire you. Being together day and night has been driving me mad." Her throat closed again and she swallowed hard before finishing in a whisper. "I'm sorry, so sorry."
Even though her back was to him, they were folded so closely together that she could feel his reactions in his body. After a moment of surprise his tautness eased.
"One apology is enough, Juliet. My reaction was out of proportion to what you did, but you surprised the devil out of me at a time when I was trying my damnedest to control the effect you have on me." He wrapped a comforting arm around her waist. "As you noticed, I was having no success. You have also been driving me mad. Embarrassing and, as you said, bloody inconvenient, but there it is."
His calm words made Juliet feel less like a disgraceful idiot. More to herself than to him she said, "Why must it be this way? Why can't a marriage that is over be completely over?"
He sighed. "My mother, who as you may recall knows everything worth knowing about the mysterious ways men and women interact, once told me that the first two years or so of a passionate marriage are the most intense. After that, the raging, uncontrollable fire usually slows to a steadier and more manageable blaze.
"Unfortunately, you left before that happened. We weren't together long enough for the cycle to complete itself and the flames to subside. So even though the rest of the marriage is ancient history, the physical attraction is still alive and well. Now that we're in each other's company again, all that unresolved desire has flared back to life."
"That makes sense." She gave an unsteady chuckle. "I keep thinking of the pillar of fire that guided the Israelites through the wilderness. On this journey, a pillar of fire has been hovering between us, but you dissembled so well that I thought I was the only one affected by it. There is some comfort in knowing that the madness is mutual."
"That it is." His arm tightened around her waist. "You realize that if we share lodgings in Bokhara, we may drive each other well and truly insane."
"The thought has occurred to me," she admitted, "but I feel responsible for you. If not for my brother and mother, you'd be safe in England now. Even though I know there will be nothing I can do to help if the amir condemns you, I still have this irrational need to stay close, to be available just in case."
"And, heaven help me, I feel the same way about you. That I must keep you close because no one else will take as good care of you as I would." His thumb began making slow circles on her midriff.
As tantalizing warmth spiraled through her, he said softly, "We seem to be burdened with both mutual protectiveness and mutual lust. It might be easier for both of us if we do the logical and natural thing about the latter."
The very idea made her melt with longing. To be lovers once again, to give in to desire instead of fighting it—that would be heaven on earth.
Until he went back to England. Leaving Ross once had almost destroyed her; if they recovered their old closeness, she doubted that she would survive losing him again.
"It would be easier only for the moment," she said in a brittle voice. "The effect on the future would be disastrous."
His hand stilled, then withdrew. "You're quite right," he said coolly. "Wise of you to remind me of that. Like most men, I find that lust totally disables my brain."
"The same thing happened to me," she said in a small voice. "Another of my hopelessly unladylike traits."
Once more she felt Ross's tension ease. "That's one of the things I've always liked about you," he remarked. "Your directness is a double-edged sword, but I find that preferable to the flirtatiousness which some women use to baffle men."
She was glad to hear that there was something he liked about her besides her body. Not that she objected to his finding her attractive, in spite of the complications that passion was causing. After years of being the asexual, forceful Gul-i Sarahi, it was deeply rewarding to feel like a woman, and to know that she could still attract a man. Especially this man.
They lay in silence together, relaxed if not precisely comfortable. Though desire was unacceptable, Juliet savored his closeness. But it wouldn't last much longer. The wind was dying down and soon they would have to return to their usual roles, their usual distance.
When the wail of the storm faded to the soft soughing sound of "the wind of a hundred days," Ross removed his arm from Juliet's waist. Knowing that time had run out, she said hesitantly, "Even though I felt like a fool, it's fortunate that this happened. Now that the air has been cleared and we've openly acknowledged that there is a... a lingering attraction, it should be easy to deal with."
"I'm glad you think so," Ross said after a long silence. His voice was very dry. "The storm seems to have blown itself out. Shall we see what the outside world looks like?"
He pulled back the mantle, spilling rivulets of fine sand from every wrinkle and fold of the fabric. Darkness had fallen, but the sky was clear and a waxing moon cast ethereal light over the pale
, voluptuously curving dunes. The temperature had dropped considerably and the fresh night air felt wonderful after the cramped confines of their makeshift shelter.
