Monarch of the Sands (14 page)

‘Zahid!’ She gave a soft gasp as he tightened his hold on her.

‘Relax,’ he instructed throatily as he began to move inside her. ‘Let go.’

‘Oh, Zahid,’ she said again, more brokenly this time.

He’d never known love-making like it—even though it tested every reserve he possessed. Time and time he held back from giving into his orgasm—determined that her first time would be memorable for the right reasons. Or at least
some
of the right reasons, he thought grimly as his fingers gripped the satin of her thighs to drive into her even deeper.

Her head turned wildly against the pillow as she began to make soft, moaning sounds—and when at last he sensed the change in her, he drew back to watch it happen. Saw the slow arching of her back and the rosy flowering over her breasts. Heard the fevered entreaty gasped from her parted lips as her orgasm captured her.

Even before her spasms had stilled, he sensed the inevitability of his own release and felt it like nothing he had ever felt before. Everything paled in comparison to
those fleeting moments of pure pleasure. Every milestone of his life, every battle fought and victory won—he would have traded them all for this one moment of delicious weakness with Francesca O’Hara.

But afterwards, when his body had begun to quieten, his thoughts began to race. Slowly, he withdrew from her—taking a moment to compose himself before turning her towards him, steeling his heart against the trickle of a tear which slid down her cheek.

It was long moments before he could bring himself to speak and when he did, his words shot out like bullets. The only woman he had thought he could trust—and she had deceived him in the most fundamental way of all.

‘So,’ he said heavily. ‘Are you going to give me some kind of explanation?’

She heard the sudden coolness in his voice and Frankie’s heart sank as some of her joy began to evaporate. Couldn’t the interrogation wait? Couldn’t he just let her revel in this feeling—let her enjoy the sense of warmth and closeness she was experiencing right now? Surely she was allowed to spin out her hopeless fantasies about her dark and brooding lover for just a little longer.

‘You mean about—’

‘Please don’t make it worse by playing games with me, Francesca. It seems you’ve done enough game-playing to last a lifetime.’ Angrily, he wiped away the tear which shimmered on her cheek and which seemed to reproach him. Why hadn’t she told him before it was too late? ‘You know exactly what I mean.’

‘About me being …’ Her voice tailed off because the
word seemed like an unwanted intruder and the dark look on his face filled her with trepidation.

‘A virgin. A
virgin
!’ He shook his head in disbelief as he rolled away from her, reaching down to grab the cashmere throw, which had tumbled to the floor during their love-making and thrusting it at her, not wanting to look at her pink and white nakedness. He saw her move one milky thigh to reveal the secret, dark fuzz of hair and felt the rapid escalation of his heart. ‘Cover yourself up!’

Frankie was grateful for the blanket, tugging it over herself with trembling fingers as she stared at him with apprehensive eyes.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded.

‘Because I knew you would stop if I did—’

‘Damned right I would have stopped!’

‘And I didn’t want you to,’ she said, in a small voice.

Her wide-eyed honesty took him aback and almost made him melt, until he reminded himself of what she had done and the repercussions of her actions. ‘You didn’t have sex with Simon?’ he queried, then gave a short laugh as he realised the ridiculous nature of his question. ‘Clearly not, as I’ve just discovered for myself.’ He looked at her, trying to steel himself against the softness of her lips and the blue temptation of her darkened eyes. ‘The question is, why not?’

She felt as if she were on a witness stand—suddenly expected to mount her own defence with little or no preparation. And her only defence was the truth, Frankie realised—even if it opened her up to the charge of being too trusting and too vulnerable.

‘Because I was …
nervous
whenever Simon touched
me.’ Awkwardly, she wriggled her shoulders. ‘I sort of …
froze
.’

‘You didn’t act very nervous just now.’ And she certainly hadn’t frozen.

She swallowed but the candid question still sparked from his black eyes. Did he want her to spell it out for him, detail by cringe-making detail—and inflate his already over-inflated ego into the bargain? Did she admit that she’d been stupid enough to get engaged to a man who hadn’t made her feel a modicum of what she felt for the brooding sheikh? That she had only just discovered what real passion and desire could feel like?

