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Sometime later, they passed through the
south gate opening on the mediaeval wall. They immersed in another world. Throngs of people, horses, camels, goats circulated up and down the tortuous alleys. A tight mess of narrow two-floor buildings elevated from those. Many had shops on the ground-floor, with canvas canopies hanging from the walls.
The caravan strove forward, a mixture of smells in the air: spice, fruit, dung, camel. The city unfolded before her amazed attention. Men and women, in their usual garb, passed by in a feast of colours. A cacophony of vendors’ shouts, men talking, barks and children, together with music coming from somewhere.
After a while, they left the hustle and bustle of the web of alleys behind and a quieter and more spacious area came into view. The caravan halted in front of an enormous two-store building, whitewashed, with a huge dome in the centre. The front wall displayed arched doors, one of them wide, leading to an internal yard. This one with a canvas canopy hanging from it.
Tariq dismounted and helped her do the same. He opened the wide door. “Welcome to my humble abode.” And motioned for her to go into the villa.
Lucinda fought not to gape. The yard was gigantic, with a private caravanserai where he probably kept his camels and goods. Gardens and palm trees everywhere. To the right, an arched veranda led to the villa itself.
Tariq gave instructions to his men and accompanied her inside, carrying his and her sacs. Inside cool air prevailed with tiled floors and walls, domed high ceilings and ample spaces sheltering a sitting room with rugs and cushions and an aired kitchen. She saw nobody, but she suspected there should be servants who probably carried out other tasks at this moment.
She followed him when he climbed up the large stairs and came into a bedroom worth calling a ballroom. Tile with arched columns, it had a king size low four-posted bed with diaphanous curtains around it.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back after unloading.” He turned and walked away from an astounded Lucinda.
She walked around, windows on three walls, all arched and latticed. Light poured from everywhere and the breeze blew fresh. Magnificent did not begin to describe it. When Adriana mentioned the villa, Lucinda didn’t have the slightest idea it could be like this. From one of the windows, the sea opened in its deep-blue vastness. Another showed a market; he did not live far from the busy cobwebbed mediaeval centre.
Lucinda left the room and wandered through the hallway. Other rooms revealed in her exploration, and she came across a library. She entered it. Shelves filled the arches, full of books in many languages; Arabic, French, English, Italian. Fascination filled her. Rugs and cushions on the floor made the room look comfortable and cosy at the same time. She picked up a book and sat on the cushions to read.
“I knew I’d find you here.” She heard his velvety voice long after she’d started reading.
She lifted her head from the book and gazed into his glorious cognac-against-fire eyes. “It’s an extraordinary library!”
He nodded pleased. “I got a taste for books from my French and Scottish tutors. I started this collection during school days, but I inherited many from my father and grandfather as well.”
The small talk ended abruptly, as both of them stared at each other. A lightning of fire crossed her body with his searing gaze.
He extended his hand to her. “Come, I want to show you something.”
She took his hand, stood up and followed him.
He led her through the hallway to the back of the second floor. A large arched door disclosed a bath. A huge tiled pool of warm water sided by arches; tiled floor and walls, large wet steps at one border. Light spilled from the latticed windows and peppermint and sandalwood perfumed the room. A pile of washcloths and towels stood nearby
“This is my private bath.” His voice hoarse as he turned to her and his hands lifted to her hair. “You can use it whenever you wish.” His fingers started un-braiding it. His cognac eyes misted as he watched her hair come loose.
Her green beams raised to him mesmerised. “Thank you.” Was all she could murmur because his tall, broad-shouldered frame stood so close, she saw his stubbed mouth and yearned to taste it.
His fingers merged in her strands and the other hand circled the nape of her neck. She gulped air as his mouth dived down on hers in a demanding kiss.
Impatience had dominated Tariq as his men and he unloaded the goods and treated the camels. It took damn too long for him to be free to seek her.
Lucinda opened for him, allowing him to take everything he wanted. She froze into place as the fiery sensation raided her body. And then he lifted his head and their eyes mingled. He undressed her tunic and pantaloons. She repaid the favour. His aroused body displayed its utter impressiveness, and she appreciated it with her perusal. Her entire skin prickled, eager for his touch.
He took her hand and guided her to the water. They climbed down the steps to the pool as it received them with its deliciously warm water. Flasks and washcloths lay nearby, of which he made use as he moistened a cloth and poured oil on it. “Peppermint, like your eyes.” His hoarse murmur laced with the water caressed her.
His taut frame touched her, his erection nudged her waist at the same time the washcloth slid from her neck to her shoulder and reached her full pebbled breast. She moaned, limp, leaning against the pool wall, in total delight under his ministrations. His mouth covered hers again, and the cloth didn’t stop moving everywhere, leaving heat in its wake. Her wet arms weaved about his neck and she let him do to her what he wished, so surrendered she was. And he did. Kiss, after boiling kiss and his open mouth going down, licking and nipping the curve of her neck, her shoulder, her chest. His arms locked around her waist to hook her up and capture her breast, his other hand splayed on her pert buttock. She held his shoulders as her head fell down in delectation, her moisten hair about her.
“Lucinda,” he rasped, “I can’t get enough of you!” He contemplated her other breast, intensifying her need for him.
Good, neither could she, a hazy answer in her bugged mind. Their lengths touched tightly, his burgeoning hunger pressed between them while her fingers rejoiced in his obsidian sleek hair, still dry.
His hands spanned her narrow waist, sat her on the boarder and his mouth came thirsty to her core. She moaned with the torture as her melted spine lay on the tiled floor, hands on his hair, feet on his shoulders, curling. His lips, his tongue, his teeth took her to madness.
“Tariq…please!” She didn’t wish him to finish, she needed to be filled by him.
He pulled her back to the water and lay her stomach down on the shallow first steps at the border, one leg flexed to the side.
