Suddenly, overwhelmingly, he wanted to feel those lips on him, cool and soft against his burning flesh.
`They had an eye for beauty in all its forms,’ he said, his voice deepening of its own accord as he watched her. Ànd their taste in women was renowned.’
She swallowed hard, half choking on a mouthful of sweet pastry.
`They weren’t averse to snatching a beautiful woman off a ship bound for, another port. They saw it as their right.’ He leaned towards her over the table, ostensibly to select some fruit for his plate. This close, he read fascination mixed with outrage in her eyes. Fiery blue accusation blazed at him.
`Kidnapping as well as piracy, then! No wonder your family had a reputation for ruthlessness.’
He nodded. Òf course by today’s standards it would be barbaric.
But only a couple of generations ago it was another matter. And it wasn’t always as dire as you think. My great-grandmother had no wish to leave here after she’d been…liberated from a ship.’
Her eyes grew huge. `Your own great-grandmother?’ She shook her head in amazement.
Rafiq sat back, watching the play of emotions across her face. `She was more than happy to stay after she met my great-grandfather.
She’d been on her way from England to India to marry some military man she hardly knew. Family lore has it that she and my great-grandfather made a love match of it.’
`But she couldn’t have-‘
`What?’ He frowned. `She couldn’t have loved a man of my culture?’ Pride sharpened his voice. Pride bred through hundreds of years of al Akhtar blood. Of absolute rule and unquestioned authority.
‘No, no, not that.’ She shook her head, and hair like spun gold flared around her. `But how could she have accepted it? Become just one of many women in a harem?’ There was genuine distress in her tight lips and her worried brow.
‘Ah.’ He sipped his coffee and sat back, strangely satisfied at her reaction. `Your concern isn’t for the cultural and racial divide between them, it is for her place in his affections. You are a romantic, Belle.’
She met his gaze steadily, her chin jutting in a gesture he recognized as characteristic. `‘It seems hard that she should have had no choice in the matter. That she should have given up everything for him and he gave up nothing,’ she said. `Just took what he wanted.’
What you say would be true if she hadn’t wanted him just as much.’
He watched her eyes widen, her lips part in surprise. She clearly hadn’t considered the possibility that his ancestress had got exactly what she desired, however unorthodox her meeting with her future husband.
`Don’t let it worry you, Belle.’ He leaned forward and closed his hand over hers. Her hand was smaller than his, seemingly fragile, but strong and capable. Just like the woman herself.
Ì told you it was a love match. They were faithful to each other.
He was young when he stole her away, and the harem was filled with his female relatives, not his wives.’
He slid his thumb over the sensitive skin of her palm and felt her shiver in response. It pleased him, intrigued him that she reacted so readily to his touch. The pulse at the base of her neck was an agitated tattoo, revealing what she would no doubt rather hide. Her scent, fresh and inviting, rose to entice him.
Ìn fact,’ he murmured, spurred on by some teasing inner demon as he leaned closer, `the pair of them started a family tradition. Since that time the al Akhtar men have only ever taken one wife. And once they find their woman they never let her go.’
Her indrawn breath was loud in the silence. The instant tension between them so strong, so intimate, that he felt it in every taut muscle, saw it reflected in her stunned expression.
Abruptly he released her.
She slid her hands off the table, out of sight. But his fingers still felt the silken delicacy of her skin against his.
They itched to feel more.
She was a woman of contrasts. Determination and physical courage in such an alluring, feminine body. So brave, yet obviously scared by her response to him. He’d made himself her protector, yet she intrigued him as no other woman had.
She was right to be nervous.
He took a strawberry and bit into its lush fullness, enjoying the fresh tartness overlying its sweetness. But his eyes were on Belle as he ate. Would she be sweet as summer berries? Ripe and rewarding and luscious?
She avoided his gaze as she reached for her coffee.
`But now we need to discuss the present,’ he said, watching her take a sip of the hot brew.
She tilted her head in acknowledgement.
`You said last night that you want to return to your team.’