Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride (16 page)

They were not touching, but they were looking at each other as if they were.

‘I thought court astronomers could not foretell.'

‘I am certain of this prophecy, Kadar.'

‘Constance.' He touched her hair. She lifted her face. He bent towards her. A loud crash in the piazza below, where work had begun on clearing up the remains of the banquet, made them jump.

‘It is morning,' Constance said. ‘Your first official day as Prince of Murimon, and you haven't even slept. You must be exhausted.'

‘I'm not tired.'

‘You should be.'

‘Yes,' Kadar said with a dawning smile. ‘The festivities went on very late. What I need is a day of rest.'

‘Yes,' Constance agreed in some surprise.

He laughed at her expression. ‘I do not intend to sleep the day away. I mean to spend it away from here.'

‘So only a day into your new role, and you are absconding already,' she teased.

‘On the contrary, I shall be spending the day in contemplation before assuming the heavy mantle of power.' He cast a glance at the rising sun. ‘If we are to make the most of it, we should leave as soon as possible.'

‘We? But don't you want to be alone?'

‘Constance.' He took her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingertips. ‘We have both freed ourselves from a promise made mistakenly out of a sense of duty and honour. We will both have to face the consequences of that breach, and very soon. But can we not take a day to ourselves, to briefly enjoy that freedom?'

What did he mean by enjoy? Now that the barrier of his betrothal was removed, there was nothing to stop them—is that what Kadar meant? Constance decided it was better not to ask. ‘Yes,' she said simply. ‘Yes, please. I would like us to do that very much.'

Chapter Ten

K
adar lowered the sail of the little dhow and leapt agilely into the shallows to pull the craft onto the beach. When she had first sighted the boat bobbing by the harbour wall and realised that his suggested day out involved going out on the water, Constance's nerve had almost failed her. But he had been true to his word, keeping them well within the relatively calm waters of the bay, sailing with an obviously expert hand, and she had very quickly relaxed, enjoying the freshness of the sea breeze whipping her hair, the faint spray of salt on her face, and refusing to allow herself to associate any of it with the day the
Kent
went down.

As the wooden hull bumped onto the sand, she rolled up the legs of her pantaloons and climbed out, relishing the lapping of the waves on her ankles, watching as Kadar pulled the boat higher up the beach onto the soft white sand beyond the tideline. He had said little on the journey here, merely touching her hand reassuringly every now and then when the boat scudded over a wave. It hadn't occurred to her that he would be able to sail, though when she had said so he had laughed. ‘This journey would have taken days by camel. Our dhows are the camels of the sea here in Murimon. Everyone can sail.'

‘I would like to learn,' Constance said wistfully. ‘I would like to have a little dhow like this of my own to explore this beautiful coastline. I would stop on a whim at a sandy cove, and spend the night lying on the beach with the waves murmuring and the stars sparkling overhead.' She smiled, shaking her head at her own foolishness. ‘I know, you are thinking it is a silly notion. Sailing is hardly a skill I am likely to need back in England.'

Kadar said nothing. Rightly so, England was a depressing topic on such a beautiful day as this. She didn't want to think about England. Today she and Kadar were cast adrift from both the past and the future. Castaways, Constance thought, giving herself a little shake. Just the two of them here, on this deserted beach with the promise of...

Stop thinking about that! Just enjoy! She waded to the shore, gazing around her with delight. The tide was ebbing, leaving a long stretch of hard-packed golden sand in its wake. An odd formation of rocks which formed a natural harbour backed on to the cliffs behind them. Intrigued, Constance padded closer and clambered up a rough set of steps which had been hewn into the side. Not a harbour, but a huge rock pool greeted her, the waters a deep dark turquoise. Balancing on the narrow wall formed by the smooth rock, she made her way to the far side, where the rock sloped down into the pool like a little slipway.

‘What do you think?'

She had been so intent on keeping her balance she had not noticed Kadar. Now she wobbled on the wall, which was fortunately only about a foot above the sand at this point. He caught her, helping her step down onto the beach. ‘It's remarkable. Is it naturally formed?'

‘Some work has been done to deepen it, and the steps you climbed were cut, but other than that, yes, it is completely natural.'

‘It's wonderful.'

Kadar smiled at her. ‘I'm glad you think so. It's perfectly safe too—as you can see, it is very shallow at this end.'

Comprehension finally dawned on Constance, setting off a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. ‘You brought me here to teach me to swim,' she said, eyeing the pool anew.

‘This is where I learned to swim.'

‘Really? Who taught you?'

