The Pleasure of Your Kiss (15 page)

Ash had been just the opposite. When they were beneath the watchful eyes of others, he had found every excuse he could to touch her, even if it was only to brush her fingertips with his own as she handed him a cup of tea or to politely correct the angle of a crooked ribbon on her bonnet. And in those rare moments when they managed to sneak away to be alone …

Alarmed by the wayward direction of her thoughts, Clarinda jerked them back to her fiancé. Maximillian would be scandalized by what she had learned, but might he not also be pleased? She closed her eyes and tried to imagine such a scene, but it wasn’t Max’s face she saw looming above hers but his brother’s.

And he was most definitely pleased.

Clarinda’s eyes flew open with a guilty start.

“Where do they keep the men?” Poppy asked, as if she expected a dozen muscular male slaves girded only in loincloths to be paraded into the courtyard at any minute.

“Oh, Poppy, they don’t use actual men! Except for the sultan and his eunuchs, any man who dared to breach the walls of the harem would be instantly put to death.”

“Well, then how do they teach you … oh, goody, it must be lunchtime!” Poppy exclaimed, mercifully distracted by the sight of Solomon swinging open the towering iron gate that separated the harem courtyard from the rest of the sultan’s rambling gardens, a bronze platter balanced in one of his enormous hands.

A stooped, old woman rushed forward to take the platter, and the eunuch retreated to guard the gate, planting his feet in an imposing stance and staring straight ahead. He could have easily been mistaken for a magnificent statue carved from ebony marble.

“Ah, fresh cucumbers!” Poppy said as the woman rested the tray on top of a low pillar next to the pool. “What a delicacy!”

Clarinda sighed. “They’re not to eat, Poppy. Well, not precisely.”

“No man would be safe with the English cow.” Yasmin made sure her husky voice carried to every corner of the courtyard. “To her,
everything
is to eat.” Spurred on by the laughter that rippled through the ranks of the women, she added, “They should teach that one how to pleasure herself since I doubt any man will ever lend his hand to the task.”

Poppy inclined her head. She had probably forgotten the mask of mud was hiding her mortified blush.

“Don’t mind Yasmin, Poppy,” Clarinda said loudly, her temper flaring on behalf of her friend “From what I’ve heard, all she requires is a fish head and a saucer of cream every morning.”

Was it her imagination or did Solomon’s intractable lips twitch just a fraction?

The other women subsided into respectful silence as the wrinkled crone chose an impressive specimen of a cucumber from the tray and held it up, her eyes twinkling merrily in their sunken folds of flesh. “The tradition of our forefathers tells us that men are strong and women are weak. But if a woman wants to bring even the most powerful of men to his knees, she need only learn what to do when she is on hers.”

Clarinda shot Poppy a worried glance. If Poppy’s eyes got any larger, they were going to spring right out of her head.

“Would anyone care to demonstrate?” the woman asked, raking her hopeful gaze over the women.

“Allow me.” Yasmin rose and sauntered forward, shaking back her mane of glossy, midnight-black hair.

She took the cucumber from the woman’s hand and slid one rounded end of it between her pouting lips.

Clarinda could only gape right along with the rest of the women as it disappeared inch by inch. For a minute she thought Yasmin was going to swallow the thing whole, the way a python might swallow a rat. But after letting out a moan that made it sound as if she were partaking of the most delicious chocolate syllabub in the world, she finally withdrew the glistening cucumber from her mouth, holding it aloft with a flourish and a smile.

Clarinda cocked an eyebrow, impressed against her will. No wonder Farouk was willing to put up with the woman’s spiteful temperament and churlish behavior.

Returning the cucumber to the tray, Yasmin slanted Clarinda a triumphant look. “That is just a taste of what awaits the handsome Englishman when
I
am summoned to attend him in his bath.”

While the women broke into giggling groups to see if any of them could duplicate Yasmin’s impressive performance, Clarinda was forced to pretend an indifference she was far from feeling. She had absolutely no right to be jealous. Especially not while betrothed to both the sultan and the
handsome Englishman
’s equally handsome brother.

She turned back to the pool to discover that Poppy had disappeared. Puzzled, Clarinda looked around until she found her hovering near the pillar. After making sure none of the other women were paying any mind to her, Poppy plucked a rather puny-looking cucumber from the tray and gingerly slid the tip of it between her lips.

