Her Royal Protector (a Johari Crown Novel) (Entangled Indulgence) (14 page)

Aly blinked in horrified dismay. “That’s sheer evil,” she whispered. Arif nodded. “Does anyone know anything for certain?”

“Like you, I cannot be certain even that sabotage is happening, let alone who might be behind it. But there might even be someone among my own people. They know, or should know, what importance I place on the sea turtle’s survival, and yet your grant application was cut to the bare minimum without any reference to me. But even with so few resources, Aly, I have hopes that your scientific expertise will make some discoveries during this trip.”

“Oh, I hope so too.” A world of troubles had been lifted from her shoulders within the space of an hour. She had always wanted to trust him, and now it felt so right. Aly sank back into the sofa cushions with a sigh that came from her toes. Tension she didn’t know she had was just floating away.

Silence had fallen over the port, the soft lighting enclosed them in their own world, and the night was close and comforting,

“Thank you, it’s been the most wonderful relief to get that off my chest.”

And suddenly she had no more defenses against her feelings. Hunger ached in her stomach, a desperate need for Arif’s touch, for his smile, for him to want her the way she wanted him.

In the backwash shame rose up, acid in her chest, fire in her face. What if he saw it in her eyes? How awful to be gently rejected, or even worse, to be offered his sexual generosity. He could probably smell her utter inexperience, men like him knew things like that, didn’t they? She was sending out who knew what signals, and he would surely pick up on them.

Aly set her glass down with a bang and sat up. “It must be two a.m.” she cried. “I’ve got to be up in a couple of hours.”

His eyes were shadowed, dark, with an expression in them she had never seen in a man’s eyes. It electrified her, even though it couldn’t mean what it seemed to mean. She wanted to stand up, but now she was moving through honey. Everything slowed, and the night was heavy on her flesh.

Arif’s dark, strong hand reached out and enclosed her wrist, and Aly went still with shock. With yearning.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he said in that cat-fur voice. He was going to do it. He was going to take her to bed as an act of charity. He was even going to pretend he found her desirable. Oh God, how appalling!

She jumped to her feet, and almost tripped over the coffee table. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Aly?” he murmured, and he was there, he was close, nothing but silk covering that gorgeous body, nothing but a cotton shirt between her and humiliation. If he got any closer her mouth would melt and then she wouldn’t be able to say a word to stop him.

Aly swallowed and clenched her teeth and hands, struggling for sanity. “Oh, yes, I think so,” she said. “Don’t you worry about me, Arif, I’ll get along.”

She turned and took a step towards her cabin, but his hand was on her arm now, just that, just a touch, but it didn’t take more than that for her to know how much of a fool she could make of herself right now. Delicious ripples were running from under his hand to her breasts, stomach, thighs, to every square inch of skin, to every pore. Nothing had ever been like this. Her body was alive, a flame of sensation wrapping her, melting her.

“Aly?” he said softly, and she should say no, she must say no, but she had to keep her mouth closed tight against the moan of pleasure and pleading that was in her throat, because that would give her away.

“Aly.” Her name was rough and silky in his mouth, and she felt it like his tongue between her thighs. Her knees buckled and she stumbled, and his arms went around her, her body tight against his. The shock of his hand was in her hair, and he drew her head back and looked down into her eyes. For one electric moment blue fire burned into her. Then he bent and his mouth clamped hers with reckless, wild hunger, his tongue driving into the soft cavity of hers over and over, and each stroke exploded like a burst of gunpowder in her blood. Aly’s mouth opened wider and wider under the onslaught, and deep in her abdomen heat coiled and curled and rose up.

His erection pressed into her stomach, hard and hungry, till he reached one hand under her butt and lifted her off the floor to fit against him. Instinctively her legs wrapped around his hips, and now her thighs were spread wide over the hard flesh that pulsed and urged its way into her body even through the layers of clothing. A sea of liquid sensation flooded out from her center to drown muscle and bone and nerves with delight.

