The Sheikh's Second Chance Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 5) (14 page)

Lana saw Malik's gaze drift down to her hand as it moved across his arm. She saw the flickering embers of calm fill the dark pools of his eyes.

Malik lifted his eyes to the darkening sky as if seeking guidance.
 

Then he reached across to the other man, settling his hand on the man's shoulder. "What is your name?"

"Ibn Al Maquad," he said.

Malik sighed. "It is I who should seek your forgiveness, Ibn Al Maquad. I have not behaved in keeping with the spirit of this place."

Ibn shook his head. "No, your excellency. You have every right, as you so forcefully declared to me only moments ago," he said.

Malik tried to smile, but Lana could see how difficult it was to do so. She was pleased that the two men were trying to reach some sort of honorable agreement.

Ibn turned quickly. "I shall be on my way. You have obvious priority here, and it is not my place to intrude."

Malik released Ibn's shoulder. "Please join us for some food."

Ibn shook his head vigorously. "Thank you, but, I shall be on my way."

Ibn looked at Lana and bowed. "My apologies. Ignorance shall always be with me," he said with a regretful tone.

Lana wanted to say something, anything which would ease the awkwardness of the moment. But, Ibn turned quickly and grasped the reins of his horse. He mounted and looked down at Malik and Lana. "Once again. My apologies," he said, turned his horse and started out on his way back to the desert.

"What will happen to him?" Lana asked.

Malik looked thoughtful. "He'll be fine. I get the impression he's a man used to the ways of the desert."

"Why did that happen?"

"This place is open to all, except at one time. When one of my tribe takes possession of the encampment. Then, no-one is allowed to intrude." Malik turned to Lana. "I'm sorry you had to witness that."

Lana couldn't immediately find the words to describe her feelings. Malik had shown a new side to his character, one she'd had never seen before. There had been such strength in his actions, a determination to display a surprising masculinity, as well as a desire to act as protector. It had been a heady mixture to witness. She wasn't sure what to make of it all.

Malik reached out to Lana, but she took a small step back. Malik's brows furrowed. "How can I help you to understand?"

Lana shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. The air had chilled slightly. The night promised to be a cool one. Other thoughts of the night eased into her mind, but she drove those particular images away as forcefully as she could.

"It's okay, Malik. I understand," Lana replied.

"You do?" Malik said with a hopeful expression.

"I think so," Lana said nodding.

She turned away from him, eager to cut the conversation short. She needed time to think, a chance to consider what all that had really meant. The passion had been turned into confusion. She'd thought she'd been getting to know the real Malik, but it seemed as if she'd been wrong.

She deliberately averted her gaze from Malik, not wanting to allow him the chance to affect her. It was too dangerous, given what had happened a short while ago by the side of the oasis.

"I think I'd like to rest a little, if you don't mind, Malik," Lana said.

There was a long silence, and when she eventually did turn around and look at him, she could see the disappointment on his features.

Malik nodded. "Of course."

Lana smiled at Malik, said nothing more and started toward the tent.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

What a fool he'd been.

Malik lay back on the sofa and gazed up into the darkness of the tent interior. His eyes had adjusted to the blackness, and a sliver of light from the full moon crept in through some small gaps in the tent.
 

Malik threw an arm across his forehead and suppressed a groan. He didn't want to risk waking Lana, who was sleeping in the other part of the tent. The wall of hanging fabric could as well have been a brick wall.

He let out a sigh. Who was he kidding? Of course, he wanted to wake her. That thought had been driving him wild these past two hours since they'd both agreed to retire to their respective sleeping arrangement. It was a sleeping arrangement designed to torment him, Malik reflected.

He listened carefully, trying to catch the merest hint of the sound of Lana's soft breathing. She was only a few yards away, but she could as well have been a thousand miles away.
 

He knew he'd spoiled any hope of winning her over with his brutish display with the intruder. Not to mention his fumbling performance by the oasis pool. The more he reflected upon that, the more embarrassed he felt. He'd behaved like a desperate youth. There was no other way to describe the way he'd lost complete control of himself.