“Poppy!” Clarinda exclaimed, both shocked and amused by her friend’s unexpected boldness.

Poppy gagged. Offering Clarinda a rueful shrug, she tucked the cucumber back into her mouth and cheerfully chomped off the end of it.

This time there was no mistaking Solomon’s wince.

Ash spent the entire day exploring Farouk’s palace, feigning interest in its beauty and opulence while he sketched a map in his head of every wall, every door, every corridor where an armed guard might be stationed. He was searching for any weaknesses in its fortifications, any chink in Farouk’s formidable armor that might allow him to smuggle Clarinda to safety once he figured out a way to get her out of the harem.

Unfortunately, he didn’t find a single one. His frustration was only compounded when Clarinda failed to appear at supper and he was forced to endure Farouk’s jovial company while smiling through gritted teeth.

When his restless prowling led him into one of the sultan’s walled gardens late that night, he wasn’t surprised to find Luca soaking in a man-made pool. Fragrant lotus petals floated on the surface of the water, drifting like clouds across the misty reflection of the moon. A doe-eyed, dusky-haired beauty knelt on the flagstones behind Luca, massaging his broad shoulders. He sat with the back of his head propped against the stone lip of the pool, groaning with pleasure every time the slave girl’s delicate thumbs dug deep into the tender muscles on each side of his shoulder blades.

He opened his eyes to give Ash a drowsy look. “Would you care to join us? I’m sure she has a sister—or perhaps even a twin—somewhere around here.”

“No, thank you.” Luca’s languor was at direct odds with the tension coursing through every inch of Ash’s own body. “And it might be best if she left so we could speak privately.”

Ash jerked his head toward the palace to dismiss the woman, but before she could rise to go, Luca caught her slender wrist in his grip. “There’s no need. Farouk’s mandatory language lessons don’t extend to his slaves. She doesn’t speak a word of English or Italian. It’s part of her charm.” He brought the woman’s hand to his lips and kissed each fingertip in turn, eliciting a delighted giggle before she went back to rubbing his shoulders.

Ash began to pace around the pool, rubbing the back of his neck. It seemed he had only traded one set of walls for another. Everywhere he turned in this place, there were walls.

Walls keeping him from the woman he had come to save.

To a less jaded eye, the sultan’s gardens might not seem like a prison, but a sensual paradise. Swaying palm trees stood guard over the end of the garden overlooking the moonlit sea. Flowering bougainvillea twined its way up the stone walls, while a staggering variety of tropical plants set in fat clay pots flourished in every available bit of space. Their glossy green leaves were splashed with the dramatic colors of dozens of exotic blooms emitting a blend of heady fragrances designed by God for the sole purpose of intoxicating a man’s senses. Broad, flat stones had been laid in the sand to create narrow, winding paths perfect for enticing a man and woman to seek an even more shadowy—and private—corner of the garden.

At any other time Ash might have appreciated the effort it must have taken to create this heavenly oasis at the very edge of hell. But on this night, the sultry breeze whispering through the palm fronds failed to soothe him, and the melodic spill of a fountain over stone only grated against his already raw temper.

After watching him pace for several minutes, Luca cautiously cleared his throat. “Your brother’s fiancée is quite the beauty. I can see why he’s willing to pay so handsomely to get her back.”

Ash wheeled around to face him. “A task that’s going to prove difficult—if not impossible—if I can’t find a way to get to her so we can work out a plan for her rescue.”

Luca seemed to be choosing his words with great care. “Are you absolutely certain Miss Cardew wants to be rescued? From what I observed, she seemed perfectly content to play the role of the sultan’s pampered consort. Not that I could blame her for that, of course.” He let out a fresh groan as the slave girl’s nimble hands slid over his shoulders and down his chest, her long fingernails raking through the curling black hair she found there. “If Farouk invited me, I’d be tempted to move into the harem myself.”

“I’m fairly certain you’d have to be a eunuch first,” Ash said pleasantly, resuming his pacing. “But given how many guards he has standing around with incredibly sharp scimitars, that could probably be arranged.”

Wincing, Luca sank even lower in the water. “All I’m suggesting is that perhaps she’s truly fallen in love with the man.”

