Читать книгу Historical Romance Books 1 – 4 - Marguerite Kaye - Страница 15
ОглавлениеStephanie was nervous, he could sense it in the slightly brittle tone of her voice. ‘One word from you and we will go no further,’ Rafiq said.
‘I know.’
He thought fleetingly, vengefully, of the bungling, selfish, dishonourable man who had betrayed her, before dismissing him as beneath contempt. He would make sure this experience was as different from her last in every possible way. He pushed back her hair to kiss the fluttering pulse at her temple. ‘Try to stop that impressively large brain of yours from thinking and concentrate on your body instead.’
She chuckled weakly. ‘I am not sure if I can.’
‘Then let me assist you.’ He kissed her carefully, soothing kisses, focusing his attention completely on her, wanting only her pleasure. He kissed her eyes, her temples, her mouth, fluttering kisses that sought nothing in return, and gradually she relaxed, her lids closing, her mouth softening under his, then returning the pressure, her tongue touching his, her body melting.
He laid her down on the cushions, easing his body away from hers, reining in his own sudden jolt of passion. Her eyes flickered open. ‘Nothing,’ he said, reading the question contained there, ‘you need do nothing.’
‘But I want to. Don’t you want me to...?’
‘Yes.’ His body rather graphically agreed, but he ignored it. ‘I do want you to, very much, but not yet. Before we discover each other, you must first discover yourself.’
He decided, for once, to follow his instincts. He knew how to please a woman, but this was Stephanie. Such a very different woman. He kissed his way down her throat. He smoothed his hand down her side, brushing the outside of her breast, watching her nipple burgeon under her tunic. He watched her as he cupped her breast, teasing her nipple, when she shifted very slightly to encourage him. He knew himself to be an accomplished lover, but never before had he made love like this, so careful of her, every move only for her, in response to her.
She reached for him, seeking his mouth, and he kissed her. Her tongue, her lips, made it difficult to think. He unfastened the buttons on the front of her tunic. He kissed her breast, sucking through the silk of her camisole, making her shift restlessly on the cushions, making her want something, something more. His mouth on her other nipple? Yes, and his hands, stroking her flanks, pushing her tunic higher, stroking the inside of her thighs through her pantaloons.
She tensed. What next? she seemed to be asking him. He kissed her in answer to her silent question. She kept her eyes closed. Her breathing was shallow and fast. Her body beside him on the cushions was burning hot, the brush of her hair silky on his skin. Gently, he eased her legs apart. She did not resist, though she tensed again. What now?
‘Stephanie, should I stop?’
She opened her eyes. They were heavy with desire. ‘No,’ she said. And then when he hesitated, ‘Please, don’t stop.’
He unfastened the sash at her waist. His fingers on the bare skin of her belly made her shiver. He slid his hand down, covering her, cupping her in that most intimate place, kissing her slowly on the mouth. ‘There is no hurry, no need to rush,’ he whispered.
‘No,’ she murmured.
Another kiss, and his tongue slid inside her mouth, and his fingers slid between her legs, and she cried out, a hoarse, harsh sound that he mistook at first for pain, until she clenched around him. She was slick, wet, tight. His shaft swelled, his groin tightened in response. Still his focus remained only on Stephanie. Her needs were his. His fingers slid over her and around her, teasing her and stroking her, making her body arch under him. Little whimpering noises encouraged him and aroused him. He kissed her, stroked her, coaxing her to a climax with his mouth and his tongue and his fingers. She was close, she was closer, and then with a wild cry her climax took her, shook her, so violently that she clung to him as if he would save her from drowning in pleasure.
When it was over, she opened her eyes and she loosened her grip and she smiled languorously at him, a smile that made him catch his breath. ‘I had no idea,’ she said.
And that was his satisfaction. It was better than release. Who would have thought it! He laughed then, with sheer delight, holding her closely, feeling his laughter reverberate against her chest. ‘And now you do,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she replied, with a sated smile. ‘Now I do. Thank you.’
‘Stephanie,’ Rafiq said, kissing her, ‘believe me, the pleasure was entirely mutual.’ And he meant it.
