The Sheik Retold(34)

"He treats everyone like dogs," I complained to him. "Are you not afraid that one day they will rise up and murder him?"

Gaston shook his head. "You do not comprehend these people, madam. Such harshness is required to maintain their loyalty and respect."

It is true that I did not and could not comprehend their ways.

***

It seemed my sheik was highly occupied with tribal affairs that took him from the camp for hours at a time. In the last days there had been a constant coming and going amongst his followers—messengers arriving on exhausted horses at all hours of the day and night, and the sheik himself had seemed unusually preoccupied. Upon one or two occasions he had stayed away for the entire night, returning at daybreak with all the evidences of hard riding. He had not condescended to give any reason for the special activity of his people, and I had not asked him.

There was, however, at least some improvement to my dreary existence during this period. He had begun to allow me the freedom of the camp—albeit always under Gaston's watchful surveillance. He also provided me with a horse, a beautiful grey called Silver Star, to help alleviate my ennui. Whenever the sheik was in the encampment, he and I rode together in the morning, and although he rarely spoke on these occasions, I still greatly enjoyed the intervals that let me forget, at least while on my horse's back, that I was his captive.

A week went by during which I rarely encountered him outside our rides, but even when I did, he appeared to keep himself at an even greater distance than before. There were a few short spells where he let down his guard, when we lay together on the divan and he held me close, looking deeply into my eyes and holding them as only he could. His was a mesmerism I could never resist. In these passing moments it was difficult to remember that I must make a show of reluctance when I longed to give myself unreservedly, but then he would suddenly remember himself, and a curtain would drop, all tenderness replaced with his old, mocking cynicism.

At first I was perplexed but then I realized it was not me—he tested himself.

My sheik stayed away from me that night and the next, but I knew he really only tortured himself. The more distance he maintained from me, the more taxing it would become, until he would only want me all the more. In the end, the iron self-restraint and supreme control he exercised over himself could, and would, snap.

The next evening was the hardest. Gaston had come and gone for the last time, and I was once more alone with my sheik. Although it had become a trial for me to anticipate his moods and make myself subservient to his temper, I had nevertheless determined to maintain the same air of aloofness as he did for as long as needed.

I wandered the room, fingering knick-knacks and slanting covert gazes at him from beneath my lashes while he reclined and smoked, his restless eyes never leaving me. The air between us had grown heavy to the point of stifling with suppressed sexual desire, until it seemed ridiculous to me to deny what we both so greatly desired— the pleasure we both craved.

It had already been several days since our night of unbridled passion. He looked edgy and tense, and I strongly suspected that I could break him quite as easily as he had once broken me. But I would not go to him. No, I must compel him to come to me.

I considered precisely what this meant and decided it was all merely a matter of approach, of choosing the right tactic. A moment later, the bear skin caught my eye. I smiled and stretched myself out full length upon it, thinking that oftimes the most the direct method is also the most effective. With one hand beneath my head, I reclined with a soft sigh that I knew would get his attention.

I was right. Although he didn't move, his gaze had transfixed upon me.

I was wearing my only other gown this evening, a soft and loosely fitted blush-colored crepe de Chine with a plunging neckline. Although pearls would have better suited it, I wore the jade necklace he had given me. It was a small concession on my part that I thought might please him.

I turned onto my right side, facing him in a position that exposed more of my feminine flesh to his gaze. At first I merely fingered the necklace at my throat, but then I slid my hand lower to my breast and idly caressed the exposed skin. His body stiffed. I could barely even see him breathe.

I licked my lips and slid the gown free of one shoulder. It was a brazen move that sent a heated flush not only to my face, but throughout my body. I was rapidly becoming aroused by my own attempt at seduction, which made me more than ever determined to persevere…to prevail. My left shoulder and breast were completely exposed. I cupped it, squeezed it, and then toyed with my nipple until it became painfully erect.

"Take it off," he said, low and husky.

I smiled in smug satisfaction and sat up, determined to make a slow torture of it. Never taking my eyes from his, I leisurely peeled the gown away from both shoulders. Once released, the billowy fabric slipped to my waist. I didn't wait for his next command but threw my head back and arched my spine, a position that thrust my breasts forward and displayed them to best advantage, before taking both soft mounds in my hands.

He groaned, and my gaze darted to his crotch. My efforts were not in vain. The loose folds of his Turkish trousers were tented. But my vanity died an agonizing death when he released his erection and took himself in hand.

No, I had not anticipated that move at all, and it displeased me excessively. I still would not go to him, and he would not come to me. It was another test of wills, a challenge to see which of us would break first.