Читать книгу Desert Hearts: Sheikh Without a Heart / Heart of the Desert / The Sheikh's Destiny - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 15

HOURS later, Karim stepped from his private elevator.

The penthouse was silent; lamps glowed discreetly, just enough to chase away the gloom.

Rachel was always in her rooms by now.

And they hadn’t run into each other in the morning again.

They couldn’t; he’d taken to skipping his workouts. He left even earlier than before.

It was safer that way.

Otherwise, he thought grimly as he loosened his tie and went quietly up the stairs, otherwise he’d—

What?

Take Rachel in his arms? No way. That could only lead to disaster. He was going to take custody of the child. The last thing he needed was to sleep with that child’s mother.

Right.

Then, why hadn’t he started the ball rolling? Why had he not yet called his lawyer or the DNA lab?

A better question was, why did he walk quietly down the corridor each night, pause outside Rachel’s always-closed door, feel his pulse quicken as he imagined himself opening that door, going to her, waking her by taking her in his arms …?

Dammit.

He’d been over this ground before. Hadn’t he just thought the same thing again? The complications if he did such a crazy thing? Even the nasty possibility that her responses to him had been deliberate because she figured she could divert him from his plan?

His body tightened.

Or maybe, like him, she needed to get this impossible hunger out of her system.

Maybe this was the night to do it. Maybe—

What was that?

A sound. A whimper.

It was the baby.

Karim hesitated. He thought of the last time he’d heard the child crying, how he’d found him awake and Rachel asleep …

He stepped forward and opened the door.

It was the same. The dark sitting room. The soft light glowing through the partly open door of the nursery. And Rachel, asleep in the big wing chair, her hair loose and shining against the ivory fabric of one of those old-fashioned nightgowns he’d never known any other woman to wear.

His mistresses wore silk. Or lace. Sexy stuff, meant to turn up the heat …

And never getting it half as high as Rachel did in throat-to-toe cotton.

He wanted to kneel beside her, take her in his arms, draw her down to the floor with him. Kiss her, taste her, make her moan with hunger.

The baby. Concentrate on the baby.

Ethan was in the crib, wide awake, kicking those little arms and legs like a marathon runner and smiling from ear to ear.

Karim smiled back.

“Hey, pal,” he whispered.

He moved forward. Stepped on something. A pen and, under it, a notebook. He picked it up, glanced at the page. Rachel had scrawled a “To Do” list. None of his business what it was …

Except he could see it was about keeping Ethan.

He felt a quick tug of guilt. Which was ridiculous.

He had no reason to feel guilty. The baby was a prince’s son. He owed it to his brother’s memory, his king and his people, to see to it he was raised as a prince.

“Gaa gaa?”

Karim put the pad and pen on a table, scooped the baby into his arms and tiptoed from the room.

It was close to dawn when something drew Rachel from sleep.

A noise. A stir of sound somewhere in the vast apartment.

“Mmm,” she murmured, stretching her arms high over her head.

Falling asleep in this big chair had become something of a habit. It was surprisingly comfortable; she awoke feeling rested and—

“Ethan?”

The crib was empty.

Rachel shot to her feet.

Had he awakened and started to cry and she’d slept through it?

She told herself to calm down.

Ethan was fine. He was somewhere in the apartment and he was fine. But when she found the person who’d taken him instead of waking her—

Barefoot, she made her way down the silent corridor, down the stairs, through the dark rooms …

And ended her search by following the pale flow of light into the big living room, where she found her little boy and her captor.

They were fast asleep.

Rachel’s throat constricted.

The room reflected the life and wealth of its owner. White walls. White furniture highlighted by touches of deepest black. It was a sophisticated setting for a sophisticated man …

A man who lay sprawled on one of the long white sofas, shoes, suit coat and tie tossed aside, with Ethan lying spread-eagled against his chest—Ethan so small and sweet in the powerful arms of the powerful man who, except for that first night, behaved as if he didn’t exist.

The baby sighed into the tiny damp spot his sore gums had left on what was surely a hand-made white shirt.

