Master of the Desert (6 page)

Saif continued to stare down at her with faint amusement. He refused to be hurried, and so she thrust her breasts towards him in deliberate provocation.

He chose the time, and when he dipped his head to suckle she was nearly delirious with relief. Now the zip on her shorts was undone. She wriggled frantically to be free of them, desperate to be naked against him. And now the smallest scrap of lace divided them. He ripped it off.

‘If you stop now…’ she warned him.

‘Yes?’ he said mildly.

‘I’ll never forgive you.’

Saif’s cynical expression was fuel to her fire. ‘Don’t you dare stop now,’ she warned him.

He murmured something provocative in his own language, but then he stilled and, cupping her face in his strong, warm hands, he kissed her so tenderly she felt tears spring to her eyes. ‘This is more than sex for you, isn’t it?’ she said with wonder when he released her.

She wanted to hear Saif say he cared, Antonia realised, feeling a pain in her heart when he remained silent. ‘Please say something,’ she begged him.

‘What’s left to say?’ he murmured, nudging one hard thigh between her legs.

H
E
HAD never met a woman like her. It even occurred to him that he might have met his match. She begged him, ordered him, demanded that he pleasure her, whilst all the time pummelling him when she wasn’t scraping her small white teeth against his flesh for emphasis.

‘Easy, tiger-woman,’ he murmured, taking hold of her. ‘This isn’t a battleground—we’re making love.’

Love?

This was sex, pure and simple, something they both wanted and needed, something that could only happen on a night like this—a night detached from reality, a night when they were both free to throw caution to the wind.

Antonia, meanwhile, was lost to reason. ‘Oh, yes,’ she gasped as Saif’s lean fingers delicately parted her swollen lips. She was on the highest plateau of sensation and greedy for more. ‘Please touch me there.’ She should be shrinking from this man she hardly knew, not using him for pleasure. But Saif had opened a door and she had walked through, and now he was exposing her to his gaze in a way she could
never have imagined feeling easy with—but she did. She’d had torrid thoughts for as long as she could remember, but had never put those thoughts into action. Now all she could say was, ‘Please…Please…’ when what she really meant was,
oh, yes, that’s right…
and,
oh, yes, thank you…thank you…

Easing her legs over his shoulders, Saif dipped his head to touch her with the tip of his tongue. She shuddered with delight, wondering how she was supposed to hold on—and then he increased the pressure. Was this a test? She had never wanted to fail a test quite so badly. Then he tasted her, and in that moment, that string of moments, she knew she had found the exquisite high point of her life. Saif had taken her to a realm she hadn’t even known existed where he could order her pleasure with the skill of a maestro.

Governed entirely by raging hunger, she reached her goal and dissolved into a starburst of pleasure, her shuddering screams slicing through the sultry night. But it wasn’t enough. Rather than slaking her hunger, Saif had woken a slumbering tiger, and now all she could think about was having him deep inside her so she could claim him for her own.

Losing control with Saif had laid her bare, Antonia realised when she quietened. He might not have taken her fully yet, but she had given him something that could never be recaptured—her trust. Saif had taken a girl and made her a woman, and now there could be no turning back.

Forgetfulness was one of the most valuable commodities for men who could afford anything, and, briefly, Tuesday would provide that. She was resting, but not for long, he suspected. He anticipated a long and deeply satisfying night, but for now he was content to let Tuesday set the
pace, especially with the news from the palace still nagging at the back of his mind. Why, with so many rooms to survey and create inventories for, had they rung him tonight of all nights with the news that the treasure room of his father’s concubine had been uncovered?

It certainly killed off Tuesday’s romantic notion of some rosy destiny for them. Did he need a reminder of the rapaciousness of women? Did he need a reminder of that other woman on a night like this?

He should forget the past, shut it out of his mind, but when he stared at Tuesday he thought he understood his father’s weakness perhaps for the first time. He understood, but could not excuse it. He was a very different man from his father, and had not pledged himself to a country and its people to be distracted by anyone. His father might have squandered his reputation, but,
ma sha’a allah
, there wasn’t the remotest possibility that Ra’id al Maktabi would do the same.

‘What are you doing?’ he demanded as Tuesday, having stretched languorously, came to kneel before him. He wanted her, but not like this—not like a king with his mistress on her knees in front of him, waiting to serve.

‘I wanted to repay you,’ she said innocently.