Her arms were tight around his neck, her fingers curling into the thick black hair that clung like sweet silk around her fingertips. His kiss pushed deeper and deeper, his tongue drew hers into a sensuous dance and her brain reeled. Then his mouth lifted and she moaned her loss.

“Aly, look at me,” he whispered, and drunkenly she opened her eyes and stared into scorching blue flame.

“Aly?” he asked. Somewhere a long way away a voice cried that this way led to disaster.

She opened her mouth, but all she could whisper was his name.

Chapter Fourteen

Aly lay in the curve of his arm, her head swimming, her body gently rocking, but whether it was the movement of the boat in the water, or her own blood returning to stillness, she couldn’t tell. Her body cleaved to his in gratitude—for the pleasure, for the sense of connection, for…the freedom. They hadn’t slept at all, but soon she would have to get up.

She stretched luxuriously and felt sweetness in every muscle. He had been fierce and gentle all at once, and he had made her body into a mine of pleasure. Nothing could be further from the blighted experience she had had once before.

If she’d had the strength to choose, she’d have turned away from it, which just went to show what a fool she could be. What did it matter if on his side it was charity? There were lots of different forms of charity. She worked for a charity—why should she turn away from receiving it? And what did it matter if it was a one-off for him and she never experienced such bone-deep joy again? She’d entered a different world, and now she had been there, she wouldn’t have traded the knowledge of it for any amount of ignorant bliss.

Arif was so experienced, so capable, so passionate, and so generous, that she hadn’t even had time to be nervous about her own awkward inexperience. Passion had shown her the way. If he never looked at her again, she was still richer than she had been yesterday. And if the miracle happened and he gave her more such loving over the next few weeks—well, she was richer than her father had ever been.

“You were a virgin?” Arif murmured above her head.

Her skin shivered along a path from shoulder to hip—it was his hand tracing sparks in her flesh. She knew that his touch would always move her, but now wasn’t the time to worry about the future. She must live in this moment or lose it forever.

“Well…almost.”

His smile rippled down to where her cheek rested against his chest. “How is a woman
almost
a virgin?”

“I had a boyfriend, and we made love…once. Or at least—he tried. But he came as soon as he was inside. It was over in ten seconds. I call that almost.”

“This kind of thing happens. Do you mean that he was afraid to try again? Or did you
—”

“No. Julian was embarrassed, but the thing that killed it was timing. My father was exposed as a fraud just a couple of days later and it all came down with staggering speed. We never spoke again.”

The pale light of dawn was now shadowing the room. His chest was damp under her hand, and muscled and hard. She stroked down to his stomach and saw the muscles contract, heard his intake of breath. Her heart kicked. He caught her hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed the palm.

“A little more recovery time, please,” he said. “Julian dropped you?”

“He texted to say he…I can’t remember exactly what he said, but I knew anyway. His father had lost a huge amount of money, along with all my father’s other friends. Of course it was over between us. I knew it would be.”

“But that must have been years ago. Did that experience have such a profound influence on you? Why has no man succeeded with you since?”

A little burst of laughter gurgled in her throat. “No man has tried. Once my father lost everything there wasn’t the draw of money anymore. Even Julian—or maybe his father—had only thought of me because of my father’s money.”

“What? Why do you tell yourself such stories?”

“Look, I’m under no illusions. I think Julian could hardly bring himself to make love to me. He’d been ordered to take me out by his father. That’s why it happened the way it did.”

Arif let out a puff of incredulous laughter and her head rocked with his chest. “There are several possible reasons why a man suffers premature ejaculation with a woman. One of the least likely is that he doesn’t find her attractive. He may be inexperienced, or overexcited—or he may find her too attractive, love her so much that he fears he will be inadequate. And then, of course, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Count Julian out of that one,” Aly said.

“And the question isn’t Julian’s state of mind, but your own.”

Aly frowned and lifted her head. “It’s dawn already. Why hasn’t the muezzin called?”

