Читать книгу The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12 - Кейт Хьюит, Шантель Шоу - Страница 30

IN THE vast royal dining chamber Kaliq lay back on a heap of embroidered cushions, wearing robes which shimmered like spun gold beneath the guttering light of tall candles. On a low table before him stood a heavy goblet which he looked as if he were about to lift, when he looked up and saw her.

And in that split second Eleni forgot why she was there and why she found herself in such an extraordinary situation. Forgot everything—including her sanity—as her heart did a curious flip. Ebony eyes glittered as they stared at her and a mouth which must surely define sin itself quirked into a mocking kind of smile. For a moment she felt so faint, so weak, so utterly awed by his royal presence that she was grateful that protocol demanded she curtsey to him. But her cheeks were still flushed when she straightened up again.

Kaliq hadn’t moved; he hadn’t dared to—for the arrow of desire had made a stiff rod to lie aching at his groin. One of his ancestors might well have snapped his fingers and called her over to pleasure him with her mouth, but such behaviour was no longer approved of within royal circles—even in Calista. He sighed. It had been a dark day when his stepmother Anya had first brought some sort of equality to the women of this island!

‘Well, well, well,’ he murmured. ‘Let me look at you.’

‘Highness?’

‘Stand there.’

Kaliq’s mouth hardened as his gaze swept over her. In many ways it was not a promising appearance. She had tied back that magnificent mane of hair like a schoolgirl and her face remained scrubbed free of all artifice. Not only that, but she had chosen possibly the most neutral shade of all—when most women with colouring like hers would have opted for something vibrant. Something green and lush to echo the colour of her incredible eyes.

And yet it really was extraordinary how she had emerged like a Venus from the waves now that all the desert dust had been washed away from her grimy little face. The rough clothes favoured by her people had been replaced by a fine silk which accentuated the fine curves of her fit and youthful body. Why, his little lizard looked almost beautiful!

He shifted his position so that the ache at his groin grew slightly more bearable.

‘I believe that this is what they would call the “makeover”,’ he observed.

Eleni blinked. ‘I do not understand what you mean, Highness.’

‘No. I don’t suppose you do.’ His eyes glittered with mischief. ‘In the west, women sometimes take their clothes off for the television cameras—have you ever seen television, lizard?’

‘Once,’ she admitted. It had been a crackly old set hung on the wall of a café near to where she and her father had taken Nabat to race and she had not been very impressed with the raucous game-show which had had most of the other customers screaming with laughter.

‘And did you like it?’ he demanded.

‘Not particularly, Highness, no.’

‘Those in the west are addicted to it,’ Kaliq observed wryly. ‘And allow the cameras to take many liberties with their lives. These women in the makeover programmes allow other women to poke their naked flesh and tell them what to wear.’

Despite her disapproval that the sheikh should have been watching such a programme, Eleni couldn’t help herself. ‘Please,’ she protested. ‘You must not joke with me, Highness!’

‘But I do not joke.’ A mocking smile curved at his lips but the chauvinist within him silently applauded her entirely predictable reaction and the fact that she made no attempt to hide her rather prudish disapproval. How rare it was to find an unsophisticated woman—particularly for a man who moved within such rarefied social circles and globe-trotted as often as Kaliq did. He had only recently returned from Argentina—where he had been playing hard and fast on the polo field.

Afterwards, he had flown on to Rio where he had played even harder in the arms of a lover who was always exclusively available for him whenever he wanted her to be. And sometimes it was easier to take up with a woman you already knew than have to go through the mind-numbing motions of getting to know someone new.

The lady in question had possessed a dynamite body which she had delighted in flaunting. He found himself remembering her spectacular breasts, shown off in all their glory by the side of a swimming pool—and the pert thrust of her buttocks barely concealed by a shiny scarlet thong.

But although Kaliq was as appreciative of beauty and sexuality as the next man—wasn’t there something deliciously refreshing about this young woman’s genuine shock and outrage? His eyes flicked over her pink cheeks and pale green eyes. As well as something deliciously pleasing. His brows narrowed into a thoughtful look. What would she be like in his bed? he wondered idly. Would she be outraged at some of the things he would like to do to her—or would she embrace them with as much skill as she showed in the saddle?

