The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (28 page)

No, the food had no appeal. He could only see and hear and smell her. Badra. A feast for the senses. A rare Madeira, as exquisite and sharp upon the tongue as the finest wine.

She took a long swallow of tea. Badra tasted a date next, then nibbled on a grape. Kenneth watched, enchanted, as her tiny tongue licked a pearl-like drop from her lips. He pressed his hands into his lap, not surprised at the hardness there.

Suddenly, she gazed at him with troubled eyes. "Kenneth, you are not eating. Why do you look at me like that?"

"I like watching you." He sipped his wine. French. Not bad. Her perfect rosy mouth parted. "Eat," he said softly. "You must be starving."

"I cannot eat." She hugged herself, looking about with large, troubled eyes. ‘This room ... the smells."

His brow wrinkled. Kenneth set down his wineglass and sniffed. So intent had he been on studying her that he did not notice. Now the underlying odor hit him—a smell of cigarette smoke, the stale odor of old perfume, and the musky taint of sex. He stood, walked over to the latticed windows, went to open them and realized they were locked.

"They do it to prevent us from jumping. Should we be given a master who does not ... smell so nice."

Startled, he glanced over and saw her holding her nose. Kenneth laughed, charmed. A small smile touched her rosebud mouth. That mouth, so lush and carnal—he ached to taste it. Instead, he resumed his seat, poured himself some wine and went to pour some for her as well. She held up a hand.

He raised a brow. "Just for tonight. It will help you sleep. Trust me."

The glass shook a little as her fingers curled around its stem. Badra took a long pull, then drew back, her mouth wet with wine. He wanted her as desperately as he had years ago. But he was no eager, hot-blooded youth of nineteen. He had a man’s restraint and a warrior’s honor. Tension crackled in the air. Badra looked away, studying the exquisite Persian tapestry covering the walls.

"Why did you turn me down when I asked to you marry me, Badra? I want the real answer this time."

Silence hung heavy in the air. Finally she sighed, the sound so forlorn it wrenched his heart. "How could I marry you, Kenneth? After all you’ve just learned?" Her voice dropped an octave. "I told Jabari you were a good man who deserved better. I knew I could never be the kind of wife you expected."

"The kind of wife I expected?"

"I could not be your wife, Kenneth," she whispered. "I am terrified of ... the intimacy a wife and husband share."

"Oh, Badra," he said gently, reaching out to touch her hand. She recoiled and buried her face in her hands.

"I never meant to insult you or hurt you." Her voice leaked out between her trembling palms.

One year of trying to banish her from his mind, and still she remained buried deep inside him like tiny grains of sand ground deep into his heart. In those dark chocolate eyes he saw her pain and fear. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

Pride, he admitted with brutal honesty. He had been humiliated that she had turned him down three times; he had not been thinking of her.

He had nothing left to lose. Kenneth reached across the table as her hands dropped. He caught her chin with a gentle grip, forcing her to look directly at him.

"So, Badra, answer me another question. Did you ever love me?"

Moisture sparkled in her eyes, making them glisten like dark gems. "How could I not?" Her broken voice shattered him. "Your kindness, your humor, the way you always put my needs before your own. Your fierce sense of honor and courage. The way your eyes looked at me with a love that would never die. And all those years that you kept your vow never to touch me, despite wanting to — and I know how you wanted to! That one kiss you wanted to steal ... how many times I would lie in my bed at night and regret I pushed you away."

She paused. Her hands pressed against her heart. "I knew I could never tell you how I felt; I couldn’t return your passion and you deserve a woman of passion. So I kept my love hidden inside like a precious jewel. I loved you the first time you made me laugh. I was dead before I met you, and you revived me. I dreamed of you taking me into your strong arms, teaching me not to be afraid. So many times my fear and my dreams would clash like Khamsin steel. The fear always won, so I turned you down. But I never stopped loving you."

Kenneth could barely breathe. All these years thinking perhaps she didn’t return his affection, that she merely regarded him as a friend. He felt his dreams spark and flare into an all-consuming fire. Her love was true and as great as his. She’d tucked it away, cherishing it, and pushed him off because she thought he deserved someone better.

He saw her life, stretched out like the barren sands of the great Sahara, wanting love, fearing it. Putting up barriers to ward off his affections when he turned from being her friendly, protective guard into an ardent suitor.

With all his might he wished he could yank back the veil of time and woo her as she deserved. To demonstrate the pleasures of how a man and woman shared their bodies, and to banish her fears.

Kenneth dropped his hold on her chin to gently trace a single teardrop rolling down her cheek. With his thumb, he wiped it away.

She was frightened, like a skittish mare scenting a stallion. He must gentle her fears.

"Never again," he said hoarsely. "I promise you, little one. I will never let another man hurt you, not as long as one drop of blood runs in my veins."

Badra offered a smile that wrenched his heart. "I know you wish to help, Khepri. But there are some things beyond even your courage and might. You can’t rescue me from here, try as you will."

"You haven’t seen me begin," he stated grimly.

Confusion tightened her face as he stood. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the hotel. To tell Jabari you’re safe." He turned. "Do not, under any circumstances, leave this room. I’ll pay someone to guard you while I’m gone."