Arif laughed. “Because this is a resort for wealthy foreigners, and they do not like to be awakened so early.”

She leapt up. “I’ve got to get out onto the beach.”

She groped on the floor for her nightshirt as Arif asked lazily, “Can’t the turtles wait for half an hour?”

For a moment she gazed down at his body, damp and glowing in the lamplight, relaxed and perfect, a god who had fallen to earth from the sea. Her heart filled to bursting with the sight, with the memory of sheer physical joy in her muscles and blood. Half an hour more of bliss beckoned. She shook the temptation away.

“A beach as busy as this one is the last place that can wait. I’ve got to get out there.”

“Ah, that is too bad,” Arif said, tossing aside the sheet and flinging his long, strong body upright. Aly watched him, hypnotized. “I had plans for you. But when duty calls…”

“
You
don’t have to come, you know,” she said. Then she tore her eyes away and dashed into her own cabin. Only when she was under the shower did it occur to her that she had forgotten to be anxious about her own body in
his
eyes the morning after.

…

The bay was beautiful in the early light, the sea dancing and shining, the sun kissing treetops with gold and sparking off the masts of the moored boats. The air was as fresh and clean as the world’s first day. Except for a little dog who seemed inclined to keep them company, they had the beach to themselves. They were walking together, because in the crowded port it was not practicable for the dinghy to accompany her. They walked sometimes side by side, sometimes a few yards apart, depending on the beach architecture, but always she felt his presence, always her body inclined to him in pure physical gratitude.

She had never been so wide awake, so alive. A southerly wind was blowing, and Aly lifted her face to it, savoring this moment of perfection. Arif was the first man she had ever been able to trust so completely, and she threw her heart into the wind, and was free. Tomorrow was tomorrow, but today he was hers and she would remember him and this moment forever. If she never had it again all the rest of her life, this moment was enough.

It was Arif who found the first traces of a nest, and they mounted a cage over it, with a sign in three languages warning people not to mess with it. Then Aly pulled two small bundles of wooden stakes out of the backpack and handed him one of them. She marked out the back of the nest with a stake, then pushed Arif into position on one side of it.

“Pace me,” she instructed, and then, the little dog following, the two of them walked a straight line down to the sea, a meter apart, planting stakes, till they got to the water’s edge. Then Aly unhooked the roll of raffia fencing from beneath her backpack, and ran it all the way from the water, up around the nest and down the other side to the water again.

“I have been wondering what this was for. What is the purpose of it?” Arif inquired, as he helped her to fix the half-meter-high fencing to the stakes. His hands soon learned the knack of the ties. In the same way he had learned the knack of her body, and with one glance at those expert fingers at work her body remembered the pleasure they had given her and softened to prepare for more. Aly forced her eyes away.

“It protects the hatchlings from the lights of the resort. At night those lights up there will be brighter than the stars on the sea, so the hatchlings will go in the wrong direction and die of dehydration in the morning, or be picked off by gulls, when they don’t find the sea. You remember.”

“And what about the potential for sabotage?”

“We have to protect against the bigger risk. Richard and Ellen and I agreed that on the populated islands sabotage may be deemed too risky, anyway. But if we’re wrong about that, the hatchlings are doomed anyway, unless we do this.”

She spoke in her scientist’s voice, she was nervous with her own softening towards him. As they packed up their tools and he lifted the backpack again, she heaved a deep breath. Better say it now, even though there was nothing more magical than walking with Arif in the golden light of dawn and dreaming.

“Arif, I just want to say—thank you for last night. I’m…so grateful. And I want you to know that I have no expectations. If it stops here, I do understand.”

“What do you understand?” he asked, after a short silence.

Why couldn’t he just take it for what it was? Aly heaved a sigh. “I’m under no illusions, Arif. I know I didn’t suddenly turn into a desirable woman last night, after a lifetime of…” She faded off.