Karim drew him closer and, in his sleep, stroked a big hand down Ethan’s back.

The baby snuggled in.

Something hot and dangerous flooded Rachel’s heart.

No. No, she was not going to let this scene affect her. She knew better, knew what men were, knew what this man was …

Knew that he could be hard as well as tender, not just when he held a baby but when he held her.

She must have made a sound, perhaps a sigh like the baby’s, because Karim’s dark, thick lashes fluttered, then rose.

His eyes, still blurry with sleep, met hers.

“Ethan was crying.” His voice was late-night hoarse. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want him to wake you.” He paused. Why was she looking at him as if she’d never seen him before? Karim cleared his throat. “So I brought him down here with me.”

He fell silent. His heart was racing.

How could she be so beautiful? Such an insignificant word to describe her but it was the only one he had.

She was beautiful.

Her soft, rosy mouth. Her sleep-tousled hair.

And all the rest.

Her breasts, pressing against the thin cotton of her gown. Her long legs, outlined by the soft fabric.

Only the weight of the child against his chest kept him sane, enabled him to raise his eyes to Rachel’s without embarrassing them both.

“I’ll …” He cleared his throat. “I’ll take him upstairs.”

“Thank you. For taking care of him.”

Karim smiled. “He’s a nice little boy.”

“Yes. Yes, he is.” She swallowed dryly. “I’ll take him up.”

“That’s liable to wake him. Let me.”

She nodded. Karim got to his feet and she fell in behind him, followed him up the stairs to the nursery.

She watched him bend over the crib, carefully place the sleeping baby in it. There was a light blanket at the foot; he drew it up, tucked it around the child, touched his pale curls lightly with his hand as he had done that first time.

“Sleep well,” he whispered.

Rachel felt a tightness in her chest.

How many times had she held the baby and thought, If only you were truly mine …?

Impossible, of course.

Karim’s brother and her sister had created this little boy.

But what if fate had written a different story? What if Ethan were not Rami’s and Suki’s but hers and—and—

She spun away, went into the sitting room and out to the hall.

Karim came after her. “Rachel?”

She was trembling. God, she was—

“Rachel,” he said again, “what is it?”

Walk away, she told herself. Don’t be a fool … don’t, don’t, don’t—

His hand fell on her shoulder. She could feel his hard body behind hers, could feel the heat emanating from him.

He said her name again, his voice low and rough, and she turned and faced him.

What she saw in his eyes told her that tonight, at least, anything was possible.

“Karim,” she whispered, and when he reached for her she went straight into his arms.

He told himself there were endless reasons to let go of her. To step back from this while he still could.

He had always done the right thing, the logical thing, the dutiful thing …

Karim groaned, and gathered her close.

This, only this, was the right thing. This was where Rachel belonged.

“Karim.”

His name was a sigh on her lips. He looked down into her face, her lovely face, and knew she was feeling the same emotions. Desire. Confusion. The realization that what they were doing could be dangerous, that there would be no going back …

“We can’t,” she said in a thready whisper, and he said she was right, they couldn’t …

She moaned. Rose on her toes. Pressed against him.

He bent to her and captured her mouth.

She tasted of the night, of honey, of herself. She tasted like cream and vanilla, and he shuddered, took the kiss deep, deeper still.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, and she trembled and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he knew they were both lost.

He slid his hands down her back, cupped her bottom, lifted her into him.

Another groan came from his throat.

He could feel all of her against him now. Her breasts. Her belly. Her hips.

Her body was hot. So was her mouth as he drank from it.

Half the buttons of his shirt were undone and she slid her hands inside, stroked them over his naked shoulders, and he shuddered under that feather-soft, tantalizing touch.

He drew her closer, holding her as if his arms were bands of steel, but it wasn’t enough, it couldn’t be enough—not when the need to make her his pounded through him with every beat of his heart.

He wanted to sweep her into his arms. Carry her to his bed.

But first—first just a taste of her skin. Here, behind her ear. Here, in the tender hollow of her throat. Here, at the delicate juncture of neck and shoulder.

