Modern Romance Collection: June 2018 Books 5 - 8. Jane Porter
colour palette ruled at King’s Dock thanks to the regular rainfall.
‘Millie?’
Having no experience of the desert, other than in books, she was overcome by the vastness of the sand stretching away on every side for unseen miles. She was nothing more than a grain of sand in the grand scheme of things. ‘I’m disorientated,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve never seen anything on this scale.’ And she was a long way from home.
This journey was reckless. She was miles away from anything familiar, with only a mobile phone and a failing battery between her and complete isolation. She must place her trust in Khalid. And her own, keenly developed sense of survival, Millie reminded herself as she followed him into the shade.
‘You’ll be cooler in here.’
He was right. With no obvious sign of air-con, the billowing tent was cool and airy inside.
‘Well?’ he asked as she stared around.
‘It’s wonderful. I can’t believe I’m here,’ she exclaimed as she walked across the rugs to admire some ancient wall hangings. ‘It’s such a soothing setting.’ The stench of aviation fuel had been shut out, and was replaced by the evocative scent of spice. ‘I love it,’ she said, turning back to face Khalid. This was no Hollywood replica of a warrior king’s tent, but a shaded sanctuary, illuminated by the glow of golden lanterns. Fabrics in a rich variety of jewel shades made it welcoming, while bowls of freshly picked fruit, and jugs of juice waited on a pierced golden table to tempt them. ‘All this for us,’ she said. ‘For you, anyway,’ she amended with a wry smile.
‘This is for your pleasure,’ he argued softly.
‘Well, it’s fabulous. It’s a travelling palace.’
‘That’s exactly what it is.’
‘Lucky man,’ she murmured.
As Khalid gave a rueful and accepting shrug, she knew in her gut she’d be okay. There was no need to be overawed by any of this. This was as much his reality as her bedsit in King’s Dock was hers. Everything she’d seen so far spoke of care, and appreciation for the craftsmanship and the materials of his country. Photographs of Bedouin tents did them no justice at all.
‘You must change into robes before we leave,’ Khalid said, distracting Millie from examining the many beautiful examples of art from his homeland.
‘You don’t expect me to ride, do you?’ she exclaimed, remembering the horses. ‘I’m not a horsewoman.’
‘You might surprise yourself,’ he said. ‘I’m going to change. I suggest you do too.’ He indicated another area of the tent. ‘You’ll find some clothes in there. I’ll help you with the headdress. It takes some getting used to,’ he explained as she went to investigate.
Millie’s eyes widened at the sight of a beautiful silver-grey robe in the finest of fabrics laid out on a leather daybed. Delicate silver embroidery around the neck and hem, ornamented with tiny seed pearls, had obviously been painstakingly hand-stitched.
‘Ready?’ Khalid called out while she was still running her fingertips reverently over the intricate work.
‘Yes,’ she lied.
When he thrust the cover aside it was too late to take those words back. When he strode in, her voice deserted her, anyway. Having changed out of the jeans and shirt he had worn for piloting the plane, Khalid was once again dressed in robes. A true master of the desert, he was a stunning sight. Picking up the glorious grey robe she was to wear, he maintained eye contact as he dropped it over her head. ‘It suits you,’ he remarked. ‘Now take all your other clothes off.’
‘Everything?’ Millie blinked.
‘This is the desert, not the high street, and you’re not about to catch a bus.’
She frowned. ‘Okay—’ But before she could do as he instructed, Khalid had reached down to lift the hem of her robe. Deftly removing her top and jeans, he indicated that she should step out of them. Her underwear followed, leaving her naked beneath the flowing robe.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he lifted her. For a moment she thought there was some other garment he was about to help her to put on.
‘Being an extremely bad man,’ he said.
She laughed with excitement as his beard-roughened jaw raked her neck.
‘No one will disturb us here,’ he explained, ‘and I’m not going to waste time teasing you, or preparing you.’
‘No need.’
But he did test her for readiness. Always so caring. And he protected them both. She had to muffle her cries of pleasure against his chest as he took her in one firm thrust. Needing no encouragement to work furiously with him, she ground her buttocks against his big rough hands. They were both noisy and fierce, both craved fast release. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, while her hands gripped his shoulders as if she would never let him go.
‘Yes!’ she cried as he upped the tempo and force of his thrust. ‘I need this—need you! Ah...!’
‘As I need you, habibti!’ Khalid ground out, working dependably, rhythmically, firmly.
‘Oh...!’ Her cries went on and on, as sensation exploded between them in the same instant. How could anything be this amazing, and fantastic and essential to life?
‘Again,’ Khalid suggested against her ear, in a seductive, warm and teasing tone when the first storm had passed and she had begun to quieten.
‘Oh, yes, please,’ she agreed.
Settling deep, she gasped, ‘Need more...need more...’
Incredibly, with his own release only moments behind him, Khalid was still fully aroused, and as hungry as she was. He thrust firmly and deep, moving persuasively as his big hands helped her to thrust her hips in time with his. ‘Must be your turn again?’ she gasped after he had satisfied her several times more.
‘Like this?’ he said, starting over.
‘Exactly like that,’ she confirmed, howling with pleasure as he upped the pace.
It was a long time later, when they had both taken a shower and each other in the shower, in a bathroom in the pavilion that surprised Millie by being extremely well equipped, that Khalid towelled her dry, and when that was done he stood before her completely naked.
‘Not this time,’ he scolded when she reached for him. ‘But soon,’ he promised.
That had to be enough for her. For now. The desert suits him, she thought as Khalid dropped the black robe over his head. Securing a different type of headdress from the usual—she knew this was called a howli, and called for yards of fabric to be expertly wound around his head and face—he was instantly transformed from a passionate lover, into passionate lover who was also an imposing desert king.
‘You can’t be cold,’ he remarked as she shivered with unadulterated lust.
Khalid’s physicality was staggering. Having thought herself sated, she wanted him again, and with a hunger that threatened to overwhelm her.
Even though she could only see his eyes, they were knowing, and quite capable of delivering a message through the narrow slit he had left for his eyes, and that message said, no chance. ‘I’ll help you put your headdress on,’ he said as he gathered up her scarf. ‘It will protect you from the sun, and from the sand.’
Alone with her thoughts as he did this, she questioned her feelings and her behaviour. She was having the most wonderful adventure, but what then? However wonderful this was, he was, there was no future for them. Khalid was the powerful ruler of a fabulously wealthy country. She was a laundress from the docks. He couldn’t hold off his marriage for ever, and that would have to be a formal and very public affair, and where would that leave Millie? This wasn’t