Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride (21 page)

‘Let us hope that I don't prove to be Catastrophic Constance,' she said, ‘the captain's capsizing crew member. Now, let us set sail before my courage fails me.'

* * *

She need not have worried. Kadar was an expert sailor and an excellent tutor. From the moment they sailed out of the harbour and the breeze filled the lateen sail, he entrusted her with the tiller, assuring her that the boat was almost impossible to capsize. For the first half hour, she felt as if she were doing her best to prove him wrong as she guided them flawlessly at precisely the wrong angle into every oncoming wave, tipping dangerously into the swell as they reached deeper waters, and at one point sending a wave crashing right over them both, drenching them in spray.

‘Kadar,' she shrieked, terrified and exhilarated, her hair dripping wet, her hand slippery on the smooth wood of the tiller. ‘Please take over, I have no aptitude for this.'

But he shook his head, continuing to sit with apparent confidence by her side, tending sporadically to the sail. ‘How will you develop aptitude without practice?' he asked her.

His hair too was dripping. His thigh was pressing against hers. His tunic clung to his chest. His smile made her heart turn somersaults. The sail whipped in the breeze, and the waves crested around the slim hull, which rose and fell with a soft smack on the swell, as Constance finally began to steer with more confidence. Spray stung her cheeks. Her ribbon long lost, her hair flew around her, thick with salt and doubtless tangled beyond redemption. The dhow scudded over a larger wave, lifting her from her seat and dropping her back down with a thump.

‘I feel as if I am flying,' she exclaimed, laughing with the sheer exhilaration of it. ‘This is truly wonderful.'

Kadar, laughing with her, wiped the spray from her face. ‘You certainly seem to have lost any remaining fears you had of the sea.'

‘Oh, I don't fool myself into thinking that I would be able to swim far in this swell, but I know enough now to keep myself afloat, thanks to you.' Constance lifted one of her hands briefly from the tiller to touch Kadar's knee. ‘You did that. I was shipwrecked, cast adrift in this beautiful, strange, exotic land, and I have not only survived, I'll never be the same. Thanks to you, I am a new, stronger Constance.'

‘Confident Constance,' he said. ‘No longer afraid of anything.'

Save leaving you.
‘Save capsizing this dhow,' she said, hastily replacing her hand on the tiller as a cross-wind caught the sail, the struggle to regain control banishing this melancholy thought. Confident Constance, Kadar had said, and there had been a touch of pride in his voice that made her determined to live up to his expectations.

‘Yesterday,' she said, ‘you told me that you regretted the years which separated you and your brother. It made me think of how much I regretted the years in which I allowed my parents to deprive me of my grandfather's company, but it also made me realise—oh, I have wasted so much time nurturing resentment, in railing at my father's failings and my mother's blind loyalty. I wasn't exactly unhappy, but I could have been so much happier. Being here, thanks to the freedom you have given me, I see that I don't need to accept the hand fate has dealt me. Like you, I can take charge of my own destiny. Like you, I am done with the past. I want to be Courageous Constance. I don't want to let you down, Kadar.'

‘It is not possible. You have only to be yourself in order to succeed.'

If she chose to, she could read tenderness in his expression as well as admiration. How much she wanted to. ‘Well, then I will succeed,' Constance said, hoping that the tears which spilled over onto her cheeks would be mistaken for sea spray. ‘I am determined to be myself. Free, under any circumstances. I know it's not going to be easy, because my circumstances can't be anything other than constrained, but they will be my choice, those constraints, and that is what matters.'

‘I have no doubt that you will succeed in whatever you do,' Kadar said, kissing her cheek, ‘but you know that I can help you, remove some of those constraints.'

That look again. It was
not
tenderness. ‘No,' she said, determinedly focusing on the sea ahead. ‘Please,' she added, when he would have protested. ‘This is our hiatus. Let us have no more talk of the past or the future.'

He nodded, though reluctantly, and another whip of cross-winds forced him to turn his attention to the sail. Her future would be hers alone, without Kadar. Her choice. She loved him, and she could choose to make a slave of herself to that love, but she would not. Another thing she had learned here. Such a marriage would indeed be a prison, unless he loved her back—then their marriage would be without bars. But he did not love her. Her time here had always been an interlude for both of them, and that interlude was coming to an end.

