The Pleasure of Your Kiss Page 9

  The banquet was being held on the top floor of one of the square towers that crowned each corner of the palace. Instead of being confined to a table and chairs, the sultan and a dozen guests, all of them men, reclined on plush nests of tasseled pillows and satin-covered bolsters in brilliant shades of emerald, sapphire, and vermilion. Low-slung benches laden with food had been arranged in a rectangle in front of them, leaving ample room for the dancing girls to use the open area in the middle of the rectangle as an impromptu stage.

  Broad windows flanked each wall of the spacious chamber. Their wooden shutters had been thrown open to welcome in a balmy breeze redolent with night-blooming jasmine to mingle with the enticing aromas wafting from the platters and bowls being delivered by a steady parade of servants.

  True to his word, Farouk was making every effort to tempt his guests’ palates with all of the exotic delicacies at his disposal. The benches were crowded with bunches of plump grapes and platters of fresh figs and dried dates glazed with sugar. Clay bowls brimming with stewed lamb and mutton swimming in a golden sea of olive oil sat next to heaping mounds of couscous richly spiced with turmeric and cumin and steaming loaves of khobz—the flat, round bread Moroccans used in lieu of a fork or spoon.

  Of all the delicacies on display that evening, none were more exotic or tempting than the dark-eyed beauties shimmying and twirling to the soaring song of the flute and the throbbing beat of the drums. Ash absently brought his goblet to his lips as he studied the sinuous sway of one dancer’s hips, hypnotized against his will by the suggestive motion.

  The dancer’s skirt—if one could call it that—was precariously balanced on the graceful flare of her hip bones, giving the impression that one wrong move might send it shimmying to the floor. A high slit in the fabric exposed a flash of long, tanned leg every time she twirled. A narrow string of rubies rode low on her slender waist, matching the larger gem nestled in the tantalizing dip of her navel.

  Her skintight bodice covered little more than the ripe globes of her breasts. Even those were allowed to spill over the top, as if just awaiting the casual brush of a man’s hands to break completely free from their moorings. Ash took another sip of the wine, thinking wryly that most Englishmen wouldn’t see that much naked flesh in the entire course of their marriage.

  She danced closer to him, deliberately bringing herself within arm’s reach. Her nose and mouth might be veiled, but the invitation in her sultry, dark eyes was as unmistakable as the rhythmic thrust of her hips.

  Her boldness only served to remind him that he had strayed into a world of masculine privilege even greater than the one he had left behind in England all those years ago. Here a man’s word literally was law, and women were considered little more than pretty playthings to be used and then discarded when a man’s attention wandered to a more enticing pleasure.

  Unfortunately for him, that more enticing pleasure appeared in the doorway just as the dancing girl twined one hand through his hair and leaned down to bring her veiled lips to within a heady wine-scented breath of his own.

  The flute crested on a shrill note. The drumbeat swelled to a thundering crescendo, then crashed into silence, allowing Clarinda’s dulcet tones to ring through the room like a bell. “Why, Captain Burke! I’m so glad to see you taking full advantage of the sultan’s gracious hospitality!”

  Chapter Six

  Clarinda stood in the doorway of the tower, looking less like a captive than a haughty young queen perfectly capable of ruling the heart of every man in the room, if not the kingdom. She wore a fitted bodice accented with glittering beads and flowing skirts in vivid shades of emerald and sapphire. Her garments were far more modest than the snippets of silk the dancing girls were wearing, yet somehow the illusion of uncharted territory only added to her mystique.

  Her hair had been left loose to flow over her shoulders, its only adornment the thin circlet of beaten gold crowning her brow. A teardrop of an emerald a shade darker than her eyes nestled between the gentle swell of her breasts, dangling from a gold chain nearly as thick as her pinkie. Her very skin seemed to glow as if it had been massaged by countless hands whose sole purpose was to enhance its radiance. Ash found it only too easy to imagine his own hands gliding over her satiny skin, stroking oil of myrrh or sandalwood over every enticing inch of her.