He patted the cushions beside him. ‘Come. Sit. You will eat.’

‘Eat? You mean, here?’ Eleni swallowed. ‘With you?’

‘But of course.’ He glimmered her a smile. ‘We must discuss my plans for the horses and there is no reason why we should not do so in comfort.’

‘But—’

‘Please do not argue with me,’ he drawled, though his tone was emphatic. ‘The first time you express a doubt I might find it tolerable—but repeat it and it will quickly become tedious. Do you understand?’

Oh, she understood, all right. Spoilt, jaded sheikh used to getting his own way at all times! But Eleni kept her face impassive as she nodded. ‘Yes, Highness.’

His black eyes were glittering like jet as he pointed at the cushions and, although Eleni felt as if her limbs had been turned into marble, somehow she managed to walk over and sit down beside him. For what choice did she have when the sheikh had commanded it? Tell him that she’d rather be eating with the other servants in the kitchen as she had last night? That no morsel of food would ever be able to pass her lips in his daunting presence?

As if on cue, servant after servant began to noiselessly appear, carrying plates of exquisite food—some of which Eleni had never seen before, let alone tasted. Alongside the usual meat curry there was rare fish from the waters of the Kordela river, and jewel-bright fruits laid out on gleaming platters of pure gold. There were nuts and sweets, too—of such a variety that were usually only seen on feast days and holidays.

But more disturbing still than the sight of such a lavish feast was the prince’s proximity. Eleni could almost feel the warmth of his body beside her and was appalled by the way it made her heart race with a strange kind of excitement. She did not know what to do, or where to look. For if she cast her eyes downwards as was correct—then might he not once again remonstrate with her? And yet she could not bear to look directly into that forbiddingly aristocratic face—for fear that she would never be able to tear her gaze away from its dark beauty.

‘Eleni.’

He had even remembered her name!

She looked directly into the ebony eyes, her heart giving that terrible little wrench again. ‘Yes, Highness.’

‘Come, come—you must be hungry. Stop staring into space and eat something,’ he said softly. ‘For you have had a long day in the stables.’

She couldn’t possibly tell him that she had never felt less like eating in her life, could she? Might that not be seen as an insult to his hospitality? And anyway, not a morsel had yet passed his lips, though he was looking at her expectantly.

‘But a man must always eat first and take his fill before a woman,’ she protested as she tried and failed to imagine her father letting her have first choice of any food.

Kaliq frowned. And that, he realised—with a start—was the downside of inequality. He had never considered it before and for the first time in his life he saw that his late stepmother’s fight to end sexual discrimination in Calista might not have been a bad thing. ‘Eat,’ he said softly. ‘For your sheikh commands it.’

And didn’t everyone know that a sheikh’s wishes must be met? Self-consciously picking up a piece of fish, Eleni wrapped it in an edible leaf and began to eat and suddenly all her doubts and fears melted away in the wake of such a delicious explosion of tastes and flavours in her mouth. The sheikh had been right—she had ridden and worked since sunrise with nothing more than a handful of fruit in her belly. And this was like the food of the gods.

‘It’s good?’ he questioned, almost indulgently.

‘It’s… it’s wonderful.’

He watched while she ate, his eyes drawn to her with a rare fascination—thinking that everything she did was with a certain kind of grace.

But he was not employing her for her grace.

He was employing her for her prowess with horses—but now Kaliq could see for himself that Eleni had other very commendable attributes, too. And surely it would be a crime not to avail himself of them? As the silvery silk rippled over her firm, young arm, he felt the first soft beat of anticipation.

Forcing himself to wait until she had finished eating, he clapped his hands and the dishes were removed—and then he dismissed the last of the guards and other servants who always lingered in the darkened alcoves in case he wished for something on a whim.

‘Now,’ said Kaliq softly.

Eleni’s senses were alerted—but to what she knew not. Almost without meaning to, she shrank back slightly against the silken mound of cushions, stared up into the harsh yet beautiful face with its cruel curve of a nose and glittering black eyes.

‘You wish to discuss horse welfare?’ she questioned nervously.

