Master of Paradise (27 page)

But after the first flush of relief came a
wash of anger. How dare he put her through this! Toying with her in
front of all these people. The thought of it made her seethe. She
thought of all the things she’d rail at him when she got him
alone.

Then, for the first time, he lifted his eyes
to Gabrielle’s face. Black eyes, not gold. Arab eyes, as cold and
impersonal as death. Eyes she’d never seen in her life. The cool
brittleness of his expression changed to one of challenge. He
seemed to promise her with his look that he’d break her if it was
the last thing he did.

She was so devastated, her knees almost
buckled beneath her.

He descended the stairs and his man scampered
up to take his place. Taking her chains from the guards, he tugged
to get her moving. She realized in that moment that she’d actually
been bought. She belonged to the cruel Arab who’d silently vowed to
break her spirit. There was nothing she could do.

She was led away from the market toward the
sea. There, a large ship of Arab design waited in the harbor. It
took her a while to realize she was being transported directly to
the ship. When she did, she went wild. She knew if they succeeded
in placing her on that ship, she was done for. No one on earth
could stampede that vessel and carry her off alive. And if it
sailed, her hope sailed with her. Rodrigo couldn’t possibly pursue
them. Thanks to Hastings, he didn’t have the men or the ships.

She struggled hysterically, breaking free and
running a few steps before she was grabbed again. Voices were
shouting now, but they sounded distant in her ears. She was so
terrified, she couldn’t tell if the screams she heard were her own
or someone else’s. She only knew it was better to die trying to
escape than ever to set foot on that ship.

A small sedan chair was brought with long
handles carried by slaves. She was forced, struggling all the way,
inside. Then the door was slammed shut and the conveyance began to
move. But just as the one door closed, the opposite door opened.
Insensible by now, she caught a glimpse of golden hair. Then a huge
bag was dropped over her body. She was enclosed by darkness and
slung in a heap over his shoulder. She heard the door close behind,
then she was carried away, bumping against his back the whole
way.

She listened keenly for sounds of alarm. None
was forthcoming. No shouts. No rushing feet. Just the normal hubbub
of a market at the close of a sale.

She felt herself lifted onto something and
detected the shape of a saddle beneath her. She felt him mount,
then the horse lurched away, galloping over the stones and through
the alleyways at breakneck speed. The pommel of the saddle dug into
her ribs, bruising them. Crushed as she was into the rough canvas
bag, she bounced painfully against the horse’s side. It was
unbearably stuffy in the parcel, breathing her own breath. But she
was safe! She was no longer the property of a stranger bent on her
mortification.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of
bouncing along, the horse was drawn to a halt. She was lowered and
she felt a tugging of the ropes. Then a ray of light penetrated the
darkness of the fabric. She was helped to her feet and she caught a
good glimpse of Rodrigo’s cherished face. Shackled as she was, she
nonetheless threw herself into his arms.

“Oh, Rodrigo, it was so awful! They
sold
me, as if I were a possession, and not a person with a
soul. Can you ever forgive me for not understanding?”

He hugged her to him, trying to hush her as a
hand soothed the back of her neck. “I’m only glad you’re safe. And
back where you belong.”

She pushed herself away and looked into his
eyes. His beloved cat’s eyes that beheld her now with love and
relief and some of the fear he must have felt in getting them both
out alive.

“You risked everything for me,” she told him.
“And now I’m ready to risk all for you. I don’t know what the
future will bring. And I don’t care. All I know is that from now
on, Rodrigo, I want to do everything I can to help your cause.”

It was dusk. They were camped at a
tree-enclosed spring somewhere in the interior of East Africa. The
soft air of the African highlands was cool and filled with lovely
scents. Higgins and two of the recently freed slaves were building
a huge bonfire out of slender trees knocked down by a herd of
elephants that had thundered by. Small groups of Kikuyu warriors,
all of them recently freed from slavery, squatted nearby and were
chanting a song in celebration.

