The Sheikh's Impetuous Love-Slave (5 page)

‘Khalid?'

He was an honourable man.
He was!
Though never before had honour had less value. ‘Not—I cannot—we cannot…' Khalid said through gritted teeth, for she was already touching him, nestling herself closer.

‘Please.'

By the gods, was there a sterner test? He did not think so. With a moan, he edged away, took her hands, placed them on his shaft, shaking his head at the question in her eyes, encouraging her instead to stroke him. She did, gently, then with growing assurance as she read the pleasure in his face. He held her gaze as she tended to him, and it was the most erotic thing he'd ever experienced, the feeling of her hands, the swelling of his erection, the deep, sensual connection of their eyes.

Knowing and being known. He did not need to possess her for it to be so. The thought flashed into his mind as he came, spilling and pulsing onto her, and he pulled her to him, kissing her passionately, endlessly, wanting, for the moment, nothing more than this.

 

Wordless with bliss, stepping naked together into the highest of the oasis pools, they learned how to speak with their bodies. The moon rose in the sky, the stars seemed to reach down to spread their silver light just for them. Behind them, the ancient city of Persimmanion was a seductive presence. The cool of the water lapped at their heated skin as they sank down into its depths, kissing. They kissed until they fell over, laughing. They stopped laughing as they kissed, and passion reared again. Tumbling from one pool to the next, they stood in the waterfall, still kissing, then licking, rousing each other to new heights as they discovered what this touch did, and what this, and this. Her second climax was more sudden than the first. She clung to him in the spray of the waterfall, pulsing around his hand, slithering down in the aftermath to bring him to his own orgasm with her mouth.

Afterwards, heavy with satisfaction, they sat wrapped in their cloaks by the light of a campfire and ate hungrily, feeding each other titbits before tumbling, exhausted into each other's arms.

When Juliette awoke early the next morning Khalid was kissing her, feathering little kisses onto her brow. She wondered what it would be like, to have him wake up beside her like this every morning, and realized then, just like that, that she was in love. For the first time. For the last time. For the only time.

She was in love. The knowledge thrilled her, for she had not thought it possible, nor herself capable. It seemed obvious to her then, that she had been waiting for him all her life. That everything she had ever done, everywhere she had ever been, every scrap of learning she had acquired, all the hardship her nomadic life with Papa had forced her to endure, his ill-fated decision to loot A'Qadiz and even its tragic consequences, all of it was designed to lead her to Khalid. She was destined for him.

Pouring her feelings into her kiss, Juliette nestled into Khalid's embrace. If he knew how she felt then surely….

Surely what? Her mouth stilled. In the breathtaking journey of discovery that constituted the past few days, she had not thought beyond the next hour with him and the next. Now, reality came crashing down on her. He was a sheikh, an Arabian prince. She was a French orphan with neither dowry nor expectations.

Last night, when Khalid had refrained again from making love to her, he had recognized, as she had not, that they could have no future together. He had cared enough for her to keep her virtue intact. He was indeed an honourable man.

An unfamiliar burning sensation prickled behind her lids. Tears. She was crying. Blinking rapidly, terrified lest he see, Juliette sat up, turning her back to Khalid, struggling to contain the urge to throw herself back into his arms and beg that he keep her with him always. He would not, and her begging would merely embarrass him. Worse, may even hurt him, and she would not for the world have that. She loved him. She loved him far too much to allow that.

‘Juliette, what is wrong?'

His voice, unbearably tender, caused a tear to trickle down her hot cheek. ‘Nothing,' she said dismissively.

He tried to pull her back in his arms. In the night, as she lay sleeping, utterly trusting, in his arms, he had recognized this feeling for what it was. Love. He, Khalid al-Raqam, Prince of Lash'aal, was in love. In love with a female so unsuitable that Farid, and his Council, and probably his entire kingdom would be horrified. The number of senior tribesmen, each with eligible daughters, he would offend, did not bear counting. Gone would be Farid's grand plan for an alliance with one of their powerful neighbours. Khalid did not care. He was in love. Irrevocably in love. Deeply, truly, unbelievably in love. Only Juliette would ever live in his heart. Only Juliette would fill the void in his life he had not even thought was there. Two halves of one. He and Juliette. What better place than here in the lost city to tell her that he wanted her to be his wife.

