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‘I told you I wouldn’t let you go in London.’
Cooler air brushed her breasts as he undid her wrap and stripped it gently down over her arms. She stood naked and captivated in the circle of his arms. He explored the sensitive peaks of her pouting breasts with a carnal skill that left her vibrating with quivering response against him. ‘We only got up an hour ago,’ she whispered.
‘It’s hard work being my favourite concubine,’ Rashad intoned thickly.
‘Is it?’ she contrived to ask jerkily as long fingers smoothed down over her stomach to flirt with the silvery fair curls at the apex of her thighs.
‘And when you signed up for the long haul of being a wife, the working conditions got much tougher. I hope you know how to stand up for your rights because I intend to take full advantage of having you within reach twenty-four hours a day.’
A breathless giggle was her sole response to that assurance. The unpleasantness of that episode with Scott had shaken her up, but she had sent the cheque. Surely, since he’d got what he wanted, any photos he had would be returned to her at her mother’s address? Anyway, she might only have spent a week at the Palace of the Lions with Rashad, but she was happy. They’d never had the luxury of so much time together, and the more they were with each other, the less they wanted to be apart. She could see their reflections twinned in the mirror on the antique wardrobe. Her pale blond hair was bright as a banner against the darkness of his, her breasts wantonly bare beneath his bronzed hands. She thought she looked shameless. Shameless and fulfilled. With a certain indolent look in his gorgeous dark eyes, a particular note in his deep drawl, he could make her literally weak with longing. Her heart was pounding and her legs were trembling. She was leaning back against him to stay upright, wildly, dizzily conscious of his every caress.
With an earthy groan of satisfaction, Rashad explored the lush damp heat at the heart of her body. Spinning her round, he curved his hands to the soft swell of her hips and hoisted her up onto the table behind her. Her lashes lifted, passion-glazed eyes flying wide with disconcertion on his lean, dark, intent face.
‘You’ll like it,’ Rashad growled in persuasion.
Before she could react, he parted her soft mouth and probed its moist interior with an erotic thrust of his tongue in a move that was as provocative as it was effective. He opened her thighs and touched her in ways that left her alternately whimpering and breathless, barely able to contain the throbbing ache of hunger that possessed her. Only when he had pitched her to a tormented edge of need did he tilt her back and plunge into her. Raw excitement sent a wave of blinding pleasure splintering through Tilda, and then another and another, until she was sobbing with mindless delight.
It was quite some time afterwards before she found voice and reason again. She was lying in bed where Rashad had carried her. At the high point of ecstasy she thought she might have screamed. Her face burned and she kept her eyes closed because she wasn’t quite ready to look him in the eye yet. Five years earlier it had been the very intensity of what he could make her feel that had put her so much on her guard with him. Letting go of those defences gave her a wonderful sense of freedom.
A long taunting forefinger skimmed lazily down her spine. ‘You liked it a lot,’ Rashad husked, flipping her over and kissing her until she finally opened her eyes. ‘I liked it even more. You are as passionate as I, and I don’t have to restrain myself with you.’
Tilda focused on his lean, strong face and brushed weak fingers along the sensual line of his beautiful masculine mouth. He was wild in bed and she was discovering that she really loved that lack of inhibition.
His winged dark brows pleated in dismay and he drew back from her in a sudden movement. ‘I forgot to use a condom.’
‘Oh…well.’ Tilda gave a vague accepting twitch of a slim shoulder and immediately began picturing a miniature Rashad with serious dark eyes, or a tiny bustling version of Durra chattering at every step. Although conceiving so early in their marriage was not what she would have planned, she was conscious of a warm feeling of anticipation.
Rashad studied her tautly. ‘I might have gotten you pregnant,’ he extended as though she might not have worked out that risk for herself.
‘Well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it?’
‘You wouldn’t mind?’
‘No, if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. I like children.’
His lean, darkly handsome face relaxed. He pulled her into his arms. ‘You’re amazing, but I shouldn’t think we have anything to worry about,’ he told her. ‘We’ve been here for a week. Would you like to go to Cannes for a while? I own a house there.’
With a drowsy smile, Tilda rested her head on his shoulder. ‘If you like.’
‘Do you like?’
‘Hmm…’ she whispered, her eyes drifting shut, because she had decided that she would like anywhere as long as he was there with her.
Four weeks later, their honeymoon, which had been extended twice, was almost over. They had enjoyed a lengthy sun-soaked stay at Rashad’s gloriously secluded estate in the South of France. He’d had been called away on business the day before. He was due back today, and Tilda was packing her jewellery in preparation for their departure later on. She was mentally taking note of the fact that once again her breasts felt a little tender. Her period was also ten days late. She had no intention of saying anything to Rashad until she had seen a doctor, but she suspected that she might have fallen pregnant. In fact, she was quite excited at the idea that she might already be carrying their first child and just a little worried that Rashad would be rather less enthusiastic.
As Rashad was expected to father the next generation of royals, having a family would naturally have featured on their future agenda. But it was very early in their marriage for her to have conceived. Although she knew that Rashad would act as if it were the best news he had ever heard, even if he didn’t really feel that way, she was afraid that he would secretly regard a pregnant wife as a much less attractive option.
Heaving a sigh, she studied herself in the mirror, striving to imagine how she would look with a bigger bosom, no waist and a large tummy. Being of a practical disposition, Tilda scolded herself for agonising over what could not be changed. He wasn’t in love with her and she knew it would be silly to try and pretend that that didn’t make a difference. Her looks and how active she could be in and out of bed had to be crucial factors in the continuing success of their relationship. There would be no more flying here, there and everywhere, whenever the fancy took them, and water-skiing or horse riding might be too taxing, as well. They both enjoyed such activities, but now she would have to take her exercise in moderation. Would he get bored with her then?
In an abstracted mood she studied the glittering brilliance of a diamond bracelet. Rashad’s most recent gift, it was as stylish as her engagement ring. She had also acquired a necklace and earrings. He had given her some gorgeous pieces. He was wonderfully generous. It was as though nothing pleased him more than pleasing her. Reminding herself of that truth, she walked out to the shaded terrace and sat down on a comfortable seat.
Beautiful mature gardens ran down to the beach. The estate also had an extensive stable. Tilda had never learned to ride, but Rashad and his family were horse-mad. He had coaxed Tilda out of her nerves and up onto the back of a doe-eyed mare. Able to relax on a horse that had only one speed-plodding-she had gone riding on the beach with him every morning. Well, she had plodded and watched him galloping very glamorously through the surf. He was a keen amateur polo player and he looked amazingly sexy on a horse.
Most evenings they had eaten out, dining everywhere from the grand restaurants in Cannes to the terraces below the palm trees. His reserve was fading fast. He was talking to her a lot more, teasing her more easily, as well. Their relationship had changed since that ghastly business over the file had come out into the open. More and more she was seeing the guy who had stolen her heart five years earlier.
Occasional arguments disturbed the peace and were usually settled in bed. Rashad was very energetic, very passionate and very stubborn. He had a will of iron and a naturally forceful personality. He was always going to be bossy. He was always going to think he knew best about most things. What was infuriating was how often he was right. She was totally, absolutely in love with him, she acknowledged dizzily.