* * *
Rafiq retied the sash at the waist of her pantaloons. He buttoned up the front of her tunic. He kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Now we will eat, and satisfy a different appetite. There is an ante-room through that curtain where you may first refresh yourself.’
There were rose petals scenting the water in the urn. There was a fresh cake of soap in a dish. There was a stack of soft towels. And a mirror. Stephanie stared at her reflection, wondering that she did not look more different. Her complexion had a rosy blush to it and her hair had escaped from her scarf, and her lips—yes, it was obvious that her lips had been satisfyingly kissed. She wrapped her arms around her waist. Those kisses had not been the only satisfying thing. She still couldn’t quite believe it. That Rafiq had—and then she had...
And the result had been earth-shattering. So much, much more than she could have imagined. As if her body had broken into a million little shards of indescribably intense light. When it ended, when she sank slowly back from the sparkling sky where she had been flying, she felt as if she was reassembled in a different manner. Her smile had a touch of smugness to it now. She was just a little bit pleased with herself.
‘Harlot,’ she told her reflection. ‘Brazen hussy.’ The words that had stung, made her hang her head in shame for the wrong she had done, had a very different effect on her now that they were not being whispered behind her back, publicly branding her. Here in Bharym, she was not Stephanie Darvill, fallen woman, she was the Royal Horse Surgeon, and in public she would make damned sure that was how it would stay. But in private she rather liked the idea of living up to the names that had condemned her. She would like to be a great deal more wicked, provided she took great care there were no unfortunate consequences.
Her face fell. Mama’s words, and Mama’s biggest concern, when the vicious rumours of her daughter’s ruin reached her. The resultant scene had been mortifying for mother and daughter—Stephanie resorting to medical terminology in order to try to reassure Mama that she knew enough of the workings of the body to have managed that risk, at least, seemed to appal Mama even more. If Mama could see her now, proving every insult hurled at her to be true, she would be shocked to the core. As far as Mama was concerned, her daughter’s fall from grace could only be mitigated by a lifetime of chastity. It’s what Stephanie had believed too, and thought she had come to terms with in that last long, lonely year at Newmarket.
But she was on the other side of the world now, and Mama would never know what her daughter was getting up to here. When she returned to England, Stephanie Darvill’s fall from grace would be history, and Stephanie Darvill, veterinarian to a royal prince, would make her fresh start. She would make her own way, and she would ensure that people judged her only on her medical skills. She would prove herself the equal of any man.
But England was months away. She was in Arabia now, and she intended to make the most of it.
* * *
Rafiq poured Stephanie another glass of iced pomegranate juice and helped her to some honey-drenched pastries. ‘You are very subdued. Are you regretting what happened?’ he asked.
‘Oh, no. Quite the contrary.’ Her smile sent the blood rushing back to his groin. ‘You know Rafiq, that an enquiring mind, and a willingness to experiment are fundamental to my success as a veterinarian.’
It took him a moment to understand her meaning, but when he did, his shaft, not yet fully subsided, stirred into life. ‘Are you suggesting that we experiment with pleasure?’
She chuckled. ‘I’m suggesting that I would like to experiment. I doubt very much that I can teach you anything.’
He touched her cheek. ‘You underestimate yourself. Today was as new an experience for me as it was for you. Everything with you feels like the first time.’
‘Well, it is pretty much all new to me.’ Stephanie set her empty plate aside and licked her fingers. ‘I will rely on your experience to guide me. As a veterinarian, I can consult any number of instruction manuals and handbooks, but there are no textbooks for fallen women to follow.’
‘You would be surprised,’ Rafiq said.
Her eyes widened, not with shock but with curiosity. She was a bold innocent, another in her litany of paradoxes. It was a heady combination. ‘There are many such books. My grandfather, I am sorry to say, was an avid connoisseur of such matters, and has an extensive collection. Though I must say, I prefer your suggestion, of experimentation.’
Her expression clouded. ‘I have almost everything to learn, while you—I am afraid you will be disappointed.’
‘Stephanie, you are incapable of disappointing me.’ He kissed her hand tenderly. ‘Every day you surprise me.’
‘By being insubordinate and disrespectful and...’
‘With your refreshing honesty. And your novel slant on the world.’ He kissed her hand again. ‘You make me see things differently.’
