Authors: Cheryl Holt
As he’d reminded her several times now, they were adventuring in Egypt and away from all that was familiar. In the hot, sultry, foreign country, it seemed that any misconduct might be allowed. The rules guiding morality no longer applied.
Was that his cock talking?
It probably was, so he paced, anxious to focus on a topic besides the fact that Kat was a few feet away and bathing.
He turned and paced the other direction, and to his dismay—or was it his delight?—he could see the pool through the foliage. Moonlight shone on the water, giving him a perfect view of her.
She was over at the far end, sitting on a rock bench. She was wearing her undergarments, not having had the temerity to remove them.
Had he planned this very situation? Had he brought her to the isolated spot, hoping a salacious encounter would occur?
Typically he liked to envision himself as being a gentleman, liked to comport himself in a manner that let him remember he was nothing like Chase. Yet maybe Egypt had changed him in ways he hadn’t realized, or perhaps deep down, he possessed the heart of a cad.
They were both lonely and alone in the world. Why couldn’t they enjoy each other’s company? Why couldn’t they reach beyond friendship and cordial conversation?
“Carpe diem,”
he muttered to himself. Seize the day. Or the night, as the case might be.
He blustered over to the pond. She saw him immediately, and he’d expected her to either scold him or shriek with alarm. But she simply stared at him and asked, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m going to swim with you.”
“I really don’t believe you should.”
“I don’t care. I’m not giving you a choice.”
He kicked off his boots and yanked off his stockings. Then he pulled his shirt over his head, pulled knives from various pockets and sheaths.
She watched him disrobing, but didn’t lurch away in maidenly disgust, which he took as a very good sign.
Clad in just his trousers, he waded into the pool, and he walked straight to her. She remained perched on the rock bench, and he knelt down and drew her to him, instigating a passionate, thrilling kiss.
Without telling her what he intended, he dragged her onto his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, her bottom pressed to his loins. He pushed himself into the pond so they bobbed in the center, the water lapping at their shoulders and chins.
All the while, he was kissing her and kissing her. She eagerly participated, her tongue in his mouth, her fingers riffling his hair. It was tied into a ponytail, and she grabbed the ribbon that held it in place and tossed it away.
“Do you think people tryst here occasionally?” she asked.
“I’m guessing they tryst frequently.”
“Would you imagine my uncle built it specifically for this purpose?”
“No. I’m sure he built it for bathing, but humans have interesting ways of using water.”
“You’re right about that, and you’re horrid to have joined me without permission.”
“I couldn’t help it. I caught a glimpse of you through the trees, and I couldn’t resist.”
“You were spying on me.”
“Not deliberately, but once I saw you I wasn’t about to look away.”
“Oh, what am I to do with you?”
It was a rhetorical question that required no reply.
She initiated another series of kisses, clutching him tightly, as if she couldn’t get him near enough. He was happy to let her nestle and snuggle. Each move of her body rubbed her perfect breasts against his chest until his agony was so pronounced he had no idea how he’d stumble through the evening without committing a few reckless and forbidden acts.
He broke off and nibbled a trail down her neck, to her bosom. He found a pert nipple and sucked it into his mouth. She gasped with surprise but didn’t tell him to stop, and even if she had he probably wouldn’t have listened.
They shared such a hot, potent attraction. Why deny it? Why ignore it?
“Why are you doing that?” she asked him.
“Because it feels wonderful, to me
and
to you. Doesn’t it feel wonderful?”
“Yes, but I’m certain it’s a sin.”
“I’m certain it is too, but there’s no vicar lurking so there’s no one keeping count.”
“Bryce, this can’t mean anything.”
“Hush, Kat.”
“I must be leading you on, but I’m not sure how I’m enticing you.”
“Seriously? You don’t know?”
“No.” She appeared confused and very young, and he chuckled.
“It’s your beauty, you little fool. I simply gaze at you, and I’m overcome.”
“You’re so sweet.”
“Yes, I am, and you spend too much time worrying. Relax, would you?”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
He lifted the hem of her chemise, worked it up and over her head so her breasts were bare. For a second, she squealed with distress and attempted to cover herself, but he wouldn’t let her.
