"Tariq, what--" she began, surprised when he started to undo the buttons on her scoop-necked blouse.
He ignored her fluttering hands. Eyes wide, Jasmine watched his dark head dip and then felt his mouth on her breast. Sizzling. It was the only word to describe the sensation of his lips against her skin. She clutched at his silken hair as he began to suck at the soft flesh. Her body felt like one big flame, his touch the fuel. A minute later, he moved away.
Picking up her hand, he touched one finger to the small red mark on her breast. "See this and know that you are mine."
She stared at him, stunned by the possessive act. Yet she was also aroused beyond comprehension, her body reacting to the primitive maleness of his actions.
"Keep thinking those thoughts." He kissed her once, a kiss calculated to keep her aching. "I will satisfy us both tonight." Then he turned on his heel and strode out.
Jasmine felt her knees begin to buckle. She grabbed the window ledge behind her for support. Unbidden, one hand rose to her breast. He'd deliberately marked her as a gesture of possession, of ownership. She remembered the glittering satisfaction on his face, the harsh lines of his cheekbones, the lush sensuality of his lips, and shivered. Part of it was desire, but the other part was a painful uncertainty. She didn't want to believe that Tariq felt only lust for her, not when he treated her so tenderly at times, but this act of branding had been driven by something darker than love or affection. Something that she instinctively knew could destroy their relationship if she didn't find and confront it.
The next day dawned with skies of crystal clarity and beauty so pure and pristine it made Jasmine's heart ache. Such glory humbled her and yet gave her courage.
They left Zulheina in a limousine for the five-hour journey into the hinterlands of Zulheil. From there, they would have to go by camel to the important, though small, desert holding of Zeina.
"Who are the others following us?" she asked Tariq, after they had pulled out of the palace.
"Three of my inner council are coming." He crooked a finger. Jasmine smiled and moved to sit beside him. He cradled her against his body. Unlike the steely intensity of his passion the night before, today he was relaxed, content to just hold her. "At the end of the road, we'll be met by two guides sent from Zeina to lead us to the outpost."
"It sounds isolated."
"It is the way of our people. We are not like the roaming Bedouin tribes, because we settle and set up cities. But for the most part, our cities are small and isolated."
"Even Zulheina isn't that big, is it?"
Tugging off the tie at the end of her plait, he unraveled her hair. Jasmine laid her head against his chest and basked in his unexpected affection. Just yesterday, she hadn't believed it possible that he'd enjoy this gentle touching.
"No. Abraz is the biggest city, the city we show to the outside world, but Zulheina is the heart of the sheikdom."
"Why is Zeina important?"
He moved his hand to her nape and began to rub his fingers over the sensitive skin in a slow caress. She arched into his touch like a cat. "Ah, Mina, you're a contradiction." His amused words made her tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
"In what way?"
He touched her parted lips with his fingers and said, "So free and uninhibited in my arms and yet such a lady in public. It's a delightful combination."
"Why do I know you're going to add something else?"
"I find I relish stripping away that ladylike facade in my imagination. It's very enjoyable to spend time planning exactly how I will make you cry out."
"Now every time I look at you, I'll think you're thinking that." She blushed.
"You would probably be correct." His laughing eyes warned her of his intention before he covered her lips with his own.
Jasmine wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed into the slow and lazy loving. Tariq was in no hurry. Pulling her into his lap, he caressed her breasts with hands that knew every inch of her, and gave her a lesson in the pleasures of kissing. He tasted the inner sweetness of her mouth and nibbled at her lips when she needed to breathe, then returned to tempt her with his tongue, seemingly willing to do this forever. She was the one who got so heated she began to wriggle.
"No more," she gasped, and broke the kiss, aware of the hard ridge of his arousal under her bottom.
His eyes were slumberous, his desire clear, but he pulled down her tunic and settled her beside him on the seat again. "You're right, Mina. I would need hours to finish this."
