Darker Side of Desire & the Sheikh's Pregnant Prisoner(14)

‘And you? Will you be…?’

‘Will I be what?’ Raoul taunted. ‘At your side like a duitiful caring husband? You have forgotten surely that this “marriage” has been forced upon me for the sake of “our” son. There are business matters which compel me to spend time in the city, but you need not fear, the palace will be guarded at all times.’

Why did she feel as though she was suddenly being deserted? Raoul meant nothing to her, and yet unbidden her fingers pressed lightly on her lips, as though she could still feel the pressure of his mouth on hers. It came to her then, on a jolting shock wave, that she wanted to feel his mouth against hers again and the food before her was forgotten as she stared blindly towards him, shaken by the discovery but knowing it was something she had held at bay from the first moment she saw him.

She had been attracted to him then although she had fought against admitting it, and when he had kissed her there had been part of her that revelled in the hard, bruising contact of his mouth on hers, that yearned for the touch of his fingers against her skin.

‘Is something wrong?’ The green eyes narrowed, skimming her too-pale face. Another second and he would surely guess the truth, Claire thought in panic.

‘No… no. I’m just tired… I should like to go back to my room.’

Raoul inclined his head. ‘If you wish. I shall have Ali escort you there. Tomorrow I must go to the palace. My uncle will have returned and we have much to discuss.’

Back in her own room Claire discovered that she was in truth tired. Zenaide was waiting for her, and despite her protests, insisted on helping her to undress and on bathing her. How different it would be if it was Raoul who was with her, caressing her perfumed skin while she caressed him. Clamping down on the feverish intensity of her thoughts, Claire dismissed Zenaide, assuring the concerned girl that she was quite well, merely suffering a little from jet lag and exhaustion.

On her way back to her bedroom, she paused outside Saud’s door, and pushed it open. He lay on his back fast asleep, breathing evenly. When the new cot arrived from Paris perhaps she would ask Raoul if he could sleep with her in her room. She had grown dangerously fond of the little boy and already was dreading the parting that must eventually come.

Just thinking about it made her want to bend down and lift him out of his cot. It was the sudden rush of air that warned her that she was no longer alone and she straightened immediately, protecting the cot with her baby, her eyes wide and frightened in her pale face, the exposed skin of her shoulders and arms suddenly chilled by the air-conditioning. On dismissing Zenaide she had simply wrapped one of the large, plush towels around herself sarong-wise, but now she felt acutely vulnerable, her eyes searching the darkness beyond the open door as they sought the intruder.

‘Claire!’

She sagged in relief on recognising Raoul’s voice. ‘Raoul, you frightened me.’

He came further into the room, a rather puzzling expression on his face, and Claire realised that although she had not at first been able to see him, he had quite clearly seen her in the glow of the lamp above Saud’s bed.

‘Yes, and yet your first instinct was to protect Saud.’

‘An automatic reaction,’ Claire told him shakily, not wanting to admit to the powerful love she had felt for the little boy ever since she saved his life. ‘A piece of universal female programming.’ As his eyes swept slowly over the cot and then shifted to her body she became acutely aware of how little she was wearing.

‘You are cold?’ Raoul frowned, his fingertips brushing the goose-bumps on her arms, ‘or is it something else that causes your skin to react like this?’

Danger signals flashed from her body to her brain as his fingers became caressing, smoothing over her skin.

‘I… I don’t know what you mean.’ How husky and uncertain her voice sounded, as well it might. She knew exactly what he meant and his smile told her that he knew it too.

‘I mean desire, Claire,’ he told her softly, ‘and why should you not feel it? You are a woman used to the caresses of a man. I knew that in Paris. Your response was not that of a woman who is still unawakened.’

His fingers had reached her shoulder now and were caressing the smooth roundness of her bones, somehow propelling her closer to him. Her nostrils were full of the clean warm male scent of him, mingling with the wool of his robe.

‘Raoul, please stop this,’ she protested achingly. ‘You do not desire me, you told me that…’

‘I did not,’ he corrected, ‘but hunger has a way of stifling our more fastidious mental urgings, and all I know now is that my body is aroused by the cool paleness of yours, just as yours yearns for the possession of mine.’