Ash froze in his tracks. If he was going to be honest, he hadn’t even allowed himself to entertain such a notion. But then he remembered the quiet desperation in Clarinda’s eyes when she had talked about owing Farouk her life as well as her gratitude.

“No,” he said with absolute certainty as he swung around to face Luca again. “Such a thing would be quite impossible. Which is exactly why she’s in even more danger than we originally feared.”

Luca’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? The sultan clearly adores her.”

“Of course he adores her! What man in his right mind wouldn’t? But don’t you see? It’s his regard for her that makes him so dangerous. His pride will be shattered when he takes her to his bed on their wedding night and discovers she’s been leading him on a merry chase for all these months.”

“What are you saying? That her whole ‘I must spend a thousand and one nights learning how to pleasure a man’ is all a ruse?”

“Precisely.” Ash shook his head with reluctant admiration. “I should have known she’d find a way to use her mind instead of her body to survive. She’s always been a clever girl, as quick-witted as she is quick-tempered. It would be a bloody brilliant plan if her time wasn’t running out. Once the sultan realizes he’s been duped and she’s no innocent, he’ll kill her.”

Luca sat straight up in the pool, water streaming from the sleek, dark ends of his hair. “Wait a minute. How do you know she’s no innocent? Did your brother confide in you?”

Ash just looked at him.

Luca wasn’t an easy man to shock, but Ash had finally succeeded. “
You?
With your own brother’s betrothed?”

“She wasn’t his then. She was mine.” Ash knew it was wrong, but he still felt a savage rush of satisfaction as he said the words. He’d had to bite them back for too damn long.

“But if you dallied with her before you signed on with the Company, she must have been only … ” Luca trailed off, horror dawning in his eyes.

“Good God, man, how depraved do you think I am?”

Luca opened his mouth, but before he could incriminate himself, Ash held up a warning hand. “Miss Cardew is six-and-twenty, not twenty. She fibbed about her age to make the ruse of her innocence seem more convincing to the sultan.”

Luca cocked an admiring eyebrow. “Impressive. She’s nearly as skilled a liar as you are. Perhaps it’s your brother I should be lecturing on his morals—or lack thereof. Even among the members of my mother’s Romany tribe, it was considered ill-mannered to poach your kinsman’s lover.”

“Max never knew about the two of us. No one did.” Ash sank down on a stone bench, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve known Clarinda since I was just a lad in short pants. Her father’s estate bordered our lands. She was three years younger than me and always underfoot, seemingly hell-bent on embarrassing and tormenting me at every turn.”

“And like any young lad puffed up with a sense of his own self-importance, I’m guessing you ignored the poor child’s every attempt to win your attention … and your affection.”

“Of course I did.” As Ash remembered being a randy fourteen-year-old trying to steal his first kiss from a buxom goose girl only to have Clarinda chase the entire flock of geese into the barn before their lips could meet, Ash’s tone darkened. “Although there were times when I would have liked nothing better than to throttle her scrawny little neck. But then I went away to Eton and she went away to Miss Throckmorton’s Seminary for Young Ladies. By the time we both returned home, she wasn’t the same girl.”

“She’d developed bosoms?” Luca suggested helpfully.

“No!” Ash exclaimed, before sheepishly admitting, “Well, yes, she had. Rather impressive ones, if you must know. But it was more than that. She no longer seemed to have any use for me. Whenever I entered a room, she would turn up her haughty little nose and find some excuse to leave, usually on the arm of the nearest eligible bachelor.”

“Aha! And naturally, you found her contempt for you utterly irresistible.” Luca sighed, his dark eyes going misty with remembered longing. “There’s nothing more enthralling than a woman who despises the very sight of you.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Ash’s jibe earned a reproachful look from his friend. “But perhaps you’re right. Once she made it clear she wanted nothing whatsoever to do with me, I discovered I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She haunted my every waking thought. And most of my dreams.” A wry smile curled one corner of his mouth as he remembered waking tangled in his sheets, his sweat-drenched body as hard as a rock and aching with the need for release. “One sweltering June night my father decided to throw yet another ball we couldn’t afford. I was stalking morosely about the grounds, puffing on a cheroot I’d pilfered from my father’s study, when I heard the sound of someone weeping inside the stables. I pushed open the door to find Clarinda huddled in one of the empty stalls, crying as if her heart had been broken.