He pinned her arms and tipped her away so he could study her. The moon shone on them, painting her smooth skin a silvery color. With her brunette hair down, she might have been a mermaid, and he was positive she was singing a siren’s song aimed directly at him. No doubt he would crash on the rocks before she was finished with him.
He leaned in and sucked on her nipple again, and he kept on and on, shifting from one to the other, going back and forth, back and forth. Gradually he carried her to the rear of the pond and sat her on the stone bench. He was still on his knees and wedged between her thighs.
He slipped his hand into her drawers, quickly finding her lush center. He slid a finger inside, then another, and she was such a sexual creature, and so incredibly titillated, that he didn’t need to stroke them in and out.
He’d scarcely touched her, and she was pitched into a violent orgasm. Her body tensed, and she moaned with dismay and astonishment, being so loud that anyone who’d heard her would definitely assume misbehavior was in progress. They wouldn’t have to speculate.
Laughing, merry, joyous, he clamped a palm over her mouth to stifle the sound. She spiraled up and up the ladder of desire, then she reached the top and tumbled down. She was laughing too, sputtering with amazement.
“What did you do to me?” she asked when she could speak again.
“Quiet down or you’ll rouse the whole camp. They’ll rush in to see what we’re about.”
“What happened to me?”
“It’s carnal pleasure, Kat. Didn’t you know?”
“No.” She scowled. “Am I still a…a…”
“Yes, you’re chaste as the day is long. Well, mostly chaste.”
“I’m not with…child, am I? There’s no chance of that?”
“No, no. Don’t fret. We’ve just had a spot of fun.”
Her frantic queries made him feel awful. She was twenty-five, and he’d been wondering if she was a virgin, or if some young man in her past had pushed the issue with her. But she was naïve and innocent, and clearly he was much too experienced for her.
At the same time, he was delighted to realize she was untried and untrained. If he was shrewd and clever, he might win the ultimate prize she would ever bestow.
Yet it wouldn’t be here, in a pond in her uncle’s desert camp. No, if Bryce was ever lucky enough to have her for his own, it would be in a grand bedchamber, on a feather mattress with sheets covered in rose petals. He wasn’t typically a romantic fellow, but she inspired that sort of devotion.
“You are so wicked,” she whispered.
“Not usually, but you draw out my worst impulses.”
“Can that occur more than once?”
“Yes, it can occur over and over. It’s a secret of the marital bed, but we don’t inform you females in advance. If you learned how exciting it is, you’d be ruining yourselves all over the place.”
She giggled like a schoolgirl. “We’re not married though, so how can we engage in marital conduct?”
“It’s just physical behavior. All of it is physical, and people don’t have to be wed to enjoy it.”
“Obviously not,” she murmured. “Have I told you that it’s dangerous for me to fraternize with you?”
“I believe you might have.”
“I want to do it again. I want to do it all night.”
“We can’t. Someone is certain to stroll by, and if I don’t get you back soon, the guards will notice how long we’ve been gone—and who you were with.”
“Drat it. I imagine you’re correct.”
“I could sneak into your tent later.”
She looked scandalized, but intrigued too. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would—if you ask me nicely.”
She snorted and assessed him with a keen eye, but in the end—as he might have predicted—she couldn’t take the leap.
“I’m not ready to have you sneaking into my tent.”
“Are you sure?”
“Fairly sure.”
“No, you must declare that you’re absolutely sure. Otherwise I’ll convince myself to barge in and surprise you.”
“I am by and large absolutely sure,” she said.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“If you came to my tent, would we…would we…”
He nodded. “We’d do things we probably shouldn’t.”
“That’s what I figured you’d tell me.”
“It would be thrilling though. You’d like it. I promise.”
“You’re a man so you would promise that.”
“True, but I’m not lying. You would love it. But…”
“We shouldn’t.”
“I can’t control myself around you.”
“And
I
can’t control myself around you.”
“Yes, you Jezebel. At heart you’re loose as a doxy.”
