Arabian Nights with a Rake (4 page)

“Is it always like this?” Susannah's question was whispered in awe, an eternity later, once their bodies had settled and she lay securely in his arms.

How was he to answer that? It had never been quite like this for him either. “It can be. Sometimes it is less.”
Much less
, Alex thought to himself. He was beginning to see how his prior encounters had been limited, nothing more than a physical function of the body that brought temporary satisfaction.
This
was something else entirely. But he could hardly explain that to Susannah when he could barely explain this new wondrous thing to himself.

Susannah nodded against his shoulder, her hair tickling his nose. “I didn't think it would be like this. I didn't think lovemaking could be for me. I thought it was really only for the man. The sheikh…” Her voice broke off and she squirmed uncomfortably against him.

“The sheikh what?” Alex probed softly, his prior fears of what she might have endured in captivity rising to the fore. She might have come to him a virgin, but there were other ways… “Tell me, Susannah.”

“It is nothing, now. You've proven it can be otherwise and that's all that matters. I won't have you doing anything rash. What's done can't be undone.”

“That's not the most compelling argument, Susannah.” Alex said grimly. “If anything, it makes me even angrier. Tell me. I am not prone to rash behavior, I can give you my word on it.”

She drew a deep breath and slowly began to spill her tale, the tale she had not shared with him last night when he'd asked: how she'd been brought before the sheikh, spared in the ambush because the captain of the raiders thought Bitar would fancy her gold hair. Bitar had indeed fancied her. He'd cleared the tent of all but his physic and ordered her to strip. It had been the last she'd seen of her clothing, and Bitar had gazed upon her naked form, lust evident in his eyes for what seemed an age. “Let us see if she's a houri in truth,” he'd said, submitting her to the most personal and invasive of examinations, his delight bordering on ecstasy when the physic confirmed her purity.

Alex breathed deeply beside her when she finished. “The sheikh has debased you and is responsible for the death of your father. I will kill him for you, if you like.” He would too. Life and death had different meanings in the desert, and there was a part of him that was far less English than the other parts. He had killed for honor before with just cause and was not afraid to do it again should right demand it, should this vibrant woman in his arms demand it.

“I want only to put all this behind me.” She answered.

His kiss was strong and firm on her neck. “Then let me love you tonight and erase those memories. The sheikh meant only to humiliate. I mean nothing of the sort.” He pulled her to him and whispered out loud the litany that had run through his mind all day. “You're mine, Susannah, and no other's.”

As he joined with her for a second time that night, reaching once more for ecstasy, Alex knew he wanted her in ways that transcended this bed. He wanted Susannah for her passion, for her intelligence, for her courage and strength. He wanted her forever.

 

You're mine and no other's
. The words dared her to hope as Alex helped her into her clothing. Dawn was approaching and she could not risk staying a moment longer. The sheikh would be ending his night of cards.

“Soon, Susannah, we'll be away from here, free to make our own plans.” Alex promised, settling her robes about her.

Our own plans.
How nice that sounded. But she had to be fair. “You are not obligated, Alex, just because you're the one who found me.”

Alex tipped her chin up so her eyes met his. “Finders, keepers, isn't that how it goes?” he teased lightly.

For how long?
she wondered. He might keep her in Algiers as a mistress perhaps, visiting her when his work brought him in from the desert. Would that be enough for her? Surely, he would not offer her more. Once he saw how Society would treat her, he would understand he could not be so gallant with his intentions.

Still, the last two nights had proven how wonderful it was to be loved by Alex Grayfield. It was more than a physical experience. She'd felt cared for, cherished in his arms. She knew enough now to confirm what she'd expected earlier. Her feelings for Alex had grown beyond the physical. For better or for worse, she had traveled far and fast down the path of love.

She reached up to his face and kissed him softly on the lips. “Thank you for everything, Alex.” It was as close as she dared come to saying “I love you.” Then she was gone, slipping out into the camp, hugging her hope as she went, Alex's words a mantra in her mind.
You are mine and no other's.

“He covets her, Muhsin. And I think she is not indifferent to the Christian dog.” Bassam took a sloppy sip of wine and reclined against the pillows in his brother-in-law's tent. They were alone in the quiet part of the afternoon and he was free to speak his mind at last. “You have lost your prized horse to the one. If you are not careful, you will lose your houri too.”

