The Sheik and the Slave

“Sand?” asked one wide-eyed young woman with hazel eyes and black hair.

“Yes, Lady Violet. Like the sands you might see on the beach but more. Much more.”

Lady Violet giggled and looked at her two friends.

But Mohammed could only see Katharine. She looked stunning in her red dress, and the gold embroidery only brought out her hair and lush skin. He watched her bite her lower lip on one side and it almost drove him over the edge.

The red-haired lady leaned in again and almost brushed her breasts against his arm. “And the women? Are the women beautiful?” she asked.

“Lady Louise, no one holds a candle to the Englishwoman,” he said. Then, his lips brushed the back of her hand. All four women laughed heartily and Katharine felt sick. He had a wife and child at home and he was seducing more women? Good God, the man was insatiable.

“Are you married, sir?” Katharine asked, causing all five people to look at her.

Mohammed turned away from Louise and looked at Katharine.

“No. I am not married, but I have loved one woman very deeply,” he said. His brown eyes met hers.

Louise tsk-tsked with her tongue.

“But sir, that is most unfortunate. You did not marry this lady? She got away?”

“Yes. She did,” he said as he locked eyes with Katharine.

“And the men, sir? What are they like?” Violet asked him.

“They are men. Some good, some bad. All hope for a good wife and sons,” he said.

“Then they are no different from Englishmen,” sighed Violet, causing everyone else to laugh.

“Excuse me,” Katharine said, and she used the moment to escape him.

She saw Sarah still engaged at card playing and went into the other room to take some refreshments. The candles burned low in this smaller room and there were no people about. The floors were waxed to a shine and the table held food, with several chairs lining the walls. She took a plate and placed a piece of chicken, some cheese and several raspberries on it. She bit into the cheese and set her plate down on the edge of the table.

“Katharine,” Mohammed said. He spoke her name intimately and softly.

When she turned to face him, he spoke suddenly.

“Why do you grow more beautiful each time I see you?” He took a step toward her. “Why do you smell of jasmine?”

He saw her small plate of food and took a small raspberry in his fingers, rubbing his fingers along the bumpy texture.

“Allow me,” he said.

He placed the small raspberry in her mouth, and as she swallowed the tiny fruit, his thumb traced along her plump lower lip. She closed her eyes not daring to meet those dark, sensuous ones.

He knew he shouldn’t have done that but he was irritated by everything that was happening. He wanted her as she had been in Arabia, warm and passionate.

Katharine swallowed the tiny fruit delicately and pulled her eyes away from his gaze as she did.

“Katharine,” he spoke softly. He pulled her flush against him, his hands spanning her lower back and feeling the whalebone corset. Her hands came up against to rest against his chest.

“Katharine, my love,” he spoke in Arabic, and it caused goose pimples to break along her arms.

She wanted him to take her right there. She was a trollop, a fool. How could she so easily forget what he had become? He was a husband, and not hers.

“Let me take you away from here,” he whispered into her ear. “I want to be with you. I want to feel you naked in my arms.”

She heard his honeyed words and shivered. She wanted him too, so badly. His mouth touched hers in a passionate kiss that was possessive and bold. He knew what he wanted and knew she wanted him too. She could never deny him for long and didn’t want to. She could feel her body come alive as she felt his arms around her.