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Go back with him? Elope? Those belonged in books and daydreams. This here was reality. Hard and insensitive. Tender hearts didn’t survive in the ton. That’s why she wouldn’t allow herself the luxury of believing in fairy tales. She drew the bed-covers and snuggled under the sheets. No, reality had to be dealt with using practical solutions. She’d lie down now and hope for a soothing sleep. One that’d bring oblivion to her longing heart. And help her keep to sensible choices.
The balcony door opened bringing a gust of wind flying the curtains. Oh, my, I forgot to lock them, she remembered. Sitting up, she made to stand and go lock it when a shadow surged against the moonlight. Dressed in white kaftan. A shiver ran down her spine, her heart accelerated and breath ignored. Tariq. The simmering cauldron of emotions rose all over again threatening to suffocate her. She just sat on her fluffy mattress, wide eyes, lips parted.
He locked the doors and turned to her. “Do you think I’d leave you alone, Lucinda?” He paced to the bed. “Do you think I’d leave us alone?” He came near her bed. “We got enough of alone, don’t you agree?”
His low hoarse tone bathed her in hot honey and her insides reacted to him uninhibited. She watched as he touched the bed, eyes merged in hers, in the moonlight. He pulled the bed sheets aside and sat in front of her. She drew in an expectant gulp of air. His hand extend
ed to her night rail neckline, pulling the ribbon that held it in place. It fell, baring her eager full breasts. His hand cupped one of them and his gaze lowered slowly to appreciate it. In between gasps, her spine gave, and she lowered down on her pillow, eyes closed, dried-dated hair spread on it.
No waste of time as he came over her, his stubble mouth met the curve of her neck and she was lost. The moment their bodies touched a deep roiling emotion dominated her. As if she had come home; home at last, after a long unendurable journey through inhospitable seas, endless deserts, freezing icebergs. Her muscles eased off and her body welcomed him as her arms laced his strong neck and her fingers found their aspired smoothness in his sleek hair. She sighed, reaching her so pined for abode in the moulding of their bodies, in his so familiar scent, in the timbre of his voice, in his muscled body.
“Lucinda.” Tariq breathed. After sucking the sensitive skin on her neck. “These weeks without you defined torture!” He nipped her shoulder, making her prickle entirely. “Painful, bitter, infinite torture.” He lifted his head and directed his hazy gaze to hers, they merged in each other, mesmerised. And then his raven mouth fell on hers in open famine. He invaded her, stroked her, ripped her senses. Greedy, greedier each time, unleashing their suppressed voracity in overflowing waves. They devoured each other in kisses which only made them more unsatisfied.
“Why, Lucinda.” He murmured, covering her in the warm honey of his hoarseness. “Why did you leave?” He nipped her ear, nudged his need against her thighs. “Don’t you know you belong with me?” In frenzy, his mouth caught a breast, filling it with one and his hand with the other. He savoured her as if he banqueted on rare delicacies. Again and again.
Heat, quick and incendiary, burned her from head to toes. Her head bent back with a moan, as her night rail bunched on her arched middle, totally disdained. Her hands sneaked under his kaftan, impatient for his taught flesh. Reluctantly, he left her breasts to take it off. He came down on her mouth anew as his expert fingers found her core, teasing her ready folds. Insistent, cunning. Merciless.
Lucinda immersed in a vacuum of incandescent rapacity, her skin ablaze, her thoughts bugged. She melted and melted at each skilled fondle which increased the sense of emptiness and made her rise to the point of ebullition. She could take it no more, and circled him with her legs, pulled him to her and demanded their bodies finally join.
After hastily pulling down his sirwaal, revealing his throbbing need, he entered her in a long, hot stroke, filling her to maximum capacity. She revelled in it, gasping, and opened wider for him, eyes closed, lips parted, short breaths, pleasure all over her.
“It’s delicious when you ravish me like this, jewel.” And he repeated the movement with even more temptation. He, too, overtaken by bliss, buried his face in the curve of her neck, their skin touching everywhere. He breathed hard, holding her, trying not to give in to his irrational need. He groaned as she moved in search of satisfaction, throwing him in a sea of agony.
Desperation took them over, imperative. Tariq had starved for her night after endless night, in his dreams, in his daydreams, in his insomnias. His flesh joined with hers caused boiling relief mingled with arduous insanity. He was losing the battle against himself. Her pelvis exploited him, extracted her delectation, leaving perdition in its wake. He could not fight it any longer. He just moved faster, harder, blinder, when she squeezed him so tightly, he feared he was going to die. And then he was lost, going and going, until he exploded among grunts as she robbed him of all he had, rendering him spent and released. Surrendered, given to one another, a tangle of limbs held them attached as if the simple idea of withdrawing was tragic.
They fell asleep, peace and contentment finding them at last.
Tariq opened his eyes in the midnight hour and looked at Lucinda in the moonlight. She snuggled in him and he tightened his embrace. There was no other woman on the planet he’d rather be with at any time. She had such strength in her, enduring a desert crossing, finding a way to go back to Sicily. She figured out creative solutions for challenging situations. So wilful, so clever! And different from the women he had been used to meet. He wanted her in his life. Forever. He could not live without the ardent craving she induced in him, her passion for life or her determination. She was his perfect match, bit by infuriating bit. Yes, because even her defiance aroused him.
Lucinda stirred in his arms and opened her eyes. She smiled and stretched languidly against him, causing their bodies to graze together. Her smile made her even more beautiful, if possible. He brushed his lips over her cheeks, enjoying her tender skin.
The gesture softened Lucinda. After their consuming raw joining, he could be so suave. She caressed his arms, palming each bunch of muscle, completely awake now.
“You never told me how you reached Syracuse.” The low silky question breathed on her cheeks.
Not that they had the time for it.
“I worked as a seaman.”
Tariq stared at her perplexed, eyebrows lifted. An ugly swear nearly escaped him, for her temerity in exposing herself to such dangers. “Just like that?”
“I didn’t have money to pay for a passage.” She murmured before her lips grazed the hairs on his chest.
He closed his cognac eyes, not to be distracted by that seductive caress. “And you arrived in Syracuse without problems.” Hard to believe she’d faced such a trip.
“A number blisters on my hands.” Dismissively, she continued her self-gratification on his chest, only now she nipped his olive nipple.
Impossible to ignore that gesture as he moaned. “You should have talked to me.”
Her hands roamed his back, his hips. “To no avail, more like it.”
If he disagreed, he’d be lying. He wouldn’t have let her go anywhere out of his sight, out of his touch. Out of his bed. Even now he had this crazy impulse to haul her and take her back with him, at any excuse. Nothing else mattered.
But her hands distracted him shamelessly. When they found his readiness, there was no more time for senseless talk.
Minutes before dawn, Tariq kissed her feverishly and exited by the same way he through which he came. He’d left his horse hidden in a copse of trees nearby. She turned strangely cold without him holding her, but, sated, her body relaxed. She fell asleep anew and woke up too late in the morning.
Later in the day, she decided to ride to the village. Her choice had nothing to do with the possibility of seeing Tariq, naturally, she tried to convince herself. Ladies in the country used a buggy to go to the village. Today, Lucinda solely wanted to enjoy a ride, even if on side-saddle. She wore a green riding habit which matched her eyes elegantly.