But it was not over yet. When Kadar returned to her side, slipping his arm around her waist, she nestled closer. ‘Thank you,' she said. ‘For today. Now I really can sail away to the ends of the earth without fear, if I choose.'

He pressed a swift kiss to her lips. ‘Never mind the ends of the earth. Do you think you're ready to steer us onto landfall?'

He gave her no chance to decline, placing his other hand on top of hers on the tiller. At first she thought they were headed for the huge grey outcrop of rock that rose rather like a loaf of bread from the sea, but as they sailed towards it, she could see a cluster of smaller islands sheltering in the lea of the larger one. Some were simply huge crags, others were smaller, no more than a sandy shore and a clump of rock, forming a chain around a larger, central island.

‘That is where we will land,' Kadar said, his hand now firmly guiding hers through the narrow channel, where the water turned from azure to turquoise, clear enough and shallow enough for her to see the bottom. ‘Hold her steady,' he said, ‘and aim for that gap in the rock there.'

She did as he bid while he tended to the sail, returning to help her steer just as the inlet loomed up with frightening speed. A natural harbour, it seemed to be, with the rock forming a jetty, against which the dhow came to rest. Kadar jumped lithely out, quickly securing the vessel, leaning down to help her ashore. Constance staggered, her sea legs turning to jelly on the land. He took her by the hand, leading her up a rough-hewn set of steps. ‘What is this place?' she asked in wonder.

‘It's known as Koros.'

Behind her, on the other side of the harbour, scrub grew out of the rocks. At the top of the steps they came to a wall constructed of white stone, and Kadar ushered her through a doorway, at which point Constance stopped in her tracks, speechless with wonder. The wide flat space looked to be an ancient marketplace or forum. The remains of the tall pillars which would have formed the arcade stood in two lines, some as tall as twenty feet, some a mere three or four, the height of a single stone block. Remnants of the pillars lay on the ground, along with other long, flat stones which must have formed other parts of the building. The forum stood open on three sides to the sea, but it was built up on one side, a steeply angled wall with a set of stairs leading to another, higher and narrower terrace.

It was here that the tent was pitched in the shelter of a group of palm trees, looking outrageously exotic. Scarlet trimmed with gold tassels, it was enclosed on three sides, the front open to face out to the sea. Constance clasped her hands together, quite overcome with delight as she stepped inside. The tent was lined with silk, the floor covered with rich rugs, scattered with heaps of plush velvet cushions. Lamps were hanging from the ceiling in readiness for the night, and a wide, low divan stacked with blankets, also in readiness. She shivered in anticipation, wondering what other delights night might bring, but there was too much to distract her for her to dwell on it. A low table was set in the cooler part of the tent, where the palm trees overhead protected it from the heat of the sun. Beside it sat several huge hampers. The kind designed to keep the contents cold, she saw, gratefully accepting a drink of lemon sherbet which Kadar poured for her.

‘How? Where are they all?' she asked in wonder, looking around her for the retinue of servants it must have taken to set up.

‘There's no one else here now,' Kadar replied, clearly pleased by her reaction ‘It was prepared for us at first light.'

‘You ordered all of this especially for me? But what if my courage had failed me?'

‘I knew it would not. Do you approve?'

‘I love it. It's magical.'

‘There's more,' he said, taking her hand again and leading her back out, down another set of steps that led directly to the beach, where a huge hammock was strung out between two more palm trees.

Constance jumped into the air with delight. ‘Kadar!' She threw her arms around him. ‘This is what you meant when you promised me a night lying on the beach with the waves murmuring and the stars sparkling overhead.'

‘According to legend, the sea people, whom you know as mermaids, lived here. Unlike other mermaids, our sea people can live and breathe on the land, provided they stay within sight of the sea. Here, so they say, the mermaids brought the sailors they lured onto the rocks. Only the most handsome, the most virile, the most lustful sailors of course, for these sea sirens had insatiable appetites,' Kadar said, with a wicked smile. ‘The children of these unions could live underwater. Eventually though, the sailors learned to avoid this place, and the sea sirens no longer had a fresh supply of young men to satisfy their appetites, so they returned to the sea with their children. Though they say that on a stormy night you can hear them calling from that island over there, singing their siren song in the vain hope that some sailor ignorant of the legend will listen and be drawn in.'