  He shifted, grateful Farouk had been kind enough to outfit him and Luca in native robes for the evening. Had he been wearing the skintight riding breeches they’d arrived in, it would have been impossible to hide the fact that Clarinda still stirred him in a way no anonymous dancing girl could ever hope to do.

  Sensing the abrupt shift in his attentions, the girl who had been about to dance herself right into his lap straightened, resentment written in every line of her posture. As she backed away from him, Ash didn’t have to see the pout beneath her veil to know it was there.

  It seemed he had fallen out of favor with more than one woman in the room. Despite the sweetness of Clarinda’s smile, her eyes held a murderous glitter Ash recognized only too well. “I do hope you gentlemen will forgive me. It was not my intent to interrupt the festivities before they reached their”—she batted her eyelashes innocently at him—“climax.”

  Farouk patted the tasseled cushion next to him, his adoring grin confirming he would be only too happy to indulge her every wish—including presenting her with Ash’s head on a platter should she request it. “There is no need for apologies from lips as lovely as yours, my pet. Not when my heart seeks only to celebrate the radiance of your beauty.”

  It was all Ash could do not to roll his eyes. The devil’s tongue held more silver than his treasury.

  Farouk clapped his hands briskly to dismiss both the musicians and the dancing girls. They silently paraded from the room, leaving a crestfallen Luca to seek solace in a fresh goblet of wine.

  As Clarinda made her way to Farouk’s side, Ash almost rose to his feet out of long habit before remembering such courtesies were not afforded women here. He was forced to content himself with a wary nod, which she did not return.

  She sank onto the cushion next to Farouk’s, curling her shapely legs beneath her like an agile little cat. Only then did Ash notice the thick cuff of pearls encircling her slender ankle. Another priceless gift from the sultan, no doubt, but one designed as a clear sign of possession. Farouk might as well have fastened a collar around her throat and attached it to himself with an iron chain.

  Ash stabbed an ivory-handled knife into a slice of honey-drizzled pear and brought it to his lips. He was still doing his damnedest not to think about Clarinda being forced to share the sultan’s bed. If he did, he was afraid he might lunge across the bowl of raisins drifting in a cloud of cream sitting in front of him and plunge the knife into his host’s throat.

  “So, Burke,” the sultan said, helping himself to a ripe fig with one hand while he absently stroked Clarinda’s nape with the other, “you have traveled a great distance to reach our shores. Perhaps the time has come for you to tell us what brings you to our magnificent land.”

  Before Ash could reply, Clarinda snared a plump grape and popped it between her lips, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’d best guard your treasures well, Your Majesty. From what I hear, Captain Burke is a notorious thief.”

  Ash narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she hoped to gain by deliberately casting suspicion on them. But then he realized that if Farouk believed they were trolling for gold and silver to fatten their purses, he might not suspect they’d come for a different sort of treasure altogether.

  Clever girl.

  “I’m not going to deny that I have been known to dabble in antiquities,” he confessed.

  “Someone else’s antiquities, as it were,” Clarinda added, making him wonder if she was trying to help him after all or get him hauled out of the room by Farouk’s guards and tossed in the man’s dungeon.

  “In the past I have been hired to assist in the … um … procurement of valuable objects,” Ash said.
“But I didn’t sneak them away in the dead of night so much as restore them to their rightful owners.”

  Farouk propped an elbow on one knee and leaned forward, looking genuinely intrigued. “What sort of objects are we talking about?”

  Ash shrugged. “Artifacts. Ancient idols. Rare gemstones. When I heard this region was rich in such items, I thought it would do no harm to explore my opportunities.”

  “It has been my experience,” Farouk said, “that a treasure is only worth what a man is willing to pay for it.”

  “Exactly,” Ash agreed. “Which is why I choose my undertakings with such care. If a man is too greedy, the cost to himself may very well exceed any reward he hopes to obtain.” Against his better judgment, he allowed his gaze to linger briefly on Clarinda. “Only rarely does a man stumble across a treasure so valuable it is beyond price.”