She cried out.

The sound raced through him like a river of flame.

“Do you want this?’ he whispered. “Tell me, habibi. Tell me what you want.”

She cupped his face, dragged it down to hers and kissed him.

“This,” she whispered. “You. But we can’t. We can’t—”

His kiss was hot and hard. Her knees buckled; he swung her up into his arms, his mouth never leaving hers, and carried her to his bedroom.

Moonlight poured in through the windows, spilling over them in a pool of ivory iridescence. He put her on her feet beside his bed and his eyes locked on her face.

“Tell me to stop,” he said thickly, “and I will. But tell me now, before it’s too late. Do you understand, Rachel? Once I start to touch you—once I start there’s no going back.”

The room filled with silence broken only by the rasp of his breath. Then, slowly, she brought her hands to the top button of her nightgown.

Karim’s hand closed on hers.

“Let me undress you.”

He heard the catch of her breath. Her hands fell to her sides. He reached for the first of what were surely a thousand buttons, none made for male fingers as big and suddenly clumsy as his, but he wanted to be the one who bared her to his eyes.

One button gave way.

Two.

Three.

And finally he could see—ah, God—he could see the slope of her breasts.

“Karim,” she whispered.

He tore his gaze from her breasts, fixed his eyes on her face. Saw her parted lips, the flush of desire that streaked her cheeks, the darkness of her pupils.

His throat constricted. He leaned forward, kissed her mouth.

And undid the next button.

And the one after that.

Undid them, button by button, until there were none left.

Slowly, the gown parted.

And he saw her.

Saw all of her. Naked and incredibly lovely.

Her breasts were small and round, and he knew instantly that they were meant to fit perfectly in his cupped palms.

Her nipples were elegant buds, their color the dusty pink of the early-summer roses that grew wild in the valleys of the Great Wilderness Mountains.

Her hips were lushly feminine curves, the perfect framework for the soft curls at the junction of her thighs.

God, he needed to touch her.

Cup her breasts with his hands. Brush his fingers over her erect nipples. Put his mouth to the heart of her, let her feel the heat of his tongue between her thighs.

He looked up. Watched her face. Reached out slowly, brushed his fingers over her nipples. She gasped, and he bent his head, kissed her mouth, her throat, her breasts …

Drew one rosy bud between his lips.

She sobbed his name, shuddered. Her head fell back and she cried out with pleasure.

It almost undid him.

He drew her down with him onto the bed. Go slow, he told himself. Go slow …

Her body was hot against his.

Her mouth was soft.

And his erection was so hard it was almost painful.

“Rachel,” he said unsteadily, and she wound her arms around his neck, and somehow, somehow, her nightgown was ruched around her hips and somehow, somehow, his hand was between her thighs and she was wet and hot and slick, and he found that sweet nub that was the essence of her, and when he did she arched against his hand and gave a cry that made him rear back, tear off his clothes and pull open the drawer of the nightstand.

He found a condom. Fumbled with it. And then—

Then he was inside her.

A groan tore from his throat.

Rachel was tight around him, so tight he was afraid he’d hurt her, and he went still, his body trembling with the effort, holding back, letting her stretch to accommodate him. But she wouldn’t let that happen. She was sobbing, moving against him, moving, moving, moving …

She said his name. He could feel her trembling; she was on that razor-thin edge of eternity with him.

Could a man’s entire life have been meant to bring him to this one moment?

He thrust forward, harder, deeper, faster. She whispered his name again and then she screamed in ecstasy.

And Karim let go of everything—the pain of the last weeks, the rigidity of his life—and flew with her along the moonlit path into the heart of the night sky.

He collapsed over her, his body slick with sweat.

His face was buried in the curve of her shoulder, her hair was a silken tangle and he loved the feel of it against his lips. His heart was pounding; so was hers. He could feel it beating hard against his.

He knew he was too heavy for her but he didn’t want to move—not if it meant giving up this moment. Rachel’s skin against his skin, her arms around him, her legs wrapped around his hips …

She gave a little sigh.

