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Iseult shivered, and wondered what it was about this man—how he could hold her in such thrall when he could be so cold and cruel. She wondered if his aversion to the notion of falling in love had become hardened by the very tragic and weighty expectations of his wife. She could understand that as a ruling monarch the luxury of falling in love wouldn’t be an acceptable reason for marriage. He would have to marry strategically and well.
Nadim’s phone rang again at that moment and he answered it curtly, releasing Iseult from his intense gaze. She welcomed the brief respite, but cast him a quick, surreptitious glance and felt weak all over again just looking at his regal profile—that strong jaw, that olive skin—and remembering how he’d so easily brought her to ecstasy countless times with just his hands…his mouth.
Was she being the biggest fool on earth to indulge in such folly? Two voices warred in her head with contradictory answers… She knew that unless she was to walk away completely, and go home and risk the security he now gave her family, she had no choice but to stay. And, if she was being completely honest, she knew she couldn’t leave. This man was taking her on a sensual journey and she simply didn’t have the will to deny herself. Not when she’d resi
gned herself to a fate of never exploring it.
Jamilah and Nadim needn’t have warned Iseult to be careful; she wouldn’t be falling for him. No way.
It was very hard to cling to that assertion, though, some hours after they’d arrived back at the castle and Iseult heard the door of her bedroom open and close quietly. Her new bedroom was even more sumptuous than the last one, but none of that captivated her now. What captivated her was the tall, broad figure that darkened her doorway, long flowing robes barely concealing his powerful physique.
In a few long strides he was by her bed and the robe was gone. Iseult’s throat dried at the stunningly perfect musculature of Nadim’s body as he stood tall and proud. He reached down and twitched back the sheets. Iseult lay there in just pants and a T-shirt. Nadim grimaced. ‘I need to see about getting you some more alluring nightwear.’
Instantly Iseult was defensive, reaching down for the sheet again. But Nadim came down beside her and stopped her hands. She rounded on him. ‘I’m not some doll you can just dress up for your pleasure only. I happen to be very comfortable as I am.’
With his hands holding her captive, and far more naked than her, Nadim bent down and covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply and so thoroughly that by the time he’d finished she was dizzy with lust.
He growled at her, ‘You could be dressed in a coarse sack and you’d still turn me on…but you need to know the sensuality of silk and lace too…and I can do that for you…’
Rendered defenceless just by his kiss, Iseult said unthinkingly, ‘I don’t need silk or lace. I just need you…’
Nadim released her hands and pulled at her T-shirt until she lifted her arms and it was gone. Sitting back for a moment, he looked his fill at her beautiful full breasts, with their hard rosy tips. She lay back like a courtesan of old, hands above her head, hair spread out around her in glorious abandon, and Nadim had to wonder in that moment if he’d been mistaken—if she hadn’t been as innocent as he’d believed.
But just as he thought that she bit her lip and brought her hands down to cover her breasts, and something exultant moved through him. To disguise it, he bent forward and took her hands away, and before lavishing attention on each generous mound of flesh he said, ‘And no more unflattering sports bras…’
Iseult sucked in a breath and closed her eyes when she felt Nadim’s mouth on her. Hot, wet, and sucking her into some parallel universe of pleasure. With an economy and deftness of movement he’d taken off her knickers, sliding them down her legs, and then he was right beside her, the whole length of his naked body next to hers.
Iseult instinctively closed a hand around him in an intimate caress, loving the feel of his steely strength covered with such silk. ‘Please, Nadim…’ she said between drugging kisses. ‘I want you to make love to me…like you did before.’
Nadim pulled back for a moment. His hand smoothed down over her contracting belly and sought the juncture of her thighs, where she felt so wet she was embarrassed. ‘You’re not tender any more?’
Iseult was struck at his concern. This was why he’d held back? She shook her head and moaned softly when she felt him penetrate her with a finger, moving her hips towards him in wanton abandonment.
She barely heard the foil wrapper, or saw him smooth the protection over his erection. He didn’t lie her flat on her back; he pulled her in close to his body, face to face. She felt him lift her leg so that it lay over his hip, opening her to him intimately.
And then he shifted down slightly, and she felt the blunt head of him at her slick entrance, and then with a surge of power his mouth found hers and his body penetrated hers so fully that stars danced before her eyes.
Her hands were clasped around his neck, hips locked with his. Nadim was buried inside her, and in that moment, before he started moving again, Iseult knew that whatever assurances she’d given herself earlier about not falling for him were lies, lies, lies.
Nadim started to move, slowly and powerfully, in and out. His mouth moved down her jaw and neck and Iseult couldn’t think any more. He cupped her breast, and as he thrust again he took it into his mouth, sucking roughly, biting gently. Iseult’s hand funnelled into his silky hair, holding him to her as her back arched into him even more, as her leg tightened around his hip, clasping him to her, while his powerful buttocks threatened to make her world explode.
And, feeling one long thrust deep inside her, Iseult couldn’t hold back and did explode—and it was far more earth-shattering than anything she’d known before.
When Iseult woke the next morning to the alarm clock on her phone, she knew she was alone in the bed—on her front, spreadeagled in abandon. She immediately felt self-conscious and grabbed for the sheet, pulling it over her and lying on her back.
Her whole body felt sated and lethargic, as if some soporific drug had been injected into her veins. When she and Nadim had recovered last night, after making love again, Nadim had cradled her against him as her breath had finally returned to normal after the tumult. But then he’d extricated himself from her embrace, picked up his robe and left the room as quietly as he’d entered.
Iseult had heard the term wham-bam, thank you, ma’am before, but never really had a context for it. Now she did.
And yet, she had to ask herself angrily, what had she expected? She could be under no illusions. Nadim had been brutally clear and honest from the very start. What had she expected? Tender words of love? Hours of cuddling and hand-holding?
Despite the unwelcome realisation that perhaps this was how his wife had felt, Iseult felt her treacherous heart give a little lurch in longing, and suddenly she knew with a terrible misgiving that Nadim had the potential to destroy her.
That evening Iseult ached all over: from tension and from work. She’d held her head high all day, but it was clear in the way that everyone treated her now that they all knew about her new status in Nadim’s life…and bed. People walked on eggshells around her, and she could only hope and pray that if she resolutely got on with the job as normal they’d soon forget about it…
To her intense relief Jamilah had treated her no differently. She’d given Iseult an enigmatic look, but then Iseult had noticed that the other woman had been distracted and slightly strained-looking herself. When she went looking for her at the end of the day, to see if anything was wrong, Jamilah had gone out somewhere.
Taking advantage of Jamilah’s empty office, Iseult called home to speak to her brothers and sister and father, as it had been a few days. Putting down the phone on the conversation, she took a deep breath—just as Jamilah’s door opened with a bang and Nadim stood there, glowering.