‘Now that is a compliment which I am happy to accept.’
His laughter obscured the pounding at the door at first. Rafiq jumped up, adjusting his clothing. When he returned, his face was grim. ‘Another case of the sickness has struck. One of my brood mares this time. We must make haste and return to the stables.’
* * *
Stephanie got a taste of what it would feel like to race in the Dash of the Camels on the manic journey back to the palace. Clinging on grimly, she let her beast take its lead from Rafiq’s, feeling as if she were being tossed about in a storm at sea, though the sick feeling in her stomach had as much to do with the anticipation of what lay ahead of them. Rafiq had no details, save that Batal was continuing to make an extraordinary recovery. He had sent his man back ahead, with word that they were on their way.
‘Two cases in twenty-four hours,’ she said to Rafiq, panting breathlessly as they slowed in front of the imposing façade of the palace. ‘That has not happened before, has it?’
Grimly, he shook his head. The huge door in the wall which connected to the stable complex swung open. ‘I should have stayed,’ Stephanie said. ‘I should have been here.’
‘It is not your fault. Whatever happens, it is not your fault.’
Rafiq dismounted quickly before helping Stephanie down. In the archway of the stable buildings, a man was waiting, silently watching their approach.
He was tall with a slight stoop, and very thin, dressed in the traditional robes, a striped tunic under a loose cloak. His headdress of muslin fell almost to the ground, and was held in place by a thick double band made of silk rope. The face framed by his long pleated and oiled locks, was of a man who could have been any age from forty to sixty, with a strong aquiline profile, and a narrow chin made prominent by a pointed beard. Though his stance conveyed an air of sanguine world-weariness, his hands belied this, working incessantly at a set of worry beads. Stephanie felt a horrible, almost palpable, sense of foreboding.
Stepping towards them from the shadows he made his formal greeting, not to her, but to Rafiq. ‘Your Highness. I regret to inform you that you are too late. The mare, Anadil, is dead.’
‘No! Oh, Rafiq—Your Highness...’
‘Miss Darvill, may I present to you Jasim, my Master of the Horse? Jasim, as you are aware, Miss Darvill is my recently appointed Royal Horse Surgeon.’
She received the very smallest of bows in answer to her own formal greeting. Jasim’s eyes did not deign to meet hers, though whether he had noticed her slip in addressing Rafiq informally, or simply because she was a woman, Stephanie had no idea, and at this moment could not have cared less.
‘Where is Anadil? I’d like to see her, please.’
She spoke brusquely in Arabic, directly to Jasim, but he ignored her, looking to his master for direction. ‘Do as she asks,’ Rafiq said curtly.
‘But, Highness, the animal is dead.’
The Master of the Horse knew as soon as the words were out that he had made a mistake. Rafiq’s expression froze. He seemed, to Stephanie, to grow at least six inches. Jasim’s knees bent, stopping just short of obeisance. ‘Do you recall,’ Rafiq said, in a soft, icy voice that made the hairs on Stephanie’s arms stand on end, ‘the conversation we had before you left the palace on business?’
‘Yes, Highness,’ Jasim replied, his voice no more than a whisper.
‘I informed you that Miss Darvill had complete authority in all matters pertaining to the sickness, did I not?’
‘Yes, Highness.’
‘And that as my Royal Horse Surgeon, she has the right, in such matters, to expect your full and unquestioning co-operation?’ Rafiq said, his tone as sharp now as the glittering blade of the scimitar he wore at his waist, making Jasim flinch, as if he had been stabbed. ‘If I hear that you have questioned her instructions again, you will face the consequences. Do you understand me, Jasim?’
‘Highness.’
‘Then what are you waiting for? Take us to see the mare.’
‘Highness.’ Stephanie’s voice startled them both. ‘I think it would be best if I—there is no need for you to be present, Your Highness.’
She had spoken in Arabic, having no desire to set Jasim further against her by imagining her plotting with his master, but she begged him with her eyes. Rafiq hesitated for a long moment. ‘I sincerely hope you know what you are doing,’ he said in English, before heading out of the courtyard and into the palace.