He sighed, too, rolled to his side and drew her into his arms.

“Are you all right?” he said softly.

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Very fine?” he said, and smiled. He used one hand to tilt her face to his. “Incredibly fine?” he whispered, and kissed her.

Her lips were soft. They clung to his but only for a heartbeat. Then she drew back.

“I—I have to get up,” she whispered.

“Not yet,” he said in a sexy, rough voice as he stroked a lock of hair from her temple and tucked it behind her ear. “Stay with me a little longer.”

“No. Really. I have to—I have to get up.”

A simple request, Karim told himself. She wanted to use the bathroom. A simple, normal request.

But her voice was strained and her eyes darted away from his.

“Rachel?”

She didn’t answer.

“Rachel. Sweetheart—”

“Let me up!”

For a horrible few seconds she was afraid he was going to keep his arms where they were, one around her shoulders, the other draped over her waist, but finally he let her go.

Now the trick was to sit up and not let him see her, because she was naked and, yes, he’d already seen her, he’d more than seen her …

Somehow, she managed to struggle upright and drag the edges of her nightgown together. Then she got to her feet, her back to him.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t sound sexy anymore. No matter. She would sound brisk and bright.

“To the bathroom.”

Karim sat up. “The bathroom’s behind you.”

“The bathroom in the guest suite.”

“What’s going on, Rachel? You have regrets?”

“Honestly, Karim, I’d think you would know that there’s nothing less appealing than a—a post-sex analysis. So if you don’t mind—”

She turned away from him and started for the door, her posture stiff and unyielding. He grabbed his discarded trousers, pulled them on, got to the door before she did, stood with his back to it, arms folded over his chest, legs slightly apart, face without expression.

“Please,” she said. “Get out of my way.”

“Not until you talk to me.”

“I told you, I have to go to the—”

“You’re running away.”

Her head came up. “The hell I am,” she snapped.

So much for brisk and bright.

“A minute ago you were in my arms. And now—”

“And now it’s over. You got what you wanted.”

She cried out as his hands closed on her shoulders.

“Don’t,” he growled.

“Don’t what? Tell the truth? Dammit, let go of me!”

“We made love. Don’t try to turn it into something ugly.”

“We went to bed.” Her eyes flashed. “Don’t try to turn it into something pretty.”

His mouth twisted.

“Next thing I know,” he said, very softly, “you’re going to claim I forced you.”

“No.” Her chin lifted; color striped her cheekbones. “I’m not. There are already too many—too many lies between us!”

“For instance.”

“For instance— For instance—”

Rachel fell silent. It was one lie, one huge lie, that lay between them, but she couldn’t tell him that. If he knew the truth he’d have all the ammunition he needed to take Ethan from her.

“I’m waiting,” he said coldly. “Exactly what lies are you talking about?”

She looked up. Moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

“There’s really no point to this,” she said wearily. “We did—what we did. And now—”

“And now you want to forget it ever happened.”

Yes, she wanted to say, but that would be an even greater lie. She knew she’d never forget being with Karim. Never.

“I just—I just want to move on.”

Karim’s eyes darkened.

“Move on?”

“Yes. You know, this was—it was nice, but—”

He cupped her face, cut off her words with a kiss. She fought it, but only for a second. Then she gave a soft little cry, put her arms around his neck and gave herself up to him.

When he finally took his mouth from hers she was shaking.

“We can’t,” she whispered.

“We already did,” he said. “And I wouldn’t change it for all the riches of the world, sweetheart.” He paused. “And neither would you.” His voice softened. “Tell me that isn’t true and I’ll let you walk away.”

Here was her chance.

He was a man of honor. She knew that already. If she said, What just happened means nothing to me, he would let her turn her back on this—whatever “this” was.

But she couldn’t say those words—couldn’t turn what had been so beautiful into something ugly.

