Marguerite Kaye - Forbidden in Regency Society - The Governess and the Sheikh

‘Is she bored with my company already?’

‘Of course not, I didn’t mean that.’ Cassie smiled, but it was a nervous smile, her lips trembling. She sat down on the edge of the fountain and trailed her hand in the cool water, trying to regain control of herself. He looked so careworn, she wanted more than anything to comfort him, but did not know how to start when he was in such a strange mood. She stretched out her hand invitingly. ‘Sit with me a while. You don’t have to talk, just sit and enjoy the night. Look up, the stars are coming out, they’re lovely.’

But Cassie herself made too lovely a picture for Jamil to be interested in the stars. Her dress was made of lemon-yellow silk, with some sort of complicated trimming on the ruffle at the hem. The colour brought out the fiery lights in her hair. The sleeves were shorter than she usually wore during the day, finishing just above her elbow, though a fall of cream lace covered her forearm. There was cream lace at the neckline, too, almost the same colour as her skin. An evening gown, intended to be worn in the formal drawing rooms of London and yet looking perfectly at home here, in the stark wildness of the desert. He could see the roundness of her bosom, rising and falling beneath the creamy lace. He could see one bare foot peeping out, balancing her on the edge of the fountain. He moved towards her, took the hand she was holding out, but didn’t sit down. It was a delicate hand, lost in his. Easily crushed. For some reason, this made him angry. He let it go, and regretted it as soon as he had done so, and that made him even more angry.

‘Perhaps it is you who are bored with my company,’ he said harshly. ‘Are you missing your poet, Cassie? Are you missing the simpering compliments and admiring glances of your gaggle of gallants? I warned you that life with Linah meant seclusion.’

Turquoise eyes turned on him, dark with hurt. He hadn’t meant to lash out, but he couldn’t seem to stop. ‘My daughter is a princess of royal blood. She must learn there is a price to be paid for that privilege. And so must you.’

‘Jamil, why are you being like this? It’s not like you.’

‘But you are wrong, Lady Cassandra, it is very like me. You don’t really know me at all.’

‘I don’t agree. In these last few weeks, I think I have come to know you very well.’

‘You see only one aspect of me. You know nothing of my life as a ruler.’

‘Perhaps, but I know what you are like as—as …’

‘As?’

‘A man.’

‘You think so?’

He took a step closer to her. The air seemed to crackle with tension. Cassie’s hand lay so still in the water of the fountain that one of the little golden fish which lived there brushed against it. She couldn’t understand how the conversation had taken this turn, nor why it felt so—so … precarious? Precipitous? Was that even a word? Pre-emptive? But of what?

‘Tell me, then, what am I like, Cassie. As a man?’

Jamil had taken another step towards her. In fact, he was standing so close to her his knees were brushing her thigh. She could almost feel the anger pulsing from him, and something else burning there behind his tawny eyes that gave her goose bumps. ‘Jamil, stop this.’

‘Stop what, Cassie?’ He pulled her to her feet, holding her there, almost in his embrace, with his hands lightly on her waist. ‘Stop pretending that I don’t find you attractive? Stop pretending that I don’t think of you as I first saw you in the tent in the desert? Stop pretending that I don’t remember our kiss? Stop pretending that I don’t want to kiss you again? That every time I see you I see only an English governess? Why should I? Was it not you who told me I should acknowledge my feelings?’

‘I didn’t mean that. Please don’t do this.’

‘Why?’ He pulled her closer. She did not resist, nor did she comply. She dropped her gaze, closed her eyes. He didn’t want that. He gave her a tiny shake. ‘Look at me, Cassie. Tell me honestly that you don’t feel it, too. Tell me that you don’t think of these things. Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll let you be. Only, look at me when you say the words.’

For a long moment she did not move. Then, with a small sigh that could have been resignation, but might have been something quite different, she met his gaze, and all the secret thoughts, the shameful night-time dreams that she bundled up and held securely in the back of her mind during the day, tumbled forth as if the knot that held them had been untied. He knew. He saw it in her eyes. His gaze raked over her, her eyes, her mouth, her breasts, then her mouth again.

He was going to kiss her, unless she stopped him. He was going to kiss her and she couldn’t stop him. She wanted him to kiss her again, she had been wanting him to ever since that last unsatisfactory, cut-short kiss, though God knew she had tried not to.

‘Cassie.’ He pulled her close, his hands tight around her waist, pressing her hard against him. ‘Cassie, let us have no more of this pretence.’

She closed her eyes in an effort to try to regain some sort of hold on reality, but it was already too late. Too late for calm, rational thinking. Too late to release herself from his hold. Too late to think about how wrong, how utterly wrong, this would be. It couldn’t be wrong, not when it felt like this. Not when she had been wanting this, just this, for weeks now. There was no point in pretending any more that the pleasure she took in his company was for Linah’s sake. No point in pretending that the urgent ache consuming her, the thing that held her fast to him, made her lips long to cling to his, was anything other than base desire. He wanted her. Her wilful heart wanted him. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, not really knowing what she was agreeing to, save only that she was agreeing. ‘Yes.’

Jamil hesitated. Lovely, delicious, irresistible as she was, honour and duty dictated resisting. But for once, for just this moment, Jamil had had a surfeit of honour and duty. He wanted the pleasure she could give him and he wanted the oblivion such pleasure would grant him. To be, just for a while, merely a man, not to have to think, lost in the sweet delight of a woman. This woman. He tilted her chin up with his finger. Angled his mouth towards hers. And kissed her.

He kissed her softly, lingering on the soft pillow of her luscious lips, tasting her. She was so sweet. So heady. Like peaches and English strawberries, laced with fire. His kiss deepened. His manhood hardened. Pliant in his embrace, she was soft, lush and ripe for the taking. He kissed her harder.

Cassie moaned softly under the onslaught. Kisses such as she could never have imagined, dark delights such as she could never have dreamed, consumed her. Her body was on fire. His kiss demanded things from her she didn’t know how to give, though she wanted to. She wanted to so much. His lips moulded hers into a response she hadn’t known she could make. She opened her mouth and his tongue slid in, touching hers, sparking like a shooting star, sending echoing shivers out to the extremities of her body. Her fingers curled into his robe, her toes into the cushions on which she stood. Now she knelt as he eased her down, now she lay as he eased her further, still kissing, kissing, kissing, dark and hot and velvety.

Little kisses on her eyes now, then her throat and her neck. Her hands fluttered over the breadth of his shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin through his tunic. Daringly, she pushed his head dress back, touching his hair, then his cheeks, with their faint traces of stubble.

His lips fastened on hers again and Cassie closed her eyes. His hands traced the line of her waist through the silk of her gown, making her shiver with expectation. She could feel his legs pressing against hers now. She could feel something building inside her, a knot of something that wanted to unravel. His tongue touched hers again, and she bucked under him. He pressed her back against the cushions, stroking her, her waist, the side of her breast, making her jump again, making her nipples ache in the confines of her chemise, her stays, her dress. Her clothes felt too tight, she felt too hot. His tongue touched hers again. Should she like it so much?