Pride and Audacity — Part 11

“He was the last man on earth she wanted, but she was the only woman on earth he’d have…From the skyscrapers of New York City to the ancient sands of Ahalamin, two untamed hearts war for supremacy…”

Califar gawked at Ahalamin’s royal princess while she engaged in the worst temper tantrum he’d ever witnessed. Oily slime dripped from her nose and chin as verbal threats promising diabolical forms of torture spewed from her mouth.

Rashid approached them, limping pitiably.

Gesturing toward Victoria, he questioned Rashid. “Does this belong to you, my Lord? Perhaps you require some assistance?” Califar knew his head was in jeopardy but he couldn’t mask the amusement in his voice. He watched Rashid scoop up his wife in silent ruthlessness and then give him a look that would do credit to an executioner.

Ahalamin’s Princess fought her husband like a newly caged tiger. Califar admired her courage. He knew strong, hardened men who wouldn’t dare to provoke Rashid’s temper. However, his new Princess didn’t seem to know she should be afraid.

She turned her head and stared at him. Her accusing glare singed his conscience. “I don’t belong to anyone!” she shouted at him. “I demand you make this fool release me. Don’t just stand there…do something!”

“Do you wish to release the Princess, my Lord?” Califar asked with just a hint of impertinence. “She does not seem much taken with you at the moment.”

Rashid snarled an unintelligible reply and tossed Victoria through the air.

Califar scrambled to make the catch, nearly dropping her in the shock of the moment. To lay one’s hands on another man’s wife, especially a royal wife was unlawful, unthinkable.

Rashid snapped a reply through bared teeth. “She is in need of a protector. If you do not remove her from my sight, I will administer the punishment she deserves.”

“My Lord…?”

“Please, just do as I ask. For her safety, secure her in my compartment.”

Califar had seen Rashid angry before but never had he seen his control reduced to mere threads. He nodded in understanding.

The startling flight from the arms of one captor to another dumbfounded Victoria. Exhausted, mentally, and physically, she barely noticed when Califar stood her on her feet at the bottom of the loading ramp and led her onto the waiting plane.

“Princess, I believe you will find everything you need to refresh yourself in the adjoining compartment.”

His composed manner, reassuring and calm, impelled her along and she followed him through the lounge and into a private compartment.

“The telephone on the side table connects to the seating area we just passed through. You may communicate any additional services you require.”

This man was not as overbearing or threatening as Rashid. Perhaps he would listen to her. “Who are you? Why are you helping him? Don’t you understand? I don’t belong here, or to him? If you really want to be of service, get me away from him.”

“Excuse me, Princess. I should have introduced myself at once. I am Califar Kadin, Prince Davar’s First Regent, and loyal servant. As to where you belong…this is for your husband to decide.”

“But he’s not my husband. I mean, I didn’t agree to this.” She shook her head vehemently.

“Please take the time to refresh yourself and rest. Prince Davar will be here soon to calm your doubts.”

Victoria stared in dismay as Califar bowed and backed through the door. Dizzy and weak, she scanned the room for somewhere to sit. A massive round bed dominated the small area, its black satin coverlet mounded with pillows of red, gold, and ivory. Electric candle sconces lit up the mirrored walls.

The woman in the mirror posed a ghastly sight. The oversized robe hung askew, dragging the floor on one side and giving her the appearance of a war-weary refugee. Something else reflected in the mirror. Draped across the edge of the bed was an emerald, diaphanous nightgown. Surely there was no equal to its exquisite beauty.

A heated blush crept up her cheeks at the dawning realization the gown was intended for her. The man possessed an unlimited supply of unmitigated gall. The only way he would see her in the sensual creation was if he buried her in it. Flooded with a renewed contempt for his pigheaded arrogance, she decided to confront him face to face. She’d walked onto this plane on her own two feet and she could walk off the same way.

Stalking back to the door, she grabbed the handle and yanked. Nothing happened. She pulled harder, twisting the knob in both directions. The door under her hands took on the character of her abductor; she assaulted it with her fists. To hold back the compulsion to plead, she shouted murder and mayhem instead.

Rashid cursed himself, the stubborn she-camel in his sleeping quarters, and everything else connected to his wedding day. How could one pocket-sized woman do what no man had dared? In the matter of a few hours, she’d insulted, humiliated, defied, and attacked him. Instead of relaxing in quiet luxury with his bride, he was walking a dirty, stinking tarmac in the middle of the night.

Both hands reached to massage the corded muscles in his neck. Squeezing his eyes shut, he summoned the rigid discipline he valued. Control and direction were principles taught by his father. Self-discipline and strength-of-will were lessons he’d learned by necessity at the age of fifteen when he’d become the ruler of Ahalamin. He would not allow this woman to disturb his balance again. With his mind resolved, tense muscles began to quiver and release.