But Juliette resisted his embrace. She struggled, and wriggled, and got to her feet. Her face was set with some emotion he did not recognize. Her beautiful grey eyes failed to meet his. ‘What ails you?' Khalid asked anxiously.

‘Nothing.'

She shrugged him away. She could never hope to share his life but she would not have his pity. That would be too much to bear. She must end this false idyll, this unsustainable fantasy, for both their sakes. ‘The sun is up. Soon it will be too hot to explore properly,' she said, scrabbling into her clothes. ‘If we are to find any other evidence of Shal'aal we should start now. It's what we came for, after all, isn't it?' Picking up her cloak Juliette made her way determinedly towards the rock passageway which took them back into Persimmanion. She knew Khalid was following her, but she daren't look back. Across the central square, towards the temple she marched, biting her lip, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand.

The temple, unlike the rest of Persimmanion, was constructed of white marble. A simple building, the roof was long gone though most of the walls were still more or less intact. The huge doorway was supported by two ornately carved pillars representing a garden, in which several images of the goddess Shal'aal could be detected, hidden amongst the foliage. Juliette came to a halt in front of the altar, a long low marble slab. Behind her, Khalid's footsteps stopped. ‘She belongs here, I'm sure of it,' she said, forcing herself to turn around, unable to meet his eyes. ‘There must be a niche, a slot or something in which to place her.'

Only five days ago she had first stared up at him like that. Defiant, challenging, determined not to let him see what she really felt. Only five days ago, but it seemed like an eternity. It seemed like his whole life had been waiting for this point, this woman. He would not lose her now.

‘Khalid? The goddess, do you have her?'

‘There is only one goddess I'm interested in at the moment. Look at me, Juliette.'

When she did, she saw a light in his eyes she hadn't seen before. Despite her attempts to suppress it, hope flared like a torch flame fanned by a gust of air. ‘What is it?'

‘We were meant to be together. You and I,
ma belle
Juliette. I laughed at the idea Shal'aal might be a portent, but she is. She has brought us together. You were meant for me, as I was meant for you. I love you, Juliette.'

‘Khalid! If this is about last night, you did not—you do not have to—'

‘Oh but, Juliette, I do! Not because I feel obliged to, but because I cannot help myself. Juliette, my Juliette, surely you feel, as I do, that you have been sent to me. That we were made for each other, destined to be with each other.'

‘But it's impossible, Khalid. You must know that.'

‘Nothing is impossible if you want it enough. Nothing will stop me taking you as my wife, placing you by my side as you were meant to be, save one thing—that you do not love me.' He pulled her into his arms. ‘Do you love me, Juliette, as I love you?'

‘Oh Khalid, I love you so much, but….'

‘What then? Are you worried about your family, never returning to France?'

‘I have no family now, nor any allegiance to a country that used and abused my poor father. But you are a royal prince, Khalid. I am a commoner and a foreigner to boot. Your subjects….'

‘My subjects should rejoice at my great fortune to have you as my wife. With you by my side, I will be a far better ruler. Be my princess, Juliette. Say you love me.'

He loved her. He really loved her. She could not quite believe it, yet it seemed the most natural thing in the whole world. ‘I love you, Khalid.' Juliette laughed with sheer joy. ‘I love you,' she cried, the words echoing round the temple. ‘
Je t'aime, Khalid. Je t'adore.'

He pulled her ruthlessly into his arms, holding her tight, so tight it would have hurt were it not so wonderful. ‘
Ma belle,
now I will show you what it is like to be loved. Truly loved. Now we will give our thanks to Shal'aal, our own goddess of love, together.'

He laid her down on the cool marble of the altar. ‘I love you,' he said. ‘I want you for my wife. Say you will be mine. Say you will give me that most precious gift, my darling, your innocence.'

‘It is yours. It was always yours. Make love to me, Khalid. Please. I've been waiting all my life for you.'