‘No!’ She croaked the denial between stiff lips, horrified by the weakness invading her body. How could she still feel this way about him when with her own ears she had heard him callously describe how he felt about her? He still despised her, that hadn’t changed, but now his body wanted her. As hers wanted him, she acknowledged inwardly, but it wasn’t simply his physical possession she wanted. She wanted more.

For a split second it seemed as though her heart had stopped beating. A panicky, suffocating sensation washed over her. No, no, it couldn’t be true. She wasn’t in love with him! She started to tremble, gasping aloud as she felt the warm abrasiveness of Raoul’s robe pressed against her skin. His arms were round her, holding her against him, letting her know that he hadn’t lied when he said she aroused him. She could feel the heat coming off his skin, the fierce compulsive pressure of his thighs and the unmistakable hardness of his body against hers.

His hands tugged at her towel, urging it away from her body, his mouth exploring the vulnerable curve of her throat, his tongue brushing delicately against her ear until she was mindless with hazy pleasure, her arms around his neck, her fingers luxuriating in the feel of his thick dark hair. The golden glow from the lamp bathed her body, but she was no longer conscious of her nudity, only of Raoul’s hands moving across it, travelling the length of her spine. He murmured huskily as she arched instinctively against him, the fierce throb of his body pounding out a siren song she was unable to resist, and which echoed in the heated rhythm of the blood coursing through her body. Her throat arched in mute pleasure beneath the warm exploration of Raoul’s mouth, capturing and feeding the frantic pulse beating there until she could hear the blood roaring in her ears, and her body felt as supple and as pliable as a length of silk.

‘Claire.’ He murmured her name against her lips as his tongue teased their moist curves; her fingers were trembling as they investigated the opening of his robe, following the shape of his shoulders, lost in a daze of mute pleasure. She had never dreamed that the mere touch of skin beneath her fingers could convey such a kaleidoscope of delight. Raoul’s mouth brushed against her own, and finding it softly closed, hardened demandingly, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip, his tongue stroking persuasively against it until her mouth opened and fierce sparks of pleasure shot through her body as his tongue slid moistly against hers, exploring and enticing, until she was moaning softly into his mouth, half delirious with the pleasure he was giving her.

The reason she was in his arms was forgotten, her body offering its own incitement as it arched and stroked against him. The low groan that came from deep in his throat as his hands swept upwards towards her breasts offered further excitement, her body abandoned in its response to the desire she could feel building in his. Once again Claire felt her breasts swell and harden beneath his touch, but this time it wasn’t just the hard pad of his thumb that brushed her sensitive flesh. His mouth lifting from hers, Raoul bent his head, the lamplight revealing to her the dark flush staining his cheekbones and the feverish glitter in his eyes. His tongue touched her breasts lightly, almost exploratively, but Claire could feel the build up of tension in his body which ignited the smouldering fires already burning in her own.

With almost feverish intensity she pressed herself against him, her fingers curling into the dark hair covering his chest, her lips raining tiny, hungry kisses against his throat, her whole body convulsing with fierce pleasure as she felt the cool breath he expelled against her breast and almost simultaneously the shudder that racked his body, his mouth opening over her taut nipple.

A shiver of ecstasy surged over her, her small white teeth biting into the tanned smoothness of his skin, as she sought to communicate the need building up inside her. He tasted faintly of salt, the musky scent of his body increased her arousal. When his hand slid down to her thigh she welcomed his touch, every nerve-ending in her body urging her on towards fulfilment.

Somewhere in the distance she was dimly aware of a sound trying to penetrate the fog of desire blanketing her. Gradually the sound became louder, and she recognised it as Saud’s crying. In the same moment as she tensed, Raoul released her and she dropped back to earth with a humiliating thump, hastily reaching for her discarded towel and wrapping it quickly round her body before turning towards Saud.

Her thoughts a jumble of confused impressions and fears, she reached automatically for the crying child, barely noticing that Raoul had gone until she turned round. It took her fifteen minutes to soothe Saud whose teeth were still troubling him, and by the time he was asleep all she could think of was how much she hoped she never had to set eyes on Raoul again as long as she lived.