Marguerite Kaye – Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride (страница 11)

‘It is so beautiful,’ Constance said. ‘And this horse, she is so perfectly behaved. Whoever trained her is most skilled.’

‘She was bred in Bharym, as was my stallion. Rafiq, the prince of that country has the best stables in Arabia. I am fortunate enough to be one of the few men to whom he will sell his prized bloodstock.’

‘Does he sell only to his friends?’

‘He sells only to those he deems worthy to own and enjoy his precious horseflesh,’ Kadar said, with a faint smile.

‘Ah.’ Constance laughed. ‘I can see why he deems you worthy. You ride as if you were born in the saddle. I am extremely privileged to ride this beautiful creature.’

Kadar smiled. ‘Rafiq would approve of your horsemanship. My instincts told me you would know how to handle her. I was right.’

‘Thank you.’

‘The tide is far enough out this morning for us to venture around the headland,’ Kadar said, ‘unless you have had enough?’

‘I don’t think I could ever have a surfeit of this,’ Constance replied. Sea, sky, sands, horse and man, any of it, she thought, following in his wake. Kadar’s riding dress was similar to hers, consisting of plain cotton trousers and a tunic of blue-and-grey stripes. He sported long riding boots of black-kid leather. He sat perfectly upright in the saddle, holding the highly strung stallion with the careless-seeming ease of a naturally gifted horseman. His head was bare, his black silky hair dishevelled by the wind. Sweat made his thin tunic cling to his back, revealing the rippling muscles of his shoulders. For such a lean man, he was very powerfully built. He and the stallion were a perfect match.

The sea was receding further as they followed the headland, where the olive trees gave way to scrub on the cliff top, and the regular rush of the waves onto the sand quieted to a sigh. The mountains which Constance had spotted from the rooftop terrace yesterday came into view on the horizon now, and the cliff tops became more rugged in appearance. They turned sharply around the headland, and she gasped with delight at the perfect crescent of sand completely enclosed by the steep cliffs, a natural harbour formed by the outcrop they had just traversed, and an almost identical one on the other side of the bay.

‘What do you think of my special retreat?’

‘I am lost for words. Your country is so very, very beautiful. The light is magical. The blue sky, the azure sea, it is like living in a perfect picture. Everything here is so vivid, the colours so vibrant. So different from the muffled shades of grey so typical of England. It does something to the soul. Lifts the spirits.’ She laughed, embarrassed. ‘I don’t know what it does save that it makes me feel as if I am full of bubbles. I expect you think that is fanciful.’

‘I think that you reflect the scenery here,’ Kadar replied. ‘Bright. Vivid. Alive.’

‘Oh.’ Her cheeks heated. ‘Thank you,’ Constance said, both flustered and ridiculously pleased.

He helped her down from the saddle, his hands light on her waist. She watched him as he hobbled the horses, seating herself in the shade of the cliffs which ringed the bay. Her boots were extremely comfortable, but her feet were hot inside them. She pulled them off, wriggling her toes into the deliciously cool damp sand, leaning back on her hands to enjoy the breeze on her face. When she opened her eyes, Kadar was standing over her, looking down at her bare toes. ‘I was hot,’ she said, embarrassed, for she would never have dreamed of removing her shoes in company at home.

‘Yes,’ he said, giving her his Sphynx look, and dropping onto the sand beside her, prepared to follow her lead.

His boots were much longer than hers. His calves rippled as he removed them. His skin was the colour of the golden sands darkened by the sea. His feet had a very high arch, like her own.

‘Tell me how your stargazing is coming along.’

A subject even more distracting than Kadar’s feet! ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Constance said, smiling. ‘You’re probably going to regret doing so.’

It was easy to be transported to the heavens, especially in the company of a man who shared her passion, and could plug several gaps in her knowledge. Finally, she forced herself to stop talking not because she had run out of words but because her mouth had run dry. ‘I did warn you,’ she said.

Kadar was leaning back on his elbows. His hair was tousled by the wind. And he was smiling that special bone-melting smile. ‘I could not ask for a more diligent or enthusiastic court astronomer.’

‘You could, I suspect, easily obtain a far more learned one.’

