Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 1. Jane Porter

them off into the dust.

      ‘Now, come here,’ he said softly. ‘Come here, Lara.’ And he lifted her up, slithering her jodhpurs and her panties away with one brief, economical movement, then lowering her down on top of him, closing his eyes and groaning again as he felt himself encased in her tight, molten heat. ‘Oh, yes,’ he bit out. ‘Oh, yes!’

      She held onto his shoulders and began to move.

      He opened his eyes and watched her through his lashes. ‘Ride me, Lara,’ he urged thickly. ‘Ride me.’

      She abandoned all restraint and misgivings, and all inhibitions, too, forgetting everything except just how delicious it felt, with the hot sun beating down on her and the hot feel of him inside her. She closed her eyes and let her hips slide towards him so that he filled her completely, and she gave a soft, low moan of pleasure as they began to move in rhythm.

      Darian was lost in a place more magical than Maraban, his hands holding onto her slender hips as she moved on him and around him, feeling the warmth rise and rise until he heard her shattered and disbelieving little cries once more. And then it was impossible to contain his own pleasure for a second longer as his world split into a thousand shards of sharp-edged ecstasy.

      There was silence, bar the distant sound of the mountain wind the Marabanesh called the rabi, which seemed to echo the sounds of their small, gasping breaths.

      Lara wiped the palm of her hand over her damp, flushed cheeks and looked down at him, just as the thick black lashes parted and the golden eyes gleamed up at her.

      She wanted to bend her head to kiss him, but this did not seem to be the kind of situation which demanded soft and tender kisses. What had just happened had been fulfilling, yes, but in a purely physical way, she recognised with a heavy heart. She wanted more than just physical perfection—but he was not the man to give her more than that.

      ‘I’d better move—’ she began, but he halted her with a touch to her belly, making her shiver.

      ‘No, don’t. Not yet. Stay there—just for a minute.’

      ‘But the grooms—’

      ‘They won’t return. I told them not to.’

      Lara raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘I didn’t know your Marabanese was that good.’

      He smiled. ‘It isn’t. But, like I said, Khalim taught me a few…key…phrases.’

      Lara’s heart began to pound. ‘Like what?’

      He felt her move away from him, and he missed her warm, sticky heat. ‘Oh, just the kind of command to ensure a certain degree of…privacy. You know.’

      Yes, she knew…or rather she was beginning to get the idea. Royal men took lovers, and for that they would not want a retinue of servants hanging around in the wings. But it was more than just privacy, she realised. For hadn’t Darian just demonstrated in the most efficient way possible just how much he had been accepted into the royal fold?

      What else had he discussed with Khalim, apart from how to ensure you could make love to a woman undisturbed? And that was the difference between the two men—Khalim would confide in Rose, but Darian would not do the same with her. Why would he? They were barely more than lovers, and even that was a tenuous link—one which would be broken once they had left Maraban.

      Lara reached out for her jodhpurs, and the pair of panties which were still rumpled up inside them, biting her lip as she thought how compliant she always was around him.

      ‘Stop frowning, Lara,’ he urged gently. ‘Get dressed and we’ll go back to our room.’

      Her senses leapt in response to what he obviously had in mind, but she was troubled, too.

      She had fallen for Darian big-time, but she had no idea where it was leading.

      Or maybe she did. Maybe it was that which troubled her. For this thing between them—whatever it was—wasn’t leading anywhere other than to the inevitable road to heartbreak.

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      BACK in their room, Darian turned to her and smiled. ‘I feel pretty hot and dusty,’ he murmured. ‘And that bath is big enough for both of us. Shall we take a bath together, Lara?’

      She must snap out of it. They were lovers again, and hadn’t she been wanting that to happen? What did she expect—that because they had just shared a delicious and erotic encounter in the stables that he would start offering her the moon and the stars?

      She stretched, and yawned. ‘Go and run it, then.’

      ‘Or shall I have one of the servants do it?’ he teased.

      ‘Careful, Darian,’ she said steadily. ‘Much more of this and you’ll come back down to earth with a bump when you get back to England!’

      He didn’t answer, just went into the bathroom and filled the tub with hot, soapy bubbles, and when he called her to tell her that it was ready she was already naked, and when he saw her his heart missed a beat. Their short and tumultuous history had not embraced any of the normal stuff, he realised. This was the first time he had seen her completely naked.

      ‘You are very beautiful,’ he said evenly.

      But as his golden eyes slid over her Lara felt a little like one of the Akhal-Teke horses, being appraised for her physical attributes alone. ‘Thank you.’

      He pulled her into his arms, feeling her tension dissolve as he ran his fingertips up and down the smooth, satin flesh. ‘Get into the bath,’ he said huskily. ‘You’re shivering.’

      The warm, silken water lapped over her skin, and she sank deep into it, watching while he stripped off his shirt and his jodhpurs until he was as naked as a gleaming, golden statue.

      ‘Move over,’ he instructed, and then his eyes became smoky and he smiled, his voice softening to a whisper. ‘Actually, don’t. Stay just where you are.’

      Lara had never made love in a bath before and it was another out-of-world experience—the water providing weightlessness and making their kisses slippery wet, their limbs sliding and entwining and mingling until the obliteration of orgasm left her reeling and empty.

      The water was cool by the time she opened her eyes, to find him looking at her.

      ‘We’d better get out,’ he said.

      She nodded, but drew a deep breath, knowing that unless the subject were broached it would always be like an unspoken barrier between them. ‘Darian, have you…have you forgiven me?’

      ‘For?’

      ‘For keeping secrets. And one in particular.’

      His eyes narrowed. Why bring that up again, and especially now? ‘It’s forgotten.’

      ‘Seriously?’

      He shrugged his broad, gleaming shoulders, and tiny droplets of water ran down the tawny skin. ‘I understand why you did it, okay?’

      ‘That isn’t the same as forgiveness.’

      ‘Hell, Lara—can’t you just leave it alone?’

      ‘No, I can’t!’ With an effort she disentangled herself and climbed out of the bath—because somehow this needed to be said when she wasn’t touching him, because touching distracted them both and detracted from the importance of what she was saying. ‘I need you to know that when I said sorry I really meant it.’

      He sighed as he followed her out and let the water go, hearing it gurgling and sucking away. Her words had the unmistakable ring of truth and regret, and they chipped away at his resolve. It was easier to think of her as foxy and deceptive, rather than soft and giving and warm and regretful. Qualities like that made him forget that this was something not dissimilar to a holiday romance. Two attractive people thrown together in a beautiful place, giving in to the pleasures of the senses