Pregnant by the Desert King

‘I need you to take me seriously,’ she managed somehow to gasp out.

‘Oh, I do,’ he assured her as he did what they both needed, and with the most consummate skill.

CHAPTER NINE

IT WAS HARD to remain unmoved when you loved someone as much as she loved Tadj, Lucy realised as they kissed and touched. She felt safe in his arms as Tadj took her on a journey of pleasure; he made her forget everything, except arousal, which he increased by murmuring words in his own tongue. Even fears of the inevitable emotional fallout when this love affair ended, as it surely must when he returned to being the Emir of Qalala, and she was a working mother, stood no chance.

‘Not done yet?’ he whispered when she tried to steady her emotion-fuelled breathing. ‘Then, use me as you want,’ he invited.

‘No energy left. You drained me completely.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Tadj’s darkly amused expression worked its magic, and she reached for him again, with the warning, ‘You’ll have to do all the work.’

‘As your official lover, I expect to. It’s my duty,’ he said dryly.

‘I’m glad you understand your responsibilities,’ she agreed, longing for so much more. But Tadj was too good for her to ignore the sensation building inside her, and she groaned to encourage him as he continued. He brought her to the edge quickly, but kept her waiting, leaving her stranded on a plateau of pleasure, from which there seemed no way down. ‘Please,’ she begged.

‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘In my own time, I seem to remember you instructing.’

He hissed through his teeth as Lucy reached for him. Had he forgotten that her appetite matched his? He took her again, firmly, slamming her against the wall as he dipped at the knees to thrust deep.

‘Yes, yes! Please!’ she responded in a throaty scream.

‘I aim to please,’ he said, relishing how tight she was as he set up a firm and regular beat.

‘You do please,’ she assured him, laughing with abandon as she moved vigorously in time with him.

He brought her to the edge and tipped her over, not once, but several times, until he was sure the marble must crack under the force of her screams of pleasure. When finally she lay quiet and relaxed in his arms, he swaddled her in a warm, fluffy towel and carried her to bed, where they made love again.

It was dark when Lucy finally surfaced, feeling very well used and as contented as a kitten.

Wake up! She was no kitten. Allowing her feelings for Tadj to grow was reckless. Giving herself body and soul, when nothing in the future was certain, was just building more trouble.

Stirring, he turned to look at her, hugging her knees and resting her chin on them as she brooded. ‘Changing your mind about coming to Qalala with me?’ he suggested. ‘If you are I’ll change it back again.’

Once more couldn’t hurt, her body insisted as it overruled Lucy’s sensible mind.

The next time she woke, daylight was streaming into the room, and the bed beside her was empty. Turning her face into the pillows, she heaved a contented sigh and inhaled Tadj’s warm, clean man scent. He must be in the shower, she thought. Sitting up, she grabbed a robe, and prepared to go exploring. The connecting door between their respective suites was open, and she could hear water splashing against the marble tiles. She pulled back on the thought that it was better to prepare for the day ahead than invade Tadj’s shower, as he had invaded hers. She’d never be ready to leave if she joined him.

As uncomfortable as she felt rifling through all the high-end designer goods in the sumptuously fitted-out dressing room, she had to find something to wear. She settled on a simple outfit of trousers, shirt, and a sweater, then slipped her feet into the softest leather moccasins she had ever worn. They fitted perfectly. Everything fitted perfectly. Tadj had mapped her body with consummate skill, and whoever had gone shopping for him had the same understated taste as Lucy. The exclusive lingerie was the only exception to this rule as it was composed of the finest silk and lace, and far better suited to the mistress of the Emir than a casual guest, Lucy thought as she held up the flimsy garments, only to see light flooding through them. They were lovely and luxurious, but once again it seemed that Tadj was in control. How much stronger would his rule over her become in Qalala? There had to be a way to restore some balance between them, and it was up to Lucy to find it.

There were so many cosmetics, all brand new in their original boxes. It was as if the same person who’d bought the clothes had visited a high-end store and bought up every shade and product on the counter. Ignoring most of it, she drew a brush through her hair and slicked on some lip gloss. Carefully rolling up her red dress, she put it in a laundry bag to take with her. Leaving the suite, she found her way downstairs to breakfast by following the sound of clinking plates.

‘Good morning.’ Her heart flipped over as Tadj lifted his head as she walked into the light-filled room.

‘Good morning,’ she replied, trying to act cool, when his look was full of heat, and his husky tone was all it took to make her want him again.