‘My father,' Kadar replied. ‘When I was very young, four or five, he brought Butrus and I here in a dhow like the one in which I transported us.'

‘So he taught you to sail too?'

‘You look surprised. I told you, everyone sails here in Murimon.'

Constance shrugged, embarrassed. ‘It sounds so
natural
,
a father teaching his sons to sail and to swim. I thought— I was under the impression that you— Oh, it doesn't matter.'

She turned away, confused by her surge of emotion, and made her way across the beach to the boat, where Kadar had set out a blanket in the shade. ‘This really is a lovely spot,' she said brightly, when he joined her.

He studied her with that look of his that made her uncomfortably sure he could read her mind. And so it proved. ‘Your father...'

Constance flapped her hands. ‘Oh, please, let's not talk about him, not today. Tell me about your father. Your brother.'

He hesitated, but then to her relief, decided to do as she asked him. ‘I told you that Butrus and I were very unalike,' he said, ‘which no doubt led to the impression you seem to have gained that I was unhappy growing up here in Murimon. I was not. As children we were close, and when it came to what my father thought of as manly pursuits, whether it was riding or swimming or sailing or sword fencing—I have a facility for such things.'

‘So your father was proud of you?'

‘He was—satisfied with me,' Kadar said, choosing his words with his usual care. ‘I met his expectations.' He picked up a handful of sand and allowed it to run though his fingers. ‘Unfortunately, my father turned our games into challenges which naturally Butrus, as the heir, was expected to win.'

‘I remember you said that you found it easier to refuse to race him on horseback.'

‘Yes, but I was not always so sensible,' Kadar said, flushing. ‘When I was younger, I confess that my own competitive spirit meant I took pleasure in besting my elder brother. It is not something I am proud of.'

‘Sibling rivalry is a perfectly natural phenomenon!' Constance exclaimed. ‘You would have been a very odd sort of child to have behaved in any other way.'

Kadar's laugh was bitter. ‘A very odd sort of child is what my father thought me.'

‘Because you chose your studies over these manly pursuits he was so keen on? Didn't he realise that it was his fault? That he was forcing you to into the library because that was most likely the one arena your brother wasn't interested in competing with you in?'

She had spoken indignantly, her heart touched by the image of Kadar's younger self which his words had conjured, but for a moment she thought she had overstepped the mark with him. He was staring out to sea, but his thoughts were clearly focused inward. ‘Perhaps,' he said slowly, ‘it is because you spend so much time looking at the stars through a telescope, that you see the world reflected in a different way. I mean,' he added, taking her hand, ‘that I had not thought of my escape into my books in quite that way before. You may well be right, but if that is the case, my father did me a service.'

‘All the same, it cannot have been easy for you to be so very different to Butrus. To be mocked for spending so much time lost in your studies, to hold yourself deliberately apart from life in the palace—you told me once that you were “temperamentally, intellectually, and in many ways ethically” unsuited to life at court.'

‘It seems I am not the only one to recall conversations perfectly.' He sighed. ‘I was not unhappy, Constance. Butrus and I would have grown apart regardless, because it is true, temperamentally we were very different.'

‘But you must have been very lonely growing up.'

He stilled. Something flickered in his eyes. Grief? Pain? ‘No, for I was fortunate enough to find a companion who shared both my interests and my views of life in court.'

‘I am glad you had a friend. Is he still here, in Murimon?'

He flinched. ‘He was a she,' he said bleakly, ‘and she is dead.'

‘Oh, Kadar, I am so sorry.'

He disentangled his fingers from hers and shook his head. ‘We came here to enjoy a taste of freedom,' he said, getting to his feet, ‘to escape from the past and the future, not wallow in it. Now, are you going to allow me to teach you to swim?'

The subject was closed, and compelling as it was, Constance did not want to spoil the day. She too got to her feet, eyeing the calm waters of the swimming pool with trepidation. ‘What does one wear to swim?'

She was relieved to see Kadar's countenance clearing. ‘I don't usually wear anything at all.'

‘Oh.' Colour flooded her face, not because of what he said but because of the image it conjured, of those muscled shoulders, those long legs, his taut behind, wading into the pool. ‘I hope you're not suggesting—that is I hope that you will not...'

‘Modesty and decency will be observed,' Kadar replied, grinning. ‘Though I warn you, you will be hindered by your clothing, and it really would be much easier...'

‘Kadar!'

He held up his hand in mock surrender. ‘Take off your tunic, but leave everything else on. Your clothes will dry quickly enough in the sun. Are you sure you wish to go through with this, Constance? I won't think any less of you if you don't.'