‘You made me feel relaxed,’ she said simply. ‘No, maybe that’s the wrong word. You made me feel …’ She gave another rueful shrug of her shoulders—for surely there was no place for coyness now. ‘Wanton, I guess. Which he never did. He told me that day when I went to see him that I was basically … frigid. And I believed him.’ She stopped while Zahid said something very profound in his native tongue, her heart beating hopefully as he pulled the cashmere throw over him as well, so that she could feel the heat from his body as he drew closer. ‘Anyway, maybe I should be grateful that we didn’t have sex.’ Her voice wobbled a little. ‘Not if he was sleeping with somebody else at the time.’

Zahid gave a ragged sigh as he stared at the ceiling, cursing the man who had hurt her and cursing his own hot-blooded impetuosity. How bloody complicated life could be at times, he thought. The best sex he’d ever had and it had been with his oldest friend—who had now wasted her virginity on him and given him a whole new layer of unwanted responsibility towards her. Was this not the most impossible of all situations?

‘You know what kind of man I am, Francesca,’ he said furiously. ‘As King, I will be expected to marry a virgin—but it will have to be a woman from my own culture,’ he ran on hastily, in case she should think that she now qualified for the position. ‘Not a foreigner.’

Frankie was glad that he was looking at the ceiling because otherwise he might have seen the hurt which had criss-crossed over her face. How unwittingly cruel he could be. Did he think she was now angling for marriage, simply because he had been the first man she’d had sex with? Did he imagine that she had withheld the information from him in order to put herself in a powerful position?

But it took her only moments to compose herself. Why
should
he feel guilt about what had just happened, when in a way—she
had
misled him? Yet she hadn’t kept quiet about her innocence because she had some form of agenda. She had done it because she’d wanted Zahid more than anything else in the world. She had wanted him to be the man to introduce her to the world of sex. And she had done it because she … well, she
liked
him. That was all. Surely that was something which could be celebrated instead of regretted?

Beneath the superfine cashmere, she stretched her glowing body and the movement made him turn his head to look at her, his eyes narrowing as she gave him a tentative smile.

‘I don’t want to fall out about it,’ she said softly, and with that she reached out her hand to cup the jut of his jaw. She could feel the rasp of new growth there and traced her thumb over his lips, not surprised when he caught it between his teeth and gave it a tiny nip.

‘Neither do I,’ he growled.

‘So couldn’t we … couldn’t we forget it ever hap pened?’

‘Are you crazy?’ The absurdity of her statement stirred him into action and he rolled closer, pulling her against his warm and newly aroused body. And then he sighed. ‘No, you’re just inexperienced—and in a way, it’s a bit of a pity that you’ve started with the best.’

She bristled at the implication behind his words. ‘You mean that no lover will ever match you?’

That hadn’t been what he’d meant at all. He’d meant that sex rarely felt this good—especially given that it was her first time. He wondered why that was, before quickly dismissing the thought. The whys and wherefores were irrelevant—it was the facts they had to deal with. And the fact was that he had just made love to his sweet virginal Francesca and he wanted to do it again.

‘I doubt it,’ he told her honestly.

‘Why, you arrogant—’

He silenced her with the brush of his lips. ‘Arrogance is sometimes the truth,
anisah
,’ he said sombrely.

When he spoke like that—how could she resist him?

When his black eyes looked as deep and as dark as ink and she just wanted to write her name with them …

‘Oh, Zahid.’

‘Zahid, what?’

She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders helplessly so that the throw slipped down. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

And neither did he. All he could think about was the distracting softness of her warm breasts and her evocative feminine scent, which seemed to have invaded his senses. His lips brushing against her shoulder, he slid his fingers between her thighs as he gave into a temptation he had no desire to resist. Why mar this beautiful
experience with troublesome questions which could easily wait?

Lowering his mouth onto hers, he gave a low moan as his kiss blotted everything except the hungry clamour of their bodies.