Kaliq almost laughed—but he knew that laughter had no place in the bedchamber. Horse welfare was the very last thing on his mind right now! So was she being prim, or merely cowed by his royal presence? He leaned towards her, seeing her green eyes darken. ‘How old are you?’ he questioned softly.

‘Tw-twenty-five.’

Older than he had thought! ‘Ah, that is good,’ he purred as he lifted one of the braids of hair and rubbed his fingers experimentally over the thick, silken rope. ‘Yet heading towards thirty and you’ve never had a husband?’

‘Why, no, Highness.’

‘Never wanted one?’

Eleni clamped her lips together. These were very personal and rather hurtful questions for her ruler to be asking—though she suspected that he wasn’t really interested. She doubted whether he wanted to hear that the young men who had attempted to woo her had either been oafish, or had been chased away by a father reluctant to lose his unpaid servant. And why was he touching her hair like that? ‘My life has been my horses,’ she answered truthfully.

‘How very commendable,’ he murmured. ‘But there is so much more to life than horses.’

There was absolutely nowhere to look but into the gleam of his eyes, which were dazzling her with ebony fire, seeming to suck away all the strength in her body, leaving her feeling defenceless beneath its powerful searchlight.

‘Isn’t there, Eleni?’ he continued softly.

‘I…’ But Eleni had no time to put together a sentence—even if her brain hadn’t just turned to honeycomb—because the unbelievable was now happening. Prince Kaliq Al’Farisi was lowering his dark and beautiful head and those mocking lips were moving towards her lips.

He was going to kiss her!

Eleni had never been kissed before and she was not to know that it was being executed by a master of the art. All she did know were a series of conflicting sensations which were dragging her into a sweetly erotic world she hadn’t dreamed could exist. She could feel the silken seeking of his mouth and the instant clamouring of her senses in response. Could hear her heart beating so loud and so hard that she was afraid it might burst beneath her breast. And now a strange honeyed rush was beginning at the fork of her thighs, which had her almost choking with pleasure.

He was pressing against her now, pushing her down onto the cushions. Almost arrogantly, he had splayed his hand over one breast and—both shamefully and delightfully—Eleni could feel that breast reacting to his caress. It was growing full and tingly and achy—and, inexplicably, she found herself longing for him to touch it more, and much harder.

‘Highness!’ she gasped as she felt the royal tongue licking its way deliciously over her lips. ‘Oh, Highness!’

‘Mmm?’

Fighting every instinct in her body, Eleni detached her mouth. ‘We must stop this,’ she said weakly.

‘No!’ he growled, tiptoeing his fingers over the growing bud of her nipple and groaning as it peaked through the silk gown. Increasing the urgency of his mouth, he felt her lips open and Kaliq began to ruck the silk of her dress up over her ankles. Ah, the sweet firmness of her ankle with its soft, silken flesh! And beyond? What treasures lay undiscovered there? ‘Not yet.’

‘Yes!’ Eleni knew little of the ways of love—her sexual education had been one hasty class at school and a peep at an ancient art-book shown to her by her favourite teacher before it had been confiscated by the school’s head. She knew that sex was sacred, secret and forbidden—and yet, now she was sampling her first taste of it, she could see how tempting it was, too.

Kaliq was playing with her aching breast and sliding up her silken gown and she was lying there and just letting him—even though she knew it was wrong!

It was like dragging herself back from the edge of paradise, but Eleni knew she had to get herself out of such a dangerous situation with such a highly experienced and powerful man. Get out now—before it was too late.

With a strength she didn’t know she possessed—a strength forged from years of hard, physical work in the stable—she pushed the sheikh away from her, surprising a series of conflicting emotions on his face as she did so.

She saw frustration and a dark smouldering kind of anger, but more than any of these things she saw astonishment.

‘What in the falcon’s name do you think you are doing?’ he questioned, with silky menace.

Eleni’s breathing was so erratic that it took a moment before she could speak, and even then, she felt odd—as if she were sickening for something. Dizzy. Disorientated. Her blood boiling in her veins and her head spinning.

‘I am guarding my honour!’ she cried out, not caring now about protocol.

Kaliq’s mouth twisted. ‘Your honour?’ he questioned acidly, as if she had just invented a new word. ‘What are you talking about?’