The rest of this night would go according to plan — his plan. His powerful gait took him toward the waiting aircraft where he found Califar and his two bodyguards loitering at the bottom of the stairway.

“Why are you not inside? Is the pilot not ready to leave?”

With a wry expression, Califar answered. “My lord, there is a small problem in the cabin. The noise level is…perhaps you would like to hear for yourself?”

Rashid took the stairs two at a time. Identifying the source of the problem didn’t take long. The verbal tirade echoing through the lounge came from his private compartment at the rear of the plane.

“Let me out of here! I’m an American citizen and this is kidnapping. I’ll have you all arrested and executed for this! I’m warning you, Califar. You tell that unscrupulous, deceitful, desert creep to get back here and let me go!”

Rashid took a step forward and then paused. The sudden cessation of verbal ranting was more unnerving than the previous clamor. The pregnant silence made the hairs on his arms stand erect. With this woman, he was certain the calm was a precursor to worse atrocities. He hoped he was wrong and she had exhausted her vile temper instead.

The thud of a solid object slamming against the other side of the door ridiculed his supposed control. He yanked off his robe and headdress. Slinging them toward the back of a chair, he barked a command to his two bodyguards. “Give the pilot orders to depart…NOW!”

Both went forward to deliver the message, almost jamming the small doorway in their attempt to pass through at the same time. He didn’t find humor in the speed with which they fled one loud, but very small woman and wondered about the quality of his personal security.

Spearing Califar with a glacial look, he motioned him forward. “You will ignore any sound you hear from the other side of that door. Understood?”

“May I speak frankly?”

Rashid stiffened. “If you must.”

“This woman you’ve made your wife is a stranger to you and to our customs. These are extreme circumstances for her. Despite her less than respectful manner, she is still deserving of the gentle persuasion you always accord the women in your life.”

“Are you telling me how to treat my wife?” Rashid lashed in reply.

“As your servant — never,” replied Califar. “As your friend, however, I offer a reminder. Guard well your actions this night and remember with what care you have always protected what is yours.”

“I will deal with the princess in whatever manner suits me,” Rashid said, his tone cold and exact.

“As you say,” Califar tipped his head in deferential acceptance and changed the subject of conversation. “Do you wish to proceed directly to the palace upon our arrival?”

“No! Call ahead. Set up camp at the Oasis of the Moon. Invite the tribesmen of Toraq and Baltazar to join us. We still have unfinished business to settle.”

“And the Princess?” asked Califar.

Rashid narrowed his eyes and stared at his hands as he clenched his fists. “The Princess will most definitely accompany me.”

“I will make the preparations as you ask.”

“Most definitely,” Rashid muttered with a brooding frown. His willful wife would learn what generations of women in his country had always known. A woman needed the protection and leadership of a man whether she lived in a Bedouin tent, a New York penthouse, or the Royal Palace of Ahalamin.

A movement under his feet signaled that his pilot had begun his approach to the runway. The rising level of his wife’s voice as she renewed her threats indicated her awareness as well. If she did not cease soon she was going to make herself sick.

Striding forward, he unlocked the door, swung it open, and then slammed it shut behind him. “Silence!”

His startled wife lept backward and stood motionless. Rashid surveyed his surroundings. Anything not bolted down had been used as a battering ram. The inner panel of the door, damaged beyond repair, would require a complete replacement.

His wife looked no better. Head to foot, she was covered in dirt and oil. Her robe lay in a heap by his feet. The wet, transparent fabric covering her legs clung revealingly. Her headpiece sat askew and the tapering veils hung heavily to one side.

She should have been repulsive, but in fact, no woman had ever been more provocative. The brown streaks on her cheeks accentuated their ivory perfection. Her moist lashes framed eyes weary from struggling against the inevitable. He wanted to lay her down, to caress away the fatigue, kiss away the fear, and awaken her desire. His frustration and anger, now partnered with the heat of sexual arousal, left him stunned and powerless in its grip.

He craved two things. He wanted her…and, he wanted her willing. His head reared back as a groan of pure frustration forced its way up to his throat. He could sooner shift the desert sands than induce a willing response from the little she-devil in front of him.

He allowed his gaze to take possession of the pale beauty spitting daggers at him with her eyes. He could take what was his, but the taking would not be nearly enough. He wanted more…much more. He wanted her to know the helpless, agonizing hunger tormenting him. He wanted to dominate her every thought, as she did his. The conquest would test the limits of his control, but he would have this woman on his terms.

He lifted the corner of his mouth in a confident smile as he watched his wife wrap her arms around her upper body. Glaring at him with the light of battle in her eyes, she waited for his next move.

Victoria had believed in the deepest part of her soul that Rashid would let her go. After all, weren’t damsels-in-distress always rescued? Not all damsels apparently. Her airborne prison was gaining altitude, and she was losing her freedom with each ascending foot.

Rashid’s presence dominated the small compartment. The firm set of his jaw, despite his smile, abolished any hope of reprieve. The room sizzled with his energy. How was she supposed to defend herself?