Turning, Stephanie caught Jasim unawares. His expression was venomous, which was no surprise, but it was the fact that he made no attempt to disguise it that made her heart sink. No point in countering his animosity with flattery, a technique she had used effectively in the past. This man, whom she had never even met before, was already her sworn enemy, and she had better not forget it.
‘What are you waiting for?’ she demanded curtly, deliberately using Rafiq’s words. ‘I want to see Anadil, and I want to know exactly what happened. To have developed the symptoms and deteriorated so badly in the few hours of my absence is contrary to all previous patterns of this sickness.’
* * *
The reason for Anadil’s premature demise was clear the moment Stephanie walked into the loose box, though she could see that Fadil was doing his best to clear up the evidence. ‘On whose orders was this horse bled?’ she demanded.
‘Mine.’ Jasim stared at her boldly, with not a trace of repentance. ‘I returned to find the mare gravely ill. You were not here, and so I acted. In all conscience, I could not stand by and do nothing.’
‘By doing nothing, we saved Batal. Had I been consulted, doing nothing would have been what I would have instructed.’ Stephanie glanced at Fadil, but the Head Groom merely shrugged apologetically and continued with his work. Fadil, and every other man in the stables, knew that Batal had survived because he had neither been bled nor subjected to any other treatment. He must have told Jasim so, and yet Jasim had gone his own way regardless.
‘What else did you submit this poor animal to?’ Stephanie demanded.
‘Since we have not yet found an effective combination of treatments, I tried a new variation,’ Jasim replied.
He addressed this remark, as he had addressed his previous ones, to a point over her shoulder. Stephanie was torn. Anadil was beyond suffering, what was the point in torturing herself with the knowledge of what she had endured, especially when her examination would serve to antagonise the man responsible? But even as she hesitated, she heard Papa’s voice. She must see for herself the effects of this sickness, and try to find something, anything, which would help her with the next case.
She asked Fadil to provide her with a bucket of warm water and a bar of strong soap. Having done so, the Head Groom left, looking visibly relieved to make his escape from the tension in the stall.
Stephanie rolled up the sleeves of her tunic, and prepared to discover for herself what had transpired. She took her time, conscious of Jasim’s malevolent presence attending her every move, and the flitting, curious stares of various of the other stable hands passing the open doorway. When she was done, she made a point of closing the door to the loose box.
‘You were made aware that Batal survived the sickness?’ she asked, leaning against the door, feeling distinctly like a boxer preparing to enter the ring.
‘A mule. Hardly of any consequence, or indeed relevance. It may not even have been the same illness.’
Stephanie’s hackles rose, but she spoke carefully. Jasim was one of those men who habitually riled in order to gain an advantage. ‘There was no doubt. Prince Rafiq will confirm that.’
‘Prince Rafiq is a man at the end of his tether. That is why he has been forced to resort to appointing...’
He did not finish his sentence, but the gesture he made left her in no doubt. Stephanie slowly unrolled her sleeves. She took her time gathering up her instruments from the bucket of water in which they had been steeping. Only when Jasim turned his back, making for the door, did she speak. ‘I have some questions I would like answered, before you go.’ He ignored her, his hand reaching for the latch. ‘Very well. I will ask Fadil instead,’ she said.
‘Fadil takes his orders from me.’
‘And Prince Rafiq has made it plain that regarding the sickness, you take your orders from me.’ Stephanie pulled herself up to her full height, which still, infuriatingly, required her to look up. ‘Let me speak plainly, Jasim, while there is no one else present. I will not step on your toes if you do not step on mine. I will not interfere with your running of the stables unnecessarily, but I will not tolerate you interfering with my tending to the Prince’s sick animals. Ultimately, we are working to the same goal. If I cannot cure this sickness, your horses will not race in the Sabr.’
She refrained from pointing out that she was here because Jasim himself had been unable to effect a cure, but she could see he was thinking it, and that it pained him greatly. ‘I understand how difficult this must be for you, but this sickness, it is something quite new. You must not blame yourself.’
She had made a tactical error by letting her compassion show. It had also been a mistake to assume that he was merely pained by his failure. Jasim spat on to the straw at her feet. ‘How dare you presume to know anything of me? You, a woman, whose very presence in these stables is an insult. How dare you tell me how to treat a horse when you, the Royal Horse Surgeon, were not even present when the sickness first struck Anadil?’