They’d fled Zanzibar three weeks ago. Since
then, they’d been slowly making their way into the uncharted
interior of the continent. Rodrigo knew the area well. He’d been
brought here as a boy by his grandfather, who, in his younger days,
had used the vast plains as a hideout when he could no longer reach
his home. As the African continent was the one place Europeans
hadn’t explored, and were afraid to enter, it had served the same
purpose for Rodrigo over the years. He knew the landscape, had made
the acquaintance of the various tribes. Now he was using this
knowledge to gather men in any way he could to launch an effective
attack on Zanzibar.

Rodrigo picked up a branch and went to join
Gabrielle, who sat on a large log facing the fire. During these
weeks on safari—the Swahili word for “journey”—they’d worked with a
fierce determination. The first order of business was to finish
what they’d started: rescue Cullen from the palace. Then they’d
band together to stop Hastings and his cohorts once and for
all.

“When will we have enough men?” she asked him
as he sat by her side.

“I’m not certain. Our task is difficult at
best.”

She tried again to swallow her impatience. He
was being cautious, as always, and her impulsive nature chafed
against the restraints.

“But enough of this for one day. Let’s go for
a walk, Gabé. Before it gets dark.”

Having difficulty letting it go, she
reluctantly nodded and stood. He took her hand and guided her down
a narrow gully, through a grove of spreading acacia trees. Their
welcoming branches were silhouetted against the deepening lavender
of the sky. Stars were beginning to dot the heavens, stars that
would, in the inky blackness of the African night, seem so large
and bright, they would appear to spring from some long-forgotten
childhood dream. The sounds of insects and birds that only came out
in darkness began to mingle with the Kikuyu’s distant songs,
blending together into the primal rhythm of Africa. There was magic
in the air. Slowly, she felt herself succumbing to it.

“I really love it here,” he said, his voice
sounding hushed in the still twilight. “In a way, it’s the opposite
of Seychelles. There, it’s humid and the air is heavy. Here, it’s
cooler and dry. And the air is soft. Do you feel it?”

“I’ve never felt such soft air in my
life.”

“In Seychelles,” he continued, “nothing can
hurt you. There are no natural threats. There, nature is luxurious.
Here, there’s danger behind every rock. Nature is harsh, even in
its beauty. But I love it all the same.”

She smiled as her concerns for Cullen were
distracted by the tenderness of his tone. “I admit its savage
charms are hard to resist.”

He moved closer and took her in his arms.
Suddenly, they heard a scraping sound close by, and a faint,
guttural grumble. His arms tightened about her. “Be still,
Gabé.”

“What—”

“Lions.”

She jerked in his arms. “Where?”

“Under that tree,” he said, gesturing. She
could make out the vague outline of two beasts lying on the ground
and facing each other. “They’re mating.”

“Oh, my God, Rodrigo, if they see us—”

She moved to run, but he grabbed her
instantly, pulling her to him so her back was pressed against him.
Instinctively, his hand crept to her mouth to silence any
outcry.

“They’re not interested in us. Only each
other. Look. The female is showing the male she’s ready. In the
mating season, they’ll join together every fifteen minutes for
weeks.”

As they watched, their eyes now adjusted to
the darkness, the male calmly came around and mounted his mate. She
stretched herself up to accommodate him. The male grabbed her neck
with his teeth, pumped savagely, and let loose with a mighty roar.
It only took moments, but it was ferocious and primal. Then the
pair stretched and walked off into the night, leaving their
audience behind.

Gabrielle was panting against his palm. She’d
forgotten she still stood with him pressed against her, his hand at
her mouth. She’d forgotten everything in this awe-inspiring
display. It reminded her of the days of their intense lovemaking in
the Vallée de Mai.

“It’s quite a process. The male masters her
completely, but only when she lets him know she’s ready.”

In the ensuing hush, her voice was but a
tentative sigh. “Rodrigo...”

“Hmmm?”

“I’ve been thinking about Shayla.”

She saw him smile. As if he’d known she’d get
around to this, sooner or later.

“What have you been thinking?”

“I want you to show me some of what Shayla
taught you.”