  “If a man is foolish enough to lose such a treasure, then perhaps he was not deserving of it in the first place,” Farouk said.

  As Ash watched the man’s sun-bronzed fingers lay claim to the delicate curve of Clarinda’s collarbone, he pried his fingers from the hilt of his knife and gently set the utensil aside. “I fear you may be right.”

  Shooting Ash a deliberately flirtatious glance, Clarinda ducked out from beneath Farouk’s possessive caress in the guise of reaching for a bowl of dates. “If Captain Burke has yet to find this elusive treasure he is seeking, Your Majesty, then you should definitely keep your own coffers under lock and key.”

  “If not for Burke’s boldness and bravery, I would not be here tonight,” Farouk declared, spreading his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “If he desires something that belongs to me, he has only to ask and it will be his!”

  Not daring to look at Clarinda for fear he would reveal his most dangerous desire, Ash hefted his goblet. “All I require on this night is fine wine, rich food, and good company.”

  “Here, here!” Luca echoed, holding out his own goblet so a servant could refill it.

  Visibly pleased by Ash’s response, Farouk clinked goblets with Clarinda before drinking deeply of the unfermented grape nectar within.

  Farouk’s uncle Tarik continued to scowl at Ash, his brow a thundercloud of disapproval. “Just how long do you and your man plan to take advantage of my nephew’s generosity, Captain Burke?”

  “Probably no more than a few days,” Ash said at the exact moment Luca said cheerfully, “Oh, at least a fortnight. Perhaps longer!”

  “Captain Burke is not known for staying in one place for very long,” Clarinda said. “He has the feet of a vagabond, the soul of a wanderer, and the heart of … ” She hesitated, wrinkling her slender nose. “Well, according to the scandal sheets, I’m not sure he has a heart.”

  Ash reclined on one elbow, studying her boldly. “Now that we’ve determined what brought me and my companion to El Jadida, Miss Cardew, I’d love to hear exactly how you came to be the sultan’s honored”—Ash’s tongue caressed the word, imbuing it with a salaciousness it did not deserve—“guest.”

  Farouk returned a protective hand to Clarinda’s shoulder. “You do not have to speak of such matters if it troubles you, my dearest.”

  The sultan’s tender concern immediately made Ash regret his own callousness. He should have known better than to let Clarinda goad him into doing or saying something rash. He might be desperate to find out just what she had suffered since her abduction, but not at the expense of her pride.

  Although her gaze had cooled by several degrees, she waved away Farouk’s concern. “One cannot fault Captain Burke for his curiosity. When he came to this place, I’m sure the last thing he expected to find were two very proper English ladies enjoying the hospitality of a powerful sultan.” She arched a mocking brow at Ash. They both knew that was exactly what he had expected to find.

  “It seems my nephew’s hospitality is much in demand by the English these days,” Tarik interjected. “I suppose if King William came knocking on the door with his entire army in tow, you would throw open the gates and invite him in to pillage your treasury and ravish your women.”

  “Hey! I had no intention of ravishing that girl,” Luca protested. “I’m fairly certain she was on the verge of ravishing me.”

  “That is enough, Uncle,” Farouk thundered. “We are not barbarians here, and I will not tolerate disrespectful treatment of my guests.”

  Tarik surged to his feet, his face darkening. “If your father were still alive, you would be whipped for daring to speak to me with such disrespect!”

  Almost as if he had been waiting for just such an opportunity, the man went storming from the room with his robes snapping and his hawk-nosed friend in tow. The other diners observed the dramatic departure with mild interest before shrugging and going back to their own food and conversations. Apparently, such outbursts from Tarik were not unusual.

  Farouk shook his head with a sigh. “Do not mind my uncle. His feet are still mired in the sands of the past instead of turning toward the future.” He returned his attention to Clarinda as if the ugly incident had never happened. “Do go on, my dear.”

