SILK AND SECRETS (42 page)

Borne by a whirlwind of passion, they soared higher and higher, knowing that soon they would take flight, for they were linked by an intricate web of passion, conflict, and caring as tangible as the fabric stretched between them. Ross’s gaze caught Juliet’s in a wordless invitation to come closer, but she swung away again. He pulled on the veil to draw her back. “Not so far, my houri.”

He raised his arm and she pirouetted beneath, her flying hair a molten shower of red and gold and amber. “A houri is not so easily captured, O master,” she said in a throaty voice.

The tempo of the music increased, throbbing and pounding around and through them in an utterly pagan rite of fertility that could have only one possible conclusion. Suddenly impatient, Ross gave a sharp tug on the silk to bring her into his arms. “But capture you I will.”

Juliet pivoted in a tight circle, her hair whipping across his face before her back came to rest snugly against the front of his body, heating him from chest to thighs. She smelled of roses and spice and woman.

His breath harsh with urgency, Ross dropped the twisted fabric that had joined them. Then he slid his hands under the whisper-light silk that floated over her torso so he could savor the sleek, yielding female flesh beneath. Once he touched her, it was impossible to stop, and his questing hands glided from tapering waist to taut stomach, hungry for the irresistible eroticism of her supple skin.

After tracing around her navel with his middle finger, he stroked the underside of her breasts with his thumbs, then kissed her ear through the fine-spun strands of her hair. When she quivered in response, he raised his hands and captured the soft, fluid curves of her breasts. The nipples hardened beneath his palms and she gave a long, breathless moan. Then she leaned back into his embrace and rolled her buttocks against his groin, deliberately finding and inflaming his arousal.

He gasped and lowered one hand to her hip, slipping under the silken veils, skimming the surface of her abdomen, through softly textured hair, until his fingers found the moist, swollen folds below. She shivered and made a small delicious sound deep in her throat as her head fell back against his cheek. For a long suspended moment they stayed locked in sensual abandon.

Then suddenly Juliet spun away, the eternal temptress. As she slid from his embrace, Ross caught a handful of veils. They came away in his grasp and drifted to the floor as silent as eiderdown, baring most of her long, lovely body.

She laughed and seized the edges of his cotton shirt. “Two can play at that game.” She tore down, rending the garment to the hem, then tugged it off, nipping his upper arm with her teeth as the shirt came away.

The bite was the final spark that kindled the passion that had been building between them. Ross swept Juliet into his arms and onto the bed, following her down and trapping her writhing body with his. As his open mouth found her breast, she fought him like a feral creature that could be possessed only through conquest.

They mated like panthers, with teeth and nails and thrashing limbs. It was the last and fiercest phase of their primal dance, possible only because underneath their wildness was absolute trust in each other. When Juliet worked her arms free and began clawing at his chest, Ross captured her wrists and pinned them to the bed with his left hand while he spread her legs with his thighs and opened his strained trousers with his right hand.

For Juliet, the game ended when Ross entered her with one powerful thrust, sliding hot and hard into her eager body. This was not simple play but the most profound reality she had ever known, the physical expression of all the tormenting emotions that bound them. She bit his shoulder, tasting salt against her tongue, wanting to merge with him so completely that they would truly be one flesh.

Explosion might have been almost instantaneous, but Ross would not allow that. Instead, with diabolical skill he raised her to a pitch of unbearable need until her whole body burned with white heat. The words she had feared came without her volition as she cried out, “Ah, God, Ross, I love you so.”

More than anything on earth, she wanted him to reciprocate, to tell her that he loved her even if it was a lie, or only a small part of a complicated truth.

But he did not. Instead he silenced her with his mouth, filling her so completely that there was no room for anything but passion and fulfillment. She dissolved into shuddering contractions that seemed as if they would go on forever.

He broke the kiss, making a hoarse wordless sound as his control finally splintered. She felt his rhythmic convulsions deep inside her, resonating until she could no longer tell his urgent flesh from her own. She had wanted them to be one, and for a few brief instants they were.