Constance shivered, eyeing the forum with fascination. ‘What happened to the sailors they left behind?'

Kadar laughed. ‘Do not be imagining you will encounter their ghosts. I'm afraid the reality is rather more mundane. This was an ancient trading post, abandoned about a thousand years ago.'

‘I prefer the legend of the sea sirens,' Constance said.

‘So do I. Looking at you, I could easily be persuaded that one of them had returned.'

Her heart began to thump as she looked at him. ‘I have certainly lured the most handsome, the most virile, the most lustful sailor to my den.'

Kadar's eyes darkened. The air around them positively crackled with awareness. ‘Do you think your appetite is insatiable?' he asked, his voice husky.

Constance put her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her. ‘I don't know,' she said. ‘But I'm willing to find out.'

Chapter Thirteen

K
adar had been teasing when he had compared Constance to a mermaid but it turned out his words were prophetic. He could not resist her siren call. He closed his eyes and he kissed her, and Constance let out the softest, most yearning whisper of a sigh and kissed him back, and he was lost. He kissed her—her mouth, her eyelids, her cheeks, her mouth again. And again. Captivating Constance. He was captivated. Her kisses were so sweet, and then the sweetness darkened into sinfulness. So sinful, her lips and her tongue, kisses he wanted to drown in. And it was obvious that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. It was there in her kisses and in her touch, in the way she pressed herself against him, her hands fluttering and clutching and stroking feverishly, over his tunic, under his tunic, her skin on his, making him burn. She wanted him, and he wanted her. He told her so, again and again. And she told him back. His name. Her little ragged sighs. Her searing kisses.

Kisses that had them staggering together across the sands, back up the stairs to the tent. Kisses that continued as they fell together on to the low divan, toppling the neat stacks of cushions and blankets. Kisses that made him achingly hard. He unfastened the buttons on her overdress, placing kisses on her throat. In the valley between her breasts. He pulled her camisole top over her head and kissed her breasts. Soft, creamy, full, the nipples dark, peaked. His hands on them. His mouth. And Constance's panting response, her urgent little cries for more and more and more.

He knelt between her legs and untied the sash holding her pantaloons, easing them down. Kissing the underside of her breasts, down the taut muscles of her belly. Bestowing kisses on the soft, warm flesh of her thighs. She stilled. She arched under him. Her eyes flew open. Kadar gazed into Constance's eyes and she smiled. Such a wanton smile, smoky with passion, and as sinful as the lush curves of her body. He became impossibly hard. And then he eased her legs further apart and kissed her again, the sweetest, most intimate of kisses, and the world turned fiery crimson, leaving no room for anything but their all-consuming passion.

She was wet. She was fevered. She was already close. He licked into her. He licked around her. He circled her with his tongue and slid his fingers into her. And then he repeated each deliciously intimate action. He could feel her climax building, see it, taste it. His name on her lips was a plea now, but still he teased her, slower and slower, until neither of them could bear it any longer.

* * *

Constance's climax swept her up like a powerful wave, threw her high, and then held her there, pulsing forcefully around her, making her cry out, holding on tight to Kadar's shoulders for surely if she let go she would fall. But even as the waves began to ebb she was caught up again in another fierce need that made her sit up, wrap her legs around him and kiss him savagely. Driven by a different force she dug her fingers into his arms, plunged her tongue into his mouth. She wanted more. She slid from the divan on to the floor of the tent, rolling him onto his back, claiming him with the ferocity of a wild animal. His tunic had long ago been discarded. His trousers quickly followed.

Naked, fully aroused, he was magnificent. She touched him. She couldn't prevent herself from touching him, wanting to have all of him, the memory of all of him, to take away with her, to have always, in her mind and in her heart. Lying beside him, toes touching, knees touching, thighs touching, she wrapped her hand around the thick, hard, silken girth of his arousal, pressing her lips, her tongue, to his nipples. Kissing and stroking and licking. Slow strokes, mimicking the actions he had used to tease her to the edge. But that wasn't enough either. She wanted everything.