Drawing a deep, deep breath, Juliet rolled onto her back and stretched her cramped limbs to their full length. "Desert stars are magnificent," she said as she gazed up into the velvet darkness. "I never tire of looking at them."
More concerned with the mundane than the celestial, Ross had pushed himself to a sitting position and was studying their surroundings. "A good thing that I have my compass, or we might be using those stars to find our way back to camp. The storm has changed the contours of the dunes so much that it would be easy to get lost."
"At least there's no rush. We'll be starting late tomorrow morning because it will take hours to locate all of the objects that have been buried by the storm."
Juliet was about to sit up when Ross glanced down at her. The pale moonlight was just strong enough to sketch the classic perfection of his features.
"So convenient that we have both acknowledged that foolish lingering attraction," he murmured as he lifted one hand and traced the contours of her face. The faint roughness of his fingertips was delicately erotic as he skimmed the curve of her cheek and brushed lightly over her lips.
She caught her breath, wanting to tell him that this was not wise, but before she could speak, he leaned over and kissed her with deep, commanding sensuality. The desire Juliet had banked earlier flared like fresh-sparked tinder and she welcomed his mouth with a hunger that shocked her. It was an embrace such as she had forgotten, or perhaps not dared to remember.
She slid her arms around Ross's chest and drew him down on her, wanting contact with all of him. He came without breaking the kiss, enfolding her with his strength. Shamelessly she rolled her hips against him, and the pressure of his hard body gave her a fleeting satisfaction that was immediately consumed by rising need.
As she moved against him, he gave a long, shuddering gasp. Then he pulled the tagelmoust down, baring her throat. As he kissed the sensitive skin revealed, the masculine prickle of whiskers made a sweet, rasping contrast to the searing heat of his lips and tongue.
His hand slid to her breast and she arched against his palm, hating the layers of robe and the binding vest that separated her from his magical touch. Her breath frantic, she ground her body against his, on the verge of culminating but wanting more than anything on earth to share that fulfillment with him.
Then, shockingly, he was gone, leaving only the cool night against her fevered flesh. The loss was devastating.
Frightened and confused, her limbs shaking with frustration, Juliet opened her eyes to find Ross standing above her, his broad shoulders blocking the stars and his chest heaving with strain.
Yet in spite of his agitation, when he spoke it was in a voice whose irony had been refined to saber sharpness. "As you pointed out, now that our inconvenient attraction is out in the open, it is wonderfully easy to deal with. Aren't we fortunate?"
For a moment Juliet didn't understand. Then, with a flash of pure outrage, she realized that his lovemaking had been a deliberate tease, a vivid demonstration of just how frustrating and difficult their situation was. If he had been within her reach, she might have planted a fist right on his perfectly shaped jaw; Ian had always said that she hit well for a girl.
That impulse was immediately followed by the appalling realization that Ross was giving her exactly what she had claimed to want: restraint. It was Juliet who had set the limits in their curious relationship, just as it was she who had made the first sexual advance. After which she had blithely made that idiotic statement about how much things would improve.
Helplessly she began to laugh. "Leave it to you to turn gentlemanly behavior into a weapon, Ross. Very well, you've made your point, though that was a beastly way to do it."
She stood and began brushing loose sand from her robe. "My saying that everything would be easy now was one of my more foolish remarks." She bent over for her mantle, then shook it out with a snap. "But I still think it is an improvement that we can acknowledge the... the pillar of fire between us."
"It is an improvement, though I can't agree that there is anything very fortunate about our present situation," Ross said ruefully. "Now it's my turn to apologize. As you said, that was a beastly way to make a point. If it's any comfort, stopping was as harrowing for me as for you."
"At least you managed to keep your head when I had lost mine. For that I must thank you." Juliet pulled off her veil and shook it out. "Now that we are through harrowing each other, it's time to get back to the camp."
Before she could wind her tagelmoust around her face again, Ross put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him for a moment, brushing an affectionate kiss on her cheek before releasing her. "Have I ever mentioned that you are the most admirable, maddening female I have ever known?"
"While you, O perfect gentleman, could drive a saint to violence, and I am no saint."
"I suspect that a saint would be boring, and you are never that," he said with amusement.
They began walking back to the camp in amiable silence. But as they wound their way through the silent dunes, Juliet's sense of well-being slowly evaporated, leaving her chilled and fearful of what the future would bring.
