The sheikh's chosen wife(11)

'Raflq is entertaining Ethan-up there,' Hassan explained when she asked  where everyone else was. Following his gaze, Leona could see lights were  burning in the windows of the deck above.

'Should we be joining them?"

'I don't think they would appreciate the interruption,' he drawled.  'They have a poker game planned with several members of the crew, and  our presence would dampen their-enthusiasm.'

Which was really him saying he didn't want to share her with anyone.  'You have an answer for everything, don't you?' she murmured.

'I try.' He smiled.

It was a slaying smile that sent the heat of anticipation burning  between the cradle of her hip-bones, forcing her to look away so he  wouldn't see just how susceptible she was even to his smile. Going to  lean against the yacht's rail, she looked down to watch the white horses  chase along the dark blue hull of the boat. They were moving at speed,  slicing through the water on slick silent power that made her wonder how  far they were away from San Est6ban by now.

She didn't ask, though, because it was the kind of question that could  start a war. 'This is one very impressive toy, even for an oil-rich  sheikh,' she remarked.

'One hundred and ninety feet in length,' he announced, and came to lean  beside her with his back against the rail. Twenty-nine feet across the  beam.' His arm slid around her waist and twisted her to stand in front  of him so she could follow his hand as he pointed. 'The top deck belongs  mainly to the control room, where my very efficient captain keeps a  smoothly running ship,' he said. "The next down belongs to the sun deck  and main reception salons designed to suitably luxurious standards for  entertaining purposes. We stand upon what is known as the shade deck, it  being cast mostly in the shade of the deck above,' he continued, so  smoothly that she laughed because she knew he was really mocking the  whole sumptuous thing. 'One half is reserved for our own personal use,  with our private staterooms, my private offices etcetera,' he explained,  'while the other half is split equally between outer sun deck, outer  shade deck, plus some less formal living space.                       
       
           



       

'Gosh, you're so lucky to be this rich.' She laughed.

'And I haven't yet finished this glorious tour,' he replied. 'For below  our feet lies the cabin deck, complete with six private suites easily  fit for the occupation of kings. Then there is the engine room and  crew's quarters below that. We can also offer a plunge pool, gymnasium  and an assortment of nautical toys to make our weary lot a happier one'

'Does it have a name, this sheikh's floating palace?' she enquired laughingly.

'Mmm. Sexy Lady,' he growled, and lowered his head so he could bury his teeth in the side of her neck where it met her shoulder.

'You're joking!' she accused, turning round in his arms to stare at him.

'Okay.' He shrugged. 'I am joking.'

'Then what is she called?' she demanded, as her heart skipped a beat  then stopped altogether because he looked so wonderful standing here  with his lean dark features relaxed and smiling naturally for the first  time. She loved him quite desperately-how could she not? He was her-



The laughter suddenly died on her lips, his expression telling her  something she didn't want to believe. 'No,' she breathed in denial. He  couldn't have done-he wouldn't...

'Why not?' he challenged softly.

'Not in this case!' she snapped at him, not knowing quite what it was  that was upsetting her. But upset she was; her eyes felt too hot, her  chest too tight, and she had a horrible feeling she was about to weep  all over his big hard beautiful chest!

'It is traditional to name a boat after your most cherished loved-one,'  he pointed out. 'And why am I defending myself when I could not have  paid you a better compliment than this?"

'Because...' she began shakily.

'You don't like it,' he finished for her.

'No!' she confirmed, then almost instantly changed her mind and said. 'Yes, I like it! But you shouldn't have! Y-you-'

His mouth crushed the rest of her protest into absolute oblivion, which  was where it belonged anyway, because she didn't know what she was  saying, only that a warm sweet wave of love was crashing over her and it  was so dangerously seductive that-

She fell into it. She just let the wave close over her head and let him  drown her in the heat of his passion, the power of his arms and the  hunger of his kiss.

'Bed?' he suggested against her clinging mouth.

'Yes,' she agreed, then fed her fingers into his hair and her tongue  between his ready lips. A groan broke low in his throat; it was husky  and gorgeous; she tasted it greedily. A hand that knew her so very well  curved over her thighs, slid up beneath her wrap, then cupped her bottom  so he could bring her into closer contact with his desire. It was all  very hot and very hungry. With a flick of a few scraps of silk they  could be making love right here against the yacht's rail and in front of  however many unseen eyes that happened to be glancing this way.

Hassan must have been thinking similarly because he suddenly put her  from him. 'Bed,' he repeated, two dark streaks of colour accentuating  his cheekbones and the fevered glitter in his eyes. 'Can you walk, or do  I carry you?'

'I can run,' she informed him candidly, and grabbed hold of his hand,  then turned to stride off on long slender legs with his husky laugh  following as she pulled him behind her.

Back in their stateroom, now magically cleared of all evidence that they  had eaten, they parted at the end of the bed, one stepping to one side  of it, one to the other. Eyes locking in a needle-sharp, sensual love  game, they disrobed together, climbed into the bed together and came  together.

Hot, slow and deep, they made love into the night and didn't have to  worry about empty spaces in between because one loving simply merged  into another until-finally-they slept in each other's arms, legs  entwined and faces so close on the pillows that the sleep was almost a  long kiss in itself.

Leona came awake to find the place beside her in the bed empty and felt  disappointment tug at her insides. For a while she just lay there,  watching the sunlight seeping in through the window slowly creep towards  her across the room, and tried not to let her mind open up to what it  was bringing with it.

After a night built on fantasy had to come reality, not warm, like the  sun but cold, like the shadow she could already feel descending upon her  even as she tried to hold it back for a little while longer.

A sound caught her attention. Moving her head just a little, she watched  Hassan walk out of the bathroom wearing only a towel, his sun-brown  skin fashioned to look almost like skillfully tanned leather. For such a  dark man he was surprisingly free of body hair, which meant she could  watch unhindered each beautifully toned muscle as he strode across to  one of the concealed doors in the wall and sprung it open at a touch to  reveal a wardrobe to provide for the man who had everything. A drawer  was opened and he selected a pair of white cotton undershorts, dropped  the towel to give her a glimpse of lean tight buttocks before he pulled  the shorts on. A pair of stone-washed outer shorts followed. Zipped and  buttoned, they rested low on a waist that did not know the meaning of  spare flesh to spoil his sleek appearance. A casual shirt came next,  made of such fine white Indian cotton she could still see the outline of  his body through it.                       
       
           



       

'I can feel you watching me,' he remarked without turning.

'I like to look at you,' Leona replied. And she did; rightly or wrongly  in their present situation, he was a man to watch whatever he was doing,  even fastening buttons as he was doing now

Shirt cuffs left open, he turned to walk towards the bed. The closer he  came the faster her heart decided to beat. 'I like to look at you, too,'  he murmured, bracing his hand on either side of head so he could lean  down and kiss her.

He smelt clean and fresh and his face wore the smooth sheen of a wet  razor shave. Her lips clung to his, because she was still pretending,  and her arms reached up so she could clasp them round the back of his  neck. 'Come back to bed with me,' she invited.

'So that you can ravish me? No way,' he refused. 'As the wise ones will  tell you, my darling, too much of a good thing is bad for you.'

He kissed her again to soften the refusal, and his mouth was smiling as  he straightened away, but as his hands reached up to gently remove her  hands she saw the toughening happening behind his eyes. Hassan had  already made contact with reality, she realised.

With that he turned away and strode back to the wall to spring open  another set of doors which revealed clothes for the woman who wanted for  nothing-except her man. And already she felt as if he had moved right  out of her reach.