“No, you didn’t suddenly turn into a desirable woman last night,” he said, and in spite of herself, in spite of what she knew, her heart contracted. “What is it, Aly, that has convinced you you have no beauty? Most women overrate their looks. Why do you not even give yourself the benefit of the doubt?”

“Because there
is
no doubt. Don’t worry about me, Arif. I am the younger sister of a very beautiful girl whom my father admired and was tremendously proud of. He never let me daydream, the facts were always right there before me.”

“What facts?” he demanded doggedly.

She turned to look at him, the better to show him her face, and gave him a matter-of-fact smile.

“Look, Arif, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know exactly what I am. Plain but bright. My father even apologized to me for losing his grip on things before he’d managed to bring Julian up to scratch. He’d wanted to get me a husband before it all came adrift.”

“You are not plain. You are delicate and engaging, you are a
peri
. Suha herself told you so. Did you not hear her?”

“I heard her. I wasn’t sure why she was saying it.”

“Why? Because it is true. Why do you imagine otherwise?”

“I do have a mirror.”

“No, you do not have a mirror.” He stopped and turned her to face him, lifted a hand and stroked her cheek. Her heart kicked and her blood rushed to his touch. “Something else you have. The false mirror your father gave you. Aly—your father is a villain, you told me. He is notorious for what he has done. He must have lied and lied to friends, family, and clients. You called him even psychopathic. Yes?”

She didn’t want to be talking about her father, killing the magic, and she was sorry she had started this. She turned away to start walking again, and found her consolation in scanning the sand for nests. The little dog, picking up on her unhappiness, licked her foot consolingly. “Yes, that’s all true.”

“Do you think he ever told the truth about anything?”

She shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Then why do you believe what he has told you about yourself?”

The two conflicting ideas collided in her head with a jolt like lightning. Aly gasped, choked, blinked, and stopped dead. She turned and stared up at him.

“What?” she whispered, her throat so tight she could hardly get it out.

“Why do you believe your father’s estimate of your beauty? Why do you think that in this one area Trojan Percy was telling the truth?”

As a child she’d been kicked once by a pony, right in the chest. And that was happening again now—a sharp, hard blow between her breasts that knocked all the breath out of her body and made her heart race like a stick on bicycle spokes.

“Did your father love you? Was he capable of love?”

She turned her head and her eyes fixed on the curve of green hillside in the distance, staring till it faded and disappeared, leaving her gazing into the past.

“No,” she said slowly. “No, he never loved me. I always knew he didn’t. He would say secretly vicious things that my mother thought were ‘his kind of loving,’ but I knew it was malice. Whenever he looked at me like that, I knew. I was always amazed that no one else saw it.”

“And yet you believed what he said about you?”

Her mind was lying on its back like a windblown insect, legs waving in the air as it tried helplessly to find its feet again.

“But Viola is so beautiful. She really—you know, she got everything, breasts, legs, hair and face. Even her laugh. Trojan always said how unfair it was on me. He loved taking her around, he was so proud of her. It didn’t take me long to realize that I’d never blossom like Viola. Finally he said he’d arrange cosmetic surgery for me, but the surgeon he consulted said I hadn’t stopped growing and he wouldn’t think of doing anything for a couple of years. And by that time, it was all over. And it turned out I
had
stopped growing after all. This was it. But it was too late then.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek and she couldn’t resist the comfort that went from his palm straight to her blood.

“May that surgeon be forever blessed,” he said.

…

They doubled back along the beach, stopping for coffee in an outdoor cafe set on a small promontory over the sea.

Arif was still trying to make sense of all he had learned. What kind of father destroys a child in such a way? She had described to him a constant sniping, a perpetual erosion of her feminine self-confidence that was as morally twisted as if the man had cut her tendons. His right hand balled into a fist whenever he thought of it. Evil enough if a child was actually plain. To destroy a daughter’s confidence in such endearing beauty…well, he would like to meet Trojan Percy one day, out in the desert where they could be alone, and teach him a father’s duty.