“How will you know if I do?” she asked. “Will I be guarded? Have a collar with a bell?”
“If you leave the safety of the village, you will die,” he said simply, knowing it to be true. “You will get lost and perish. That is your best hope. Otherwise you will be found by a raiding party. You would not enjoy their treatment.”
She dropped her fork back to her plate and shivered. “Point taken,” she murmured. “I’ve heard about raiding parties. Do they attack the village?”
“No. We are too many and too well protected, but they prey on those foolish enough to travel the desert on a whim. Or those who are too small to protect themselves.”
Her gaze seemed drawn to his cheek. “I heard you were kidnapped when you were younger.”
He nodded. “I was fifteen and out riding with my friends. They were lying in wait and took only me. The other boys returned here, but the raiders covered their tracks well. They demanded money from my father.”
Millions, he thought, remembering how afraid he’d been. Not of the raiding party but of his father and Bahjat. He knew both men would be furious with him for being so foolish.
“Did the king pay?”
“I escaped before the negotiations could begin.” And killed a man in the process, he thought grimly, not proud of his actions. But there had been no choice and taking that life had matured him well before his time. Word had traveled to the village, giving him a level of acceptance he hadn’t experienced before. Even the king had been pleased by his bravery.
He hadn’t ever told anyone taking a life wasn’t brave.
“At least you got a scar out of it,” she said. “You know that makes you a chick magnet.”
“I do not need a scar.”
“It helps.”
She smiled as she spoke, making him aware of her mouth. He liked that she teased him, probably because no one else did.
When they finished dinner, she asked, “Am I expected to clear?”
“Of course.”
“Next time I want to play the role of the handsome prince,” she grumbled. “You can be the serving girl.”
“Unlikely.”
She rolled her eyes, then stood and reached for his plate. As she leaned toward him, the neckline of the dress gaped enough to allow him to see her breasts. They were perfectly formed and the right size for his hands. She straightened before he could look his fill, but the glimpse had been enough to show him that he would enjoy making love with her.
After putting the dirty plates on the tray, she hovered by the table. “Now what?”
“Coffee.” He nodded at a folded screen in the corner.
She walked over and pulled it aside, then stood with her hands on her hips. “You have got to be kidding me.” She stepped aside so he could see what he already knew was there.
“Yes?”
“What happened to being one with nature?” she demanded, then pointed at the espresso machine on the table. “You can foam milk with this. People who are one with the desert do not foam milk.”
“Maybe it’s goat’s milk.”
“Maybe you’re just a metrosexual in disguise.”
“You mock me?”
“Yes. This is me mocking you. An espresso machine? I can’t believe it. You probably expect me to make you coffee.”
“Of course.”
“I hope it keeps you up tonight.”
It wouldn’t but she might, he thought, his gaze lingering on her waist and hips as she turned away and studied the machine.
“You’re lucky,” she said, picking up a pitcher of water and pouring it into the machine. “We have one just like this in the assistant’s lunch room. I know what I’m doing.”
He was more intriguing by the way she moved than the coffee she prepared. Her skin was pale, her legs long. She was beautiful, all curves and sass. Longing stirred and he knew it was for Victoria specifically rather than the itch of a biological need.
He had only ever wanted Cantara. What did it mean that he desired Victoria? Was it because he knew her and he hadn’t bothered to know any of the other women he’d been with? Was it proximity? Or was it her specifically?
He knew that behind the humor and the big blue eyes beat the heart of a mercenary. She had come to El Deharia to marry Nadim, knowing she would never love him. It had been about getting what she wanted. And yet…
“Foam?” she asked. “No foam?”
“No foam.”
She set the cup on the table. “Anything else?”
He leaned back in the cushions and thought about her body next to his.
“You may kiss me.”
The eyes he’d admired widened. “You promised.” The words seemed forced out, against her will. She went pale.
He sensed her fear and reached for her hand. “I’ll keep my promise,” he told her, not sure why he felt compelled to reassure her. She was here to do his bidding, yet he didn’t want her to be afraid. He squeezed her fingers. “A kiss isn’t sex.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“One kiss.” He pulled her down on the pillows.
She knelt next to him. “Is this the same as a guy saying ‘Come up for coffee. Nothing will happen’?”
“I’m not a guy. I’m a prince.”
“A technicality. Seriously, Kateb, I’m really not ready to…”
He raised his eyebrows.
She sighed. “One kiss.”
“You might enjoy it.”
“Maybe.” She sounded doubtful.
She bent over him. Her long, curly blond hair tumbled down and lightly brushed his chest, making him wish he hadn’t put on a shirt.
She braced herself on either side of his shoulders, leaned down and pressed her mouth to his.
At first there was nothing. Just a warm, skin-on-skin reaction that was pleasant, but not erotic. Then she moved slightly and he felt a jolt of fire burn through him. Need and hunger consumed him until he could only think that she must not stop kissing him.
