Her wicked husband leaned over and said, “I promise to soothe your sore muscles tonight, my Jasmine. I wouldn’t have you so aching from riding that I couldn’t ride you,” just as they reached camp. A blazing blush stole over her.
The other men took one look at her and smiled knowingly. Ignoring them, Jasmine sat down next to Tariq. He sat to her left and a little in front of her, protecting her from the curious looks. Jasmine almost smiled at his possessiveness, but didn’t challenge him. Aside from the fact that she was relieved she didn’t have to face everyone in her current state, she would never dishonor Tariq in front of his people. In private, she felt free to question him, but deep instinct told her it would be a betrayal to do so publicly.
It wasn’t just that Tariq was sheik in a desert land, where men possessively protected their women even as they cherished them. It was him. He was a very private man, a man who met the world wearing a mask. His pride was tied to his inherently private nature.
To his people, Tariq was approachable and kind, but he maintained an aristocratic reserve that was appropriate to his role. However, in New Zealand, he’d utterly frozen out her family, his contempt for their manipulative games completely undetectable. Yet with Jasmine he’d been warm, playful, teasing and, most of all, loving.
Four years later, she understood that only she had seen the man behind the mask. He’d trusted her. Even now he was really himself with her only occasionally—times when he seemed to forget the past. The rest of the time, he wore a mask for her, that of a man who would “own” his woman. It was a mask, she told herself. Her Tariq was hidden behind it.
After the evening meal, there was a short discussion in the native language of Zulheil. It was a beautiful language, but one she hadn’t yet mastered.
“You were discussing sleeping arrangements?” she asked Tariq, when he turned to her. His eyes were hooded by the edge of his headgear, but she could see the campfire reflected in their depths. Her body began to burn with an inner blaze that was hotter than anything the desert could create.
“Yes. We carry tents with us if you wish to use one.”
Jasmine shook her head. “No, I want to see the stars.”
He smiled, as if she’d made him proud. “We will sleep away from the rest of the men.”
Remembering his promise, she blushed. “Won’t that be a problem?”
He raised an aristocratic eyebrow. “No man would let his woman bed down where other men may look upon her sleeping face.”
“That sounds very…”
“Primitive? Possessive? I am all those things where you are concerned, Mina.”
With the wild desert surrounding them and the night sky sparkling overhead, his words sounded exactly right. He was a warrior into whose keeping she had given her life, and she knew that he would always protect her.
“What, no arguments?” he asked, when she remained silent.
“How can I argue with a man who has promised me a massage?”
For once, her controlled husband looked disconcerted. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough. The desire between them was mutual, a living, breathing thing. Unlike the loneliness of her love, when he took her in his arms, they were very much partners.
“I think it is time to retire.” As he spoke, Tariq’s eyes glowed with inner fire, not reflected flames.
They left the others soon afterward, carrying their own bedding. Tariq waved off offers of help, saying that if he couldn’t make a bed in the desert, he wasn’t worthy of being sheik. His men nodded solemnly, pleased with their leader.
He made Jasmine wait while he lay the bedding on top of a thick patch of some springy vegetation that would cushion their bodies from the hard ground. Then he held out his hand. “There is one thing, Mina.”
“What?”
“Tonight, you cannot make a sound. We are too close to the others.” He’d already removed his headgear. Now he took hers off and put it aside, before tangling his hands in the heavy fall of her hair. A rough sigh betrayed his pleasure. “Not a single sound, my Jasmine.”
“Not a single one.” Her promise was softly whispered.
She didn’t make a sound when he stripped her and then himself. She managed to remain silent when he kept his promise to loosen her muscles, his powerful hands tender on her abused flesh. She even bit back her cries when his mouth enclosed her engorged nipples. Then his hand moved between her legs.
Jasmine bit his shoulder. He continued to play with the soft, moist folds between her thighs until she couldn’t breathe. She sank her teeth farther into firm muscle in an effort to control her scream. Finally, after tormenting her for what seemed like hours, he lifted her hips and thrust into her in one smooth stroke. This time, she muffled her cries against his neck. He gritted his teeth against his own cry of satisfaction, his face a study in restraint.
They lay with arms and legs tangled until their skin began to chill from the cool night breeze. Tariq rolled off her and sat up to zip the attached sleeping bags closed. When he propped himself beside her, Jasmine saw what she’d done.
“Oh no.” She was horrified at the deep, red marks.
“What is it, Mina?” His concern was clear.
“I bit you.” She touched the evidence of her crime with her fingertips.
He grinned. “Thank you.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“I do not mind. There are two more nights we must spend in the desert. Perhaps you will give me another two souvenirs?”
She remained concerned. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”
“Why don’t you kiss it and see?” he invited.
Jasmine immediately reached over and laved the spot with her tongue and then pressed a tender kiss over it.
“Now I hurt,” he growled against her ear. The hardness pressing impatiently against her thigh explained why. “But we’ll travel far tomorrow. You must have your rest. Turn around and stop tempting me.”
Jasmine laughed at how disgruntled he sounded, but she fell asleep in seconds, despite the embers of desire glowing between them. When she wakened, Tariq was already dressed, which was probably just as well. The look in his eyes said that if she’d wakened a few minutes earlier, he’d certainly have delayed the entire party.
“Good morning, Mina.”
“Morning.” She sat up and rubbed at her eyes.
“I let you rest as long as possible, but we must be away soon if we are to make the next oasis by the time daylight fades.” Tariq’s deep voice was a caress in itself, full of sensuous memories.
Fighting off her blush, she replied, “I’ll be quick. Give me ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes.” A hard kiss sealed those words.
Jasmine watched him stride away into the lush foliage, her body craving his touch. Hurried along by the cool wind, she shook off the desire that lay heavy upon her senses, and rose. The morning air was crisp, almost chilly, with no hint of the fire and heat that would descend as the sun rose higher. As she completed her toilette, Jasmine was struck by the way her husband reflected the hidden glory of his land.
Tariq could be ice, and he could be fire. Since arriving in Zulheil, she’d experienced both. Four years ago, she’d never seen the ice. Had she known only half the man? Four years ago…four years lost. Suddenly, she was starving for knowledge of Tariq’s life in those lost years. The longing was a physical ache inside of her. Tariq had rebuffed