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It was dark when the helicopter landed. The sky was the darkest of purple with pinpricks of light and the ground below was a deep shadow, no glow of street lamps, no hint of civilization.
In this shapeless, formless nowhere the helicopter began to descend, lowering straight down into a sea of black. This meant they were either landing in the middle of an ocean or a sea of sand.
Bryn heard the helicopter pilot speak, giving directions into his headset. She frowned as the helicopter lowered, then caught small points of light, shimmering light, like miniature flames. And as the helicopter touched ground, Bryn realized the shimmering light was actually flames, burning torches set in a large circle around the helicopter pad.
“Where are we?” she whispered.
“My hideaway.” He took her hand, and ducking beneath the still whirring blades, they ran through ancient stone arches into a very old fortress that had to date back at least a thousand years.
“This is yours?” she said, still breathless from the dash into the palace. Kahlil had swung her into his arms at the last moment before entering a high-ceiling bedchamber with silk pillows strewn across the floor and candles burning in rugged wall sconces. “Ah, and more candles. Didn’t realize you loved firelight so much.”
“No electricity,” he answered, drawing her down on the low mattress. “I don’t have a choice. If we didn’t have candles, I couldn’t see you, and believe me, I want to see you.”
She felt heat creep into her cheeks, her limbs suddenly weak. “You do?”
He reclined backward. “Yes, very much so. I’m actually dying to get you naked.” His voice lowered, turned husky. “Strip for me.”
“Wh…what?”
“I want to watch you undress and then inspect my wife.”
She was shocked, and yet strangely aroused.
“You said you’d obey me,” he quietly chided, reminding her of her promises. “You said we’d have a real relationship.”
“Yes, but…”
His eyebrow cocked. He simply looked at her, waiting.
Blood flooding her cheeks, fingers trembling, she reached for the narrow zipper at the side of her gown. Kahlil leaned back on the bed, watching. With short, nervous tugs, she worked the zipper down and then carefully stepped out of the lavishly embroidered dress.
Next came the narrow silk straps of her bustier. She pushed the satin fabric down, toward her waist, exposing her breasts.
“Ah.”
Bryn swayed beneath the intense scrutiny, feeling Kahlil’s heat and interest, aware of his gaze as he drank in her bared breasts, the pale skin taut, the pink nipples hard, aching, like the ache between the thighs.
“The rest, please.”
He sounded completely indifferent but he wasn’t; he was a study of concentration. Shyly she tugged her satin panties over her hips, to her knees, and pulled them from her ankles. Completely naked, except for the gold jewel-studded crown she still wore in her hair, she blushed, warm color rushing from her toes to her head.
Wordlessly Kahlil rose, drew her to him, pressing her naked length to his. He was hard everywhere, his chest, his abdomen, his thighs, but it was his erection that generated more heat in her, his own hunger throbbing at the V of her thighs.
His arms encircled her, his hands cupped her bare bottom, the curve of her derriere in each of his palms. He lifted her slightly, drawing her closer, pressing her against the thrust of his desire. Her inner thighs clenched. Her belly tightened. She felt empty inside, empty and deprived.
“You’re so warm,” he murmured in her ear, his voice rich, seductive. “You feel like heaven.”
“I think it feels like hell,” she protested, shiver after shiver racing through her, his chest brushing against her aching nipples, intensifying her sensitivity.
“You just need to learn patience.”
“I’m trying.” Bryn rose on her tip toes, slowly circling his neck with one arm, and then the other, drawing their bodies even closer. His chest crushed the bare fullness of her breasts. Her calves balled into hard knots of muscle and her abdomen stretched, long, lean.
“Lovely,” he murmured, fingers caressing the curve of her spine, then rising to play each vertebrae in her back.
She liked it better with his hand in her lower back, his hard length tight against her mound, her body desperately drinking him in. Feverish, Bryn nipped his beard-roughened chin and then his mouth. “Kiss me back,” she begged. “Kiss me like you used to.”