Malik felt an unwelcome firmness in his middle as he recalled the feel of Lana's body beneath him. Unbearably sweet. As sweet as the taste of her lips, as delicious as the feel of her flesh in his hands, as tender as the crushing pressure of her breasts against his chest, her hardened nipples pressing into his flesh.

Malik breathed out a quivering, quiet gasp. His nervous system was alive with the memory of Lana, still vibrating with the unfulfilled need.

Malik's jaw tightened, and he almost cursed the stranger who had ruined everything.
 

Almost.

Because, the more he reflected upon the whole episode, the more Malik thought that the stranger's interruption may have proved to be ultimately fortuitous. It had given Malik a chance to remind himself of the real reason why he was here in this place. It wasn't only to try to win Lana's approval. It was also the chance for Malik to rediscover his true role, his own fate, and destiny.
 

Confronting the stranger had given Malik the chance to show to himself, and to Lana, that Malik had something buried within his soul that he thought had been lost forever.

His sense of his true identity. Not the shameful playboy addicted to a life of superficial privilege.

No.

Malik had been reminded, in no uncertain terms, that he had come to this place to unearth his real identity. And that had been made clear to him in a powerful moment that had taken him by surprise.
 

In the stranger's reaction to him, Malik had seen the power of tradition, the true value of the past.

Also, in Lana's reaction to Malik, he'd seen the possibility of the future. But, only if he was strong enough to seize that identity for himself. Only if he was courageous enough to realize that throwing that destiny away would be the biggest waste of all.

And Lana was the key to that future. She was what was driving him toward his destiny, and he knew he could not, must not, sacrifice that for anything.

The tent shook in response to the soft movement of the desert wind. Malik heard the tent's fabric shiver with a sonorous murmur. It was as if this place was whispering to him, cajoling Malik to obey, to submit to his fate. And that fate was intimately entwined with Lana.

Malik drew in a deep breath at the mere thought of being entwined with Lana. It was a delicious prospect, one that he hardly bare think about for more than a second.

Then he heard a sharp sound from beyond the partition that separated him from Lana. It was the sound of her voice, a sharp, startled yell, that was quickly cut off.

Malik leaped up, tossing the blanket onto the carpet. He raced across to the hanging partition and grasped the edge of it in his hand. He thrust it to one side. The small space was darker than the main body of the tent, but even so, his eyes could still make out the shape of the bed, Lana's shifting figure as she started to reach out toward the small bedside table. There was a click and the tiny electric lamp switched on, casting a soft light inside the space.
 

Lana gazed up at Malik. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes were red, her features soft with sleep, but Malik had never seen anything more beautiful in all his existence. Malik's grip on the fabric of the partition grew so tight his fingers began to ache.

Lana tugged the blanket up around her shoulders. "What is it, Malik?"

"Are you okay?" His voice sounded strangely loud in the confines of her sleeping area.

Lana ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. "I just woke when I heard a sound. I guess I'm not used to sleeping in the desert."

Lana shifted beneath the blanket, and Malik saw the shape of her legs, the fullness of the rest of her body, the bare skin of her arms. Why did she have to look so delectable? Was she trying to torment him? Was she deliberately trying to tease and provoke a reaction they would both come to regret by morning?

Malik's imagination ran to what Lana's naked body would look like, and he felt himself harden in response. He was bare-chested and wore only a pair of white, cotton boxers. Lana's eyes widened imperceptibly as she glanced down at Malik's obvious arousal. He refused to shift, denied himself any kind of false modesty. He didn't care whether she could see him like that. He'd made his feelings for Lana obvious before. There was no need to hide those feelings now, no matter how visible they were.

Malik's gaze met Lana's, and they exchanged a wordless communication that evoked a sudden memory of their earlier encounter. Malik held the partition fabric in his hand. Now was the moment of choice, he realized. If he let go this fabric, let it drop back into place, allowed the barrier between them to go back up, he knew things might never be the same again for him.
 

