The Lion's Embrace

by Marie Laval

  ‘Yes.’

  Drake nodded. ‘Good. By the way, you never said why you sent Ahmoud back to Bou Saada,’ he remarked.

  ‘There have been developments there. He was worried about his family,’ Lucas answered, his tone curt. As far as he was concerned, the less Drake knew the better.

  The Englishman wrapped his burnous around him and lay down. As soon as he started snoring, Lucas stood up and gestured to Hakim and Musa. They had things to discuss.

  He walked up to the cairn on top of the sun-baked, rocky mound. Kneeling down beside it, he examined the position and alignment of the stones and sighed. So he’d been right, but this was no cause for celebration.

  He ran down the small hill and lifted himself back onto the saddle.

  ‘What were you doing up there?’ Harriet called, directing her soothing, misty grey eyes towards him. ‘That is the third cairn you stopped at today.’

  ‘I was checking messages Tuareg scouts left for me.’ He frowned when he saw her hand shake as she adjusted the dark blue scarf that protected her face against the fierceness of the sun, and pulled out a water gourd from his saddle bag.

  ‘Here, drink some water. You’ll be no good to us if you faint,’ he added when she started to protest.

  ‘What do you mean you were checking a message? How can a pile of stones mean anything?’ Archie grumbled as they set off at a slow trot across the rocky plains. ‘And where the bloody hell are Hakim and Musa?

  ‘I told you. They’re riding ahead of us, watching out for caravans or tribes travelling across the reg’, Lucas lied.

  ‘It’s a code, isn’t it? The stones, I mean.’ Harriet’s voice was muffled by the scarf.

  He nodded. ‘You could say that. This is one of the ways Tuareg scouts pass on information to travellers.’

  ‘So what was the message on the cairn?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘Nothing much,’ Lucas lied again. ‘If we carry on south to southeast, we will reach the Arak gorges in roughly three hours.’

  They rode across a flat, dreary landscape scattered with sparse, coarse bushes and isolated trees. Dozens of camel and horse bones, and probably a good few human ones too, bleached white by the sun, littered the ground. They reached the Arak gorges—the gorges of evil spirits, as the locals called them—just as the sun darted its golden, oblique rays over the reg.

  ‘Why aren’t we camping in the gorges?’ Drake asked. ‘Surely we would be more sheltered?’

  ‘We would also be crushed to death by morning,’ Lucas declared.

  ‘Why?’ Harriet looked up at the steep rock faces rising in front of them.

  He didn’t miss her grimace of pain as she dismounted, or the way she rubbed her forehead as if to soothe a throbbing headache. She removed her headdress and gave her hair a light shake which sent it tumbling down her back. He ignored the sudden urge he had to run his fingers through it and concentrated on unsaddling his horse.

  ‘The difference in temperature between day and night causes rocks to explode and fall down the gorges. Locals believe the gorges to be haunted by djinouns who throw stones on travellers to scare them away.’

  ‘Then I’ll leave the djinouns to their tricks and camp out here.’ Harriet turned towards the gorges. ‘I can understand why people are afraid of this place. It looks sinister.’

  ‘You’ll have the chance to see for yourself in a moment,’ Lucas told her. ‘We have to go in to fetch some water. There’s a well a quarter of the way through.’

  ‘I’ll come with you instead,’ Archie suggested. ‘Harriet can rest here. She hardly looks able to stand on her feet, let alone carry gourds of water.’

  It may be true, but Lucas had his reasons for wanting her with him right now.

  ‘I’ll do it, Archie. I did promise I would work as hard as the rest of you,’ she protested.

  ‘If you’d rather carry water gourds like a mule than rest, my dear, I won’t insist.’ Drake snorted and walked away.

  Lucas turned to hide a smile. He was enjoying seeing the increasing strain on Harriet and Drake’s relationship. They hardly shared a conversation these days, let alone a blanket or a tent.

  ‘You might want to take your soap,’ he told her.

