with made her gasp, close her eyes, and scream with delight as they careered, bounced, slid down the sand dune so fast that she would have been thrown from their precarious chariot, had not Christopher held her so tightly. Somehow, she had no idea how, he kept them both secure, until the very end, when the salver hit a bump and they parted company with their mode of transport. They rolled together, landing in a tangled heap of limbs, covered in sand, breathless, laughing.
‘Are you in one piece?’
Tahira had landed on top of Christopher. She had lost her scarf. Her hair was filled with sand. Her lungs were bereft of air. ‘Yes.’ She tried to push her hair from her eyes, wobbled, and caught herself, bracing a leg on either side of him. She felt the sharp exhale of his breath. Beneath her, between her legs, the part that was the essence of his manhood stirred. She knew this, from Juwan’s whispered explanations when first Tahira had been betrothed, but she had not anticipated the responding stirring inside her. When he made to lift her away, she resisted, placing her hands on the sand, either side of his shoulders, and seeking his mouth.
He groaned as their lips met. This time their kiss was fierce. Passion, Tahira thought incoherently, as she surrendered to her instincts, moulding her body to his, relishing her shivering response to the hard length of him pressed insistently against her, to the hardening of her nipples, to the thrust of his tongue, and the sweep of his hands, over her back, her bottom, brushing the contours of her breasts.
He rolled her on to her back. Their kisses became urgent. She was dizzy with them, aflame with them, craving more and yet more, urging him on with strange little cries, pressing herself against him. When his hand enveloped her breast she cried out. Such sweet, shocking pleasure. When he broke the kiss she moaned in protest, but then his mouth claimed her nipple through the silk of her clothing, and heat flooded her.
Exquisite. The word was made for what he was doing to her with his mouth and his hands, sparking stars behind her closed lids, sending a trail of sensation from her breasts to her belly to the tension building in that most intimate of places. She had the oddest sensation, of soaring and falling at the same time.
And then it stopped. Christopher sat up. ‘I can say in all honesty I have never ended a sled ride in that manner before.’ He got to his feet, helping her up, brushing the sand from her hair and her clothes. ‘But I think we have had more than enough excitement for one night, don’t you think?’
She was still lost in their kiss, staring blankly at him. Enough? She wanted more.
But Christopher was looking anxiously up at the sky. ‘It’s later than I thought, time you were on your way home. May I accompany you, at least as far as the mine?’
Jolted out of her passionate haze, Tahira looked up. ‘It is late. Early. No, I can find my way easily enough, thank you. And thank you again for tonight.’ She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘I don’t think a magic carpet ride would have been nearly as wonderful.’
‘Probably a lot safer,’ he said drily. ‘Tahira...’
‘There is no need to reassure me every time we kiss. I trust you, and you’ve just proved once more that I can do so,’ she said, blushing. ‘Whatever dreadful thing your friend did...’
‘What friend?’
‘Or acquaintance. The man who you said took unacceptable liberties. I assumed...’
‘The man I referred to was neither friend nor acquaintance,’ Christopher said curtly.
‘Then who...?’
‘His name will mean nothing to you. The lesson he taught me means everything to me. I know, Tahira, better than most, how painful the consequences are, how fatal. It is not only my sense of honour which ensures I will never, ever take such vile advantage,’ Christopher said fervently, ‘it is my sense of myself. I will never be such a man.’
And you will certainly never reveal who this other man is, or what he is to you, she thought, intimidated by his vehemence, her shock at the implications tempered by annoyance, for she had inadvertently spoilt the moment. ‘You’re right,’ Tahira said, ‘it’s long past time for me to head back.’
* * *
Christopher watched until Tahira’s camel was out of sight before turning back to his dwelling. He did not like to leave her to ride across the desert at night, despite the fact that she had been doing so unharmed for—how long? She had not said, though she had implied it was some years. She hadn’t told him how, exactly, she escaped the confines of her home either. Through a window? A cellar? Did she sleep in a room of her own? He must assume so, for she was adamant that her sisters knew nothing of her escapades. Did her sand cat escape by the same means? And her camel—did she borrow it from the family stable?
Frowning as he went through his nightly security checks, he realised that despite her claim to have told him a great deal about her family, there were some very basic facts of which he was entirely ignorant. The names of her sisters, for example? And the brother and his wife—again, no names. He grimaced wryly. A case of the pot calling the kettle black.
Carefully stamping out the embers of the fire, he retired to his cottage, braced a length of wood under the latch to serve as a lock, and pulled his meagre bedding out of the cupboard. It would be an easy enough task to discreetly follow her home. Easy enough from there, with his skills as an undercover agent acquired over the last six months, to uncover her history, identify her family. But what purpose would it serve, save to satisfy his curiosity at the cost of his integrity? There were more than enough lies and subterfuges in his life without polluting this one, delightful and honest aspect of it. He should try to reconcile himself to the old adage that ignorance was bliss.
Quickly disrobing, he lay down on the rough mattress, pulled the sheet over him and closed his eyes. Desire had been absent for so long, it was not surprising that it had returned with such unexpected vigour. Tahira’s kisses, Tahira’s touch, Tahira’s soft sighs and sensuous body would go to any man’s head—and every other part of his body. He had been starved of female company, of any company since setting out on this self-imposed quest of his, it was no wonder that he found her so very, very alluring. To have met her at the turquoise mine too, the place which he hoped, dreamed, believed would prove to be the turning point in his long journey—it was natural that should add to her appeal. She was an omen of his imminent new beginning. She was his escape from reality.
But she could never be his lover in the true sense. Was he playing with fire? The answer was an unequivocal no. There were some components of his foul heritage which could not be denied. He had only to look in the mirror to prove that—something he avoided doing. Physical traits, yes, but to his dying day, he would deny any link of character. The very thought of proving himself in any way like that man—no, never. Never! The shame would cripple him for the rest of his life, and that was nothing compared to the costs to the innocent.
Damage limitation. Recalling the callous tone in which the words had been uttered made Christopher shudder with distaste. Two lives, dismissed in two words. There was no question of Christopher ever taking such a risk. No risk of him ever crossing that line. Absolutely none.
But that line was a long distance away. He shifted on the mattress, putting his hands behind his head, staring up at the stars through the holes in the cobwebbed roof. He could not make proper love to Tahira, but there were other pleasures they could share without risk. He would like to see her in the daylight. He’d like to see the sunlight rather than the moonlight dappling her skin, to see whether those big beguiling almond-shaped eyes were the darker brown or lighter, whether those luscious lips were truly cherry red, or dark pink. That was no more possible