Or for Lana.

Nothing more needed to be said. She hadn't asked him to leave, and that look in her eyes was igniting a fire that he knew would consume them both.

With one easy gesture, he released the heavy fabric and stepped inside the small space. He felt the barrier drop down behind him, but all he could think about was the woman who lay before him, the woman he had waited an eternity to claim.

****

Lana gazed up at Malik. The tent flap dropped into place behind him. They were alone now, enclosed in this tiny space. She drew in a sharp breath, aghast at the sheer, visible power of the man who stood before her. The bronzed skin of his torso shone in the soft light; the dark hair across his chest called out for her to reach her fingers into the thick mass; the muscles on his arms and shoulders were a corded bulk, sculpted by the light.

Malik's white boxer shorts couldn't hide the desire that was contained within them. She saw him draw in a deep breath, his chest expanding as it filled. His eyes caught the light of the lamp. They were dangerous dark pools that dragged her down into the depths of his soul, searching her, transfixing her to the bed. Her muscles were immobile in the face of such power, such raw desire.

Malik reached both hands down and hooked his thumbs inside his shorts. With an easy, slow bending motion, he slid the shorts down and off, revealing the true extent of his desire for her. Lana gasped when she saw the truth and promise exposed there.

Malik stepped forward slowly and eased one bare knee onto the bed. He grasped the edge of the blanket. She could sense the impatience in him as he slowly shifted the blanket away from her body. His ravenous gaze was locked upon her. Every subtle movement of his glorious body was mesmerizing.
 

The blanket slid to the floor, and Malik ran his gaze along the entire length of Lana's body. She wore only a thin, cotton, almost transparent nightdress. His gaze ran along the length of her bare legs.
 

She wasn't surprised by Malik's reaction to the sight of her body encased in almost see-through cotton. His nostrils flared, and his mouth opened, full lips moistened by his eager, appreciative tongue.

In spite of herself, Lana felt a tightness take possession of her body. It was immediately dispelled by the touch of Malik's hand upon her naked leg. Lana shivered as she felt his rough fingers trace a delicate line up the inside of her leg. She saw his gaze consume the sight of her flesh, eyes that were like those of a hungry animal.

Sensation swept through Lana's body. Still, they hadn't spoken a word to each other since his entrance into her room. The falling of the partition had triggered a wave of silent desire, one that needed no words. They were content to drink in the sight of each other, savor the touch of their flesh. Words had no place.

Malik eased his body up the length of the bed, resting himself by her side. Their mutual gaze was like a fiery, defiant dance. It was as if they were hypnotized by each other, locked together by a spell that neither of them wanted broken.

Malik's body was a warm, heavy presence, suddenly welcome. He wrapped an arm around her and drew her slowly to him. The thought of resistance was a vague, easily crushed notion. Lana moved against Malik, feeling the heat of his body, like a fire that promised delicious destruction.

Lana's heart was thudding faster now, her blood coursing through her veins at unnatural speed. Her breathing had coarsened, becoming a harsh, staccato pulse, difficult to control.

Malik's gaze was filled with tender torment, his expression filled with unnerving intent. She knew what was about to happen and wanted it with every fiber of her being.
 

Lana felt his hardness press against her as he drew her nearer to him, his nakedness a sudden contrast with the layer of her own dress. He seemed to sense her thought. He reached down and peeled the gown away from her, untying the bow that held her dress in place. She saw his eyes widen at the sight of her sudden nakedness, heard his breathing sharpen. He swallowed as he drew the fabric away from her body and she helped him, until, at last, she was utterly naked next to him.

It seemed that the final revelation of her beauty triggered something deep within him, because within a moment his lips crashed down upon hers, and his body shifted, claiming possession of her, making any movement deliciously impossible. She let herself go, allowing the wave of ecstasy to consume her. A tidal wave of pleasure swept her away as she felt the sheer strength of him take hold of her entire being.