“Karim—”

“I like the way you say my name.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

He smiled. “I know that you’re hell on my ego. And that’s a lot, coming from a man who’s— What was it you called me? Arrogant. Self-centered. A despot.” Another smile. “Did I leave anything out?”

“We’d just met. And—and I know you won’t believe me, but I don’t do—I don’t do—”

“Do what?” he said solemnly.

Color swept into her face.

“I’m not the woman you think I am.” That, at least, was true. “And I don’t go to bed with—with strange men.”

“I’m strange, huh?”

“No! I didn’t mean—”

“That’s okay,” he said, even more solemnly. “Don’t hold back. Just say what you think.”

There was laughter in his eyes. She could feel a smile trying to form on her lips but there was nothing to smile about—certainly not to laugh about.

“You’re impossible,” she said. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“So am I.” He bent to her, kissed her with a tenderness she knew she didn’t deserve. “You think this is wrong because—because of Rami.”

The weight of her deception made it hard to breathe. She nodded; how could she trust herself to speak?

“Because,” he said gruffly, “you slept with him.”

“Karim, please. I don’t want to—”

“No. Neither do I. Hell, Rami’s the last thing I want to talk about right now.”

“You think—you think I cared for him. But—”

“No. I don’t. You said you hated him, remember?” His dark eyes narrowed. “But we can’t pretend you and he …” He took a long, harsh breath. “You slept with him. You bore his child.”

A sob burst from Rachel’s throat. She spun away, but Karim caught her, turned her toward him.

“You think I need to hear the reasons?” His eyes met hers. “I don’t. What happened is in the past. Now, today, tomorrow … that’s what matters.” His voice turned husky. “Besides, if there is one thing I know with all my heart it is that you may have slept with Rami—but you and I just made love.”

Tears rose in her eyes.

“We made love,” he said fiercely. “You know it. I know it. Why won’t you admit it?”

“Because—because—”

She gave a muffled sob. Karim cursed and gathered her in his arms. She buried her face against him and her hot tears fell on his bare chest.

“I don’t give a damn about anything that happened before we met,” he said, his voice raw. “This. Us. That’s all that matters.”

“There is no ‘us.’ There can’t be. I told you—you don’t know anything about me …”

He bent his head, took her mouth in a hard, quick kiss.

“I know everything I need to know,” he said roughly. “You’re brave. And strong. You face life with dignity and courage.”

Guilt was sharp as the thrust of a knife into her heart.

Tell him, a voice within her whispered. You must tell him. You have to … you have to—

“I was wrong to say I’d take your son from you.”

Oh, God! “Karim,” she said quickly. “Karim. About—about the baby—”

“No. You don’t have to say anything, habibi. You are a good mother. A wonderful mother. We’ll find a way around this.” His expression softened; he smiled and ran his thumb gently over her mouth. “And you’re beautiful,” he said softly. “Not just your face and your body. Inside, where it counts, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. So you see? I know all I need to know about you.” His smile broadened. “Except, perhaps, what you would like for a midnight snack.”

Rachel looked into the eyes of this man who had turned out to be nothing like his brother, nothing like any man she’d ever known.

Despite herself, her lips curved in an answering smile.

“You’re changing the subject, Your Highness.”

“Aha. Progress.” His tone was solemn, but his eyes were filled with laughter. “That’s the first time you’ve used those words without making me cringe.”

Her smile broadened. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you can be a very nice man.”

He grinned.

“For an arrogant, self-centered despot, you mean?”

Rachel laid her hand against Karim’s jaw. It was rough with end-of-day stubble. It made him look dangerous and incredibly sexy.

“Maybe I was wrong about that.”

“You were right, habibi. I am all those things—but not when I am with you.” He caught her hand, pressed a kiss into her palm. “On second thought …” His voice turned as rough as that stubble. “On second thought …” His teeth sank lightly into the flesh at the base of her thumb. “Are you hungry, too, sweetheart?”

Rachel looked up into her lover’s dark eyes and answered the question she saw there.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m hungry for you.”

Karim groaned, brought her hard against him and kissed her.

The world, and the web of lies she had created, spun away.