Capture My Heart

by Bobbi Smith

  Catherine was a vision. Her hair was loose and tumbling around her shoulders in a halo of pale loveliness. The silken gown clung to her curves enticingly, hinting at the firm, high breasts and rounded hips beneath.

  Almira smiled. "You are truly a gorgeous woman. Look at your reflection. You will see that I am right."

  Catherine stepped before the mirror and couldn't believe that the stunning woman she was staring at was herself. The woman in the reflection was a stranger . . . a seductress . . . a woman who appeared to know of men and their ways. Her heart beat a little faster as she realized that tonight's visit with Malik might prove to be far different from her other visits with him.

  "It's time. We must take you to him now. He is waiting."

  Chapter Nine

  Wearing the white djellaba, loose-fitting pants, and gold belt that suited him so well, Malik paced his chambers in eager anticipation of the night to come. He strode to the arched window to stare out at the courtyard below as he waited for Catherine's arrival. As he gazed down at the reflecting pool and colorful profusion of flowering plants, Lila slipped into his thoughts. Malik thought of his wife with tender devotion. He remembered how much she had loved to sit in the courtyard by the pool, and he remembered, too, how much pain he had suffered when she'd died. He had sworn to never love again. He had taken three other women as wives to satisfy his needs, but had never really felt anything for any of them.

  Now, this Englishwoman had come into his life, and suddenly Malik felt almost as if he'd been asleep and was now awakened. The pleasure of the coming evening stretched before him with tempting delight, and he could hardly wait for Catherine to join him. Tonight would be a night they would long remember.

  "Malik Dey?" Ali, one of his servants, spoke from the doorway interrupting his musings.

  He glanced toward the man.

  "The woman is here," Ali informed him.

  "Then send her to me and begin the serving of the meal."

  Malik stepped away from the window and waited for Catherine to enter. He watched the doorway expectantly, hearing the soft sound of her footfalls as she drew nearer. And then she was there before him . . .

  Malik stared with admiration at the absolute loveliness of her, and he knew he'd been right in his choice. The turquoise color matched her eyes perfectly. She was a priceless gem, a jewel beyond compare. Swathed in the deep, rich blue-green silk with one slender shoulder exposed, the shining glory of her tawny mane flowing about her in a golden cape, Catherine embodied everything a man could ever want. Malik longed to tangle his hands in those pale curls and press hot kisses to her lips, the sweet curve of her throat, and her bared shoulder.

  "Hello, Catherine." He said her name softly, extending a hand toward her.

  From the moment she'd stepped into the room, she'd once again been caught up in the power of Malik's presence. His dark good looks had the power to set her pulses racing.

  "Good evening, Malik," Catherine greeted him breathlessly as she took a tentative step forward.

  At her movement, the aquamarine gown offered him up a tempting display of her barely concealed charms beneath. The thrust of her sweet breasts, the trimness of her waist and the soft swell of her hips all urged him to action, but he controlled himself. The coming hours were going to be special for the both of them, and he would not rush it. He was determined that by the end of the evening, she was going to want him as much as he wanted her.

  "The color is very becoming on you. You look most lovely," Malik told her as she slipped her hand into his.

  The touch of his hand on hers sent a shiver skittering up her spine. "Thank you," she replied, her eyes aglow as she stared up at him.

  "Come . . ." He made a sweeping motion toward the dining area. "The servants will be bringing our meal shortly. Let's sit down . . ."

  Malik led the way to the cushions, drawing Catherine down beside him. They sat close, his arm barely brushing against her, his thigh pressed to hers.

  "I missed you, Catherine," he told her, leaning closer.

  Catherine found his nearness mesmerizing. She almost blurted out that she'd missed him, too, but she managed that much control. The heat of his leg against her burned like a brand, and, innocent that she was, she had no idea what the coiling, aching tightness deep within her meant.

  Malik hesitated, wanting to hear her say that she'd missed him, too, but when she didn't immediately respond, he asked, "Did you miss me?"

