Stolen Lives (Blood Brothers Book 1) (26 page)

She touches my arm to draw back my attention. I have to say something, but all I can offer her is a vague response that will tell her absolutely nothing. I take a firm hold of her shoulders, my fingers curling into her skin, gripping her tightly enough to hold her attention.

“I’m not that man any more, Cara,” I reiterate. “I’ve changed.” I shrug. “I suppose you could say I’ve grown up.” I need to end this conversation now. Deliberately I change the tone of my voice, making it soft, velvety, pitching it low. “I need you to trust me.”

She’s staring at me. The changes in her pupils tell me my voice has registered with her, that she’s aware I don’t want to talk any longer. I can see thoughts warring in her head, pulling her between continuing her interrogation, and accepting that we move it on to a more physical plane. My face feels taut as I wait for her response. When she raises her hand and strokes my cheek, I know she’s going to give me a reprieve.

I watch as she takes a breath. “I trust you,” she murmurs. And then she takes the initiative and pulls my head down to hers, moving her lips against mine, her tongue demanding entry. The relief I feel is immense, but I have to regain control. Quickly, I take over the caress, deepen it, and turn it into something more. We’re communicating, but without words. I’ve never felt this close to a woman before, never known the need to kiss until neither of us can breathe any longer, feeling emotions that I have no fucking business entertaining. I feel like I’m stepping off a cliff as I reach for yet another condom, then start to make love to her again. And with no urgency, just a poignant gentleness. We’re not just fucking, and I’ve never had any experience like it. She comes apart in my mouth, and with my cock inside her.

The heat of the day and the exertion makes her relax beside me, still curled round my body, my arm under her head. Her body is limp, exhausted, and I know she’s about to go to sleep. I need to tell her the one thing that will keep her safe, hoping she’s still awake enough for the words to register. So I tell her softly, “You must trust me with everything, Cara. Never keep secrets.”

Cara

I must have fallen asleep. Waking, I stretch lazily on the cushions, taking a second to remember where I am. Outside I can hear someone moving around; Nijad can’t be far away. A smile comes to my face and then disappears as I recall our conversation and reflect on what he told me. Should I worry about
why
he was banished to the desert? My gut feeling is that there’s something he isn’t telling me. I turn over on to my back. In reality he is little more than a stranger to me, yet over the past twenty-four hours I’ve come to feel closer to Nijad than I ever have to anyone, even, and I hate to admit it, my mother. Sometimes I wonder whether she regretted having me. I know she felt guilty, moving me around so often, from the way she looked at me sometimes when the teenage years hit. She was such a beauty, and I felt ashamed that I was a disappointment to her. With Nijad, there’s nothing to question in his expression when he looks at me, nothing to say he has to force himself to withhold any disgust or pity. Wiping my hands down my face, I don’t feel the scars in the way I used to, and my appearance has no adverse effects on my new husband, if the number of times he’s made love to me is any indication. I grimace as I change position; perhaps it’s been too many times, given that I was so recently a virgin. I don’t mind, though; he can take me as often as he desires! I never realised that I had such sensuality inside me, and an appetite to match his own.

I reflect on the day, on the words he spoke and the emotions he shared. Should I press for more details? Would that make me feel better or worse? Feeling determined, I decide to judge him as I find him. I’m a different
person from the recluse locked up in command central; maybe the desert has changed him too. Whatever he’s done in the past doesn’t need to be a rock around his neck now. I’m not going to poke any more at what is obviously an open wound for him. Resolution made, I sit up and draw my clothes together.

Hearing the sound of jingling I realise Nijad must be tacking up the horses for the return journey, so I dress as fast as I can and hurry out of the tent to find him, and our mounts, ready and waiting. He’s sporting a broad grin and his eyes open in appreciation as I appear. I run my hand through my hair, which, as normal, is doing its own thing, having been left to dry by itself. I must look dreadful, but something in his expression tells me he thinks otherwise, and I feel myself glow.

