The Call of the Desert

Immediately a sense of calm and peace washed over Kaden, and for once he didn’t castigate himself or deny it. He gave himself up to it. The rawness subsided.

After what felt like an interminable moment Julia finally turned to look at him, and as his gaze met hers his body responded with predictable swiftness.

“Kaden …?”

He looked at her, and in that moment some indecipherable communication seemed to flow between them. Her eyes were huge, swirling with emotion, and Kaden couldn’t find the will to disguise his own response. The room faded and the din of conversation became silent.

Julia wanted to ask Kaden to stop looking at her like that … as if they were nineteen again and he wanted to discover the secrets of her soul. But she couldn’t open her mouth. She didn’t want to break the moment.

The clatter of coffee and liqueurs being served finally seemed to break through the trancelike state, and in an abrupt move Kaden took his hand off her neck, reached for her hand and stood up.

Julia gasped and looked around. A couple of people had started to drift away from the table, but many still sat. Kaden tugged at her and she had no choice but to stand. People were looking.

“Kaden … what are you doing? It’s not over yet.”

His eyes were so black Julia felt as if she might drown in them for ever.

“It is for us. I can’t sit beside you for another minute and not touch you.”

And with that he pulled her in his wake as he strode away from the table. Before she knew what was happening they were outside the ballroom. She could barely catch her breath, and when she stumbled a little he turned and lifted her into his arms.

“Kaden!” she spluttered, as they passed servants who looked away diplomatically, as if they were used to seeing such occurrences all the time.

She couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement firing up her blood. Kaden was acting like a marauding pirate. He carried her all the way back through a labyrinthine set of corridors to their room, and only once inside the door, which he kicked shut with his foot, did he let her down. He wasn’t even breathing heavily. But Julia was, after being carried so close to his hard-muscled chest.

In the bedroom, he let her down on shaky legs. He pushed her up against the firmly shut door, crowding her against it and saying, “We’ll have to endure enough pomp and ceremony over the next two days, but every spare minute will be spent in this room. That’s the focus of this weekend.”

The sheer carnality stamped on his face and the hint of desperation in his voice stopped Julia from thinking too deeply about the hurt that lanced her—as if for a moment there, when he’d been looking at her at the table, she’d got lost in a fantasy of things being different.

And then his urgency flowed through to her—the realisation that even now time was slipping out of their hands. Overcome with an emotion she refused to look at, she took his face in her hands and for the first time felt somewhat in control. Kaden was right. Focus on the now, the physical. Not on the past. Or on a future that would never exist.

“Well, what are you waiting for, then?” And she kissed him.

Some hours later, Kaden was standing by the open French doors of the bedroom. B’harani lay before him like a twinkling carpet of gems. Soaring minarets nestled alongside modern buildings, and he knew that this was what he wanted to create in Burquat too. He’d already started, but he had a long way to go.

He sighed deeply and glanced back at the woman asleep in the bed amongst tumbled sheets. She was on her back, the sheet barely covering her sex, breasts bare, arms flung out, cheeks flushed. Even now his body hardened in helpless response. He grimaced. He’d taken her up against the door, her legs wrapped around his waist, with no more finesse than a rutting animal. And yet she’d met him every step of the way, her body accepting him and spurring him to heights he’d not attained in years.

Since her.

It all came back to her—as if some sort of circle was in effect, bringing them helplessly back to the beginning and onwards like an unstoppable force.

Julia woke slowly, through layers and layers of sleep and delicious lethargy. With an effort she opened her eyes and saw the tall, formid

able shape of Kaden leaning against the open doors which led out to a private terrace. He was looking at her steadily, no expression on his face.

Helpless emotion bubbled up within her—especially when she saw the vast star-filled Arabian sky behind him. She had so much she wanted to say, but the past was all around her, in her. The lines were blurring ominously.

Instinctively she put out a hand and said huskily, “Kaden …”

For a long moment he just stood there, arms crossed, trousers slung low on narrow hips, top button open. He was so beautiful. And then he gritted out, “Damn you, Julia.”

He strode back into the room, all but ripped off his clothes and came down over her like an avenging dark angel. All the inarticulate words she wanted to say were stifled by Kaden’s expert touch and quickly forgotten.

When Julia woke on Sunday morning she ached all over. But it was delicious. Kaden was not there, and she found a note on his pillow to inform her that he’d gone riding.

When she thought of how Samia had been looking at her for the past two days she felt guilty, and she had no idea why.

The previous day, evening and night had passed in a dizzying array of events and functions all leading up to the grand ceremony today, which would be held in front of hundreds of guests and the media.