Her lips were warm and soft and tempted him. She continued the kiss, pressing lightly, teasing. He reached for her, intending to pull her down next to him, only to remember his word.
One kiss.
He swore silently, wanting to feel her weight on him before he turned her, claiming her as his own. He burned and his arousal throbbed in time with his heartbeat.
She drew back and opened her eyes. Confusion swirled there, as did shock, making him confident she had felt the connection as well.
“Kateb?”
One kiss. He cursed himself for making the promise and giving his word. He could do nothing against such bonds, nothing but lie there, wanting what he could not have.
She touched her fingers to her mouth, then swallowed. “Maybe a second kiss wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
Relief battled with desire. Released from his pledge, he pulled her down onto the pillows. “No, it would not.”
Chapter Five
Victoria had been unable to stop herself. The second she’d touched Kateb’s mouth with her own, she’d been swept away by a sensual wanting unlike anything she’d experienced before.
There had been men in her life—two—both of whom had been nice and sweet and eager to please her. She’d enjoyed the experience, had been comfortable making love. She’d felt anticipation, then pleasure, but never a driving need that made her mind go blank and her body tremble.
As Kateb pulled her against him, she went willingly, draping herself across him, body on body. If only they were skin on skin, she thought, as he turned her on the cushions and loomed over her. Then his mouth was on hers and she couldn’t think about anything except how good it felt to have him take control.
He claimed her with a touch filled with yearning. Heat poured through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, both to touch him and to keep him close. He tilted his head, touching her lower lip with his tongue. She parted immediately, wanting to taste him and stroke him. Wanting him in her mouth, taking and giving.
&
nbsp; He plunged inside, claiming her. He circled and danced. She did the same to him, each touch, each tingle making her more aware of maleness. Of him. Of all the possibilities.
He kissed her deeply, their breath mingling. The cushions yielded, then cradled her body. His hand moved up and down her back before sliding to her hip.
Although she was covered from shoulder to ankle, she was grateful the gossamer fabric didn’t offer much of a barrier to his warm skin. If only he would touch her in other places. Her breasts, between her legs…she didn’t want him to stop.
She touched his shoulders, his broad back, then his cool, silky hair. He broke the kiss, then pressed his mouth against her neck. She slipped her hands under his loose shirt to feel the delicious heat of his bare skin. He moved lower and, through the fabric took her right breast in his mouth.
The unexpected contact made her cry out in pleasure. Her nipples were hard and the wet gentle sucking drew up fire from the very center of her. Wanting was everywhere. Her bones were liquid, her very cells crying out for more and more and more.
It was a level of passion she’d never experienced before, a need that went so deep, she knew she would die if he didn’t take her. She pulled frantically at his shirt. He sat up enough to remove it, then grabbed the front vee of her dress and ripped it in two.
The fabric gave instantly and she was naked before him. She shrugged out of the shredded material and reached for him.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice low and thick with desire. “You are so perfect.”
He looked at her, all of her, then touched her breasts with his finger. That single finger trailed down her belly. Down and down until her breath caught as she waited for what he would do to her.
No one had ever stared at her with such intensity, such possession. She should have been shy or worried about those extra fifteen pounds. Instead she watched him watch her and felt that place between her legs swell in anticipation.
At last he touched her there. A lone stroke that made her legs fall open and her breath catch. Then he was lowering himself to lick her belly before settling between her thighs with an intimate kiss that made her moan.
She was already trembling and close and desperate. He moved against her with a sureness that allowed her to relax into the experience even as tension tightened every muscle in her body. She clutched at pillows, dug her heels into the carpet and offered herself to him.
He cupped her hips, his fingers kneading her skin. His tongue moved against her in a steady rhythm she couldn’t resist. Powerful tension and hunger burned until the trembling became shaking and her breath was only gasps.
Over and over he touched her, pushing her closer. She arched her head back and raced toward the moment when she would—
Her orgasm claimed her like a desert storm—fast and beautiful and out of control. She cried out as every part of her pulsed. He continued to move his tongue against her, easing her through her pleasure, drawing the last drop from her. When she was finally still, stunned by the power of her body’s reaction to him, he quickly pulled off his trousers and plunged into her.
He was thick and hard and stretched her to perfection. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper, wanting to take all of him. She opened her eyes and found him watching her, his gaze intense. She couldn’t look away. She could only watch the play of sexual tension across his face and know when he was getting close.
It was a level of intimacy completely unfamiliar to her, and even though it was frightening, she couldn’t look away. Then he pushed in a little deeper and hit a spot that made her insides clench. An unexpected release claimed her again. She breathed his name. Her eyes closed. Seconds later, he groaned and was still.
Kateb wanted to tell himself he had taken Victoria unaware of who she was. That his need had been powerful and she had been conveniently naked. But through every stroke of their joining, he had known exactly who he was with and he had wanted her specifically. Now, still inside her slick heat, he stared into her blue eyes and didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to say.