She kissed his mouth again, rolling closer, releasing her hold of his shaft to press herself against him. He moaned. And then he pulled himself away. No! She wrapped her arm and her leg around him, and deepened her kiss. He moaned, kissed her back with equal fervour. She could feel him pressing between her legs now, and she wanted to know, she wanted to feel him inside her, have him possess her, just once, just once. She arched herself against him, felt him shudder, and arched again.

‘Constance, I...'

Her name a protest. ‘Kadar.' His name a plea. ‘Please,' she said, ‘please.'

‘Constance.' This time her name was a surrender. ‘Constance,' he said, kissing her hungrily, rolling her onto her back.'

‘Yes,' she said fervently, as he eased her legs apart, opening her eyes to meet his, to see the blaze of passion there, catching her breath at the vision of him, the breadth of his shoulders, the rapid movement of his chest, the sinewy muscles in his arms, the ripple of the taut muscles under the skin of his flat belly. And the sleek, fascinating length of his arousal.

He was careful. He watched her closely as he entered her, easing himself inside her, but there was no need. Higher, he slid in, and higher, and then he waited, his breath on her cheeks. She reached up to kiss him deeply. And then it began. A slow thrust provoked the most delicious scintilla of friction, making her tense around him, cling to him, and another thrust that set her throbbing and pulsing, and another, a little faster and more urgent this time, a little higher, and she could feel it building in her, and building, as he thrust vigorously, moving with him now, matching his rhythm, higher and higher, until she came again with a wild cry, her climax sending him spinning out of control, tearing himself free of her just in time, her name a harsh, guttural sound on his lips as his shuddering climax took him.

* * *

Enveloped in a fragile state of elation, Constance did not trust herself to speak. To love Kadar with her mind and her body as she had just done was beyond all she had imagined. Now she would not have to imagine. Now she would have this to remember, always. But what she needed to remember right now, at this moment, was to try to erase all sign of her thoughts from her expression, and therefore the last thing she could do, which was the only thing she wanted to do, was to curl into his side, to wrap herself around him and tell him what was in her heart. Tell him that she loved him more than life itself. But even as she made to move, he put his arm around her to still her.

‘I should not have allowed myself to lose control like that.'

‘I wanted you to lose control. I wanted to know how it could be between us,' Constance said, speaking at his chest for though it was not a lie, it was hardly the whole truth. She risked a glance up, blushing. ‘Besides, I quite wantonly provoked you.'

He laughed. ‘Which you have done, without realizing it, from the first moment I set eyes upon you. But that is no excuse. I should not have...'

‘Kadar, I wanted you to. And unless you have concluded that this once was enough, I am pretty certain that I will want you to again,' she said, astonished by her breathtaking audacity.

Heat flared between them. He pulled her roughly against him. ‘How often would be a sufficiency, do you think?' he asked.'

‘I don't think I could ever have a surfeit of this.'

‘So, Lady Constance Montgomery, you confess to being insatiable?'

She chuckled, arching unashamedly against him. ‘I do believe I might be. Perhaps we should put my claim to the test.'

* * *

Much later, they climbed to the highest point of the little island which had panoramic views of the whole archipelago. Kadar pointed out a long promontory of rock that formed another little harbour. They walked down to it, perching on the end with their feet dangling in the water, and he caught some fish, brightly coloured grouper and snapper, for their dinner. Returning to the tent with their catch, they watched the sun set over the chain of islands, idyllically blue sea tinted with gold as the flawless blue sky crimsoned and the sun sank.

A perfect day gave way to a perfect evening. Kadar grilled the fish, stuffed with herbs and lemon, over a fire lit on the beach. They ate with their fingers, seated at the edge of the surf, wavelets caressing their feet. The moon rose, a mere sliver in the night sky.

‘Would you like to go for a night swim?' he asked.

‘It's very dark.' She eyed the inky water, listening to the soft shush of the waves. ‘I won't be able to see anything.'

‘Then you can't be afraid. It's a completely different experience from swimming in the daylight. Are you willing to trust me and give it a try?'

A final test? If it was, she had no intentions of failing. Constance stood up and began to shed her clothes. ‘I sincerely hope that the sea sirens are not lying in wait,' she said, ‘for they would surely try to lure you into their arms.'

‘Impossible,' Kadar said, casting off his own clothes. ‘I am already in thrall to one of their own. But there is only one way to be certain they don't spirit me away.'

