Silk and Secrets(104)

Ravaged by her guilt, Juliet was unable to meet Ross's gaze. There was unbearable irony in the knowledge that he had actually followed her halfway across the Mediterranean and reached Malta on that fateful night. If he had arrived a few hours sooner, she would have greeted him with open arms; their marriage would have survived and perhaps become stronger. But by the time he had reached the Hotel Bianca, it had already been too late.

Ross caught her chin with his hand and turned her to face him. "No! Last night was not a mistake. You were right: it would be a sin to waste what time we have left."

With a faint wry smile he softly quoted another of the Persian poet's verses. "'Make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the dust descend.' Don't pull away from me again, Juliet. I need you too much."

It was impossible to deny his plea, especially when her own need was so desperate. She leaned forward to kiss him, her mouth fierce and compelling. In one powerful move he pulled her hard against him. They were both kneeling and the robe she still held became caught between them, but his hands feasted on her bare back and buttocks, kneading and arousing wherever he touched.

The robe fell away as he bore her down to the carpet and their naked bodies intertwined, each of them seeking wholeness. Pain and anger were transmuted to passion, and they came together as if their earlier gentle lovemaking had never happened, using desire as a drug in a vain attempt to deny what had proved undeniable.

Ross made love to Juliet with the same dangerous wildness that she had seen in him after the bozkashi match. It was a purely masculine act of possession, yet it was also lovemaking, rooted in aching emotion. Her response came straight from the heart as she tried to say with her body what would have sounded false in words: that she loved him, had always loved him, though he had reason not to believe her.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to become lovers again, for pain lurked perilously near the surface. But now that they had come together, it was impossible to draw apart. For better and for worse, they were joined under the shadow of death.





Chapter 20





After their fierce mating, they lay spent and silent for fear of what words might bring. Juliet's head rested on Ross's shoulder, her bright hair a mantle over his chest, her fingers laced with his.

With his other hand he slowly stroked the back of her neck and wondered where they would go from here. In the last six hours they had experienced passion driven by rediscovery, sweetness, and finally desperation; if he weren't so tired, he would be impressed by his stamina.

Now it seemed that a fragile truce had been established, but nothing had been settled, not really. Instead, he guessed, they would go on like this, together but guarded, neither of them willing to deal with the painful issues that had briefly flared out of control and very nearly divided them again.

A peremptory knock sounded on the door and they both tensed as a servant announced that Abdul Samut Khan wished Lord Kilburn's company for breakfast. Both of them jumped to their feet and began scrambling into their clothing while Ross called out that he would be honored to join the nayeb.

Ross envied Juliet the simplicity of her enveloping Tuareg garments; she was fully dressed, looking exactly as Jalal always looked, while he was still wrestling with his cravat. Before she went to admit the servant, Ross said in a low voice, "I'll probably be out all day. Will you be here tonight?"

Her brows arched. "Of course."

He was glad to hear that; he had not been entirely sure. After pulling on his coat, Ross ran a comb through his hair, arranged a calm expression on his face, and went off to his host.

The nayeb greeted him volubly. "My dear Lord Khilburn! Was the interview with the amir a difficult one? If only I had known you would be summoned last night, I would have accompanied you."

He took Ross's hand and guided him to a spot by the table, his cold eyes a disquieting contrast with his effusive manner. "Unfortunately, important matters concerning the artillery demanded my attention and I did not learn what had happened until this morning. What did his majesty say?"

"It was no great matter," Ross said easily as he settled onto a cushion. He suspected that the nayeb already knew what had happened the night before in the audience chamber, word for word and inflection for inflection. "The amir merely said that he had decided not to allow me to take Major Cameron's body home for burial. Naturally I regret that, but it is his majesty's right to refuse. When I asked permission to depart, he said that it would be granted soon."

Abdul Samut Khan glanced about warily. A guard stood by the door at the far end of the room, his expression bored; no one else was present. "If only that were true," the nayeb said in a low voice. "But the amir is notoriously volatile. He will grant you permission, only to withdraw it again and again, as he did with your brother. So it will go until he takes offense at something you do—or perhaps for no reason at all."