He laughed. “That requires a particular frame
of mind.”

He was tweaking her curiosity. “What sort of
frame of mind?”

“When I was with Shayla, I was myself,
naturally, but I was also...playing a role.”

“I’m an actress. I excel at playing
roles.”

“What I mean is, I left my own will at her
door and did everything she asked. If I couldn’t willingly accede
to her will, I didn’t learn. Nor did I experience the full measure
of arousal that was possible. It required turning off the mind and
moving to a higher level of feeling. Of existing for the moment,
with no expectations, and no limits of the mind. I existed only for
her pleasure, and in doing so, attained a level of satisfaction and
fulfillment that was beyond imagining.”

“I want to know that pleasure. Show me.”

He paused for a moment. “Now?”

She moved so that her body slithered up the
length of his. “Yes. Right now.”

He hesitated, considering.

“I mean it,” she coaxed. “I want to know. Not
your graduation exercise, of course.”

He laughed as if to say he wouldn’t
anyway.

“But something. I want to put myself in your
place. I want to know what it was like for you.”

He shifted so he could look into her eyes.
His face, or what she could see of it in the light of the savanna
moon, was serious, more thoughtful than was his custom.

“I warn you. You’ll have to turn yourself
over to me completely. Submit to my desires. You must trust me in
all I say and do. Do you understand? Because I’ll only do this with
your total and willing consent.”

A thrill shot through her. “I
understand.”

Her heart was beating wildly now, like a bird
about to fly the coop. She felt as if she’d had no life before this
day. That she’d been born when she’d opened her eyes in this
African wonderland. Yet, how could his promise of sexual domination
feel so liberating? Why, she asked herself—endeavoring to be
rational in the face of his rough, masculine presence—was it so
absolutely appealing to think, not just of giving herself to him,
but of being
taken
by him? Why was his threat of sexual
power such an aphrodisiac? And why did the prospect of it make her
feel more of a complete woman than she ever had before?

He took her face in his hands and looked at
her for a long time. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t have done it before.
Not when I felt we were divided. But now, I want to give myself to
you completely, unreservedly. Give you something I’d never give any
other man. Only—”

“What, Gabé?”

“What if it goes too far? What if I become
frightened and want you to stop? How will you know when I really
mean it? And how do I know you will?”

“Ah. You want to know how far you can trust
me. If you like, we’ll use a safe word.”

“A safe word? What’s that?”

“Shayla always had a safe word in case things
went too far. A word you wouldn’t normally use. When you say it, I
know you need to stop. Saying it assures you that you’re safe.”

“Oh, I rather like that.”

“Then what’s it to be?”

“
Simba,
” she said at once. “I won’t
use it except in extreme need.”

Still, an idea was forming in her mind. He
was right. In spite of everything, she did still need to know how
far she could trust him. This suddenly seemed the perfect way to
find out.

He led her back to their small hut, the
chief’s hut in a place of honor away from the main village,
surrounded by trees thick with growing vines. Here, he knew no one
would disturb them. The night birds, frogs, and insects sang their
native songs. He seemed to belong here, a king among beasts. As the
drums beat a primal rhythm, he turned and faced her. Her pulse
hammered within her, meeting the measure of the drums.

Slowly, gently, he extended his hands so his
fingers were locked with her own. Like the tenderest lover, he
turned her hands up and kissed each palm. Then, slowly, but with a
bold resolve, he forced her arms behind her back and brought his
mouth to hers.

His kiss alone would have weakened her
knees—as fierce and passionate a kiss as she’d ever received. But
with her wrists held fast behind her back, it was exhilarating. She
swayed into him, opened her mouth and moaned aloud.

He let go of her hands and stepped back.
“Take off your clothes,” he commanded, then added, “Slowly, while I
watch.”

She did so with shaking fingers, feeling his
eyes burn into her. When she moved too quickly, he raised his chin
imperiously, and she slowed her movements, slipping each piece off
with sensual deliberation, putting on a show for him. With the
shedding of each garment, she felt the shedding of her
defenses.