But as their throbbing limbs slowed and softened, silent tears were running down Juliet’s face. Together they had touched the farthest limits of passion, a place of devastating joy that surpassed every amorous fantasy she had experienced during the long, lonely years.

She would have traded it all for love.

Ross had barely had the strength to finish removing his trousers and Juliet’s veils so they could sleep in comfort. As he lay down and drew her into his arms, he murmured that if Zahra had walked into the room, he would have been unable to lift his head, much less anything else. Juliet had given a low, satisfied chuckle and doused the lamp. Then they settled against each other and slept the sleep of exhaustion.

As dawn traced rosy streamers across the sky, they made love once more. This time desire was soft and sweet, with Juliet lying sprawled on top of Ross, her tangled hair tickling his cheek and throat as they moved in gentle tandem. Hard to believe that this tender, accommodating lady was the same wildcat who had left her marks all over his back and chest. But that was part of the mystery and wonder of her.

Looking back, it seemed to Ross that their marriage was a play with distinct acts, starting with the magic of discovery and progressing through fulfillment, estrangement, loss, and anguish. The latest, and possibly last, act was their fragile reconciliation in the face of danger, and now it too was drawing to a close. Of all the stages, this had been the shortest and most intense.

It was a melancholy thought.

Juliet had said that she loved him. Ross knew better than to take seriously a declaration made in the throes of passion, for passion was a notorious liar. He was not even sure that he wanted to believe her, for that would open the door to fears and confusion too deep and painful to confront.

Thank God that in a few hours the time for action would finally be at hand. Life and death were so much simpler, so much more clear-cut, than love.

Finally the time had come to depart. It was late and most of the household should be asleep, tired by the festivities of the night before and the turmoil that had surrounded Abdul Samut Khan’s departure today. After looping the rope around the leg of the bed, Ross paused to study Juliet’s face for a moment. “I really can’t say that a mustache suits you.”

She grinned. “But you look rather good in a black beard.”

“Let me know if it starts coming off.” His levity dropped away and he gave her a quick, intense kiss that said more than words ever could. They both knew that when they left this room, they were putting themselves in the hands of fate, but to dwell on that fact might weaken them.

Ross wrapped the doubled rope around himself, climbed over the windowsill, and disappeared from view. Juliet adjusted the veil of her tagelmoust over her face, thinking that if she had met her husband on the street, she might not recognize him. He was abandoning his European clothing and he was dressed in the robes and turban of a royal chamberlain, but that was just the simplest aspect of his disguise.

After an early dinner they had spent several rather giddy hours creating disguises, using materials that Saleh and Juliet had procured in the bazaar. First they had both applied a weak-solution blend of walnut juice and caustic to darken their faces and hands. Then Ross dyed his brows and lashes a dark brown. But a false beard and mustache, bought from a shifty-eyed merchant who asked no questions, were what changed his appearance most. Besides concealing his features, they were necessary because facial hair was almost universal among Central Asian men. Most of the dark beard was shaped to fit around Ross’s chin and jaws and was attached with a resinous adhesive.

Then, to complete his disguise, Juliet had painstakingly applied individual hairs all around the edges of his beard and mustache to create a natural-looking hairline, for his disguise must be effective at very close quarters. The results would not hold up to a determined tug, but Ross now looked like a Bokharan of Afghan or Persian origin.

Juliet herself was less convincing, for her mustache did not conceal the fact that her features were more feminine than masculine. However, since she was wearing Bokharan dress, she could pass as a young male servant at a distance or in subdued light, and that was good enough for what she would be doing.

Leaning out the window, she watched Ross’s descent down the side of the building with concentrated interest. Earlier he had explained how mountain climbers used a rope to lower themselves quickly down a cliff face, but this was the first time she had seen the technique in actual use.

After he reached the ground, it was Juliet’s turn. She took one last look around to check that nothing had been forgotten, smiling a little as she thought of her one concession to sentiment. Without telling Ross, she had decided to take her dance costume of the night before. Feather-light, it had been easy to fold the veils and conceal them in a pocket under her robes; God willing, perhaps she could dance again at Serevan.