‘May I pour you some coffee?’ he asked politely.

‘That would be nice. Thank you,’ she said.

Pausing for a moment in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass walls in the breakfast room, she admired the exquisitely designed gardens. The morning room was decorated in subtle shades that echoed the scene outside. Beyond the gardens, a lake as placid as a plate was home to swans that cruised in a stately white armada. She tore her gaze away as a hovering attendant pulled out a chair at the dining table. The unreality of the situation struck her forcibly as she sat down. Well, that was no wonder when she lived in a bedsit, and her usual breakfast was a rushed mug of instant coffee and a bowl of cereal, Lucy concluded with her customary good humour.

And then there was Tadj.

With his brutally muscular frame, and swarthy complexion, he didn’t belong in these refined surroundings any more than she did, Lucy thought, until she remembered he was a desert king.

‘I forgive you for sleeping through,’ he said as the attendants came forward to offer Lucy countless selections from many different platters of food, ‘but my flight plan is non-negotiable,’ he added in a curt tone as soon as they were alone. ‘We leave immediately after you finish breakfast.’

Should she bolt it down?

‘No longer than half an hour,’ he instructed.

Now the moment had come and her departure to Qalala was imminent, Lucy had to remind herself of all the reasons why this trip was necessary. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

‘Your clothes are being packed as we speak,’ Tadj went on, ‘so there’s no need for you to rush your breakfast.’

‘But—’

A single word was all he gave her chance to say before he left the room.

Sinking down in her chair again, Lucy reviewed her options. There were none. She was on holiday from college and had made calls to both her employers, so there was no reason why she couldn’t go to Qalala. Apart from any advantage to Lucy and her CV, as Miss Francine had put it, there was a far more important reason to visit Tadj’s homeland. Qalala was the other half of her baby’s heritage, and Lucy owed it to her child to know something about the country. On top of that, the chance to be with Tadj and see the land he loved through his eyes would tell her more than anything about Qalala, and about the man she loved. Whether he would agree to be her guide, she supposed, would depend on whether she asked the question of the Emir of Qalala, or the man she knew as Tadj.

* * *

He was piloting the jet, so there was little chance for him to interface with Lucy. What? Interface? To be with her? To drink her in? To inhale and enjoy her familiar warmth and scent. He wanted Lucy more than he could safely express, though after what he’d learned about her past and Lucy’

s so-called family life, he doubted she would ever be completely open with him. She wasn’t completely open with anyone. What was it about Lucy that took up every available space in his brain? She tested his so far unchallenged belief in his own judgement. Her stubbornness angered and frustrated him in equal measure.

He was accustomed to controlling every situation and should cut her some slack, he concluded. Lucy trod her own path, because she’d had to, and was as intent on doing the right thing, as she saw it, as he was.

Missing her had nagged at him every day they’d been apart. Even now, seated in the comfortable area behind the cockpit, she wasn’t nearly close enough. He was impatient to introduce her to Qalala, so she could understand why he loved it so much. He was impatient to see the country through her eyes. Making her feel comfortable in the desert was the first step to installing her as his mistress. The constitution of Qalala allowed for nothing more. And he wasn’t about to let Lucy and his child slip through his fingers.

Lucy might be everything he looked for in a mistress, he accepted with a grim smile as he prepared to hand over control of the jet to his first officer, but she still seemed to need convincing of that.

‘Take over, will you?’ he asked his first officer.

It was a long flight to Qalala, which was an opportunity to further explain to Lucy that an official mistress in Qalala enjoyed the same freedoms and privileges as a wife. Slanting a grim smile, he expected his formidable powers of persuasion to be put to their sternest test yet.

‘Tadj...’ Lucy smiled as he approached, as if she was pleased to see him, which was surprising considering he’d been so abrupt with her this morning. She had her own games to play.

‘My apologies. I was in a hurry this morning to make plans for our arrival.’

‘Oh,’ she said blandly with the faintest of smiles.

If he’d stayed any longer in the breakfast room, he would have dismissed the attendants and had her on the table, and that would definitely have delayed their departure.

‘I thought you were flying this thing,’ she said as he settled down on the seat next to her.

‘This thing flies itself,’ he assured her, ‘and, of course, there’s a first officer as well as an engineer on deck.’

‘What if there’s an emergency?’ she demanded, cocking her chin to challenge him with this.

‘My first officer is a fully qualified pilot. I’m sure he can handle things.’