Rough Surrender (22 page)

“What?” Faith frowned. “There’s been another?”

“Yes, there has. Another woman’s body has been found in the Nile.”

“Oh dear.” The light touch of Leonhardt’s hand on her shoulder startled her then she relaxed as he smoothed his thumb across the fabric, comforting her.

“I was right to ask you to stay with me then. I’m glad we settled that.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Any chance of them catching the murderer?”

“Not yet. No. No.” Head inclined, Hasim stared off into space a while. “I do wish I could say yes to that. This affair is casting a pall over Cairo.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It is.”

He’d been right to say this early. Eating while chatting about murders... A shiver ran through her. All sorts of ugly images of death marched through her mind. She ignored the men’s conversation and stared at the stars a while to let the serenity up there wash the morbid thoughts from her mind.
I’m glad I’m staying here with Leonhardt too.

The meal was served by Helen and Mawson. Without his hat on, Mawson seemed older, leaner, but then crew-cut gray hair would make most men look older. Was he yet another devoted employee? She would place bets on it. Leonhardt seemed the sort of man to inspire devotion.

The meal was Egyptian food for once–flat bread and koshary, fried falafel and rice-stuffed pigeon all served with tea. Which surprised Faith, as most of the Europeans seemed intent on eating exactly what they ate back home. Soon she was being instructed in how to eat Egyptian style and found herself laughing along with the two men at some of the stranger antics of the aviation meet.

“Someone said there were close to thirty thousand people there today,” Faith ventured.

“Yes, I heard that.” Hasim nodded. “Some of them had never seen an airplane before too. Did you know a few fainted or ran away due to the shock when one flew overhead?”

Leonhardt grunted. “Those were the sensible ones. We should all be running.”

“Never!” Faith nudged him in the ribs then froze–appalled. “Sorry. That was forward of me. I didn’t mean–”

“You did. But don’t concern yourself. I’ll take it out on your hide later.” Though his tone hinted at amusement–that he’d say such a thing out loud, in front of Hasim rendered her speechless. At the sensual promise in his eyes, her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushed hot.

Hasim coughed and waved his fork in the air. “Don’t mind me.”

While she fumbled for something polite to say, Leonhardt said smoothly, “We won’t.” Then he snared her hand and drew it to his mouth to be kissed. “Hasim is very discreet. Nothing we say or do will bother him. Will it, old man? He’s had more mistresses than a dog has fleas.”

“True. True. Though none of them, as yet, hate me for it. This kebab is delicious. Do try some, Faith.” He pushed a platter of steaming kebabs closer to her.

The swift change of direction gave a less embarrassing conversational opening and she took it. “I shall.” She picked up the stick with all the chunks of meat on it and took a bite. It had a rich and spicy taste. “
Mmm
. You’re right.”

After the meal, they shared a bottle of white wine. The
clink
of glass and the quiet sounds of their conversation lulled Faith. Now and then she found herself struck by something Leonhardt did or said, absorbed in his scent or the way he casually touched her thigh or hand. She liked this man, very much. This came to her as a gentle revelation, and had sneaked up like some thief in the dark. The depth of that fondness stirring deep within, bothered her, maybe even scared her a little.

She blinked and listened once more to what was being said.

The theory behind aviation was being hotly discussed as was an invention that Leonardo da Vinci had proposed. Leonhardt seemed terribly enthusiastic.

“A parachute?” She frowned.

“Yes.” Leonhardt rummaged in a pocket of his black coat and took out a handkerchief. “I’ve even tried making one though the materials are tricky to get right. This demonstrates the principle. Look.” He released it above the table and it floated down. “There’s great potential for using one from an airplane.”

Faith peeked sidelong at him, wondering at his motives. For a man who hated flying he was taking a lot of interest in the subject. While she thought, the men began to discuss something else dear to her heart.

“You mentioned automobile racing, Mr. Massri?”