“Your ride awaits, ma’am,” he jokes, after looking me up and down. “Literally.” His face drops as he sees me grimace when I take a step towards him. “What’s the matter?”

I redden, embarrassed. He’s a man of the world; he probably doesn’t even realise. He leaves the horses and comes over, his hands reaching out to clasp my arms, and looks at me quizzically. He waits for me to speak.

“Um …” I can feel my cheeks flush a brighter shade. His head tilts to the side. Oh, for goodness sake, I can admit to this. “I’m a bit saddle-sore, and, er, sore in other ways,” I tell him self-consciously. “And it’s a long ride back.”

Instead of sympathy or remorse, Nijad pulls himself up, looking almost conceited, and is unable to keep a note of satisfaction from his voice.

“Ah, so you’ll be thinking about me every step of the way.” His smirking smile gets to me, and I can’t help it. I thump his arm in annoyance. All right for him to say; he isn’t facing a two-hour ride with a chafed nether region.

All the fun disappears from his voice.

“You’re going to pay for that!” he tells me sternly. Aware that I might have taken liberties with his royal person, I step away; our intimacy has made me relax too far with him. Is he joking? Or have I overstepped a line? Realising I don’t yet know how to take him, I see his eyes narrow, and then an easy smile quickly covers his face as he pulls me into his body, gently stroking my back. “I’m a man, sweetheart,” he starts. “I like the thought that I have thoroughly ravished my woman.” His face falls. “Although I should have remembered how new you are to this, and perhaps have had more restraint. But it’s just so difficult when I’m around you.” He plants a kiss on my nose. “I blame you for being irresistible. I promise I’ll take excellent care of you when we get back.”

I still need time to understand him, to know where the boundaries lie, but I return his grin. I might feel sore on the return journey, but every step will remind me of our lovemaking. Pulling myself up to my full, but unremarkable, height, I walk over to the mare and untie her reins from the fence.

“Do you want to ride back with me again? You could ride with me the whole way if it would be more comfortable?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” I reassure him quickly with a smile.

“But just for the start? I know you didn’t like the mountain track.”

I look up at the path winding its way through the narrow gully. I frown as I examine the steep drop on the left-hand side, but then remember the sure-footedness of the horses on the way here. Memories come to me of being scared and trapped in my house, too frightened of what people might think of me to go out. Now that I have a chance to do things differently I’m determined not to let fear control me again.

I turn to my husband of just twenty-four hours. Perhaps logically I should be afraid of him too, but I no longer want to live my life that way. I have a new-found confidence and it’s up to me to maintain the change. “It’s all right,” I tell him as positively as I can. “I’ll ride by myself.”

He regards me for a long moment, and I wonder what’s going through his mind. Then his face splits into a wide smile of approval. I’ve pleased him and that, in turn, makes me proud of myself and my decision. Without another word, he gives me a leg up on to the mare and then mounts his stallion. “You go first. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

I nod and smile back. I would be safe, I know. Somehow I trust him enough to know he’ll make sure of that.

Just as we’re about to move off, he pulls Amal beside Sakin, reaching out to touch my arm. “You’re a brave woman, Sheikha.” Then, without another word, he indicates that I should move off.

As I hear him follow close behind, I think about the words he said. Brave? I don’t believe I've ever thought of myself that way before. A coward, more like. But perhaps it’s time to change that as well.

Night falls quickly in the desert, and it is dark and turning decidedly cooler as we arrive back at the camp. I’m tired and aching, unable to dismount the mare without help. Nijad takes such care of me; I’ve never had someone pamper me like this. He undresses me with great restraint, as though I was a child. I can see my nakedness arouses him, but the caresses and kisses he gives me are gentle and soft, not meant to initiate intimacy which, quite frankly, at this moment I don’t think I could handle. He carries me to a warm, soothing bath and washes me. After that he insists on massaging the aches away, as I lie on the large bed which, only the night before, I found so intimidating. His tender touch relaxes me, and I am already half
asleep as he slips naked into bed and lies behind me. I have a fleeting thought about how completely natural it feels that I’m spooned against his body, before I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Far too early I’m rudely awoken by a familiar ringing sound that seems strange and out of place. I’m not alone this morning and the bed dips as Nijad leaves it. Opening my eyes, I shamelessly watch as he walks across the room, and can’t fail to notice that he is entirely comfortable with being completely naked. Unrepentant, I take the time to enjoy the view of his lovely tight backside, and when he turns I note his very erect cock jutting out in front of him. I can’t help my automatic reaction of licking my lips in anticipation.