  Her face lit up. ‘You mean I can have a wash? In there?’

  ‘That’s right.’ He helped her gather the gourds before strapping the random bags around his body. He also took a small bag with food.

  ‘Watch out,’ he added as they progressed through the eerily quiet canyon, ‘these cactuses can be lethal.’

  He pointed to fierce looking plants covered with long, sharp needles that lined the bottom of the canyon, then to a few giant cacti. ‘These, however, are very useful. They prevent wounds from getting infected.’

  ‘What are they called?’ She looked in disbelief at the spiky leaves.

  ‘Aloes.’

  The deeper they walked into the gorge, the quieter it got. Soon their footsteps were the only sounds.

  Lucas’ eyes skimmed the surface of the cliff. There had been a rock slide since the last time he stopped there, and he couldn’t see the entrance to the cave. He walked along the side of the cliff, inserted his hands into crevasses, pulled at loose stones, and found it at last.

  ‘This way.’ He led her into a narrow passage. ‘The lake is in the second chamber of this cave.’

  ‘A lake, inside the mountain? How wonderful.’ Her voice echoed and bounced off the walls.

  They reached the second chamber where a large fissure in the roof of the cave let in rays of light that fell like magic dust onto a pool of emerald water surrounded by a beach of fine white sand.

  ‘I have never seen anything so beautiful,’ she whispered.

  He turned and smiled. No matter how many times he had come here, the presence of a spring water pool hidden inside a mountain in the middle of the desert never ceased to amaze him. Harriet ran onto the small beach and knelt at the edge of the water. She gathered some sand in her hand and let it trickle through her fingers. Then she looked up and gave him a beaming smile. An odd, warm feeling spread in his chest.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ he grunted.

  He walked to the far end of the cave and followed a narrow passage until he reached the third, and last, chamber. It was smaller and darker than the other ones. He located a gap in the rock face and stuffed the bags into it, then pushed a large stone in front.

  When he came back, Harriet had filled the gourds and lined them against the cave wall. She pulled the bar of soap out of her pocket.

  ‘You can have a swim once I have spoken to you,’ he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

  Surprised, she tilted her head to stare into his eyes. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You’re not coming back to the camp with me tonight. You’re staying here until I come and get you,’ he declared. ‘I brought you some food and…’

  She stiffened under his touch.

  ‘You want me to stay here on my own? Why?’

  ‘The camp is going be attacked during the night.’

  She let out a frightened cry.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘That was the message at the last cairn. A gang of riders were spotted in the area yesterday. Hakim and Musa are trying to find them to slow them down, but we must get ready in case they fail. From what I gathered, they’re not far behind us—about four to five hours.’

  ‘How will the raiders know we’re here?’

  That was something he wasn’t prepared to tell her yet. He needed proof first.

  ‘What about you and Archie, and the others?’ she carried on.

  ‘We’re going to set a trap, that’s why I don’t want you under our feet.’

  ‘But I can help! I can hide and shoot at them or throw stones. I can—’

  He released his grip on her shoulders.

  ‘No, Harriet. You’re staying here. I won’t discuss this.’ He gestured to the bag of food. ‘You have enough food for—’r />
  Without warning, she bolted towards the entrance of the cave and disappeared in the narrow passage. He cursed loudly. Damn woman. She was running back to the camp. He caught her as she neared the mouth of the cave, grabbed her arm and swung her towards him.

  ‘Let go of me, Saintclair!’ she shrieked as he dragged her back to the cave. ‘I won’t stand in your way, I promise.’

  ‘The answer’s no, and if you don’t give me your word of honour you will stay put, I’ll have no other choice than tie you up. Can’t you see this is the safest place?’

  He stood facing her, his back to the lake. The light from the crevasse in the roof of the cave became pure liquid gold as it touched her hair, her skin, and her eyes. The sight of her lips parting, her chest heaving as she breathed in and out distracted him for a second and she caught him off guard again. Stepping forward, she pushed him hard into the water. He lost his footing, fell backward, and landed in the shallow water on the edge of the lake, banging his head on a rock.

