His laughter feathered over her skin. “Are there rules to our game?”
“You think this is a game?”
“A most delightful diversion.”
Her toes curled as she struggled to think clearly. “Am I the prize to be won?”
“If you prefer, I am willing to be your reward,” he chivalrously offered, shifting until his hard arousal pressed against her thigh. “Tell me what you desire.”
Belatedly realizing that matters had progressed beyond what was comfortable, Emma stiffened.
“Rajih…”
She was not certain what she intended to say, but in the end it did not matter as there was the rustle of robes and a veiled servant was suddenly kneeling in the doorway of the alcove.
“Master,” the woman murmured.
Swearing at the intrusion, Rajih wrapped Emma in the towel and shifted to block her from the view of the servant.
“I requested that we not be interrupted.”
“Forgive me, Caliph, but your steward insisted you would wish to speak with Girard Bey.” Her head was pressed to the tile floor. “He has information that is of interest to you.”
For a moment Emma could feel the tension coiling through Rajih as he battled with the urge to send the servant away a
nd his obvious curiosity about his unexpected guest.
At last he thrust his fingers through the dark satin of his hair and accepted the inevitable.
“Offer him coffee and assure him I will join him shortly,” he commanded.
“Yes, Caliph.”
In silence, the servant rose and vanished from the alcove. Rajih turned to offer Emma a tight smile, his eyes smoldering with a frustrated desire.
“Forgive me.” He rose to his feet in an elegant motion, straightened his robes. “I fear our entertainment will have to be postponed until later.”
“Wait.” Clutching the towel about her body, Emma rose and grasped his arm. “Please.”
He covered her hand with his own, his eyes smoldering with promise.
“So eager, Emma? I promise not to keep you waiting for long.”
She ignored his sensuous words, her thoughts returning to Anya.
“Does this man have information concerning my sister?”
His lips twisted, as if chagrined by her response, but his voice was gentle.
“No, Emma. Girard Bey is very much a gentleman of the city. I must depend upon those who consider the desert their home to locate the missing caravan.” He lifted her hand to his lips before heading out of the alcove. “Return to the baths. I will join you as soon as I am able.”
Emma forced herself to count to one hundred before she scurried to her private chambers and hurriedly pulled on the loose satin robes in rich blue and trimmed in gold that had been left on the low bed. It was odd to feel the cool satin brush her bare skin with no undergarments to act as a barrier, but she was in too great a hurry to consider modesty.
With quick steps she moved through the harem, ignoring the guards who stood at the doors and the numerous servants who gawked as she headed toward the formal quarters of the house. She was not certain whether or not females were allowed beyond the seraglio, but she was determined to follow Rajih.
It was not that she suspected he would deliberately lie to her, she assured herself. But she sensed he would be quite willing to hide information. Even if it concerned Anya.
It was the sound of voices that led her toward the large saloon on the opposite side of the house. Halting at a side door, she peered into the room, absently admiring the mosaic on the floor and the soaring ceiling that was painted with a lovely scene of a desert oasis. The low divans were crimson velvet with gold satin pillows and the high windows were shuttered against the sun, leaving the area bathed in welcome shadows. On one divan a middle-aged gentleman in a pale green, European-cut jacket and black breeches was settled, his thin face and small eyes reminding Emma of a rodent.