The Panther & the Pyramid (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (31 page)

He said nothing, those dark eyes calmly assessing her in the mirror. Then Graham captured her hand and led her out of the tent. She tripped behind him, protesting. They passed the long line of black tents, the curious onlookers going about their daily chores, the women baking bread in small clay ovens or tending to their children.

With purposeful steps he went on, stopping only when they reached the herd of camels. Graham went to one and dropped her hand. He caressed the animal's neck fondly.

"This is Sheba. She's lactating." He pointed to her underbelly. "Four teats."

The she-camel with her large, liquid brown eyes gave a soft snort. Graham skirted her with the wooden bowl.

"This is how you milk a camel." With expert ease, he balanced the container on his muscled left thigh, and took one of Sheba's four teats in his right hand. "Just like a cow. Squeeze and pull, aiming for the bowl."

He demonstrated, then handed her the bowl.

Jillian shook her head. "I can't do it. It's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible. Go on." He pushed the bowl at her.

Blinking rapidly, she stared at the bowl, then at him. He gave an encouraging nod. Jillian squared her shoulders and sidled over to the camel. She lifted her leg and with her left hand, balanced the bowl on her thigh. Graham stood behind her, his strong fingers wrapping around hers, guiding.

Together they felt the teat. It felt warm and soft beneath her fingers. With Graham's guidance, she tugged. A froth of white milk streamed into the wooden bowl.

"Now try it on your own." He stepped back, waiting.

Doubts assailed her. Yet running deeper was a determination to prove herself. She took hold of the udder and gently pulled. Warm milk splattered into the bowl. Delighted, she spun around, careful not to spill.

"I knew you could do it." Approval shone in his gaze.

They shared the milk, drinking straight from the bowl. It tasted thick, warm and filling. He grinned at her.

"You have a mustache." As Jillian went to wipe her upper lip, he leaned over and licked it from her in a slow stroke. Need shuddered through her. "Milk is good for the body," he murmured, the husky timbre of his voice matching the sensual intent in his eyes.

A camel the color of fresh cream butted its head against Graham's shoulder. He laughed and patted the neck.

"Easy, Solomon. Did you think I forgot you?" he crooned. Solomon lowered his head, and Graham scratched behind the rounded, hairy ears. "I delivered Solomon when he was born."

Sudden insight struck her. "The birth! That's how you knew how to deliver Badra's baby."

His mouth quirked. "My qualifications were rather circumspect. I'm afraid I don't make a good midwife."

"I think you were wonderful," Jillian said softly.

He studied her a minute, then his hand caressed her cheek. A low cough threw them out of the moment. They turned to see Ramses standing nearby.

"I am sorry for teasing you and making you uncomfortable, Jillian. It was, ah, a little joke." His sheepish look contrasted with his formal tone.

She studied the handsome warrior, wondering why he had done it. "It's all right. I did want to learn to milk a camel."

"And so you did. Your husband taught you. It is a good skill to know... in the desert. On a journey." Ramses looked serious, but an impish light sparked in his eyes.

Jillian began to understand. "Yes, it is. I'm glad he taught me. But it was a naughty trick to play, Ramses. Do you subject all foreigners to your little pranks?"

A charming, seductive smile touched his mouth. "Ah, no, just beautiful Englishwomen I like to tease."

Graham narrowed his eyes. Jillian choked back laughter. Now she understood. Katherine had talked to Ramses. And the warrior cheerfully obliged his wife in not only making Graham jealous, but goading him into teaching Jillian to milk a camel.

"I'd hate to see what you do to ugly women," she murmured.

"Oh, those?" He waved a hand with a cheerful smile. "They are boiled in oil. Very tasty with camel milk. Mmmm. But do not fear. You are far too lovely."

Graham made a choking noise and looked away, color blotching his cheeks. Ramses winked. Jillian winked back.

"Ignore him, Jillian. He's a rogue and a scamp, despite the fact that his wife has managed to leash him," Graham grated out.

"A very pleasurable leashing," Ramses agreed cheerfully.

He stared at her with rapt fascination. Oh goodness, this was fun. Playing the part, Jillian touched her uncovered head. "I hope my uncovered hair doesn't offend you, Ramses."

"No. I apologize for staring. I have never seen hair of such color. It is like a flaming Egyptian sunset. If I touch it, will it burn me?"

Beside her, Graham stirred restlessly. "Ramses..." he began.

"It's all right. Go ahead, feel it," Jillian told him.

Interest flared on Ramses's face. His fingers traversed up a stray lock to her head, stroking her hair as one caressed a purring cat "Living flame," he murmured. "Al-Hariia. Like the flush of a woman when a man rouses her passion."

Graham made a strangled noise in his throat. He stepped forward. "Enough," he said roughly, pulling her back. Jillian sank into the hardness of his chest.

She twisted to look. Graham's bristling expression was unmistakable in its masculine possession. She's mine, it said.

Ramses gave a wry smile. "It is good to see you back again, Graham, especially with your lovely wife. I think Jillian will prove to be the tempting gazelle that coaxes the shy panther from the safety of its hiding place."

Her husband pinned him with an icy look, which the warrior cheerfully ignored. Sweeping her an elegant bow, Ramses moved off. Jillian wanted to laugh. She pretended bemusement instead.

"What an odd remark" she said, studying the muscled warrior as he wended his way among the dromedaries. "And what does al-Hariia mean?"

His jaw clenched as he glared after the departing Ramses. "The fire."