Then Juliet put sentiment aside and went out the window. After reaching the ground, she tugged one end of the line so that the length slithered around the bed leg upstairs, then dropped down beside her. Swiftly Ross coiled the rope and slung it over his shoulder so that there would be no telltale evidence of their departure. Since their apartment upstairs was barred from the inside, with luck it would take until midday tomorrow for the nayeb’s servants to realize that the prisoners had escaped.

With Juliet leading the way and Ross a dozen paces behind, they began quietly circling the edge of the gardens, staying in the shadows even though there was only a sliver of moon. Since it was summer, most of the household slept on the flat rooftops for coolness, and unexpected noises might alert a restive sleeper.

For a very reasonable bribe, Zadeh, the helpful guard, had promised to unlock a seldom-used postern door at the far end of the compound, so leaving the nayeb’s property should be the easiest part of the night’s work. Even if Zadeh reneged or had been unable to obtain the key, they had the rope, so it would not be too difficult to scale the wall.

Unfortunately, the plan went awry when Juliet slipped cautiously around the corner of the stables, only to run straight into the unsteady form of Yawer Shahid Mahmud. He smelled of horse and alcohol; apparently he had been out drinking in an illicit tavern and by sheer bad luck had just arrived home.

As Juliet backed hastily away, Shahid growled, “Watch where you’re going,
daous,”
using a mildly insulting ephithet.

Juliet muttered a hoarse apology and tried to circle around him, but it was too late, for the dark tagelmoust she had worn to blend into the shadows was now a dead giveaway.

Suddenly realizing whom he had within his grasp, Shahid grabbed her wrists. “Well, if it isn’t the ferengi’s fancy boy.” His voice turned ugly and he twisted her arms back. “Quite a stroke of luck, for I’m in the mood to finish what I started before, and you won’t catch me unaware this time.”

Juliet stood still, making no attempt to escape. With Ross right behind her, she wasn’t worried about what Shahid might do, but the officer’s voice was so loud that she feared he might wake the grooms sleeping above the stables.

“It’s time I saw your face.” With surprising swiftness he managed to secure both of her wrists with one beefy fist, then lifted his other hand toward her veil.

No longer content to passively await rescue, Juliet jerked back and kicked at her captor’s ankle. Where the devil was Ross?

She got her answer an instant later when she saw a flicker of movement behind the Uzbek, but before Ross could strike, Shahid sensed his presence. With a bellow, the yawer released Juliet and started to spin around. His shout was cut off by the sickening thud of a heavy pistol butt smashing into a human skull. Then Shahid pitched sideways, hitting the hard ground like a falling oak.

Juliet stared down at the massive sprawling figure, then asked in a soft undertone, “Do you think he’s dead?”

“Unfortunately not, but he’ll have the devil’s own headache when he wakes up.” Ross tucked his pistol inside his coat. “So much for our well-laid plans. Let’s get out of here and hope that no one will wake up and come out to investigate.”

As they sprinted the last hundred yards to the postern, Juliet knew that they had been lucky that Shahid had not had a chance to see Ross’s disguise. And the postern door, praise God, was unlocked as it was supposed to be. But that was as far as their luck went. Even as Ross pulled the door closed behind them, they heard excited voices rising in the gardens. The unconscious officer had been found.

Juliet swore under her breath. When Shahid awoke, it wouldn’t take him long to realize that the ferengi had escaped and the hunt would be on. Still, the alarm would probably not be raised until morning, so it should not affect tonight’s attempt to extricate the prisoner from the Black Well.

The streets outside the compound were silent, for the king’s drums had already beat out the curfew. Anyone abroad at this hour was required to carry a lantern. Since patrols enforced the law, Juliet and Ross kept to the shadows, hoping no one would see and remember their passing. She led, unerringly finding her way through the twisting maze of streets she had studied for weeks.

A quarter-hour of swift walking brought them to the arches of a small covered bazaar that was now deserted for the night. Murad waited there with four horses. He jumped when Juliet materialized out of the shadows near him, then scanned the newcomers with approval. “Very good, Lord Khilburn. You look exactly like a Bokharan court official.”