A case could be made that she had released him from his promise with her offer of a second kiss. Not much of a case, but it was the best he could do. Claiming he had been overwhelmed was true, but not something he would admit.
She appealed to him on a physical level. Not a bad quality in a mistress. Except he’d never thought to truly claim her as his. He’d brought her to the Winter Palace because she had offered herself in exchange for her father. Perhaps he’d brought her to punish her, although he couldn’t name her crime.
He withdrew. Reluctantly.
She scrambled to her feet, nearly kicking him in her haste. She grabbed the pieces of her dress and held them up to her body.
“So you really hate the dress,” she murmured before stepping off the cushions and picking up her cloak. In seconds, she was covered.
“Am I allowed to just go?” she asked, not looking at him. “Or do I have to ask for permission?”
“You may leave.”
She nodded once and was gone.
He rose more slowly and pulled on his trousers. She’d left the dress, which he picked up and squeezed in his hands.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Yes, she’d been obviously willing during their lovemaking, but that didn’t erase his responsibility. Still, apologizing was not his way. He was a prince.
He told himself she’d enjoyed the experience. That he had pleased her. She’d responded to his touch, had been wet and swollen when he’d entered her, yet he couldn’t push away the thought that he’d taken her against her will.
“That did not happen,” he said aloud. “She was willing in every way.”
Very willing. Too willing?
Had he played into her hands? Was the fear nothing more than an act? Had she hoped this would happen, thinking she could shame him into marriage? Was he her next Nadim? She wanted to marry a prince. Had she planned everything with her father? Was he a fool to worry about her?
Two extreme points of view, he thought grimly. Which was true? Or did the truth lie somewhere in the middle?
He walked into his bedroom. Despite his recent release, thinking about what had just happened made him want her again. He could call her back, insist she submit to him. But he would not.
Victoria was a complication he didn’t need. A distraction. Women, he thought, feeling tired. With Cantara things had been easy, as they were with the other women he saw occasionally. There was no confusion—just an understanding of the expectations. That he was there for the night and nothing more.
What did Victoria expect and did he care? Was she truly sacrificing herself or playing a game? How was he to find the truth?
Victoria spent a restless night and woke feeling tired. She showered in the amazing bathroom, but didn’t feel as at home as she had the night before. The beautiful space seemed to mock her a little, which was insane. Hadn’t she fulfilled her mistress destiny by sleeping with Kateb? Didn’t that make her one of the girls?
Nothing made sense, she thought as she dressed in a short-sleeved T-shirt and long skirt. On the one hand, she couldn’t really regret what she’d done. Kateb had dazzled pretty much every cell in her body and who wouldn’t want that in a lover? She was here for six months—wasn’t enjoying him in bed better than the alternative?
On the other hand, she was a little freaked out by being so incredibly swept away. That had never happened to her before. She’d never felt such desperate need or so out of control. It felt as if she’d given him a part of herself and she couldn’t get it back.
“Deep, deep thoughts,” she murmured, and she only knew one way to restore her equilibrium.
Shopping.
She tucked some El Deharian currency into her pocket, found her sunglasses and tested Kateb’s statement that she could come and go as she pleased, as long as she didn’t head out of the village.
No one stood at the door of the harem when she left. She paused in the
long corridor, not sure which way to turn. She picked a direction and started walking. The main part of the castle was basically a square. If she kept on going, eventually she would run into the front foyer.
She saw dozens of people, some in traditional clothing, others in Western suits and dresses. A few smiled at her, most ignored her, but no one asked her what she was doing. After a few minutes, she recognized some of the art on the walls and figured she was heading in the right direction. Five minutes later, she found herself in the massive foyer and from there it was an easy walk to the bazaar.
The open stores and carts reminded her of the markets in the main city. She smiled at vendors, admired a few shawls, then turned a corner and stopped in front of an amazing display of woven gold.
Each piece was exquisite, delicate and gleaming in the sun. There were bracelets and necklaces, earrings in the shapes of flowers and hearts.
“Very pretty,” the woman behind the counter said in English. “You like?”
“It’s all lovely. I’ve never seen a selection this big before. Is it made locally?”
“Yes. Here in the village. You are from the city?”
Victoria nodded. She hadn’t brought enough money to buy anything, which was really too bad. Or maybe not. The temptation to put a sizeable chunk on her credit card would be hard to resist.
“Who makes the jewelry?” she asked.
“Three or four families. The women work together. Mother to daughter, as it has been for many years.”
The skills passed on to each generation? No wonder the work was so perfect. “Is it close? Could I see where they make the jewelry?”
The other woman nodded slowly. “Yes, you come. This afternoon.” She gave her directions.
Victoria smiled. “I look forward to it. Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” She hesitated. “You are with Kateb?”
Victoria tried not to blush. “Yes. I’m with Kateb.” Whatever that meant.
“He is a good man. He will be nominated as leader. We all miss Bahjat. Kateb is very lonely these days. Perhaps with you here…” Her voice trailed off.
The Sheikh and the Bought Bride Page 6