  It seemed to Catherine that he had to be reading her thoughts, and high color stained her cheeks as she finally admitted, and then qualified that she had. "Yes . . . I missed our conversation and our chess games."

  Malik was pleased with her answer. It was the first time she'd ever given any indication that she enjoyed their time together. He was hard put not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her right then and there. Instead, he restrained himself admirably, telling himself that there would be plenty of time later for love. Right now, his only goal was to please her.

  The servants appeared and began to serve the meal, ending the intimacy of the moment, and Catherine was glad. She had seen something in his eyes that had set her heart racing, and she needed the reprieve. They spoke of inconsequential things as they dined on the perfectly roasted, savory lamb, drinks of mint tea and coffee, and desserts of honey-dipped pastries and Turkish sherbets, which were drinks of cooling, sweetened fruit juices.

  Even though Catherine was still not accustomed to eating with her fingers, the feast was so marvelous that she consumed her fill, Malik noticed how much she was enjoying the meal, and it pleased him. He found he enjoyed making her happy. The sweet pastry he was eating was delicious, and he offered her a delicate morsel of it. She started to take it from him, but he refused to hand it to her.

  "No . . . Like this," he said in a soft voice, holding the bite to her lips so she could nibble it directly from his fingers.

  Catherine accidentally glanced up at him as she was taking the small bite with her teeth, and the look she saw in his eyes sent heat flushing through her. There was something so intimate in his regard that she dropped her gaze, only to find herself staring at his mouth and wondering suddenly what it would be like to kiss him. Feelings she hadn't known existed were stirring within her, unnerving her. Catherine tried to think of Gerald, but Malik's nearness was so potent on her senses that Gerald seemed only a distant, pale shadow of a man in her thoughts and her heart.

  Malik had seen the dawning of sensual recognition in her gaze before she'd looked away, and he knew a great moment of triumph. Soon she would be his!

  "Catherine . . ."

  Her name was a caress, and her eyes flew up to his as he bent nearer. For a moment, she was absolutely, heart-stoppingly sure that he was going to kiss her, but instead, he gently reached out to brush away a small crumb at the corner of her mouth. An emotion terribly close to disappointment crashed through her, but when she regained her equilibrium she asked herself if she was losing her mind.

  "Oh . . . thank you . . ." She suddenly felt very self-conscious and very foolish. Why would she even imagine he was going to kiss her when he'd been nothing but a gentleman during all their previous visits? Why would she even want him to? But even as she asked herself the last question, she couldn't ignore the truth of it. She had wanted him to kiss her. Nervously, she turned back to her dessert, finishing off her small glass of sherbet.

  It was already growing dark when the last of the dishes were finally cleared away. At Malik's direction, the servants returned with low-burning lamps to bathe the chamber in a soft glow.

  "Did you enjoy the food?" he asked solicitously.

  "Everything was delicious."

  "Good. I have something special planned for tonight."

  "What?"

  He turned to the servants and ordered, "It is time for the dancers. Send them in."

  "Dancers?"

  "I think you will like them. They're very good. Watch," Malik said as he leaned even closer to her and pointed towar
d the doorway.

  A single musician came into the room then, and sitting down across the chamber from them, he began to play a lilting melody on his tambour. Catherine was finding the soft, gentle music of the small, stringed instrument quite pleasing, when suddenly he quickened his rhythm to an almost frenzied beat and two scantily clad female dancers spun into the room in a blaze of brilliant color and movement.

  Catherine had never seen such costumes or dancing before. She watched in fascination as the women moved about the chamber in an exotic dance that required movements of body parts Catherine had never known moved before. Their costumes—what there was of them—were vibrant in color and of the sheerest cloth, but the women's movements were so quick and fluid that they afforded their audience only a teasing glimpse of their ample figures. Gold bangles draped from their wrists and ankles and added a tinkling cadence to their motions. Catherine watched them spellbound, and she was surprised when the music abruptly ended and the women dropped to the floor in supplication before Malik.