Stephanie caught herself as her head almost dropped at this barb. ‘No, I wasn’t,’ she said so vehemently that Jasim took an automatic step backwards. ‘But it takes many hours for the sickness to kill. My instructions were very clear. If there was any sign, I was to be summoned immediately.’
‘Those orders were followed.’
‘To the letter? I don’t think so. How long did you wait, Jasim? I have a good idea, for I can see how many remedies you tried on that poor creature. I did not neglect my duties, you did. If I had been here then at the very least I would have prevented Anadil from suffering. If you had summoned me straight away, she may still be alive.’
But Jasim was not so easily cowed. He moved in, pointing his finger, his breath hot on her face. ‘Can you be certain of that? Are you claiming to have found a guaranteed cure? Of course not, you are floundering around in the dark just like the rest of us. That is the truth of it. Do you know how much this mare was worth? And only a week ago, put to stud too. That counts as two we have lost, Miss Royal Horse Surgeon Darvill. I pray that we find a cure, though I doubt it will be thanks to you. The sooner the better, for it is an ill omen to have a woman on these premises.’
‘Do not be ridiculous,’ Stephanie said firmly, ‘that is mere mischief making.’
‘Ridiculous?’ Jasim shook his head, his smile contemptuous. ‘Once before, he allowed a woman here, and look what came of it.’
‘You are referring to Princess Elmira, I presume?’
‘She despoiled the place. She upset the harmony. She contaminated our male domain with her presence. And she paid the price for it, Miss Darvill. He took my side, in the end. You would do well to remember that,’ Jasim added, before turning on his heels and striding from the stables.
* * *
Batal was still being kept in isolation in a loose box. The mule, it seemed to Stephanie, was the only male in the entire stables who was pleased to see her. She sat down beside him in the straw thinking to close her eyes for a few moments and order her thoughts. She was certain that somewhere in the uncomfortable exchange she had just had with Jasim lurked a clue to this wretched, horrible sickness. A vital piece of information, but for the moment she could not put her finger on it. Rafiq would be expecting a report from her. She didn’t want to go to him without something positive to say. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to face him at all.
Today had begun on such a high note, she thought, ruffling Batal’s ears. She had been so full of hope. And then this afternoon—oh, this afternoon! It had been astonishing. Astounding. Ecstatic.
Batal gave a wheezing little bray. He was still very congested. The sickness seemed to particularly affect the lungs and the heart. She settled him as best she could, then went to fetch him some fresh water. The stables were quite dark. Outside, the night sky was littered with stars. Returning to the loose box and setting down the wooden pail, Stephanie shivered. Someone walking over her grave, Papa would say. A shadow in the corridor moved. She knew, though she could not see him, that it was Jasim.
She despoiled the place. She upset the harmony. She contaminated our male domain with her presence. And she paid the price for it. He took my side, in the end.
Whispering goodnight to Batal, Stephanie closed the door of the loose box and crossed the courtyard of the stables. Rafiq had taken her side today. Rafiq had told her, right from the start, that Jasim would resent her, that Jasim would think her an interloper. And he’d told her too, that Princess Elmira had had an affinity with horses, which Jasim had not appreciated. Jasim was simply trying to frighten her. He was trying to intimidate her, put her in her place. Rafiq was on her side. They were all on the same side, if only Jasim could see that.
She tapped lightly on the door of the harem. Time and again, she had tried to persuade Aida not to wait up for her, to no avail. Luxurious as her surroundings were, delightful as it was to have her warm bath run, a cool drink poured, there were occasions like this when the harem felt claustrophobic. She didn’t like being locked in behind that huge door with its observation grille and Aida as its gatekeeper. She didn’t like feeling watched. She didn’t like the sense that she was never, ever alone.
She was exhausted. Whatever price the Princess Elmira had paid for whatever perceived crime she had committed by being in the stables, it could be nothing compared to the price Anadil had paid tonight. The loss of the mare hit her anew, as Aida ushered her into the steaming bathroom. Stephanie climbed into the bath, immersed herself in the water, and wept.
