Historical Romance: April Books 1 - 4. Marguerite Kaye

his realm. And then he turned towards her and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and her heart did a little flip. Not a god, but a flesh-and-blood man, who made her blood heat and her flesh crave his touch.

      He held out his hand, drawing her into the warmth of his side. ‘It is a magnificent sight, isn’t it, the desert at night? Quite awesome.’

      It was. The dune was so high, she felt as if she could reach up and pull a star down from the canopy of silver suspended above them. The moon glowed pale luminescent gold. The dunes stretched out before them had been sculpted into a complex patchwork of shadowed ridges and plateaux which looked deceptively permanent, though the landscape could shift and change so fundamentally by morning that it would be unrecognisable. Below them, the little complex of buildings which Christopher had claimed for his home, and in the far distance, Nessarah, her home.

      ‘Beautiful,’ Tahira said.

      ‘Very beautiful.’ Christopher smoothed an errant strand of hair from her cheek, trailing his fingers over the line of her jaw, down her neck, to rest his hand on her shoulder. A feather-light touch, yet it was like a trail of stars on her skin. His fingers fluttered over the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, then smoothed down the fall of her hair, which was tied back with a silk scarf, to rest on the curve at the base of her spine.

      She turned towards him. She lifted her face for his kiss, bracing herself with a hand on his shoulder. His hand cupped her bottom, easing her closer. Her breasts brushed his chest. His breath fanned her cheek. Then his lips met hers in a velvet, night-dark kiss that managed to be both cool and hot, sweet and sinful. A kiss as dark as the sky, which set her alight like the stars. A kiss that drugged and befuddled, like the effect of the desert sun at midday, and which made her shiver, like the breeze at dusk fluttering over her skin. A kiss which blurred the boundaries between her lips and his, her tongue and his, her body and his. A kiss which felt like it could never end, and when it did, left her giddy, so that she would have tumbled down the dune, had Christopher not caught her.

      ‘Wait, not yet,’ he said, laughing. ‘It was my intention that we slide down together.’

      For the first time, Tahira looked straight down the steep slope of the sand dune. Her head spun. ‘Is it dangerous?’

      His smile was wicked. ‘Isn’t that half the attraction?’

      She laughed, the bliss of their kiss, the thrill of danger without fear, for she knew that despite what he said, he would keep her safe. ‘Then let us launch our metal dhow on the sandy wave,’ Tahira said. ‘I’m ready.’

      He set the large salver down carefully, flattening the sand on the ridge to prevent it sliding away, and sat down astride it. ‘It’s not a magic carpet, but it might just fly. Now you sit down, in front of me.’

      She sat between his braced legs. He pulled her tight up against him. Her bottom was tucked into his groin, her back against his chest, his arms clasped around her waist.

      ‘Tuck your feet up tight.’

      She managed, just, to do as he bid her.

      ‘Ready?’

      Her heart was pounding, excitement fluttering in her belly as she looked down at the sheer drop, and lower down, a different kind of excitement fluttered, as she pressed herself tight against the solid shape of him. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

      He lifted his feet, curling his thighs around her flanks, leaning back, so that his long legs, stretched out in front of him, were clear of the sand. The sled moved only a fraction, suspended for a moment on the top of the ridge, and her heart stopped, and then they plummeted downhill at a speed with made her gasp, close her eyes, and scream with delight as they careered, bounced, slid down the sand dune so fast that she would have been thrown from their precarious chariot, had not Christopher held her so tightly. Somehow, she had no idea how, he kept them both secure, until the very end, when the salver hit a bump and they parted company with their mode of transport. They rolled together, landing in a tangled heap of limbs, covered in sand, breathless, laughing.

      ‘Are you in one piece?’

      Tahira had landed on top of Christopher. She had lost her scarf. Her hair was filled with sand. Her lungs were bereft of air. ‘Yes.’ She tried to push her hair from her eyes, wobbled, and caught herself, bracing a leg on either side of him. She felt the sharp exhale of his breath. Beneath her, between her legs, the part that was the essence of his manhood stirred. She knew this, from Juwan’s whispered explanations when first Tahira had been betrothed, but she had not anticipated the responding stirring inside her. When he made to lift her away, she resisted, placing her hands on the sand, either side of his shoulders, and seeking his mouth.

      He groaned as their lips met. This time their kiss was fierce. Passion, Tahira thought incoherently, as she surrendered to her instincts, moulding her body to his, relishing her shivering response to the hard length of him pressed insistently against her, to the hardening of her nipples, to the thrust of his tongue, and the sweep of his hands, over her back, her bottom, brushing the contours of her breasts.

      He rolled her on to her back. Their kisses became urgent. She was dizzy with them, aflame with them, craving more and yet more, urging him on with strange little cries, pressing herself against him. When his hand enveloped her breast she cried out. Such sweet, shocking pleasure. When he broke the kiss she moaned in protest, but then his mouth claimed her nipple through the silk of her clothing, and heat flooded her.

      Exquisite. The word was made for what he was doing to her with his mouth and his hands, sparking stars behind her closed lids, sending a trail of sensation from her breasts to her belly to the tension building in that most intimate of places. She had the oddest sensation, of soaring and falling at the same time.

      And then it stopped. Christopher sat up. ‘I can say in all honesty I have never ended a sled ride in that manner before.’ He got to his feet, helping her up, brushing the sand from her hair and her clothes. ‘But I think we have had more than enough excitement for one night, don’t you think?’

      She was still lost in their kiss, staring blankly at him. Enough? She wanted more.

      But Christopher was looking anxiously up at the sky. ‘It’s later than I thought, time you were on your way home. May I accompany you, at least as far as the mine?’

      Jolted out of her passionate haze, Tahira looked up. ‘It is late. Early. No, I can find my way easily enough, thank you. And thank you again for tonight.’ She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘I don’t think a magic carpet ride would have been nearly as wonderful.’

      ‘Probably a lot safer,’ he said drily. ‘Tahira...’

      ‘There is no need to reassure me every time we kiss. I trust you, and you’ve just proved once more that I can do so,’ she said, blushing. ‘Whatever dreadful thing your friend did...’

      ‘What friend?’

      ‘Or acquaintance. The man who you said took unacceptable liberties. I assumed...’

      ‘The man I referred to was neither friend nor acquaintance,’ Christopher said curtly.

      ‘Then who...?’

      ‘His name will mean nothing to you. The lesson he taught me means everything to me. I know, Tahira, better than most, how painful the consequences are, how fatal. It is not only my sense of honour which ensures I will never, ever take such vile advantage,’ Christopher said fervently, ‘it is my sense of myself. I will never be such a man.’

      And you will certainly never reveal who this other man is, or what he is to you, she thought, intimidated by his vehemence, her shock at the implications tempered by annoyance, for she had inadvertently spoilt the moment. ‘You’re right,’ Tahira said, ‘it’s long past time for me to head back.’

      * * *

      Christopher watched until Tahira’s camel was out of sight before turning back to his dwelling. He did not like to leave her to ride across the desert at night, despite the fact that she had been doing so unharmed for—how