In response he swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed covered in luxurious silks and satin. She smelled his signature fragrance of sandalwood and citrus and cupping his face in her hands, kissed him deeply even as she tugged at his robe.
There were no more formalities, no more foreplay. It wasn’t long before both were swept away, carried to the highest peak of pleasure. And for the first time since returning to Zwar, she felt a wall come down between them, some invisible barrier breaking and Kahlil held her, kissed her, loved her with profound tenderness.
Warm tears pricked the back of her eyes but these were tears of hope. They would make this work. They would find happiness after all.
Shudders still coursing through her, Kahlil shifted Bryn in his arms, drawing her down to the mattress beside him. “You are mine, do you understand? Mine, all mine.”
“Yes, master.”
His eyes glinted, and smiling faintly he kissed the corner of her mouth, and then the soft full lower lip still throbbing with blood and passion. “I like the sound of that,” he murmured.
“I know you do.”
“Are you sure you’re not just humoring me?”
“Could I be any more obedient?”
“That’s different from a surrender.” But he laughed, the sound rich, deep, husky. “And I’ll just have to step up my training.”
Still smiling, he kissed her again, his laughter warming her mouth, stealing her breath. She felt tingles rush through her, pleasure and happiness. If Kahlil was letting down his guard enough to laugh with her, she knew she’d found her way back into his heart. He might not tell her in words he loved her, but the tenderness was there, hidden within him. She’d just give him time. Lavish him with love. It was all they needed—time and love.
He kissed her neck, and the hollow beneath her ear. She felt heat explode inside her, her desire for his insatiable. “Don’t start anything you’re not prepared to finish,” she softly teased, locking her hands behind his neck and drawing his mouth down to hers.
“Oh, I’m prepared,” he answered, shifting his weight, settling between her thighs, and from all impressive evidence, he most certainly was. He nipped at her lip, teeth sharp, hunger barely restrained. “You do know I’ve cheated to get you back, don’t you? I told a little lie—”
Bryn’s hands flew to his shoulders and pushed him back. “What?”
“It’s not a big deal. Practically a white lie.”
White lie? Kahlil? “And just what was this white lie?”
He kissed her again, ignoring her attempts to evade his mouth, and finally she melted beneath him, resistance fading. He smiled against her lips, acknowledging her feeble defense. “Well, I did pay a certain official to destroy a certain piece of paper. That document you never signed? My fault. I made sure it never reached you.”
“Kahlil!”
He clasped her face in his hands, kissed her fiercely. “I wasn’t going to lose you. I never wanted to lose you.”
Suddenly they were interrupted by a pounding on the bedroom door. “Go away,” Kahlil shouted, smiling wickedly at Bryn, his hand moving across her belly to her thighs. “I’m busy.”
“Forgive me, your highness,” the voice answered from the far side of the door. “But this is an emergency.”
Kahlil was gone less than five minutes. “A problem has come up in Tiva,” he said, returning to the bedchamber and flinging a shirt over his shoulders. “It’s urgent. I must return to the palace immediately.”
He was dressing
in Western clothes. His brow furrowed deeply, his expression was nothing but grim. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Something in his expression unnerved her. Bryn sat up in bed. “What kind of problem?”
“Can’t discuss it just yet. But I’ll send the helicopter for you first chance I get.”
“You’re going to leave me here, in the middle of nowhere?”
“It’s safe. It’s my home. I want you here.”
It was a no-argument tone, one of his submit-and-surrender expressions.
“At least tell me what you do know.”
“Bryn, I wish I could. I don’t have all the facts.”
“But something at the palace?” Immediately her thoughts turned to Ben. He was there. He was there without her. “Has there been an uprising?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then what? My God, Kahlil, the baby—”
“I know.” He clasped her hard by the shoulders, kissed her forehead, his mouth a brief imprint of heat against her skin. “Be patient. I’ll learn more soon.”
He released her, grabbed an overcoat and swung toward the door.