“Yes, I did.” Hasim swallowed the last of the wine in his goblet. “You know that a Thomas Flyer like Leonhardt owns won the New York to Paris race in nineteen oh eight?”

“Yes. I’d love to take part in a cross-continent race myself, one day.” She said it to shock him, though it was the truth, and twirled her glass idly. The little bit of wine left swirled like liquid gold in the light of the four sconces illuminating the rooftop.

“Really? Miss Evard, ladies like you are few and far between. I’ll take you up on that in a trice and be your codriver if your man there refuses. Just tell me the date. Adventure here we come!” Hasim’s eyes were blue as ice then he smiled and she couldn’t help smiling back.

Leonhardt put his elbow on the table with a small thump. “You’d have to beat me off with a stick first, Hasim. Faith is mine.”

What? He didn’t object to her driving across half-explored continents and bandit-infested primitive countries? Then the rest of what he’d said struck her. She was his? Out loud like that, it seemed awfully raw and revealing. She turned, setting her glass on the table, and found Leonhardt happily studying her, his arm along the back of the divan behind her head.
Mine
. It reminded her of the words he’d written on her bottom and back.

“You’d go with me in a car rally across a continent, sir?” She cocked her head.

“
Mmm
. I’d certainly think on it. I’d need more facts though.” He lowered his hand and laid it over hers around the stem of the wine goblet. He played little games, tracing her nails, flipping back each finger and stroking her skin. She struggled to ignore the electric tingling that sent trickling up her arm.

Curious
. “So flying is bad but driving a car across Europe and through the mountains and foreign terrain of Asia where there may be bandits and so on is perfectly safe?”

He grinned. “I didn’t say that. The New York to Paris Race wouldn’t be on my agenda as yes, there is too much potential for mishap and danger. The one in North America, though–I’m not sure of the name? Glenn something? That one might be exciting enough for you yet also safe.”

He meant this? The possibility of going on a grand car race with Leonhardt and Hasim evoked excitement and even an odd sort of longing for the future. Could they continue this relationship in some way? She returned his steady regard.
 

“Well,” he murmured. “I can see that has piqued your interest, Faith. I’d like to discuss it further some time.”

“I also, sir.”

“Don’t forget I expressed an interest too, but now I really must be going.” Hasim rose and collected his gloves and hat from another divan. “You don’t need to show me out, Leonhardt. I know the way. I’ll get back to you tomorrow as soon as I have something on that other matter. Good evening, miss.” He dipped his head at Faith.

Smooth and controlled as he always was, Leonhardt stood to shake Hasim’s hand. “Evening, Hasim. Thank you for everything.”

Once he’d left, Leonhardt resumed his seat on the divan. “Now, come here.” She slid along and snuggled in close. Staying here might be scandalous, but this–cuddling with Leonhardt, made her feel as if warm honey was being poured into every part of her.

“You know, dear, I got the distinct impression that you liked Hasim. And when I say liked”–he breathed into her hair–“I mean liked in a woman to man way.”

A shard of indignation marred the snuggly feeling, but she didn’t move away and replied quietly, “No, sir. Just because I do things with you that most women wouldn’t, doesn’t mean I’m a loose woman.”

“No? Truth. I already have one issue to reprimand you on.” He snagged a coil of hair and pulled.

“Ouch.” But she didn’t mean it. He hadn’t tugged hard. Was she attracted to Hasim? “I suppose he is handsome, and I do like him a little
that
way, but I’d never–”

“Never thought of having two lovers, two men, at the same time?”

“No-o. No, no, no! Never!”

He’d sneaked one of his hands down and found her breast. The sensation of having her breast cradled lulled her again. “Does it not appeal? At all?”

If he wanted the absolute truth, now she’d been introduced to the idea... She sighed. “Yes. It does appeal, in a way.”

“Thank you.” He nuzzled her ear. “I’ll keep it in mind for another day.”