“You are in need of a bath, Princess.”

The unexpected comment shocked her as if he’d slung a glass of ice water in her face. She darted her eyes toward the door.

“The door is not locked. I have no need for such assistance. We are several thousand feet over a very deep and cold ocean. There is no place to run and no one who will assist you.”

She threw up her hands in disgust and put as much contempt into her voice as possible. “You may have me at a disadvantage. But that doesn’t mean I have to stay in this space and breathe the same air as you.”

“We have a language problem, Princess. Let me make myself clear.” His mouth thinned in displeasure. “You will do as I ask in this matter. And if you step one inch outside this room before I give you permission, you will definitely not like the consequences.”

Victoria itemized those possible consequences as Rashid walked past her into what she supposed was a bath and dressing area. She heard the sound of running water and an inescapable voice.

“Victoria, come in here please.”

Every item on her list suddenly seemed preferable to surrender. She opted for the unknown and inched in the opposite direction. No way was she going to take a bath with the most unpredictable man ever acting as her personal attendant.

A prickling sensation crawled up the back of her neck and goosebumps roughened the landscape of her arms. Turning to check behind her was a mistake. He stood, arms crossed, nonchalantly leaning against the arched doorway of the bath area. She had seen that detestable pose before. He waited for her to make the unforgivable error of thwarting his orders so he could enforce his hateful dominance.

“One more thing, Princess, I never lie to a woman.”

Foot tapping, hands on her hips, she took up the challenge. “I don’t want a bath, and I don’t like being threatened either. I’m not a child you can scold and punish at will.”

“Then don’t act like one. Only a child would scorn a necessary bath.”

“Why don’t you find a parachute and take a flying leap. Better yet, forget the parachute,” she said through a deceptively sweet and mocking smile.

He advanced on her. “I’m getting very tired of your viperous tongue. As your husband, you will speak to me with civility and respect. This I demand and will have from you.”

The black fire leaping from his eyes singed the edge of her courage. Only a breath of distance separated her from the explosive temper heightening the color in his face. His accent deepened as did his voice.

“You believe me to be uncivilized, beneath your contempt. A desert creep were your exact words.” He lifted his head and, aiming his next words down his autocratic nose, issued an imperial command. “This term is unacceptable. Never dare to use it again. Be warned, Princess. You have no idea of the savagery you can provoke.”

Victoria cringed at the word savagery. Surely he’s just trying to frighten me into submission, though everything about his unyielding body and aggressive tone said otherwise. Her whole life had been spent contending with men who relied on their supposed superior intelligence and unquestionable authority. She was sick of them, most especially the oversized dragon threatening her with his fiery retribution.

Casting caution to the wind, she hurled an impressive set of threats of her own but, before the last juicy morsel left her mouth, Rashid jerked her toward him. He filled his hands with the two sides of the top of her skimpy, pink costume.

“You will not utter another word or I will remove these filthy clothes and put you in the bath myself,” he said harshly, shaking her for emphasis.

Victoria let out an ear-piercing scream and kicked out with her right foot. Agonizing pain shot up toward her knee as she connected with some part of his anatomy.

Cold metal slid along her back as he released his hold on her top and lifted her against the door with ease, using the full length of his body to pin her in place. Every shaking part of her was wedged between the solid door and his hard, body. She wanted to scream but there was no air in her lungs.

His mouth swooped down to crush the softness of hers. She clamped her lips tight. He pulled back and stared down at her with a mocking smirk, then, pushing her chin up, lowered his mouth to hers. The sharp edge of his teeth stung as he tugged on her mutinous bottom lip. Scandalized outrage nearly choked her as he invaded her mouth.

She locked her fingers in his hair, pulling without concern for the pain inflicted, fighting to pry his mouth from hers. His response was immediate and lethal. Lifting her higher, he parted her legs with his muscular thighs, then let her body weight rest on them, effectively immobilizing her and freeing his own hands. He pried her fingers from his hair and captured both her hands in one of his, lifting them and pinning them over her head. Filling his other hand with her hair, he tugged until she was forced to tilt her head and give him unrestricted access. Like an ancient explorer, he examined every inch of new territory and marked it as his.

Terrified of the savage lust she’d triggered, Victoria whimpered like a child. She stopped struggling, realizing on some level that she was fueling his determination to overcome her resistance. Humiliating, traitorous tears slid down her cheeks.

She hated him. But she hated herself more. With his masculinity, he’d destroyed her confidence, torn through her defenses until reaching a core of sensuality so alien it terrified her. Why now, in this vortex of emotion, did she want to surrender?

A frightful, soul-searching need surfaced, bringing with it a flood of confusing questions. She wanted to know. Could she gentle him with a willing response? The clawing need ripped through her heart, exposing and hurting in ways she didn’t understand. Uncertainty and misery defeated her.

To be continued…

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