  "Do you like my dancers?" Malik asked, already knowing the answer. He'd been watching Catherine through the entire melody and had seen her fascination.

  "They're wonderful," she admitted, smiling brightly.

  It was the first real smile she'd ever given him, and he felt his heart constrict. He knew then that he wanted to make her smile again and again. With a loud clap of his hands, he commanded, "More!"

  The music started up and the dancers leapt to life to perform again for their master, the dey.

  Malik knew he could hold himself in abeyance no longer. With a gentle hand, he reached out to brush one errant blond curl from Catherine's bared shoulder and then settle his hand there possessively.

  Though Malik's earlier caress had set her senses reeling, Catherine had not visibly responded to it. This time, however, there could be no hiding the desire that was throbbing through her. She lifted her gaze to his and once again saw the smoldering look in his eyes that had so quickened her pulse earlier. Catherine told herself that she should go back to her rooms right then and there, but she could no more leave him than she could have stopped breathing. She wanted to know more of this man . . . much more.

  "Tonight, Catherine, you will stay," Malik said simply as his thumb traced a fiery path along her collarbone. His body was aflame with the need to take her. He desperately wanted to lay her down right then and bury himself between her thighs. He wanted to give them both the pleasure he knew could be theirs, but he refrained, turning slowly back to watch the dancers in their sensual gyrations. "They're doing the dance of love, Catherine," Malik whispered huskily in her ear. "I requested it for you."

  The beat of the music became more and more exciting, and the dancers became more and more erotic in their movements. Catherine wanted to look away from their sensual play, but she couldn't. She was caught up in the web of passion they were spinning around her and Malik. Thoughts of Alex's future and safety somehow vanished. She found she could only think of tonight . . . and of Malik.

  Catherine turned to him, and in that moment, she was lost. She had thought Gerald attractive, but that was before she'd met Malik. Just the touch of his hand on her shoulder left her light-headed with delight. A last sane thought flitted through her mind urging her to flee, to free herself from the potency of his intoxicating nearness, but she couldn't. A tension was building within her—a tension that she could put no name to, but one that had to be eased, and eased only by Malik.

  The music came to an end and the dancers and musician slipped away unnoticed. Catherine and Malik were alone in the softly lighted chamber, staring into each other's eyes, unaware of anything but each other.

  Malik did not speak. He did not want to risk breaking the magic. He slowly lowered his head and sought her mouth with his. It was a soft, fleeting kiss, a gentle brush of his lips against hers, and it was meant to invite and encourage.

  Catherine felt that single kiss to the depths of her very soul. She gasped at the feelings that were erupting within her. "I have to go . . ." she protested, but she did not move.

  "I want you, Catherine. Stay with me . . ." His tone was warm and seductive.

  When his mouth sought hers again, this time with flaming passion, Catherine knew she couldn't leave. A whimper escaped her as she felt herself being lowered onto the cushions, but she had no will to resist him. She wanted this! Oh, how she wanted this!

  "You're beautiful, my golden one. More beautiful than any woman I've ever known," Malik told her as he trailed a line of hot kisses from her lips down to her throat and bared shoulder.

  With deft fingers, Malik released the clasp on the gown, and his reward was great as the silk fell away, freeing her breasts to his hungry gaze and touch. His caress was slow and arousing as he cupped each creamy orb and pressed sensuous kisses upon that naked flesh.

  Catherine had never before experienced anything so wildly exciting. Her breath caught in her throat at the first touch of his lips upon her breasts, and she found herself saying his name. "Malik . . . "

  It was what he'd waited all these weeks for . . . to hear her say his name in the throes of her passion, and he rose up over her to kiss her once more.

