Devil's Daughter (Devil 2)

He raised his head to smile into her dazed eyes. “Yes,” he said. Just the sound of her voice made him want her again. He shook his head, wondering at himself. He felt a surge of protectiveness so powerful that he sucked in his breath. “No,” he said.

“No what?”

He started, unaware that he had spoken aloud. He didn’t reply, feeling her sliding away from him into sleep. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him, and pulled up the light cover over them.

The gentle pink sunlight of dawn flickered into the chamber. Arabella stirred, felt Kamal’s arms tighten about her, and snuggled against him.

But sleep didn’t come again. She breathed in the salty male scent of him, and felt intense satisfaction. Then she realized exactly what she had done, what a fool she’d been. She didn’t know how she would face him in the light of day, seeing in his eyes his triumph over her.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t her offering of herself that brought her shame. Indeed, she felt oddly philosoph

ical about the loss of her virginity. She would do it again, if it would save her parents. No, she thought, it was her own passion, feelings unknown to her until Kamal, that made her want to die of shame. She was a lady; surely a lady wasn’t supposed to feel so consumed.

Twice she had given herself to him. Twice. He had known her for a virgin. Surely now he had good reason to question the story his mother had told him. She felt him turn more closely against her in his sleep. Slowly she tried to pull away from him. She felt a nagging soreness between her legs. It occurred to her for the first time that she had lost what her husband—that vague, mysterious man who was somewhere in her future—would expect on their wedding night.

“Arabella?”

Quickly she turned her face away, unable to face him. She felt his warm breath against her temple. “No, do not touch me.”

Kamal came fully awake. He could not recall ever having felt so complete, so very satisfied before, until her voice broke through.

“What is the matter?” His fingers tangled through her hair and gently kneading the back of her neck. He heard her swallow a sob and raised himself on one elbow over her.

“Arabella, look at me.”

She turned her face toward him, and he saw the desolation in her eyes. “I must talk to you,” she said.

He felt a cold knot begin to grow in his belly, and anger at himself, at her, at the miserable situation that had forced them together. He laid his hand lightly on her breast.

“No, you cannot touch me, not again.” She rolled to the side of the wide bed and came up to her knees, drawing the cover upward to cover herself.

“I see,” Kamal said, his voice utterly controlled. “What you mean is that I cannot touch you until I have agreed to your terms.”

Had she been so wretchedly obvious? She got a grip on herself and forced her eyes to his face. It was impassive, and she did not know what was in his mind. “Yes,” she said. “What I did, I did for my parents. Surely now you cannot carry through your mother’s revenge.”

“Why not?”

She felt the force of his anger, but refused to back down. She raised her chin. “You know that she lied to you, at least about me.”

“Yes,” he said. “You were a virgin. Look at the sheet. It is stained with your virgin’s blood.”

Inadvertently her eyes fell to the dark splotches against the white sheet. “Please,” she said, “you must stop this insane plot.”

“So,” he said finally, sitting up, oblivious to his nakedness, “you sold your body like a common whore.”

Did a common whore feel such pleasure? she wondered blankly. “I wished to bargain with you and I had naught else.”

He understood her, and although he would never admit it, he admired her courage, admired her for the irrevocable step she had taken. Still, to hear her speak so coldly about bargaining with him with her body roused fury in him. “A woman’s weapon. How very naturally you came by your talent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps,” he said, “my mother was not so very wrong about you, my lady. Perhaps she observed you teasing gentlemen, and came to a not unreasonable conclusion. You showed me great promise, Arabella. In the past, have you allowed the gentlemen who desired you to go only so far? Perhaps caress you and fondle you? Did you play with them, but not allow them to have you?”

“No.” The import of his words infuriated her. “Only one man tried to kiss me before, and I kicked him.”

“But your passion. I could caress you right now and soon, very soon, I know you would yield to me yet again.”

“Damn you, you will not touch me again. I will not allow it. I felt nothing for you, do you hear? Nothing.”