She gazed at the pool, and then out at the sea. The chances of her being shipwrecked again were slim indeed, but knowing she could swim would certainly boost her confidence when she next had to board a seagoing ship. Which would be soon. She didn't want to think about that. Neither did she want to be a hostage to her fears. ‘You might not think less of me,' Constance said resolutely ‘but I would.'

She unbuttoned her tunic and pulled it off before she could change her mind. The camisole she wore was made of muslin, a flimsy affair with narrow straps which left her arms and shoulders quite bare. No more so than a ball gown, she told herself, though if she were wearing a ball gown she would also be wearing corsets and a chemise. Her breasts were not actually exposed, though they were clearly outlined. She crossed her arms over them, relieved to see that Kadar had considerately turned his back to her.

He too had unbuttoned his tunic, and was in the process of pulling it over his head. He wore nothing underneath. Her mouth went dry as she looked at him. Broad shoulders, tapering waist. The sash which tied his trousers was low on his hips. Her stomach flipped as he turned around. His body was not that of a Greek statue, all powerful over-developed muscle bulging unconvincingly, but that of a true athlete, with an aesthetic quality to his musculature. Though it was there, under that smooth chest and flat stomach, there was no doubt about it.

‘Ready?'

Her face flaming, Constance nodded, and marched determinedly over to the shallow end of the bathing pool.

* * *

Had this been a mistake? It would certainly be testing his control to the limit, Kadar thought as he watched Constance walking across the sand. Though the material of her pantaloons and the tiny top she wore were not at all transparent, they were filmy, clinging to her curves, curves to which his body was responding with alarming speed. He dragged his eyes away from the beguiling contours of her bottom, forcing himself to concentrate on the swimming lesson ahead. Though she was concealing it well, Constance was afraid of the water, and with good cause.

He started by teaching her to float. Seeing her jaw clenched, feeling the rigidity in her muscles, banished all thoughts of anything other than teaching her to swim. She was not afraid, she was terrified, panicking when the water lapped over her face, but she was equally determined not to give up. Slowly, she gained confidence and began to relax. Within half an hour, she was taking her first tentative strokes herself, and when Kadar suggested she might be tired she laughed.

‘I'm enjoying it,' she said, and executed several more splashy strokes.

* * *

Another hour, and Constance managed a full length of the rock pool at the deepest end, with Kadar by her side. ‘I did it,' she exclaimed, clinging to the rock, breathing heavily with the effort, but flushed with triumph. ‘I did it.'

‘You did,' Kadar agreed, smiling. He had the oddest feeling, as if his heart was swelling in his chest. Pride? Admiration? He wanted to kiss her. Desire, banished for the duration of the lesson, came rampaging back. Constance was effectively naked under the water. Now that he was no longer holding her, supporting her, his body recalled exactly how she had felt, all soft flesh yet surprisingly firm muscles. A body accustomed to effort. Her nipples had brushed against his arms when he held her. Hard peaks.

Stop!
‘You have done very well indeed, but that is enough for now,' Kadar said, anxious to put some distance between them. ‘Go and sit in the sun, dry out your clothing while I take a swim.'

She allowed him to help her into the shallows, though he kept himself immersed in the water and refused to allow himself to watch her as she waded ashore, diving back under as soon as he was sure she was safe. He swam powerfully, pushing himself to the limits, after two lengths of the pool losing himself in the rhythm of his swimming, emptying his mind of all thoughts but of the next breath and the next one, and the next.

Finally, exhausted, he rolled onto his back. Sunlight glinted off the water, dazzling him. He closed his eyes and floated, recovering his breath, lulled by the merest whisper of the waves breaking on the shore as the tide receded to its furthest point. When he opened his eyes, he had drifted to the far end of the pool. Constance was seated on the rock edge on the other side. She was leaning back on her hands, her face tilted to the sun, her eyes closed. Her hair was wild, a delightful tangle of half-dried curls. Her hands, her forearms and throat were tanned golden brown, but the rest of her exposed skin was a smooth creamy colour. Her clothing, like her hair, was half-dried, and clinging to her body. She might as well have been naked. And he was once again aroused. Kadar groaned. All that effort wasted.

‘Constance, you should get into the shade.' She opened her eyes, turning towards him. Her smile was lazy, sun-kissed, unbearably sensual. She looked like a mermaid, perched up on the rock. ‘The salt in the water will burn your skin as it dries. Get into the shade, please.'

She sat up, dangled her feet over the edge of the pool, and jumped in. Though the water was not deep, Kadar cried out a warning, hurtling himself through the water towards her. ‘What are you doing? You could have...'