  ‘Saintclair…Lucas, can you hear me? Please wake up.’

  His eyes were closed. He lay in the shallow pool, so still she couldn’t even tell if he was breathing or not. Panic made her heart race as she knelt down beside him. She slipped her hand behind his head to lift him out of the water and let out a cry of anguish when she saw the bloodied rock underneath.

  She had killed him. She had killed the man she loved. It was as if the whole world became suddenly dark and empty and filled with pain and desolation. Her breath caught in her throat, her whole body started shaking, and tears spilled out onto her cheeks.

  ‘What have I done?’ she sobbed, gently kissing his lips over and over again.

  Two hands gripped her upper arms and pushed her back.

  Lucas had opened his eyes and was staring at her.

  ‘Good grief, woman,’ he groaned.

  ‘You’re alive! Thank God. I didn’t kill you after all,’ she exclaimed, smiling through her tears.

  He let go of her to touch the back of his head and stared at his fingers. They were smeared with blood.

  ‘Of course I’m alive, but that’s no thanks to you,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Let me look at your head,’ she said, overcome with guilt. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘You’ve done more than enough.’ He glared at her, furious, then winced in pain and let out another curse.

  She stood up. ‘I am sorry, I truly am,’ she whispered, offering her hand to help him up. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

  He grabbed hold of her hand, but instead of releasing her as soon as he was up he pulled her against him, holding her hand to his chest. His arms wrapped around her waist so tightly she could hardly breathe, let alone move. His body pressed against her, his clothes were soaked through, but he didn’t seem to care. Soon the front of her tunic was wet too, as were her breeches. Droplets of water dripped from his hair onto her face, her hair, and shoulders. Breathing hard, he stared into her eyes for what felt like long minutes. His heart thundered under the palm of her hand. It was the most wonderful of sensations. Then he bent down slowly and kissed her eyes, her tear-stricken cheeks, and finally her mouth.

  She let out a whimper when his lips touched hers, but she didn’t fight him. It felt right. It felt more than right, it was wonderful. This was where she wanted to be, in his arms. This was where she belonged. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, then clasped behind his neck. She was consumed with one emotion only. Love. Lucas had set her heart, her senses, her whole being ablaze. She loved him, and her love was stronger, wilder, and altogether more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.

  ‘Lucas,’ she breathed and she moved against him, tilting her head back so that he could carry on kissing her mouth, her face, her throat.

  She trembled and whimpered, soft and pliable in his arms. She was his. Desire roared and spread through him like a bushfire, heating up his blood, destroying any conscious thought, urging him to touch and take. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. They were wide open, dreamy. A smile lingered on her lips. He let go of her and started taking his waistcoat off. She stared at him as he tucked his shirt out of his breeches and quickly discarded it, and then kicked his boots off.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked at last, her voice a little shaky, when he started unfastening his breeches.

  ‘What does it look like?’ He grinned. ‘We might as well enjoy the pool. We won’t come across another fresh water lake before In Salah. Grab your soap and get rid of your clothes. Hurry, we don’t have long before I have to return to camp.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly bathe with you,’ she stammered, her cheeks on fire.

  He narrowed his eyes, annoyed. There she was again, playing the prude when she had been all but melting in his arms a few seconds before.

  ‘I have seen quite a lot of you in Laghouat already,’ he remarked, impatient. ‘And I gather I’ll see a lot more before long.’

  He divested himself of his breeches and almost laughed out loud when he found her gaping at him, at all of him, her eyes open wide in alarm as if she’d never seen a man before.

  ‘Are you coming?’

  She didn’t answer. He shrugged and dived into the pool. He stayed under the water until his blood had cooled down. The woman drove him crazy. Why did she look so innocent when she was—or had been—Drake’s mistress? Why was she bent on tormenting him when it was plain she desired him as much as he desired her? Or had he become so useless at gauging a woman’s response?