He frowned. ‘Explain…’

‘The pleasure? I would have thought you knew,’ she said, blushing.

He knew that she had never looked more beautiful, but the sight of her naked and proud and on her knees in front of him made his head pound. In that one innocent and provocative gesture, Tuesday had thrown him back into a world where sycophants knelt and equals stood at his side.

Springing up, he brought her in front of him. Embracing her, he kissed her hungrily, and by the time he released her she had forgotten the moment that could have gone so badly wrong for her. He knew then that she had been right to say this was more than a sexual encounter, but he would never admit it, because he had nothing to offer her.

But this was…sweet.

Holding Tuesday safe against his chest, he rested his face on her tangled hair and savoured the uncomplicated moment. This could be as straightforward as he wanted it to be, he reasoned. Taking hold of her hand, he kissed her palm, and, closing his eyes, he inhaled her innocent scent, as if the magic of the desert could make everything right.

Saif’s touch made her arch against him. Hot flesh on hot flesh inflamed her past reason. ‘Pleasure me,’ she demanded, drunk on sensation, rubbing herself against him. She was completely lost in the fantasy of the desert and the dark stranger she had always known she would find there. She trembled uncontrollably as the hardness of Saif’s muscle bore into her soft flesh, and she was impatient for him to move lower so he could satisfy her needs. ‘Oh, please,’ she begged him, bucking helplessly beneath his touch. ‘I can’t wait any longer.’

‘You must wait,’ he told her in a stern voice.

‘I can’t—’ Her voice wavered.

‘Tuesday,’ he instructed sharply. ‘You will wait.’

She held his gaze, and then he smiled at her as if he was pleased with her. She found his voice hypnotic and seductive, while his eyes carried the promise of pleasure and the certainty of danger. She exhaled shakily as he pressed her down into the cushions, and he held her there with little
more than a compelling stare. She moaned in complaint when he held himself aloof, while all she could do was writhe helplessly in time to the insistent beat between her legs. ‘I need…’

‘I know what you need,’ Saif assured her, taking fierce possession of her mouth.

Sensation surged through her. She pressed against him, feeling stronger than she had ever felt. Saif’s desire empowered her, just as his planned delays infuriated her. Striking his back in frustration, she wondered how long she was supposed to wait. Her body was ready; he knew this and still he tormented her. But, as he kissed her, something happened. He kissed away the image of an experienced man and a much younger girl and replaced it with two lovers of equal standing, so that now there was only a man and a woman, and a desert moon shining over them like a beacon in the watchful sky.

He had awoken a whirlwind. He would never have believed it of the girl, though he should have known from the moment she boarded his boat that she was wilful, strong, and courageous in all areas—and that their first encounter had only hinted at the fires beneath. When it came to sex, she had stated her needs in the bluntest of language, and appeared utterly without self-consciousness. She had even tried to take hold of him, and, finding her tiny hand would barely encompass half of him, she had exclaimed with impatience and angled herself hungrily—and this before the last of the exquisite tremors had had a chance to subside after her first bout of pleasure at his hands.

Cupping her chin, he made her look at him so he could
be sure she knew what she was doing. Her eyes were still misty with desire and with passion, just as he had imagined them, but there was purpose there too. She had discovered physical love and was elemental in her need. Suddenly struck by a spear of jealousy, he demanded,

‘Would you do this with any other man?’

‘Are you mad?’ she demanded fiercely. ‘There could only ever be you.’

For her sake, he hoped that wasn’t true.

A cry of triumph escaped Antonia’s throat as Saif moved over her. This time he would take her. This time he would make her his. She had waited for this all her life, Antonia realised—this man, this moment. Whether Saif would admit it or not, he was part of her life now.

For a single night.

Could one night last a lifetime? It might have to, she accepted, seizing hold of his buttocks with fingers turned to steel. She drew her knees up and, with all the power of her sex, she urged him on.

Saif plundered her mouth while she sucked greedily on his tongue. He tasted ocean-fresh, pure, clean and strong, and with that all the spices of the east combined to seduce her senses. Every part of her was pressed against him and every part of her was keenly aware of him. That lovemaking came naturally to her was a revelation, and, feeling as safe as she did with Saif, made it perfect. She felt truly free for the first time in her life; free to be herself. There was only one jarring chord, which was the certainty that this level of harmony could only exist with one man.

