Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 2. Susan Mallery

The knowledge hurt, but she was determined to break through the barriers between them.

      “Thank you.” Walking over to one of the windows, she found that it looked out into their private garden. “This room would be perfect for your painting. Where’s your studio?”

      The vibration of the floor beneath her bare feet warned her of his approach. Seconds later, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “I am a sheik, Mina. I don’t have time for such things.”

      Jasmine frowned. “But you loved painting.” She treasured the painting he’d done for her in New Zealand. It had become a talisman of sorts, keeping her focused on her dream.

      “We do not always get to do what we love.”

      “No,” she agreed, shaken by the implacability of his statement. Her Tariq, who’d been gentle enough in his heart to truly love, was now buried under the stoney facade of this sheik. Doubts about her ability to reach him surfaced once again, though she tried to fight them. For a woman who’d never been loved by those who were supposed to treasure her despite her faults, it was a task that required a mix of defiant courage and desperate hope.

      Tariq closed his hands around her neck and caressed the sensitive skin with his thumbs, his eyes hooded and mysterious. “We do not have the time for a wedding journey, but I am scheduled to visit one of the desert tribes tomorrow. You will come.”

      He was giving her no choice, but Jasmine didn’t want one. She’d spent four years apart from him. It was enough. “Where are we going?” Her skin felt as if it was on fire.

      Tariq rubbed his thumb over one particular spot. “I marked you this morning.”

      Her hand flew to her throat and touched his hand. “I didn’t realize when I chose this blouse.”

      He looked at her, the green of his eyes altered by emotion to something close to black. “You are mine in every way, Mina.”

      She didn’t know what to say to the possessiveness in his tone. It was a little frightening to be the wife of this dangerous man. Sometimes her Tariq appeared, but mostly, all she saw was this cold, glittering mask.

      “Such soft, white skin, my Jasmine.” His throaty words made her relax. Tariq’s desire she could cope with, but when he retreated behind his shields, she wanted to scream with frustration. “You mark so easily.”

      “Tariq, what—” she began, surprised when he started to undo the buttons on her scoop-necked blouse.

      He ignored her fluttering hands. Eyes wide, Jasmine watched his dark head dip and then felt his mouth on her breast. Sizzling. It was the only word to describe the sensation of his lips against her skin. She clutched at his silken hair as he began to suck at the soft flesh. Her body felt like one big flame, his touch the fuel. A minute later, he moved away.

      Picking up her hand, he touched one finger to the small red mark on her breast. “See this and know that you are mine.”

      She stared at him, stunned by the possessive act. Yet she was also aroused beyond comprehension, her body reacting to the primitive maleness of his actions.

      “Keep thinking those thoughts.” He kissed her once, a kiss calculated to keep her aching. “I will satisfy us both tonight.” Then he turned on his heel and strode out.

      Jasmine felt her knees begin to buckle. She grabbed the window ledge behind her for support. Unbidden, one hand rose to her breast. He’d deliberately marked her as a gesture of possession, of ownership. She remembered the glittering satisfaction on his face, the harsh lines of his cheekbones, the lush sensuality of his lips, and shivered. Part of it was desire, but the other part was a painful uncertainty. She didn’t want to believe that Tariq felt only lust for her, not when he treated her so tenderly at times, but this act of branding had been driven by something darker than love or affection. Something that she instinctively knew could destroy their relationship if she didn’t find and confront it.

      The next day dawned with skies of crystal clarity and beauty so pure and pristine it made Jasmine’s heart ache. Such glory humbled her and yet gave her courage.

      They left Zulheina in a limousine for the five-hour journey into the hinterlands of Zulheil. From there, they would have to go by camel to the important, though small, desert holding of Zeina.

      “Who are the others following us?” she asked Tariq, after they had pulled out of the palace.

      “Three of my inner council are coming.” He crooked a finger. Jasmine smiled and moved to sit beside him. He cradled her against his body. Unlike the steely intensity of his passion the night before, today he was relaxed, content to just hold her. “At the end of the road, we’ll be met by two guides sent from Zeina to lead us to the outpost.”

      “It sounds isolated.”

      “It is the way of our people. We are not like the roaming Bedouin tribes, because we settle and set up cities. But for the most part, our cities are small and isolated.”

      “Even Zulheina isn’t that big, is it?”

      Tugging off the tie at the end of her plait, he unraveled her hair. Jasmine laid her head against his chest and basked in his unexpected affection. Just yesterday, she hadn’t believed it possible that he’d enjoy this gentle touching.

      “No. Abraz is the biggest city, the city we show to the outside world, but Zulheina is the heart of the sheikdom.”

      “Why is Zeina important?”

      He moved his hand to her nape and began to rub his fingers over the sensitive skin in a slow caress. She arched into his touch like a cat. “Ah, Mina, you’re a contradiction.” His amused words made her tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

      “In what way?”

      He touched her parted lips with his fingers and said, “So free and uninhibited in my arms and yet such a lady in public. It’s a delightful combination.”

      “Why do I know you’re going to add something else?”

      “I find I relish stripping away that ladylike facade in my imagination. It’s very enjoyable to spend time planning exactly how I will make you cry out.”

      “Now every time I look at you, I’ll think you’re thinking that.” She blushed.

      “You would probably be correct.” His laughing eyes warned her of his intention before he covered her lips with his own.

      Jasmine wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed into the slow and lazy loving. Tariq was in no hurry. Pulling her into his lap, he caressed her breasts with hands that knew every inch of her, and gave her a lesson in the pleasures of kissing. He tasted the inner sweetness of her mouth and nibbled at her lips when she needed to breathe, then returned to tempt her with his tongue, seemingly willing to do this forever. She was the one who got so heated she began to wriggle.

      “No more,” she gasped, and broke the kiss, aware of the hard ridge of his arousal under her bottom.

      His eyes were slumberous, his desire clear, but he pulled down her tunic and settled her beside him on the seat again. “You’re right, Mina. I would need hours to finish this.”

      Flustered and aroused, she scooted to the other side of the car. “Tell me about Zeina before you start your work.”

      His smile was very male as he gazed at her heaving breasts. “Zeina is one of the major suppliers of Zulheil Rose. For some as yet unknown reason, the gem only exists alongside deposits of oil. It is a strange crystal.”

      Jasmine whistled. “Talk about double dipping.”

      “It could be like that, but over centuries, the tribes of Zulheil have set up an interconnecting system that means that not just those people living near such bounty will benefit. For example, the Zulheil Rose leaves Zeina in a condition close to its raw state. It then goes out to two tribes in the north, who train the best artisans in the world.”

      Jasmine