‘Who would number the stars and plot their positions with mathematical precision. I much prefer your way of mapping the heavens. A night sky teeming with legends and mythological creatures. A romantic cosmos full of passion and wonder. I am very happy with my choice of court astronomer, thank you very much.’

He smiled again. Their gazes locked. He reached over to tuck her hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed the line of her scar. Her heart began to hammer. His fingers fluttered down her cheek, her neck, to rest at the pulse at the base of her throat. She surrendered to the urge to lean just a fraction closer, and he did the same. Shoulders touching. Legs. His breath on her cheek. She lifted her hand to his face, mirroring his touch, flattening her palm over the smoothness of his cheek, the roughness of his chin.

He dipped his head towards her. His lips were soft. His kiss was gentle. He tasted salty. She felt as if she was melting. Her fingers curled into the silky softness of his hair. She parted her lips for him, returning the pressure tentatively. Then he sighed. Lifted his head. Their hands dropped. Their bodies separated.

What had happened? Was that a kiss or wasn’t it? How had it happened, when they had both been so clear that it could not? Constance stared out to sea, completely at a loss. ‘I don’t understand it. I knew that I shouldn’t, my mind knew it was wrong, but my body wanted...’

Kadar muttered something under his breath in his own language. She risked a fleeting glance. ‘Your habit of speaking your thoughts quite unedited is sometimes dangerously enlightening.’

‘What do you mean?’

He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Constance, it took considerable willpower to break that kiss. Telling me that your body wanted—’ He broke off, shaking his head. ‘I don’t want to think about what your body wanted, or my body will—will wish to do something it must not.’

‘Oh.’ Her inclination was, shockingly, to wish that Kadar had not exerted his considerable willpower, but had instead continued to kiss her. That kiss, which was only really the beginning of a kiss, had been so deliciously arousing that it was very hard indeed to think of anything at this moment save what might have been. Save what still might be, if she put that considerable willpower of his further to the test, and reached over and touched her lips to his again, and—and then she would discover what it was that his body wanted to do to hers.

Kadar was pensively picking up handfuls of sand and letting it trickle slowly through his fingers so that it formed a mound, like the contents of an hourglass. He didn’t look like a man struggling to regain his self-control. ‘My lack of experience has disappointed you,’ Constance said, because of course that’s what it was. ‘It’s fine, you don’t have to pretend that you enjoyed my inexpert kissing.’

He studied her face, a faint frown drawing his brows together. ‘Constance, I never pretend. I enjoyed kissing you more than I ought, if the truth be told. When I first set eyes on you I had a feeling that our lovemaking would be memorable, our bodies and desires perfectly matched. What just happened proved that I was right. We would be wise to heed the warning contained in that knowledge.’

‘You mean it would be more difficult to stop the next time?’

Kadar winced. ‘I mean we would be wise not to contemplate a next time.’

Resisting the temptation to kiss him again was one thing, but to deny herself the pleasure of imagining it—no, she wasn’t sure she could do that, so Constance remained silent.

Kadar measured out another handful of sand. ‘My coronation takes place in two weeks.’

She accepted the change of subject gratefully. ‘You will be King of Murimon.’

‘Prince of Murimon. We do not adopt the title of King here. The ruler is Prince, and his heir has the title of Crown Prince. You will of course attend the ceremony in your official capacity. You will require robes. We’ve never had a court astronomer before, so you can have them designed to your own specifications.’

‘That sounds wonderful, but rather wasteful, since the position is temporary.’

‘Temporary, but nonetheless legitimate. I have already announced your appointment to my council. I do not wish your reputation to be compromised by speculation, nor do I wish to dishonour my future bride. The marriage will be onerous enough for both parties. I do not wish to start the journey on a note of resentment.’

‘Onerous? Don’t you wish to be married, Kadar?’

‘No more than you do.’ Another measure of sand trickled down. ‘But like you, my personal preferences are of little consequence. My fate, like yours, has been defined for me, my bride chosen for me. Duty, honour, obligation are my motivation, though we differ in one fundamental way, you and I. The beneficiary of your marriage is your father. The beneficiary of mine will be my kingdom.’