The sheikh shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of nonchalance. “The blond one is cognizant of our ways. He would not dare to intrude in that domain.”

Bassam narrowed his eyes in thoughtful contemplation. “Beneath his robes, behind his flawless command of the language, he is an Englishman. That is a fact best not forgotten.” He studied Muhsin. His brother-in-law was much taken with the blond newcomer and with his dark-haired companion. It was making him careless.

“The
moussem
will be over soon and they will go their way.” Muhsin reasoned.

“With your favorite horse.”

Muhsin laughed. “Do you think I'd be sitting here so calmly if I meant to let them actually take the horse?”

Bassam relaxed slightly. That sounded more like the brother-in-law he knew. “And your English houri? Will she stay behind too?”

Muhsin's eyes darkened at the mention of his latest acquisition. “I have told her my patience is up. After the
moussem
she is to be mine in truth. She is an untouched gem, all that a virile man desires.”

“Like the houris promised by the Koran in the after-life.” Bassam mused, “Modest, voluptuous and untouched by another, her body without the blemishes of childbirth.” He eyed Muhsin speculatively. “What if she's been touched by another after all?”

“She has not. My physician has vouched for her chastity.” Muhsin contested.

“That was months ago.” Bassam played idly with a cluster of grapes. “I did not exaggerate when I said you stood to lose your horse and your houri. Last night, she went to the Englishman's tent while his friend kept us at cards. She was there a long while.”

The sheikh's face darkened with anger. “How do you know this?”

“I saw the desire in the Englishman's face the first night she danced. I had her followed, for her protection, of course, in case the Englishman forced his attentions upon her.” Bassam said slyly. “But last night, there was no forcing. She went to him.”

Bassam watched the implications become clear to Muhsin. After a calculated silence, Bassam spoke. “She has abused your generosity and patience. She has shamed you by giving herself to an infidel.”

The English bitch had shown him nothing but disdain since her arrival in camp, Bassam thought. A woman in her precarious position should have welcomed the bargain he'd been willing to make her. But she'd shunned him just as she'd shunned his powerful brother-in-law. She would soon learn her place. She would soon see that the power of her wiles extended only so far, and that the real power over life and death, freedom and captivity, lay with him. She would regret her choice to go it alone.

Muhsin's anger grew. “She favors the Englishman over me? She favors a meager
horse trader
?”

“It is perhaps more than that.” Bassam insinuated. The seed of doubt had been planted and he nurtured it with his other suspicions. “The two newcomers are more than horse traders, don't you think?”

He had all of Muhsin's attention now. “What do you suspect they're hiding?”

“They've come for her, perhaps? Maybe they have been sent to find out the truth about the entourage that disappeared in the desert? Perhaps they've come to finish what the entourage started? They've come to ferret out alliances and see where the tribes will side?”

“Spies? Is this what they do in exchange for my hospitality? I have welcomed them into my tent and shared the hookah with them.”

Bassam nodded solemnly. “They have misused the hospitality of the desert quite horribly. Punishment would not be out of order. The
moussem
ends tomorrow, it would be a good time to make an example out of them, to show the tribes what it means to defy Sheikh Muhsin ibn Bitar.”

Muhsin was thoughtful. “Yes, I think you may be right about that. I will start with the captive tonight.”

A wicked gleam lit Bassam's eyes. “She can be used to draw the Englishman out and force him to perjure himself. If she is known to be in jeopardy, he may show his hand.”

 

Something was wrong. Susannah stumbled in the sand, fighting against the strong grip of Bassam's hand about her wrist. He was angry. This was no polite escort and she could only speculate why.

She had danced tonight for the sheikh, as always, had pleased the audience. It was the last time she'd have to dance in that manner. Tomorrow she'd be free. Alex would make his request tonight as the men sat and talked. Had he already made his request? Was that why Bassam had come for her without warning?

“You have defiled yourself with an Englishman, without permission. Now, you will pay.” Bassam jerked her to an abrupt halt outside the sheikh's tent. His face was close to her. She could smell the residue of spices on his breath, the gaminess of the roasted lamb. She fought the urge to cringe. She could not afford to show weakness in front of Bassam.