Bleakly she realized that it was not physical intimacy that she should have been worrying about. The sandstorm had brought about something far more dangerous: an emotional closeness more seductive than kisses.
Chapter 15
The last leg of the journey was rather public, for Ross's identity had long since ceased to be a secret. The tale of the bozkashi match and of his mission to the amir had run ahead of the travelers, so after the caravan crossed the broad Oxus river into more heavily populated territory, people began coming to see the ferengi. The Uzbek and Turkoman callers were curious and wanted to touch his blond hair, but most were friendly.
However, there were exceptions. The last night before the caravan would reach the city of Bokhara was spent in the caravansary of Karakul. As Ross and his companions ate their evening meal, a shabby rat-faced Uzbek crossed the courtyard, then squatted down to watch them.
Thinking the man might be hungry, Saleh said, "Will you honor us by sharing our humble fare?"
The visitor spat on the ground. "I will not defile myself by sharing bread and salt with a ferengi spy and his dogs. I have come only because tonight will be the last opportunity to see what the infidel looks like."
"Look all you like," Ross said mildly.
The Uzbek's slit-eyed gaze went to Ross's face. "Tomorrow you will be met by the amir's horsemen. They will be carrying baskets with bandages to blindfold you, chains to bind you, and knives to butcher you," he said with obvious relish. "You are a son of death, ferengi."
"Are not all sons of man also sons of death?" Ross took another bite of his bread. Having long since learned that piety was the best defense in this sort of conversation, he added, "Only in God does man find eternal life."
The Uzbek glowered at him. "Paradise is only for the Faithful, ferengi swine. Tomorrow night you will dine in hell." He rose to his feet and stalked away.
Ross swallowed the last of his bread, then said into the silence, "Anyone care to lay odds on whether that unpleasant fellow was telling the truth about what will happen tomorrow?"
Juliet, who had become more vocal since Murad discovered her identity, said acerbically, "No point in wagering with a man who may not be around to pay off his losses."
"British humor is very strange," Murad said, giving them a disapproving glance. "But no matter, for that son of a swine was lying. How could one such as he know the amir's plans?"
"Very likely he invented that story as a way of ruining a night's rest. However..." Ross brushed crumbs from his lap. "If any officers of the amir approach the caravan tomorrow carrying baskets, I want all three of you to move away from me. If I am to be butchered, I don't need company."
Ross glanced at Murad. Several
days earlier, Ross had taken the youth aside and persuaded him that if something happened to Ross, serving and protecting his master's wife would be a deed of great honor. Remembering that conversation, Murad gave a nod of agreement.
Then Ross caught Juliet's eye and repeated, "If in doubt, you will keep your distance."
Even more reluctantly than Murad, she nodded, then looked away. Satisfied, Ross poured himself more tea. At least he could count on Saleh's good sense.
As he sipped his tea, he reflected on how the incident in the sandstorm had changed his relationship with Juliet. As she had predicted, admitting their mutual attraction had cleared the air and eased the situation—in some ways. Ross no longer attempted to completely conceal his feelings from his wife's perceptive eyes, and they were more relaxed with each other.
But as he had known at the time, in other ways the situation was far more difficult, for his simmering desire had risen to a level just short of full boil. He couldn't decide which of his actions had been more insane: kissing her in the first place or stopping even though she had been warm and willing.
Juliet had been more than willing; she had been eager, and that knowledge was a constant torment, especially at night when Ross was trying to sleep. He was haunted by precise tactile memories of her slim body moving under his, her ardent mouth, the feel of her hands on him.
Iinfuriatingly, his memory also supplied equally exact, though more distant, memories of what it was like to be inside her, for them to be joined together without doubt or inhibition.
He had wanted to teach her a lesson, and instead he had almost been swept away himself. He was still not quite sure why he had drawn back from what he had wanted fervently to do. The fact that a few minutes earlier Juliet had explicitly rejected the idea of becoming lovers was a factor, but he suspected that self-preservation was the major cause.
The remote part of his brain still capable of logic had known that bedding the demented Amazon he had married would be a massive mistake. After her blood had cooled, Juliet would surely have despised him for taking advantage of her momentary weakness. Relations between them were already quite volatile enough.
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