Flustered and aroused, she scooted to the other side of the car. "Tell me about Zeina before you start your work."
His smile was very male as he gazed at her heaving breasts. "Zeina is one of the major suppliers of Zulheil Rose. For some as yet unknown reason, the gem only exists alongside deposits of oil. It is a strange crystal."
Jasmine whistled. "Talk about double dipping."
"It could be like that, but over centuries, the tribes of Zulheil have set up an interconnecting system that means that not just those people living near such bounty will benefit. For example, the Zulheil Rose leaves Zeina in a condition close to its raw state. It then goes out to two tribes in the north, who train the best artisans in the world."
Jasmine knew Tariq's pride was justified. The artisans of Zulheil were considered magicians. "Wait a second." She frowned in thought. "If the crystal is only found next to deposits of oil, why isn't Zulheina an oil center?"
"Zulheina is odd in more than one sense. Contradictory as it seems, our engineers and geologists insist there is not an ounce of oil in the area," he informed her. "So we think of the palace crystal as a gift from the Gods."
"I can't argue with that. It's so beautiful." She sighed in remembrance. "What's the purpose of this trip?"
"We're a scattered people. I make it a point to visit each tribe at least once a year." He stretched out his long legs, taking up even more of her space. "I'm afraid I must read these reports now, Mina." He gestured to some papers that he'd slipped into one of the pockets lining the limousine doors.
She nodded in acquiescence, thinking over everything he'd said. It was clear that while Tariq didn't yet trust her with his love, he had no qualms about sharing the business of his sheikdom with her. For the first time in her life, she felt a part of something greater, not just an outside observer. With hope renewed in her heart, she plucked a small sketchbook out of her purse and began to design a dress of moonlight and silver.
Tariq looked up from his papers to find Mina's hand flying in graceful strokes across the page. Her face was intense in concentration, her mouth set in a way that suggested something had caught her attention. He was fascinated.
When they'd first met, she'd been a student, but her studies hadn't captured her interest. Today, she was fully absorbed in her thoughts. This was, he realized with a sense of wonder he couldn't fight, the first time he'd truly come face-to-face with the woman his Mina had grown into.
"May I see?" he asked, wanting to learn about this new Jasmine, this woman who threatened to catch him in a net far stronger than the one that had ensnared him four years ago.
Startled blue eyes looked into his, but then a slow smile bloomed. "If you like." At the shy welcome, he moved to sit beside her, his arm along the back of the seat.
He looked over her shoulder. "An evening gown."
"I thought that I'd use material shot with silver."
Her hair was soft against his fingertips as he leaned down to study the clean lines of the drawing. "You're talented. This is lovely."
Her cheeks flushed with color. "Really?"
There was hunger in the need she tried to hide. He recalled her defensiveness about her designing when he'd first ques tioned her-the reaction of someone whose dream had never received support. Distanced from the rapier-sharp pain of the past, he began to see a glimmer of the forces that had shaped this woman and her decisions. A kind of furious tenderness for her rose inside him. The urge to punish those who had hurt her while s
he'd been lost to him was so strong, he had to exercise conscious effort to control it.
"Yes, really. You might find some material to your liking in the shipment that comes from Razarah in the next month." In fact, he'd make sure that bolts were delivered for her pe rusal. "Tell me about your designs."
Eyes bright, she did. The journey passed in easy compan ionship that surprised him. Since he'd ascended to the throne, he'd never been free to simply "be" with anyone. Now Mina, with her laughter and her dreams, was tempting him to relax. To play. Did he trust her enough to unbend that much?
Chapter Five
"I'm scared," Jasmine blurted out.
Tariq turned to face her. "Scared?"
She nodded. "They're so big and..."
To her surprise, he walked over and pulled her into a gentle embrace. "Don't worry, Mina, I'll take care of you."
"Promise?" Her voice was shaky. She hadn't thought through the idea of what a trip on the back of a camel would entail. It had been something vague and slightly exotic.