He slammed the door behind him and stalked off.

Kenneth stepped down the hallway, mentally noting corridors, twists, turns and accessibility. He turned a corner and found a doorway guarded by a stern bald eunuch, scimitar strapped to his side. An outside doorway?

The guard’s face was impassive, though the man was polite. "If you are looking for an exit, sir, use the main entrance."

"I suppose that door won’t get me to the
ka’ah
," he reasoned, watching the man’s eyes.

"It only leads to the second-floor balcony."

The second-floor balcony, which had a stairwell leading to the courtyard interior. Good. Kenneth met the man’s gaze. "I have need of a few things. Whom shall I ring?"

"Use the bellpull in the room, sir, and servants will bring you anything you desire."

"I need someone I can trust." Kenneth reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew a large wad of pound notes. As expected, the guard’s eyes widened.

"I want someone to stand at the door to my concubine’s apartments. I do not want anyone entering."

The man nodded. "I can have someone replace me here."

"Good. I’ll need someone to go to the market as well. I want jasmine flowers. Fresh flowers, not perfume."

"How many, sir?"

"Enough to fill a room. But they must be fresh." Kenneth peeled off a few notes, making a show of counting them. Greed shone like diamonds in the guard’s eyes. Kenneth handed over the notes.

"This is for you, for doing me this tremendous favor."

Kenneth took more bills and handed them over. "And this is for the purchases and for the person running the errand."

A small smile like the edge of his scimitar curved the guard’s lips upward. Kenneth prayed the man would be loyal.

Khamsin warriors had invaded the Shepherd’s Hotel.

In amused amazement, Kenneth sat on a large chair in the suite he had booked for Jabari. The sheikh sat opposite him, his dark gaze firm. All around Jabari was a sea of indigo-garbed men, curled up on bedrolls, sleeping on the floor, as they would before launching an attack upon an enemy tribe. Twelve of the tribe’s best fighters. He wondered what the manager thought of the Khamsin invasion of indigo and sharp steel in this genteel European hotel.

"He protested so many of us, but when he discovered we are the Duke of Caldwell’s honored guests, he quieted," Jabari said.

Kenneth eyed the scimitar lying within the sheikh’s reach, imagining the sight of several fierce warriors nudging the manager. That would explain his acquiescence more than any ducal status.

"They don’t all have to stay with you, Jabari."

"My men will get rooms, but for tonight they wished to stay here, until we heard from you. We brought a woman with us to care for the child. Tomorrow I will send Jasmine back to our camp, where she will remain with Elizabeth. Rashid is with her, guarding her until then." The sheikh arched a black brow. "We did not require the extra room and have saved you money."

"Thank you for your consideration. I imagine the food bill will even the balance," he said dryly.

"Who can eat at a time like this?" Jabari mused.

Dressed in a comfortable white robe, with soft white cotton trousers, the sheikh had removed his turban. His inky black hair spilled past his shoulders. But despite the relaxed attire, tension knotted Kenneth’s friend. Dark shadows hollowed beneath his eyes. The sheikh sat woodenly in his chair, muscles clenched as if waiting to attack.

Kenneth hadn’t seen his foster brother this anxious in years, not since Elizabeth had been held captive by Fareeq. Jabari worried deeply about Badra. Kenneth hastened to give reassurance.

"Badra is well. She’s mine for the time being."

"You purchased her?"

"Would you have seen her sold to someone else?"

"I would have seen her not sold at all," the sheikh said evenly. "Are you aware this is the same brothel where she was sold as a child?"

Kenneth grunted. "Yes. And I intend to get her out."

"Good. Then give us the word and we will invade."

"No, Jabari. You can’t storm in there. You’ll endanger Badra and the other women. Give me time to memorize the harem layout, to find its weaknesses. I have a month before she’ll be re-sold."

The sheikh’s dark gaze sought his. "Return to us then, Khepri, when you have full knowledge of how we may best rescue her. But guard her well."

"I will honor the vow I once gave to protect her with my life," he said solemnly.

The sheikh wore a thoughtful look. "You said you loved her, Khepri. Badra needs the love of a good man. She is lovely as her namesake, the moon, but like the moon, she is surrounded by darkness."

Kenneth saw where this was leading and leaned forward, his voice earnest and low. "And your father gave me the honored name of an ancient Egyptian sun god, Khepri. The god represents sunrise, creation and new life. Do you remember, Jabari? He said I was as bright as the sun and just as intense. The moon and the sun cannot exist without each other." He paused. "But the moon is shy, female, and must be gently coaxed into opening fully. And eventually she must surrender to the sun’s warming embrace."

"Khepri—the sun god who gives new life," Jabari mused. "Perhaps you will give new life to Badra." The sheikh’s eyes darkened. "But know this. If you hurt her, I will not forgive you."

"I will not hurt her."

He stood, wending his way past the sleeping bodies to the doorway, then paused.

"Charge anything you require to my account. Just don’t light a fire in the room and roast a lamb in the bedchamber," he advised.

The sheikh gave him an amused look. "Do you think us barbarians, Khepri? When my men become hungry, we will roast a lamb in the dining room."

His soft laughter followed Kenneth out the door.