“If that’s supposed to render me more amenable, you’ve misplayed your hand.”
“I never misplay my hand, because I never bet more than I can afford to lose.”
“Could you afford to lose me?”
She asked the question in a flirtatious manner, as if she was teasing or jesting, but he thought, deep down, she might be seriously inquiring.
He smiled, letting all his affection shine through. “I could never afford to lose you.”
She sighed with pleasure. “It’s why you make me happy. You always say just the right thing.”
“Of course I do.” He pulled away and pointed to her basket. “Let’s dry you off, put some clothes on you, and get you back before the guards deduce who was moaning and groaning.”
Her blanched with horror. “They wouldn’t suspect it was me, would they?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll never be able to show my face among them again.”
“Then they’ll really know it was you.”
“You’re so hazardous to my moral character. I have no idea why I’m spending time with you.”
“You’re crazy about me. You can admit it.”
“I might be crazy about you. But just a little.”
She pushed off the bench and brushed by him, grabbing her drenched chemise out of the water and walking to the sandy beach. He followed her, liking how relaxed she was, her limbs rubbery and languid. She didn’t try to conceal her breasts, but wrung out her chemise and tugged it over her head while he watched. Her dress was next, and she spun and let him help her with the buttons.
“I want us to come here often,” she said.
“All right.”
“We have to be careful though.”
“Certainly.”
He doubted caution was possible, but he pretended it was. She didn’t realize how rapidly passion could spiral out of control, and he wouldn’t explain the risks. He would ride out the affair and see where they landed at the end.
She rose on tiptoe and kissed him.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For being you. For forcing me to become someone else. I
need
to become someone else.”
“I will try my best, Katarina, to make you into someone entirely new.”
“I hope so, for I hate the person I have been.”
“We’ll work on her together.”
He yanked on his boots, picked up his shirt and drew it on too. He found his knives and stuck them in the various spots where they were always hidden. Then he linked their fingers and they started off.
They’d reached the main path when a scream rent the air. Isabelle shouted, “Nicholas! Nicholas!”
“Oh, my Lord,” Kat murmured. “What’s happened?”
They sucked in a shocked breath and raced for the tents.
* * * *
Nicholas wasn’t quite asleep when his kidnapper snuck in.
He’d been lying quietly, thinking about the marvelous day he’d had, tagging after his Uncle Cedric. He was an odd duck, but Nicholas liked him anyway. While Kat yearned to be welcomed back to Parthenia, his country was beginning to seem very far away. He couldn’t imagine how they’d ever return.
In the meantime, he was twelve years old, and it was wrong to have Kat supporting him. A female shouldn’t have to support a male. Since Nicholas wouldn’t be a king, he had to consider the type of life he’d like to live instead. Digging for antiquities would suit him.
As he’d been worrying about the future, he’d heard a peculiar tearing sound, and he’d glanced over, astonished to see a knife slicing through the canvas. Very quickly a man slipped in the opening and proceeded straight to Nicholas.
Nicholas called to his sister, managing only a simple, “Isabelle!” before a palm was clapped over his mouth. He was rudely jerked out of his bed and carried off. Isabelle jumped up and clasped hold of the man’s arm, but he was very large and very strong, and she couldn’t stop him.
Nicholas was stunned by the violence of the assault, by the swiftness of it, so he was outside before he remembered that he had to fight his attacker. He kicked and struggled, as behind them, Isabelle was screaming, her voice exploding in the dark.
“Mon dieu,
” the man cursed in French.
It was the main language of Parthenia, and the bandit was wearing the wool trousers and embroidered vest favored by the citizenry. Nicholas’s mind was awhirl with questions as he tried to figure out why one of his own subjects would steal him away.
What was transpiring? Who had ordered it? Where would he be taken? If the destination was Parthenia, he wondered if he shouldn’t offer to go along peacefully. He’d be glad to go home, but he’d never depart without Kat and Isabelle.
Nicholas bit the man’s hand very hard, and the criminal yelped and nearly dropped him.
“Put me down!” Nicholas spoke in French too. “As your king, I command it.”