  Catherine's pleasure had been so intense from his bolder caresses that it was almost a relief to kiss him. She wrapped her arms about him, drawing her near, sighing in welcome as he moved over her. The weight of his body upon hers somehow seemed very right. Her fingers twined in the crisp, thickness of the black hair at the nape of his neck as she met his kiss with equal fervor. Distantly, Almira's haunting words that no woman could resist Malik echoed in her mind, but it didn't seem to matter right now. All that mattered was holding Malik close and kissing him and knowing him . . .

  Malik was enraptured. Her response was everything he'd hoped it would be. He continued to kiss her as he slipped the turquoise silk completely from her body, giving him unrestricted freedom to love her.

  Catherine was being swept up in a maelstrom of excitement as Malik's hands caressed every inch of her. His touch filled her with ecstasy, and instinctively she began to move against him, wanting him, needing him. When he drew back and moved slightly away from her, she was confused.

  "Malik?" She opened her eyes to see him shedding his tunic and casting the garment aside. His chest was magnificent, broad and sculpted with hard muscle, and she knew a great desire to run her hands over the powerful expanse of flesh.

  Half undressed, he paused to stare down at her. She looked the lioness as she lay there, all sleek and golden, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. Catherine lifted her aquamarine gaze to his face and saw a tenderness there that touched her very heart. Without conscious thought, she reached for him and drew him down to her for a passionate kiss.

  In that simple action, Malik knew complete and utter triumph. With practiced expertise, he began to kiss and caress her, wanting to bring her the most powerful bliss he could.

  Catherine had never known such a sensual assault. Suddenly, her world narrowed to only the two of them. Nothing else existed or mattered except Malik. He was giving her such exquisite pleasure with his lips and hands that she couldn't think, let alone reason. At a great distance she heard him talking to her, and she had to force herself to listen to his words.

  "Do you still want to go, Catherine?" Malik was asking in a hoarse rasp.

  She realized he was giving her a chance to leave, but her body was clamoring for some secret release that only he seemed capable of giving her. She tried to kiss him again, wanting to silence his troubling question, but that wasn't good enough for Malik. He gripped her chin in a gentle but firm hold and forced her to look at him.

  "Answer me, woman!" he demanded in a soft but fierce voice. "Do you still want to leave me?" It would have killed him to allow her to go, but he would have done it. He did not want to take anything from her that she wasn't freely giving.

  Catherine was in the throes of passion. She had no choice. She wanted Malik . . . desperately. "No . .
."

  Her answer was all he needed. With the most tender of caresses, Malik took her the rest of the way to the peak of excitement and gave her that blessed ecstasy. He felt her writhe beneath him as she attained the heights of her sensual glory. Holding her close, he shed his trousers and then moved between her thighs to claim her once and for all as his and his alone.

  Malik was careful, and his care proved him right. She was an innocent, and he moved gently as he breached that proof. He felt her tense as he met with the initial resistance, but kissed her wantonly until thoughts of the momentary pain faded into the oblivion of fulfillment. They joined.

  Malik had never known splendor so sweet. Once he'd entered her, he could no longer control the rapturous delight that drove him. With an eager rhythm, he sought the depths of her womanhood until in a burst of shining splendor he reached his own pinnacle of desire. Clasping her to his chest, he relaxed on top of her.

  Caught up in the wonder of the moment, Catherine held Malik close, and in a woman's instinctive way, she understood that he had just shared in the same glory she had. It gave her a feeling of power and satisfaction to know that she could please him. Contented, she rested in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

  Soon, as the bliss of passion faded, reality intruded on Catherine's peace. She lay unmoving, her body still joined with Malik's, wondering in misery what she had done. She had given her most precious gift—her virginity—to Malik, a man she barely knew . . . a man who intended to use her and then claim a ransom for her.

  For an instant, Catherine tried to hate him, but she was too honest for that. She had no one to blame but herself. He hadn't forced her or coerced her. He had even given her the choice of leaving. He had been fair, just as she knew him to be. He had also been devastatingly exciting, stirring feelings within her that she hadn't known herself capable of and making her want him to the point that nothing else mattered.