He locates the offending item, picks up the phone, checks the caller ID and answers. I roll over to doze again, letting my husband’s warm voice flood over me, only half listening to the one-sided conversation.

“Jas. What can I do for you?” There is a brief silence, then he laughs. “Hang on, let me take this outside. Don’t want to disturb the wife.” He puts the phone down and shrugs on a robe. Then he laughs again at something the caller has said, the sound fading as he exits the tent.

Nijad

“That didn’t take long to get to the palace!” I knew Lamis wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut, but the speed with which gossip reached the other side of the country still amazed me.

“So you’ve got a virgin bride?” Jasim’s voice is full of mirth. “Or not any longer, I take it? Father is well pleased, and so are the tribes.”

I cringe, anticipating Cara’s reaction when she realises her virginity was the topic of conversation across the nation. Being pure on the wedding night is of great importance to the more traditional folks of Amahad. “Give me the gist.”

“The greatest gift a woman has to give? As revenge on Benting it couldn’t have been better done,” Jasim tells me. “The good news is she’s gained some respect. Hey, I also hear she’s sharing your accommodation, and that you went to Alwadi Aljameel yesterday. What the fuck’s with that, brother?”

I shake my head. Nothing is sacred.

“She’s not what I expected, Jas. I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

“What, an arranged bride?”

“Someone who’s not after my money or status. Someone genuine.”

Jas seems surprised. I know he is hearing in my voice the words I’m not quite saying.

“You really like her?”

I more than
like
her, but I’m not telling him that.

“Yes.”

“So you’ll be a father pretty quickly,” he jests.

I trust Jasim. “No, probably not. I’ve been gloving up.”

“You’re fucking
what?
Father will kill you if he finds out.”

“That’s why I’m discreet with disposal, if you know what I mean.” It’s not easy hiding used condoms when servants follow your every move. “I want a chance to get to know her, Jas.”

He stays silent, dumbfounded I suspect. I know they all expected me to fuck her, get her pregnant, and then go off on my merry way. I know that because it had been my expectation too. I smile, thinking how much better things have turned out. I take the opportunity of his silence to change the subject.

“Jas, can you do me a favour?” At his grunt, I continue. “I’m taking her to the desert city in a couple of weeks. You know the original plans I had for the old harem?” Again, he grunts. “I can’t do a lot from here, but could you kit it out for me?”

“You’re her Dom?” He sounds incredulous.

“You must have noticed she’s submissive,” I respond.

“No wonder you don’t want to keep her barefoot and pregnant. Barefoot and tied up more like!” Now he’s laughing out loud. It’s a good sound. Slowly the rift between us seems to be healing. Then his laughter fades. “Are you sure you can control yourself, Nijad? What about Paris?”

Fuck. What is he asking? I get annoyed.

“Yes I’m sure. I’m not going to fucking hurt her. That was a one-off, Jas; it has to be.” Was I trying to convince him or me? “Cara’s not Chantelle; she doesn’t have secrets. She’s an open book. I’ll never harm her.”

There’s a pause before he answers. “I hope you’re right, brother. I saw the pictures in Paris, remember.”

Now it’s my turn to go quiet while Jasim’s words sink in. I still don’t fucking remember what caused me to be so violent. But thinking of the woman lying in my bed, I know, deep down in my bones, that she could never give me cause for such anger, never betray me like Chantelle. I won’t hurt her; I just know it. I clear my throat and speak as emphatically as I can.