  He stood up in the pool.

  ‘Throw me the soap. Or better still, bring it in.’

  Her heartbeat was wild, her breathing fast and shallow. The water might reach up to his waist, but it was so clear there wasn’t much of him left to her imagination. She had never seen a naked man before, save for statues of Greek gods at the Museum. They didn’t do men justice. In the flesh, men were completely different, much bigger and imposing than a marble statue, and infinitely more unsettling. Her cheeks burning, she threw the soap to him.

  He lathered his body and his hair then dived into the pool before standing up and walking towards her. His skin was golden and shiny with droplets, his hair dark, his eyes clearer than the water. He looked straight at her and her heart started to race. Her throat became so dry and tight she could neither swallow nor breathe. At that moment she knew she would be his.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ he asked.

  He wanted her, now, could she not see?

  ‘There is something I must tell you,’ she said, her voice so low he could hardly hear.

  ‘What now?’ He sighed, impatient, and walked out of the pool.

  He was even more annoyed when she turned her back to him.

  ‘Harriet, can’t you see you are driving me crazy?’ he burst out. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and started nuzzling her neck.

  ‘Archie and I were never…are not…’ she stuttered.

  ‘Damn, do you think I want to hear about the man now?’ he growled against her soft skin.

  ‘It’s important.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ he said. So what if she felt guilty about betraying her fiancé? He didn’t. All her cared was her and him and now.

  ‘But you don’t understand, you see…’ she said again.

  ‘I want you, Harriet and I think you want me, and nothing you’ll say will change anything to that.’

  At last she stopped talking. Heaving a sigh, she leaned against him. His blood started pumping, pulsing, roaring. His hands stroked her stomach, travelled to her breasts, caressed and teased through the wet fabric of her tunic. She lifted her arms and placed her hands behind his neck while he explored and roamed over her, getting wilder with the need to possess her.

  With a groan, he unfastened and opened her tunic and tore at the chemise underneath. He wanted her soft, silky skin and her curves under his hands and his mouth. His breath rasped in his throat as he enclosed the soft weight of her breasts in the palm of h
is hands, rubbed their tips with his thumbs. He was drunk on the smell of her, on the feel of her heart thumping under his touch. Feverish now, he undid her breeches and pulled them down just enough to lay his hand against her heat. She arched and let out a soft moan as his fingers moved and stroked, and when she started crying out he spun her round and stifled her cries with his mouth.

  He wanted more. And he wanted it now. His control was slipping away. Yet he held back. At the back of his mind was a warning he didn’t understand. He had to be cautious, he mustn’t frighten her.

  ‘Come with me.’

  He helped her shed the rest of her clothes, kissing and stroking her all the time until she stood naked in his arms. With her eyes now dark and heavy with desire, her lips swollen from his kisses, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  He grabbed the bar of soap and took her hand and together they walked into the gloriously cool pool, until she was waist deep.

  He positioned her in front of him and cupped some water in his hand to wash over her shoulders, along her arms, then started sliding the bar of soap on her breasts, her stomach. She leaned back against him again, her legs slightly parted. Her breath was short, almost a pant. Working up a thick lather over her body, he circled the bar of soap slowly around her nipples, felt them tighten and peak under his fingers. She moaned. He washed some water over her. His hands trailed up and down her spine to her hips. How slender was her waist, how smooth her skin, how deliciously curvy her hips. He slipped a hand between her legs. She shuddered, her legs bucked, and she would have collapsed had he not wrapped his arm around her waist. He turned her around so that she faced him and he scooped her in his arms.

  He laid her on the soft white sand and covered her body with his. He kissed her—a long, deep kiss that left him dizzy and gasping. She arched against him and whispered something against his mouth, something about love and being gentle, but he was in a red haze by then and all he could hear was the thunder of his heart, the roar of his blood. At last, she was going to be his. Rough with need, he parted her legs, slid his hands under her to lift her towards him, and thrust deep inside her.