T
HE
finger which was stroking circles on her belly suddenly stilled and Frankie made a little sound which was midway between pleasure and protest.

‘That’s nice,’ she whispered.

‘I know it is. Too damned nice.’ With a quick and disbelieving glance at his watch, Zahid saw that it was two hours since they had left the racing stadium. Two hours which hadn’t been scheduled into his busy itinerary, which had been spent exploring her sweet body. With an effort, he pushed aside the covers and forced himself to get out of bed and away from the warm lure of her arms. For a woman who was new to sex she had certainly embraced it with enthusiasm. He had never imagined that she could be so deliciously
imaginative
.

‘We can’t lie around in bed any longer, Francesca—my bodyguards will be wondering what the hell I am doing.’

His mouth hardened. Actually, they would probably have a pretty good idea of what he was doing, he realised—and it was his own stupid fault. He had broken all the rules by bringing Francesca to his private house and spending the whole afternoon making love to her.

‘Zahid—’

‘Not now. We’d better get dressed and on our way.’ Brutally, his words cut across hers—he was terrified that she might make another breathy little sound, which would compel him to start exploring her hot and tight little body yet again. He stared down at her, naked on his bed. Dark hair spilled over her shoulders and her creamy thighs were parted indolently—and with a big2 groan he swallowed down his rising lust and backed away. ‘Will you stop tempting me?’ he demanded.

‘But I’m not doing anything!’

Now was not the time to explain that she was managing to make him more aroused than he could ever remember feeling before. Because how could he possibly explain something he didn’t understand? Instead, he forced his mind to practicalities. ‘I’m afraid that we’re going to have to wait until we get back to the palace to shower—if you can bear to.’ Because they might as well have taken out a full-page advertisement in the
Khayarzah Times
if they suddenly reappeared with damp hair and flushed faces. Even if it meant that the return journey would be perfumed with the distinctive scent of sex. ‘Francesca, will you
please
get up?’

Reluctantly, Frankie did as he asked—acutely aware of the fact that she was stark-naked in front of a man she’d known all her life. It felt strange to be getting dressed in such a bizarre setting—and stranger still to see Zahid, his back now averted, hurriedly pulling on his robes.

Locating her bag and finding a nearby bathroom, she freshened up as best she could. But when she returned to the bedroom, it was to find Zahid looking grim—and suddenly, her heart sank with a sense of dread. Was he going to tell her something she suspected he’d
felt all along—that he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life?

‘So … what happens now?’ she asked in a big2 voice.

Expelling a sigh, he shook his head. If it had been anyone but Francesca, it would have been easy. He could have kissed and dismissed her with a promise to look her up when he was back in London. And then put her on the next plane home and forgotten all about her.

But it wasn’t anyone else—and the very fact that it was Francesca was what made the whole situation so damned difficult. He had brought her here to give her a chance to forget her problems back in England—and had promptly added to those problems a hundredfold, by seducing her!
And to make matters worse, she had given him her virginity—the greatest gift a woman could give her lover. Wouldn’t that make her clingy—even clingier than new lovers so often were?

He needed to play it down. To show her that nothing need change. That their friendship could remain intact, if they handled it properly. ‘We might be able to manage the situation,’ he said slowly. ‘If we are very careful.’

Frankie looked at him, fearing the worst—for she had seen the calculating expression which had suddenly hardened his features. ‘Manage it?’ she echoed cautiously.

He stared at the soft pink face she’d just washed and knew that he had to be straight with her. ‘We’ve just crossed a forbidden line by making love,’ he said.

Lips pursed, she nodded, even though he made it sound as if they’d committed some sort of
trespass
. ‘I realise that.’

‘And I ought to send you back to England straight away—for both our sakes.’ He saw her face workin
as she tried desperately not to react to his words and he found himself wondering if his own reaction was mirroring hers. Could she sense his own reluctance to do that?

‘But the thing is, that I don’t want to send you back.’

A new note of hope entered her voice. ‘You don’t?’

‘No. I want you to type up my father’s diaries as planned.’ He swallowed. ‘And I want to carry on making love to you.’