He will? Oh.
And she’d thought nothing could shock her anymore.

“Tonight, however, how does making love out under the stars sound to you, sweetheart?”

Oops
. Yet another shock. “Here? On the rooftop?” Just saying that made it come to life in her head. She swept her gaze around in a half circle. There were half a dozen buildings taller than this one. “People would see. No.”

“If I put out the sconce torches, there is only a little moonlight. No one could see.”

“Um.” Her heart rate picked up.
Making love under the stars
.

The graze of his fingers at her nape, the way he played with her hair, made her shiver all the way to her toes–except now he withdrew a hair pin, and she knew where that led.

“Stop, Leonhardt, uh, Mr. Meisner, please.” He didn’t stop, though. Instead he placed more pins on the burgundy tablecloth, one by one. Oh, the man was insufferable. She didn’t want this, did she? Out under the stars?

Again he moved her hair this way and that, softly, laying it across her shoulders.

Her stupid, treacherous tongue came out and ran across her lip–so now it was wet, just like she was down below. Her heart thumped a rapid tattoo inside her. She rubbed her cheek against his hand and turned so her face was half-smothered in his coat, in his scent, then sighed again. “Yes. I guess, maybe. Oh my God. I can’t believe I said that.”

“I’m going to get up and put out the lights and when I return, I want you to take off your clothes. Clear?” He put a finger under her chin and made her look at him.

On this flame-lit rooftop, his eyes showed dark. “Yes.”

“Good.” Then he did as he said and walked in that long slow way of his from one torch to the other, quenching them so the light dulled by degrees. Lesser shadows and darkness soon ruled upon the rooftop. Oily perfumed smoke wafted across to her, eddying and thinning, before a breeze ushered it away.

Her mouth dried. She squeezed her eyes closed a moment before rising to her feet as he came for her.

The buildings, distant though they were, seemed to loom closer as, with trembling hands, she undressed for him. First went the soft shoes. She toed those off. They clopped onto the floor and she shuffled them aside with her foot. Leonhardt watched her every movement. Her nipples poked into the soft silk of her top. Whispers of lust flurried about her body. When the last piece of clothing slid smoothly from her body, she drew herself up straight and waited, arms at her sides, fingers folding up tight then easing down.

Her senses heightened and she knew the caress of the wind on her skin, the slow sweep of Leonhardt’s gaze–reminding her, that first in all things, she was a woman.

Chapter 24

The torches in the sconces had been dowsed and darkness cloaked the rooftop. The tiny moon, half-risen, lent a pearly glimmer to Faith’s body. How innocent she appeared. Right now he couldn’t conceive of making love to any other woman. Leonhardt smiled.

“Turn around for me, then climb onto the table.”

Her nipples, the triangle of her sex and the lustrous swathe of her black hair, showed stark against her lighter skin.

He stepped to the low table before her and pulled the tablecloth along until there was room for her.

On hands and knees at first, the wobble of her breasts and buttocks left him breathless and his cock pressed painfully against his pants. Each time he saw her naked it was the culmination of his every dream.

“On your back.”

She turned onto her back and stared up at him.

“Put your hands above your head and keep them there.”

Without pause, she did so–and from the knees her legs dangled off the edge, with the balls of her feet touching the floor, about two feet below. His gorgeous, obedient woman. A flask of olive oil had been provided with the meal. He took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, picked up the flask and poured some oil into her navel. Slowly a pool of oil built until it overflowed and trickled down her sides. Her eyes looked like pools themselves.

He chuckled. “I’m just going to massage you, sweetheart.”

“Oh. Good.”

“But first.” He rummaged in his pocket and took out his favorite ornaments–the silver fox clamps. With a little sucking and pinching of her nipples, accompanied by some delightful squeaking from Faith, he encouraged her nipples to stand up like tiny towers and clipped on the clamps. The foxes lay on the outer swell of her breasts, rising and falling with each breath.