Eleni couldn’t really move—and in truth she did not think she would be able to. But she knew that things needed to calm down and that somehow she must help the sheikh lose that look of pure fury on his face. Because surely once he understood the truth of her predicament—then he would understand?

‘You do not think that I have a reputation that I guard fiercely?’ she demanded hotly. ‘That my honour is not worth preserving?’

‘Your honour?’ he echoed again as he tried to ignore the fierce throb of hunger which pulsed through his body.

‘I may be a simple country girl—but even I know that such an act between two people who barely know one another would be wrong.’

Frustration made him want to ask her whether she was holding out for dinner first—but he suspected that irony would be lost on her, quite apart from the fact that he bet she’d never been taken out for dinner in her life.

‘But I, as your sheikh, want it,’ he argued, quite reasonably. ‘So how can it be wrong?’

Eleni took the opportunity to wriggle back a little on the bank of silk cushions, trying to steady her still-ragged breathing and wishing that her heart would slow down. But that fractional increase in the distance between them made all the difference.

‘I would lose respect,’ she said.

‘Whose? Mine? I can assure you that your surrender will make me respect you more,’ he murmured, lifting his hand to brush away a lock of silken hair which had escaped.

Eleni looked at him, trying to ignore the instinctive thrill she felt when he touched her. She didn’t believe him, not for a moment. He reminded her of her favourite stable cat—a sleek and beautiful creature, but one who would happily trail after anyone who happened to feed her. But of course she would not do anything as stupid as calling the sheikh a liar.

‘It would be unsuitable, Highness,’ she continued implacably. ‘And ultimately it might distract your attention from Nabat.’

For a moment he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, until he realised that she meant her wretched horse. For a moment he wanted to exclaim that the horse could go to hell for all he cared—that her sweet young body excited him far more—but even he recognised that this would not do his case any good.

Did she not realise that there wasn’t a woman alive who had ever turned down the opportunity of such sensual pleasure with Prince Kaliq Al’Farisi? Did she not realise that there could be dire consequences from incurring his royal displeasure? Dropping his hand from the pure oval of her face, he gave a click of irritated frustration.

‘I’m not interested in the damned horse!’ he snapped, unable to stop himself.

Eleni’s expression exhibited nothing but interested enquiry, even though her heart was racing like a piston beneath the expensive robe she wore. ‘But I thought that was your reason for bringing me here, Highness.’

He met her innocent gaze with a frown. Was it simply his imagination—or was there a teasing challenge in the depths of those green eyes? If he told her that her courage and youth and arresting eyes had played their part in bringing her here—then would that not put him at a disadvantage? Did she not realise that he could have any woman he wanted and that she was lucky that he had deigned to pick her? Well, she would discover it soon enough!

‘Then we will discuss the horses,’ he drawled, stifling a yawn—as if he had grown bored with the conversation.

For a moment, Eleni wondered whether she had gone too far—but what choice did she have? She would have acted in the same way no matter who had attempted such a casual and quick seduction. And just because Kaliq was a sheikh did not mean that he should be treated any differently from any other man, did it?

It was true that no one else had ever made her feel like that—as if she had just discovered what a woman’s body had been designed for—but surely that itself was dangerous? Imagine if she got used to a sheikh’s caresses and began comparing everyone else to him. That, of course, presumed that there was ever going to be anyone else, which was looking increasingly unlikely as she headed unmarried towards thirty—as the sheikh himself had rather cruelly pointed out.

She gave him a bright smile. ‘Does the sheikh not drink mint tea after dinner?’ she questioned softly. ‘I always find it very relaxing.’

For a moment Kaliq did not know whether to laugh or explode or whether to send the impudent minx packing back to her hovel of a home and her drunk of a father. But the challenge of her defiance was proving almost irresistible and he conceded that she did have a point and so he lifted his hands and clapped them to order tea.

But as he did so the silken sleeves of his robe fell back to reveal his arms and Eleni’s eyes widened as she bit back a gasp. For there, just at his wrists, were deep, ugly and livid scars.

‘Oh, Highness!’ she exclaimed softly—all thwarted passion forgotten at the shocking sight of his injuries. ‘Who has dared hurt you?’