He forced himself upon her lips, his mouth demanding she open to him. She struggled against him, twisting her head to avoid contact. She kicked out with her foot, but Bassam was too swift. He pinioned her against him. “You're a feisty one, and I find I am less discerning than my brother-in-law. I do not care that I have not had you first, only that I have you next and last. I can still save you. Remember that before you lash out.” He bit at her ear, nothing like the loving nips Alex had showered her with. She stifled a yelp against his harsh methods.

Where was Alex now? She hoped he was safe. Somehow the sheikh knew what they had done. Had Alex made his request yet?

Bassam pushed her inside the tent and she scanned the interior rapidly. Alex was there, seated across from the shiekh. He was alone. Crispin was not present. Alex sat erect, his body hard and alert. He was aware that the situation had become hostile. But even so, his presence buoyed her hope. She took courage from his cool assurance as he eyed the sheikh unflinchingly. Alex would not fail her.

“Is this how you treat your guests? I have come to barter with you honestly for a lowly slave in your possession.” Alex charged, taking the offensive as she was thrust into the center of the conversation.

She met his eyes with a quick glance, but he shifted his gaze away. Probably a smart choice. Susannah averted her own eyes to the floor, unwilling to give away more emotion than she wanted. Her freedom lay in the balance, dependent now upon the wits of Alex Grayfield. A wrong glance from her, a wrong word, would seal not only her fate but his. They were now irrevocably linked together.

“You have taken her without my permission. You've lain with her and befouled her.”

“And I am willing to do my duty by her.” Alex replied evenly, showing no agitation at the harsh words meant to provoke. “I will take her from your sight.”

“That is not all.” Muhsin held up a hand. “She has committed an act of defiance against me. I have it on good authority that
she
went to you, she sought your bed willingly.” He gave a manly shrug. “If it had been simply a matter between men, we could have settled it between ourselves,” he said benevolently, although Susannah doubted it would have been as simple as he made it sound. “But a woman's dishonor combined with a slave's disobedience must be accounted for lest others find me weak and seek to try me in kind.”

The look Muhsin cast her chilled her in spite of the tent's heat. She heard the implicit deal Muhsin was willing to contract with Alex. She would be made to pay most horribly. If Alex confessed she'd come to him, he could pass unscathed as long as he left.

Alex said nothing, and Susannah breathed more easily. She wanted to trust Alex, but the offer had to be tempting. The sheikh spoke again. “You have in your possession a horse I admire. Relinquish the horse and that would cover any misunderstanding between us.”

Again the implicit opportunity to deny her, to lay the blame entirely at her feet; she had seduced him and he had not understood the inappropriateness of the seduction. Susannah clenched her hands to keep them from trembling. Surely Alex would not betray her? He'd promised. But what did she know of the man? Was he a man of his word or would he seek to save himself at her expense? Her mind warned that she knew nothing of him, a man who had wandered in from the desert two days ago.

But her heart argued otherwise. The man so concerned with her pleasure, who worshiped her body so reverently, was a man of sincerity and honor. Whatever he did with her afterwards, he would not leave her here to face a cruel fate at Bassam's hands. She knew what awaited her if he denied her—public punishment and the private humiliations Bassam would heap upon her. She could imagine too what awaited Alex if he did not deny her. At the very least there would be trial by fire, the Bedouin tradition for truth-telling, at the worst he would be ruined as a man unless she could intervene.

“Will you play me for her? She is not one of you. Your codes are not her codes. Whatever she has done, let me at least play for her. I fancy her and, unlike you, I am not repulsed by her sin.” Alex said with cool casualness.

“No cards,” The sheikh laughed, warming to the idea of a competition. “If you're as good as your friend, it is hardly fair.”

“Weapons then. We are all fair hands with knives.” Alex suggested. “You and Bassam against Crispin and myself.”

“It is dark.”

“The tent is large. We can set targets at the far end.” Alex countered.

The sheikh glanced at Bassam. “What do you say?”

Bassam grinned. “Take the challenge. If they win, they may take the girl. If they lose, they will leave camp before sun-up, happy to be alive and praising the sheikh's generosity.”

Susannah fought the urge to seek out Alex's gaze. Her fate balanced literally and metaphorically on the point of a knife, and she, a woman used to taking care of herself, could do nothing about it but watch and wait.