The Desert Sheikh's Captive Wife

‘Yes,’ he conceded, but with a reluctance she could feel, ‘but not tonight.’

Tilda supposed he had a point and his admission that she had a right to know mollified her a little. Even so, she did not want to drop the subject until she had received an answer that she could depend on. ‘What sort of evidence do you have?’

‘A security file,’ Rashad divulged, in the hope that revealing the source of his knowledge would persuade her into a diplomatic retreat. He could see no point in putting either of them through the discomfort of examining evidence that she would only find degrading.

Tilda was taken aback by that admission. ‘And how the heck did you get hold of a security file?’

‘It’s been in my possession for a while. No one else has seen it,’ he grated tightly. ‘Right now it’s in my briefcase.’

Satisfied by that admission, if a little spooked by the strength of his reaction, Tilda said nothing more; he’d listened to her request and acted on it. Tomorrow or the next day would be soon enough to resurrect the past. For the present, Tilda realised that she was more interested in making the most of her wedding day.

CHAPTER NINE

THE magnificent main bedroom suite, which neither Rashad nor Tilda had occupied before, was bedecked with flowers and bore more than a passing resemblance to a fairy-tale bower. Tilda was enchanted.

Rashad watched her reverently touch a snowy-white lily blossom. He moved forward to grasp her hand gently in his. ‘This is my wedding gift to you.’ He threaded a stunning oval diamond ring onto her finger. ‘A betrothal ring. We were never engaged but I would like this ring to signify a new beginning for us.’

Her eyes prickled. The diamonds glittered with breathtaking brilliance. She was very touched by what he had just said, because he was offering her heart’s desire. More than anything else she wanted to believe that she had a proper future with him. His choice of gift told her so much more than he would have managed to say. ‘It’s absolutely gorgeous.’

Rashad detached the coin headdress from her hair with great care and set it aside. Beautiful dark eyes serious below his luxuriant black lashes, he removed the turquoise jewellery piece by piece. ‘It meant much to me to see you wear these gems.’

‘Did anyone ever tell you how amazing you look in army uniform?’ Tilda muttered helplessly.

‘No,’ Rashad said truthfully, and an amused smile lightened his solemn expression.

‘Well, you do,’ she told him gruffly.

‘I want you so much I hurt,’ Rashad breathed not quite steadily, letting the tip of his tongue delve between her readily parted lips.

As he leant closer she felt the hard evidence of his arousal through his clothing and a combination of nerves and excitement gripped her. He detached his sword belt and undid his jacket. She tugged it off him with hands that were clumsy with impatience. She had waited too long for him. She wondered if he would realise that he was her first lover. She hoped so. Then he would have to accept how wrong he had been about her and she supposed she would graciously accept his heartfelt apologies.

He undid the tight sash at her waist and unzipped the ornate and heavy kaftan, easing the rich fabric down slowly over her hips. Desire sparked low in her pelvis and she pressed her slim thighs together in embarrassment. Tiny little tremors were running through her slender figure. She stretched up and found his wide, sexy mouth again for herself. He held her there entrapped, one lean hand braced to her spine, the ripe swell of her breasts crushed by the powerful wall of his chest. As he captured her lips with shattering urgency her heart thumped an upbeat tempo inside her ribcage and a delicious surge of heat warmed her belly. His tongue plundered the soft recesses of her mouth, teaching her a wickedly erotic rhythm that made her whimper low in her throat with surprise and pleasure.

Golden eyes smouldering like the heart of a fire, Rashad set her back from him and removed the gossamer fine silk slip she wore. ‘So many unnecessary layers,’ he complained thickly.

Still clad in bra and briefs, Tilda reddened, wildly conscious of his appraisal as he shed his uniform. Watching in guilty fascination, she thought how beautiful he was from the smooth golden skin of his wide, sculpted shoulders to the hard, muscular breadth of his chest and his long, lean, hair-roughened thighs. Her admiring scrutiny jolted to a sudden halt just below the low-slung waistband of his boxers, where the explicit outline of his bold maleness was all too obvious to her disconcerted eyes. Hastily she glanced away, a tiny frisson of mingled response and alarm gripping her.

‘Come here,’ he urged.

‘Can we do this really slowly?’ Tilda asked abruptly.

Surprise and amusement made Rashad smile. With quiet confidence he let his long brown fingers feather through her pale silky ringlets in a soothing motion. ‘What are you scared of? Surely not of me?’

Tilda went pink, mortified that she had let herself down with that nervous and all-too-revealing question. ‘Don’t be daft.’

Unhooking her bra with deft assurance, Rashad vented a husky sound of satisfaction and lifted his hands to cup the full, firm mounds of creamy flesh that tumbled free. ‘I promise that you will know only pleasure in this bed tonight.’

Tilda remained tense. ‘I’m not as experienced as you seem to think.’

His stubborn jaw line tautened, for he did not want to think of anything that might awaken thoughts of the men with whom she had betrayed his trust. He shut out that statement and wiped the very memory of it from his mind. If he let anger touch him again he feared that his promise of a new beginning would become empty, meaningless words and so he made no answer. Instead, he bent his head to kiss her into silence again and he stroked the delicate coral pink buds that crowned her breasts with skilful fingers.

The liquid sensation at the juncture of Tilda’s thighs became a knot of almost painful anticipation. She sucked in an audible breath, but a gasp of disconcertion was wrenched from her when he pulled her down across his thighs, though she had no thought of protest. He used his tongue to lash a lush, pouting nipple with wicked expertise. He followed that bold caress with the gliding graze of his teeth, tormenting the tender peaks into rigid, straining points.

‘Rashad…’ she gasped, her hips squirming in a forlorn attempt to assuage the throb of need he had awakened.

‘You like that?’ Venting a soft laugh of satisfaction, Rashad framed her face with lean brown fingers to hold her still. ‘I think you will like everything I do.’

He tasted her swollen mouth with erotic urgency and eased a hand beneath her hips to remove her last garment. Suddenly aware that she was totally naked, Tilda tensed and there was a hint of insecurity in the way her tongue twinned with his. Rising with her in his strong arms, he tumbled her gently down amongst the pillows. Removing his boxer shorts, he joined her on the bed. His rawly appreciative gaze feasted on the pale rounded contours of her shapely body. She lay there, her entire skin surface buzzing with a wanton response that not even an attack of almost paralysing shyness could kill.