"What is this?" Tariq moved back, his hands on her shoul ders, eyes dark with concern. "You're terrified."
She nodded, miserable. "I can't stand heights and their backs are so high."
"There is no other way to reach the tribe or we'd take it." He cupped her cheeks in his palms.
"It's okay. I can handle it," she lied.
"So brave, Mina." He rubbed his thumb over her quivering lower lip. "The car is still here. You may return home."
Jasmine's head jerked up. He'd been so domineering in his demand that she accompany him that this concession was a real surprise. "You don't want me to come anymore?" "I would not have you suffer."
She bit her lower lip. "How long will this trip take?"
Tariq dropped his hands to her waist. "It'll take three days to reach Zeina. With the time I must spend there and the return trip, a week and a half is an optimistic guess."
A week and a half! She couldn't bear to be parted from him for that long. "I'll come. Can I ride with you?"
He nodded. There was approval in the soft kiss he dropped on her lips. "You can snuggle your face against my chest and close your eyes, just like you do in bed."
She blushed. It was true that she liked to sleep with her head on his chest, her arms and legs spread over him, but she hadn't realized that he'd noticed her preference. She raised her hand and stroked his jaw, which was shadowed by his white head covering. "Thank you, Tariq."
"You are welcome, my wife. Come, it is time to go."
Sometimes, Jasmine thought, as Tariq helped her mount the sway-backed creature, her husband could be the most thoughtful of men: He mounted behind her before she could begin to panic. For the ride, both of them were in wide-legged pants and tunics, their heads and necks also covered from the harsh sun.
Her stomach lurched at the camel's first step, but she kept her eyes resolutely forward, determined to conquer this fear if it killed her. The endless desert vista was an unexpected ally, tranquil and beautiful. By the time they stopped for the day, she was watching everything with wide eyes. The camel's roll ing gait was a little disconcerting, but as long as she didn't look directly at the ground, no nausea arose. And in truth, her husband's strong grip around her waist almost gave her the confidence to do that as well.
However, she understood that even he couldn't help her with a sore rear. They had stopped at a hidden desert oasis for the night when she discovered just how bad it hurt. After they arrived, she excused herself and walked until she was out of sight of the men. She quickly took care of her needs and then stood in the shadow of a small tree, rubbing her sore behind.
Tariq's low chuckle made her spin around, face flaming. He was standing less than a foot away, his arms crossed over his chest, a wide smile on his aristocratic face.
"What are you doing here?" She dropped her hands and started to walk past him, embarrassed.
He caught her around the waist with one arm and swung her against his hard body. She turned her face away. Tariq nuzzled her neck affectionately. "Don't be angry, Mina. I was worried when you didn't return to camp."
Mollified, and melting from his warm touch, she decided to be honest. "It hurts." For the first time since she'd arrived in this land, she felt ill at ease, a foreigner unused to the ways of these exotic people. She needed Tariq's comfort. What she got was something totally unexpected.
His hands dropped to her bottom and began to massage her aching flesh with soothing strokes. "It will get worse before it gets better. I believe that's a Western saying."
She groaned, too relieved to be embarrassed. His hands felt like magic, but she knew that if he kept going, she'd do some thing silly like ask him to make love to her. Shoving at his chest, she backed away, her legs shaky.
"We, um...better return or we'll miss dinner." She didn't look him in the eye, afraid of her own hungry desire.
His disappointed sigh was loud in the silence. "You are correct, Mina. Come." He held out his hand. Jasmine slipped her palm into his and they made their way to camp.
Her wicked husband leaned over and said, "I promise to soothe your sore muscles tonight, my Jasmine. I wouldn't have you so aching from riding that I couldn't ride you," just as they reached camp. A blazing blush stole over her.
The other men took one look at her and smiled knowingly. Ignoring them, Jasmine sat down next to Tariq. He sat to her left and a little in front of her, protecting her from the curious looks. Jasmine almost smiled at his possessiveness, but didn't challenge him. Aside from the fact that she was relieved she didn't have to face everyone in her current state, she would never dishonor Tariq in front of his people. In private, she felt free to question him, but deep instinct told her it would be a betrayal to do so publicly.
