Arabian Nights with a Rake

Chapter IV

A pessimist would say she had been carried away. An optimist would argue her plan had succeeded, Susannah mused. Rational thought made a slow return to the dim confines of the tent. Now that she had Alexa€?s attention she scarcely knew what to do with it. Her plan had been based on solid assumptions; he wanted her. But shea€?d had no idea how far his wanting would take things. Or for that matter, how far her wanting would leave her vulnerable to him. Her own responses had been utterly surprising. Alex dozed lightly beside her. Soon, shea€?d have to wake him. She did not yet have what shea€?d come to the tent for.
But for now, she wanted to enjoy watching her lover sleep. Lover. The term implied that the encounter was more than a physical mating. In addition to his prowess, she recognized in retrospect therea€?d been an underlying care present in his lovemaking. Hea€?d been sensitive to her needs, wanting her to find her own pleasure, wanting to alleviate her brush with pain. She had not expected that to be the case. Her encounters with the sheikh and with Bassam had suggested the act of sex was solely a male exercise in physical fulfillment at the femalea€?s expense. Perhaps that explained why shea€?d managed to thwart physical consummation for months, and yet had capitulated within moments to Alex.
Alex stirred and woke, taking her in with his eyes, a slow smile on his lips. He traced a lazy line over the curve of her hip and kissed her on the forehead before giving a sigh. a€?It seems wea€?ve done everything but what you came here to do,a€? He sounded regretful to be pulling them back into reality. a€?Perhaps now would be a good time to talk.a€?
Talk. The word struck a chord of trepidation within her.
It occurred to her that she had not told her story to anyone before. The tragedy in the desert had been a grief shea€?d borne silently these past months. How to unearth all that now and share it with this man who, in spite of their intimacy, was a virtual stranger?
Alex offered a gentle prompt. a€?Why dona€?t we start with your name. You know mine, but I feel woefully disadvantaged.a€?
Her name would change everything. Clearly, he hadna€?t known beforehand. He had not come here to save her or to look for her, confirming her suspicion that the British Consul believed her entire party to be dead. It was too much to hope for that anyone had come looking for her. Shea€?d given up on that particular fantasy months ago. It was expensive and risky to send search parties into the desert. Besides, the chances of anyone knowing she was alive were minimal; the sands left no clues, no trails.
There was no escaping recognition. He would know her fathera€?s name. On one hand, it would help her cause. The Blond Bedouin would not leave Sutcliffea€?s daughter in the desert. But it would potentially alter their passion. Would he feel obligated to her? She understood what shea€?d become in the desert. This interlude, although not of her making, had put her outside English Society. She wanted no mana€?s pity. That was what her logical mind feared. Her heart feared something else: Would he decline to make love to her again out of a retroactive display of old-fashioned honor? Already, her body wanted him again. Once with Alex Grayfield simply wasna€?t enough.
Susannah swallowed hard and took her chances. a€?My name is Susannah. Susannah Sutcliffe.a€?
a€?Ah,a€? came the reply. A small word to carry such import. In that ah was the recognition shea€?d predicted and the dawning realization of what theya€?d done, of what hea€?d done. He might have been raised in the desert lands, but she could see the English wheels of his mind working in reaction to this latest revelation.
a€?I know a little of your circumstance,a€? he began. a€?Sutcliffea€?s entourage set out from Algiers shortly after the battle in November but no correspondence ever came verifying Sutcliffea€?s arrival in Mascara. The plan had been to journey from Algiers to Mascara, calling on the tribes that lay between the two cities.a€?
a€?Is that your mission as well?a€? Susannaha€?s gaze shot upwards to meet Alexa€?s eyes.
Alex shrugged noncommittally. Even now, he did not entirely confide in her. a€?You will need to trust me before this is over,a€? she said abruptly, picking up the story where Alex had left it. a€?Perhaps this part of the story will help with that. My fathera€?s entourage was ambushed by the sheikha€?s raiders. You will be killed too if he learns youa€?re here to see if the tribes will join with the emir.a€?
Alex gave no outward acknowledgment of her warning.
a€?And you? What happens to you in all this drama?a€? He traced slow, tantalizing circles on her skin. This was her chance. She would never get a more perfect opening.
She leaned forward boldly and kissed him on the mouth. a€?Take me with you when you go. I am a slave to the sheikh. Ask for me as a gift.a€? she whispered.
a€?And if that fails? I do not see the sheikh being eager to part with you.a€?
a€?Find another way. I understand I ask no small thing.a€? Susannah drew back slightly, meeting his gaze with as much dignity as she could summon while naked in his bed. a€?Nothing matters except that you take me with you. I did not come to you as a tool of the sheikha€?s to discover your motives for being here. I have warned you. I might even claim that Ia€?ve saved your life by doing so and that you owe me a life in return.a€?
a€?The law of the desert,a€? Alex murmured, the hot emerald coals of his eyes stoked to life. a€?A life for a life.a€?
a€?And I choose mine as the price for yours.a€? Susannah answered.
a€?You shall have it.a€? Alex whispered, his mouth hovering inches above hers. a€?When we depart the moussem, you shall come with us. You have my word on it, my very mouth on it.a€? He sealed his vow with a kiss.
Susannah reached for him, feeling him rise against the contact of her palm. Ah good, his body was in agreement.
Alex made some move to protest, but Susannah hushed him with a gentle finger to his lips and a shake of her head. a€?I do not want your protestations of honor, Alex. Therea€?s nothing to scourge your conscience over.a€? She pulled him to her, her body eager to be claimed. She felt him give himself over to the pleasure building between them. For the moment her absolution was enough. Only a fool would keep Paradise waiting, and Alex Grayfield demonstrated that he was a very wise man indeed.
She would remember that kissing vow, Susannah thought later, slipping out to the privacy of her own tent. There were things more binding than words or contracts. Alex was not alone in his desire. It was something of a surprise that the ties bound both ways. In her na?ˉvet??, she had not looked ahead to the potential of forming her own attachment. She had thought to lure him with sexa€”it was, after all, the only currency available to her in the sheikha€?s camp. She had not thought to enjoy him in a way that went beyond the sensual. Alex Grayfield had been on display tonight in ways that transcended his naked body. Hea€?d shown her sensitivity where her pleasure was concerned, and hea€?d shown interest in her thoughts and in her person. Hea€?d asked about her captivity in a way that separated that ordeal from its impact on the political situation. Those lures were, in fact, equally as potent as the temptations offered by his body, and in some ways, more so. In her experience, rare was the man who put othersa€? needs above his own. That was a powerful lure indeed.
Shea€?d known Alex Grayfielda€?s presence would change things, but she hadna€?t known just how pervasive that change would be. It would be easy to love him. When shea€?d formulated her plan, such a consequence had been most unlooked for.
Not that it would matter. What man would want a woman whoa€?d danced as she had? She was a suitable companion for a few nights of passion. But a suitable wife? She was realist enough to know those chances were gone. It was a sobering thought.
Soon shea€?d be free. The desert could be left behind, but the stigma of her captivity could not. She had not allowed herself to think of life beyond the desert. But now she must if freedom was imminent. She could start a new life with the remaining threads of her old one; she had connections, money and her fathera€?s name to trade on, but what Society would receive her? Certainly not Englanda€?s. Whatever new life she cobbled together would have to be far from English shores, and she would most likely have to be alone.



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