He sank into hot, moist velvet. He was so much bigger than she was, he had intended to take it slowly, but she
claimed him greedily, using her strong, young muscles to draw him in. He brushed her mouth and tasted her shock at this new sensation, and tasted her approval moments later. Withdrawing slowly, he plunged deeper still, while she sobbed her pleasure against his chest. ‘More? You want more?’ he prompted.

Her fingers closed around his buttocks. ‘I want it all,’ she assured him huskily.

Holding her wrists in a loose grip above her head, resting on the cushions, he made sure that was exactly what she got.

They made love all night and only drifted off to sleep in the quiet hours before dawn. She woke in time to see the waters of the Gulf glistening like a glass plate, with lilac fingers of light the only decoration. The waves were still, and seemed as content as she was, lying snug in Saif’s arms to wait for the start of a new day.

But she wasn’t content, because today everything must change, Antonia remembered. Today Saif might ask her name again and she must lie to him. She trusted him to take her back to the mainland, but when they arrived they would go their separate ways. Last night wasn’t real, last night was a fantasy. They didn’t know each other’s names, jobs, lives, or even where they were from; they had no future, and there would be no togetherness ever again. The pain she felt at the thought of it was acute, the irony unbearable. If this was normal life, they wouldn’t be facing the end, but the beginning; a beginning that might even lead to love. But as it was…

She could so easily fall in love with Saif, Antonia acknowledged, taking care not to wake him as she stirred, but loving each other wasn’t an option for them. She still had
a job to do—a job she was determined to finish, and to finish well. She couldn’t settle for giving up now and going home. If anything, meeting Saif had only inspired her to do more, to achieve more.

‘You’re awake,’ he said, shifting his powerful frame in lazy contentment.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ Or to do anything to hasten the day, Antonia thought wistfully.

‘I want to be disturbed,’ Saif assured her, drawing her close.

She shivered with desire at his touch and didn’t have the heart to bring what must end soon to an abrupt finish now. ‘You’re dressed?’ she said, tracing the lines of the top he must have tugged on some time during the night. He was wearing shorts too, she noticed.

‘I had to go and check on the progress of the search,’ he reminded her.

‘Of course.’ She relaxed. But even as they entered into this most normal of conversations she knew the spell was broken. The look in Saif’s eyes had changed. He was already thinking about bringing the pirates to justice, which required a speedy return to the mainland.

He confirmed it, springing up and shrugging his massive shoulders. ‘No time to waste,’ he said, staring out to sea as if to assess the weather. ‘Things look good.’

She had been expecting this, Antonia told herself firmly, but it didn’t make the pain go away. It hurt to know the magic had vanished, only to be replaced by the cold chill of unease—something she must shake off when she had promised to help Saif in every way she could. ‘I’ll go below to freshen up and dress.’

She wondered if he even heard her as he began the process of preparing the yacht to sail.

Saif sailed with the total mastery with which he did everything else, and it would have been a pleasure watching him at the helm had Antonia not been dogged by the same dragging sense of dread. Of course things could never be the same again between them; she knew that. And of course she accepted the fact that everything must change when they reached the mainland. But the cloud hanging over her refused to budge. It was as if the same fate that had engineered their meeting now decreed that she must suffer for it.

She had been tested quite a few times on this trip and come through, she reasoned in an attempt to reassure herself.

But who knew if she could do it again?

Antonia looked at Saif, who obviously didn’t share her concern. If anything, he seemed to have gained new purpose. It was as if with every nautical mile they travelled he was slowly changing back into the man he must really be.

They shared the rhythm of the sea beneath their feet and little else now, Antonia reflected. He didn’t need her help to sail the yacht, he’d told her, and so she was consigned to the role of passenger, a chance acquaintance who was being given a lift to port on a fabulous racing-yacht. ‘Is that Sinnebar?’ she said excitedly, catching sight of a coastline. She already knew it was. What she’d really wanted when she asked the question was for Saif to connect with her one last time.

‘Yes,’ he said briefly, but his focus was all on the coast.

They had sailed past the lighthouse guarding the entrance
to the harbour before Saif spoke to her again. ‘You’ll have to get changed,’ he said. ‘And clean yourself up.’

In a phrase, Saif had turned her back into a much younger girl who needed his direction. ‘You can use the hose to get rid of the salt,’ he went on. ‘And you’ll find some robes under the bunk below. They’ll be too big for you,’ he added as he swung the wheel hard to line the giant yacht up with its berth, ‘But you can’t disembark in Sinnebar dressed like that.’