* * *
Stephanie had requested that Rafiq stay away from the stables for a week in the wake of Anadil’s death and Jasim’s return, and that week was now up. Rafiq had spent the morning in Council.
Apart from the Sabr, only one topic roused the Council from their apathy. It was not the new trade deal which Rafiq had struck with the neighbouring kingdom of Nessarah, but the fact that beautiful Princess Tahira of that kingdom was betrothed to the Prince of Qaryma, for the Council believed she would have made Rafiq a most suitable bride. This last had been stated at the end of the meeting with an air of expectation. The twelve men of his Council had failed to disguise their disappointment when Rafiq had made no comment, but he knew it would not be long before the subject of his lack of a wife was raised formally, especially if victory in the Sabr was secured.
But the Sabr was very far from won. Though Jasim continued to put the potential runners, now housed permanently at the training grounds, through their paces, Rafiq had not had the heart to watch.
One step at a time. One week, and no more cases. He changed out of his formal robes and made his way to the stables. Stephanie was sitting on her favourite seat. Though they had made no arrangement to meet, she had obviously been waiting for him, jumping to her feet and crossing the courtyard to greet him. She was wearing a tunic he had not seen before, alternating blue stripes the colour of the morning sky and the Arabian Sea, with her usual plain white abba over it. Her hair had lightened considerably, the golden streaks like new-minted gold now predominant, her skin also burnished by the sun, making her lips look pinker. Her smile lifted his mood. He had missed her company. He had not noticed, until she came to Bharym, how much of his time was spent alone.
‘I hoped you would come,’ she said. ‘I heard that you had a Council meeting, but I hoped...’
‘A week, you asked me to stay away,’ Rafiq said, returning her smile. ‘It has been a long week.’
‘Did I ask too much? I wanted to prove...’
‘That you did not need my protection,’ Rafiq said.
‘Yes.’ Stephanie glanced back at the stables.
‘Jasim is at the training grounds.’
‘It’s not only—it’s all of them. Even Fadil. I feel that they are all looking over my shoulder, waiting for me to make another mistake.’
‘Stephanie, Anadil’s death was not your fault.’
‘No, but if I had been summoned earlier, then perhaps I could have stopped...’ She coloured.
Rafiq stiffened. ‘Stopped what, precisely? Did Jasim have the nerve, against my express orders, to try to treat the mare in your absence? Do not answer me, I can see from your expression that he did. Why have I heard nothing of this?’
His tone made her flinch, but she straightened her shoulders and glared up at him, just exactly the way she had squared up to him that first day. ‘I did not tell you, because I did not want you to intervene again. I know your intentions were noble, but I recall quite clearly telling—asking you not to command Jasim to co-operate with me the very first night, when we dined together, I told you—suggested—that it would only make him more defensive. I thought you agreed with me, Rafiq, but obviously you simply thought that it would be easier not to argue with me, and to do what you thought was best regardless.’
‘With your best interests in mind.’
‘But you still went behind my back.’
‘So you repaid me in kind by omitting to tell me that Jasim had interfered with Anadil’s treatment?’
‘I did not...’ She stopped, running her hand through her hair, heaving a sigh. ‘You had already berated the man in front of everyone, Rafiq, and as far as I know he has not disobeyed you since.’
‘He should not have disobeyed me in the first place. I will make it clear to him that I will not tolerate another incidence.’
Stephanie sighed again. ‘He is your Master of the Horse and vital to your aspirations regarding the Sabr. I did underestimate the extent of his—his resistance to women. So it was unfair of me to berate you when all you were doing was trying to protect me.’
He had been protecting her, but he had also gone against her wishes. And although he had been right to do so, he had been wrong not to tell her, as Stephanie had been quick to point out. Having his actions questioned was a novel and slightly unsettling experience. ‘Stephanie, it is done and dusted. Let us forget it.’
‘No, you’re right to be angry. You are, after all, my employer and a prince and on both counts are entitled to know exactly what is going on.’ She screwed up her face apologetically, tried to smile. ‘Sorry.’
‘Stephanie,’ Rafiq said, utterly beguiled, ‘I am not angry, I am discomfited. Something you can evoke in me with frightening ease. That is a compliment. I think!’
‘Truly?’
‘Truly,’ he said with a smile.