They were both naked. In the dying flames of the fire she could see the sleek lines of his body, the tantalizing shimmer of his muscles, the glint of his smile. ‘How do you intend to do that?'

He scooped her up into his arms, holding her high against his chest. ‘By keeping you very, very close,' he said, carrying her into the shallows.

* * *

The water was cool on their naked skin. In the dark, the sea had a viscous feel to it, like liquid silk. Constance's hair tickled his face. Her arm was around his neck, her breasts brushing his chest. Unable to see more than a glint and a shadow, his other senses were attenuated. The heat of her skin on his. The hard peak of a nipple. The soft flesh of her buttocks. The scent of her. And pressing his mouth to hers, the taste of her.

She slithered down his body as they kissed, gasping as the water reached up over her legs, her bottom, her waist. She pressed herself against him, full breasts warm against his chest, cool thighs under the water. She tasted of salt and sunshine. He could drown in her kisses. They waded deeper into the water. Her breathing quickened. Was she afraid? Most likely, but she was also determined.

She let go of his hand and took off, her beginner's stroke causing loud splashes to echo in the still darkness. Thinking wryly to himself that he'd have no trouble locating her if she got into difficulty, Kadar swam by her side, careful to give her enough room to keep herself afloat, never enough room for her to be in danger, guiding her towards the shore when she strayed out of her depth, and then, when she began to struggle, finally surrendering to the need to hold her. He floated on his back with Constance anchored to him, his sea siren, who was now quite free to sail to the ends of the earth if she so desired.

A thought which should have filled him with pride. A month ago—was it only a month ago?—when he had first encountered her, he had wanted to set her free. He could not claim the credit, but he had provided her with the means to free herself. He was proud of her, but he had to confess that the notion of her sailing away, whether it was to the ends of the earth or merely to Egypt, was a melancholy one. He pictured her on the deck of a Red Sea dhow, her lovely hair a halo-like cloud around her, the delightful body he was holding, receding ever further away from him until she became a tiny speck. What would she do, once back in England? She seemed so determined not to accept his help, but he was equally determined to try once more. He told himself it was for her sake. He knew that it was equally as much for his own. He could not bear to think that once she set sail he would never hear from her again.

Kadar gave himself a mental shake, reminding himself that the reason he was here on Koros with her was to celebrate his new-found freedom too. His future awaited him, and though it was a considerably brighter future than he could have believed a month ago, it was one which would require all of his energy and attention. He was already spending far too much time thinking about Constance, talking to Constance, stargazing with Constance. She was, in fact, a quite considerable distraction, when he needed to devote his time to his people. When she sailed, she would not be leaving a hole in his life but a chasm which his kingdom was clamouring to fill.

When she sailed
. He had never met anyone like Constance. No one could ever replace her. He would miss her terribly. When she sailed...

When she sailed, he would forge on with his plans for Murimon. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight he would devote himself to Constance. Kadar stood up, pulling her once again into his arms. She sighed, that soft little sound that sent the blood rushing to his groin, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him slowly, sensuously, her wet skin clinging to his, bringing his member to hard, clamouring life. He picked her up, carrying her quickly ashore, setting her down on the sand by the embers of the fire. The few steps to the tent were too far to contemplate, and Constance seemed to think so too, her mouth and her hands already hungrily possessing him. A whole night, Kadar thought. A whole night to pleasure her, to coax the flames of her passion to new heights, to taste her and to touch her, to lose himself in the sweet wet heat of her, to imprint the memory of her body on his mind deeply enough to last a lifetime without her.

They sank to their knees, kissing. ‘Show me,' Constance said, as if she had read his thoughts. ‘Show me what to do to please you,' she said.

‘Constance,' he muttered, pulling her down astride him, cupping her breasts in his hands, feeling the heat of her sex damp against his as she straddled him. ‘Constance, there is nothing you can do that will not please me.'

She laughed, a throaty, husky laugh that gave him gooseflesh. ‘What about this?' She leant over him, brushing her breasts against his chest.

‘Yes.'

She kissed him deeply, lifting herself, to enfold the tip of his erection. ‘What about this, Kadar?'

He groaned, digging his fingers into the sand to prevent himself from thrusting.

Constance lifted herself again, guiding him inside her. ‘And this?' she asked, lowering herself onto him in one swift, delightful thrust.