It was the promise he needed. She was all he would ever want. Reverently, he removed each piece of her clothing, trailing kisses over her skin as he did so, each one landing as delicately as a butterfly, each one adding to the slow build of anticipation. Her neck. Her arms. Her breasts. The indent of her waist. The slight curve of her belly. Her knees. Her ankles. Her feet. The tender skin on the inside of her thighs. The marble was cool on her back. Goose bumps prickled where Khalid's lips brushed her skin. She felt revered, worshipped, adored and utterly alive.

Khalid removed his tunic, allowing it to pool at his feet on the floor of the temple. A shaft of sunlight slanted down through the ruined roof, bathing them in its glow, suffusing Juliette's skin with a golden glow, rendering her like the goddess she reminded him of. Her hair, like an obsidian river, streamed down onto the floor. Her eyes were wide, focused entirely on him as he stood proudly erect before her. She arched her back, lifting the hard peaks of her breasts invitingly. He knelt between her legs to take one breast, then the other into his mouth, sucking hard, relishing the surge of pleasure etched on her face as he did so, feeling the same surge echoing, tightening his manhood.

‘Juliette. My princess. My goddess,' he murmured as he tilted her towards him, caressing the already moist pink folds of her sex, his tongue, echoing the touch of his fingers, licking her full lower lip.

‘Khalid. My prince,' she murmured, pulling him towards her, yearning for the ultimate coupling, for the two of them to become one. He kissed her hard, deeply, and thrust slowly, carefully. She felt as if she were unfolding. There was no pain, only a tightness which intensified the shivering, shimmering ecstasy of his entry. His shaft forged its way deeper, higher, a combination of velvet and steel, and she enveloped him, tilted up to open farther for him, gasping with pleasure at the way he filled her, and continued to fill her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed her again, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth, as his shaft thrust inside her. She felt tense and hot. He thrust again, and she felt as if she were climbing, climbing with him, urged higher, to some magical peak. Again he thrust, encouraging her to move with him, quickly finding a rhythm together, climbing steeper, higher with each thrust until she could go no more, until she was there, on that mountaintop, dizzyingly high, achingly full, unable to stop herself from tumbling headlong, crying out his name as she climaxed, clutching him closer, closer as he too came, spending himself deep within her, melding them together, inextricably bound by silken ties of passion and love.

They lay thus, on the altar for some time, the sunlight making of them one burnished golden image. Finally, Juliette opened her eyes. She smiled, a sated, blissful smile which was entirely charming, which stirred Khalid to his depths. ‘You don't think Shal'aal will be offended by our actions, do you?'

‘On the contrary,' Khalid said, kissing her mouth, revelling in the way her lips were already swollen from his kisses, his shaft stirring responsively. ‘I think this altar was designed specifically for this purpose.' He kissed her again. His erection hardened. ‘We should pay homage to Shal'aal again, I think.' Gently, he began to do just that.

 

It was only later, when she opened her eyes, looking idly round at the walls of the temple behind her, that she spotted the tiny niche. Hidden in the shadow of a pillar, it could only be seen from the altar, at this precise angle. At first she thought it was a sunbeam which coloured it gold, but then she realized that the sun had moved. The alcove itself was lined with gold, like a tiny keyhole, only a strange shape. A womanly shape.

‘Shal'aal!' Juliette exclaimed. ‘Khalid, look. It has to be. Look!'

And it was. Carefully, Juliette placed the little idol in the niche. She fitted perfectly. Standing back, not a trace could be seen of her behind the pillar, yet the atmosphere in the temple seemed to have changed. ‘She has come home,' Juliette said, smiling shyly up at Khalid.

Khalid smiled lovingly in return. ‘Like you and I, she has found her true destiny.'

‘You will think it foolish, but I feel as if, by returning her, I have made some reparation for the wrongs Papa was compelled to commit. Can we leave her here, where she belongs? It would mean a lot to me.'

‘I don't think it foolish at all,' Khalid said, kissing the palm of her hand. ‘Shal'aal has returned to her rightful home. It is time for you and me to do the same. I cannot wait to claim you as my wife.'

‘And I cannot wait, either, my love. Who knows, maybe Shal'aal will bless our union with the gift of children?'

‘Then the sooner we start the better,' Khalid said, taking her in his arms once more.