It wasn't just that Tariq was sheik in a desert land, where men possessively protected their women even as they cherished them. It was him. He was a very private man, a man who met the world wearing a mask. His pride was tied to his inherently private nature.
To his people, Tariq was approachable and kind, but he maintained an aristocratic reserve that was appropriate to his role. However, in New Zealand, he'd utterly frozen out her family, his contempt for their manipulative games completely undetectable. Yet with Jasmine he'd been warm, playful, teasing and, most of all, loving.
Four years later, she understood that only she had seen the man behind the mask. He'd trusted her. Even now he was really himself with her only occasionally-times when he seemed to forget the past. The rest of the time, he wore a mask for her, that of a man who would "own" his woman. It was a mask, she told herself. Her Tariq was hidden behind it.
After the evening meal, there was a short discussion in the native language of Zulheil. It was a beautiful language, but one she hadn't yet mastered.
"You were discussing sleeping arrangements?" she asked Tariq, when he turned to her. His eyes were hooded by the edge of his headgear, but she could see the campfire reflected in their depths. Her body began to burn with an inner blaze that was hotter than anything the desert could create.
"Yes. We carry tents with us if you wish to use one."
Jasmine shook her head. "No, I want to see the stars."
He smiled, as if she'd made him proud. "We will sleep away from the rest of the men."
Remembering his promise, she blushed. "Won't that be a problem?"
He raised an aristocratic eyebrow. "No man would let his w oman bed down where other men may look upon her sleep ing face."
" That sounds very..."
"Primitive? Possessive? I am all those things where you are concerned, Mina."
With the wild desert surrounding them and the night sky sparkling overhead, his words sounded exactly right. He was a warrior into whose keeping she had given her life, and she knew that he would always protect her.
"What, no arguments?" he asked, when she remained silent.
"How can I argue with a man who has promised me a massage?"
For once, her controll
ed husband looked disconcerted. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough. The desire between them was mutual, a living, breathing thing. Unlike the loneliness of her love, when he took her in his arms, they were very much partners.
"I think it is time to retire." As he spoke, Tariq's eyes glowed with inner fire, not reflected flames.
They left the others soon afterward, carrying their own bed ding. Tariq waved off offers of help, saying that if he couldn't make a bed in the desert, he wasn't worthy of being sheik. His men nodded solemnly, pleased with their leader.
He made Jasmine wait while he lay the bedding on top of a thick patch of some springy vegetation that would cushion their bodies from the hard ground. Then he held out his hand. "There is one thing, Mina."
" What?"
"Tonight, you cannot make a sound. We are too close to the others." He'd already removed his headgear. Now he took hers off and put it aside, before tangling his hands in the heavy fall of her hair. A rough sigh betrayed his pleasure. "Not a single sound, my Jasmine."
"Not a single one." Her promise was softly whispered.
She didn't make a sound when he stripped her and then himself. She managed to remain silent when he kept his prom ise to loosen her muscles, his powerful hands tender on her abused flesh. She even bit back her cries when his mouth enclosed her engorged nipples. Then his hand moved between her legs.
Jasmine bit his shoulder. He continued to play with the soft, moist folds between her thighs until she couldn't breathe. She sank her teeth farther into firm muscle in an effort to control her scream. Finally, after tormenting her for what seemed like hours, he lifted her hips and thrust into her in one smooth stroke. This time, she muffled her cries against his neck. He gritted his teeth against his own cry of satisfaction, his face a study in restraint.
They lay with arms and legs tangled until their skin began to chill from the cool night breeze. Tariq rolled off her and sat up to zip the attached sleeping bags closed. When he propped himself beside her, Jasmine saw what she'd done.
"Oh no." She was horrified at the deep, red marks.
"What is it, Mina?" His concern was clear.