Later, Jabari invited them to a special feast he'd prepared in their honor. Graham was to leave the following morning for the deep desert. In the sheikh's tent, they sat on plush pillows about a low, round table laden with roasted lamb, rice, flatbread, and other delicious food. Jillian got interested looks from Ramses and Jabari, and knowing smiles from Katherine and Elizabeth, for the two women had worked to fashion her traditional Khamsin dress that she wore tonight. The ankle-length indigo
kuftan
felt comfortable and cooler than her tighter English dress. Beneath the kuftan she wore blousy trousers and a loose-fitting shirt. Her flame-gold hair was left unbound like that of her new friends.

Ramses dipped a wedge of flatbread into the sauce and ate, his eyes never leaving Jillian's hair.

"Ramses, it's not polite to stare," Graham commented, sounding irritated.

Mischief sparked in the warrior's eyes. "I was simply marveling, your supreme graciousness, at the deep trust you accord our people in leaving your beautiful wife behind while you trek for weeks into the deep desert."

A barely perceptible growl rumbled from Graham's chest.

"But do not fear. I personally will take charge of seeing to her welfare. She will stay in our tent."

"That is very gracious of you," Jillian told him.

The muscled, handsome warrior waved a hand. "Think nothing of it. Why, I consider you a close member of my own family now. My cousin—you remember him, Graham, the one you always called a... what is that word, Katherine?"

"Rogue," Katherine supplied.

"Has offered to teach Jillian how to ride."

"Jillian knows how to ride," Graham grated out.

"Ah, but Kamal will show her the Bedouin way. One has not ridden until one has ridden a Bedouin warrior."

"Like a Bedouin warrior," Katherine interjected.

"Of course, my beloved wife." Ramses gave an elegant shrug. "My English, it is faulty."

Scarlet infused Graham's face. A vein throbbed wildly in his temple. He looked murderous. He turned from Ramses and began talking with Jabari about doubling the supplies he needed for the trip. Ramses exchanged glances with his wife.

"You'll need proper clothing for the trip, Jillian. And a good, reliable camel. Above all, you must listen to me at all times. The desert is a dangerous place," Graham warned.

"I'm going?" She tried to keep her excitement at bay.

Graham shot Ramses a murderous glance. "It's safer for you than staying here."

Jillian dipped her head, hiding a smile as she scooped a bit of rice onto her flatbread.

When they bade their friends good night and vanished inside their tent, she sensed an enormous need in Graham. He stripped off his clothing, and she shed hers as well. Lifting her to the bed, he kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, sweeping inside, flicking in invitation.

After a moment, he tore himself away and began kissing her body, murmuring as his mouth dropped hot, tiny kisses, pinching nips upon her skin, scorching her with his heat. Jillian wriggled.

"What—what is this?" she cried out.

"The Khamsin call it the secret of one hundred kisses," he growled.

Each press of his lips against her aching flesh increased the burn. She writhed. He pinned her down, holding her still. Kissing each inch of her trembling body, nipping in sensitive areas, then chasing with soothing flicks of his tongue. And then he parted her thighs and bent his dark head between them.

Jillian screamed with shocked pleasure.

So delicious. So female.

He bent his head to her feminine core, inhaling the delectable scent of her, female and tangy and spice. Graham studied her, his hunger kicking up a notch as she wriggled in embarrassed heat. His hands pinned her thighs to the mattress. Awed wonder spilled through him at how intricate a woman's body appeared. Filled with soft folds and secret hollows, a complex mystery he longed to explore.

Hidden places, like the thread of caves he'd found once near the al-Hajid camp.

When he was eight, he'd managed to run away and hide there for a precious day, feeling the desert heat lessen as the hard rock interior sheltered him in its rock womb. For the first time since his capture, he'd felt safe. He'd hugged the walls, glad for their protection, their sheltered quiet.

Graham leaned forward and gave Jillian's flesh a delicate, slow lick. His wife wriggled more. "Hush," he crooned against her skin. Here was the greatest mystery yet to be explored. He lowered his head and began to lave her slowly, his tongue running along the curves and folds, tasting her, settling upon her pleasure point. Absorbing her heat, her moistness, her secrets. He longed to hide inside her, pushing back the haunting pain for a little while. To push inside the damp cavern of her warmth and feel safe, to hear her excited, female cries of erotic bliss.

The sweet, excruciating pleasure between her legs intensified as her husband continued to love her with his mouth. Jillian writhed, her breath escaping in a sobbing moan. She clutched his hair but he gave no quarter. Heat exploded inside her as she went taut, screaming his name into the night.

Only then did he cease, giving her shuddering flesh a last lingering kiss. Graham moved over her, his gaze fierce.

"You're mine, Jilly. Mine. No one else will ever have you." His deep, smoky voice rippled over her and he kissed her ruthlessly, and she tasted her own need on his lips. Jillian clung to him, her limbs boneless as he covered her.

He moved over her, coaxing a response. Urging her on, he pushed into her, penetrating deep. He took her without mercy, riding her hard. Clutching the hard muscles of his shoulders she melted beneath him. Hard desire glinted his gaze, and he took her hard, thrusting into her welcoming heat. Graham lowered his head and nipped the sensitive juncture between her throat and shoulder. She shrieked, and he followed with a soothing sweep of his velvet tongue.

She realized what had prompted this impassioned response. It was a primitive mating, a claiming of her to announce to all she was his woman. He made love with a fierce urgency, loving her body, telling her with each kiss and lick how he felt. She writhed and moaned under him. With ruthless power, he drove into her. Over and over Jillian arched and met his demanding thrusts, and they clutched each other as they shattered, filling the tent with her screams and his hoarse cries.