  Clarinda awkwardly cleared her throat before beginning. “Well … Miss Montmorency and I were traveling to India to attend the wedding of a … a dear friend when our ship was set upon by Corsairs. Several members of the crew were cut down in the resulting battle, but we were taken captive and confined to the hold of the pirate vessel for several days while it made its way to the coast. We were told from the beginning it was their intention to auction us off to the highest bidder at the slave market in Algiers. Our maids and the captain’s wife were not so fortunate.”

  Oddly enough, the utter lack of passion in her voice was what told Ash what a wretched fate those poor women must have met. A fate that could just as easily have been hers if the pirates’ greed had not been greater than their lust. Luca looked nearly as horrified as Ash felt.

  “Once we arrived in Algiers,” she continued, “they dragged us to the underground slave market in chains. They stripped us of our gowns, leaving us in nothing but our undergarments.”

  Although his face remained as expressionless as her own, Ash’s chest had grown so tight with anguish and fury he could barely breathe. Even as a little girl, Clarinda had been stiff-necked with pride. He could hardly imagine her in chains, much less fathom the depths of humiliation she must have endured at the hands of the slavers while they tore off her clothes and exposed her to the lascivious eyes of dozens of leering men.

  And there he sat, sipping wine as if watching a play from a plush box at the Theatre Royal and making her relive the degradation of that moment like the son of a bitch he was.

  “Please, Miss Cardew … ” he said gruffly, lifting a hand in the hope of staying her words. “The sultan was right. There’s no need for you to dredge up such painful memories for me or any other man.”

  But Clarinda had never backed down from a challenge in her life, and he could tell by the stubborn glitter in her eyes that she had every intention of finishing what he had started.

  She had suffered. Now it was his turn.

  As she continued, he could see every miserable moment of her ordeal unfolding like a nightmare in his head. “The slaver shoved me up on the block first. When the men began to shout that they wanted to see more of his wares, he ordered me to remove my chemise—which was already little more than a rag by that time—and stand naked before them all. I heard him promise several of the wealthier-looking men that they could come up to the block and examine me more thoroughly after I had stripped. When I refused, he lifted his whip to strike me. That was when Farouk came striding out of the crowd. He jerked the whip from the man’s hand and used it against him. While the man cowered at his feet, Farouk lifted me off the block and wrapped his cloak around me.”

  Ash briefly closed his eyes, wishing savagely that it could have been his hand that whipped the flesh from the slave trader’s back, his arms that comforted a trembling Clarinda. He would have carried her away from t
hat place and tenderly kissed away every tear from her cheek, every mark the chains had left on her delicate flesh.

  When he opened his eyes, it was to regard Farouk with genuine, if reluctant, gratitude. “How very fortunate for Miss Cardew that you were there that day to intervene.”

  Farouk touched a hand to his heart. “I prefer to think of it as the benevolent will of Allah as well as my own good fortune.”

  “Farouk insisted on purchasing me right then and there,” Clarinda said. “The slaver tried to convince him he should take the time to examine my hair, my teeth, all of my other … assets, but Farouk insisted he had seen everything he needed to see.”

  “Even with her hair hanging around her face in filthy tangles and her garments in rags, there was no mistaking the quality of this one.” Farouk tenderly brushed his hand over Clarinda’s head. “You should have seen her defy that miserable dog of a slaver. She was magnificent!”

  As Ash watched Farouk’s fingers sift through the wheaten silk of Clarinda’s hair just as his own fingers were longing to do in that moment, he certainly had no argument for that.

  “At first he was only going to purchase me,” she explained, “but after I pleaded with him, he agreed to take Poppy as well.”

  “A decision I’ve had many opportunities to regret,” Farouk confided, earning a playful swat from Clarinda.

  She sobered as she returned her gaze to Ash. “So as you can see, Captain Burke, I owe the sultan more than just my gratitude. I owe him my life.”

  Ash trusted he was the only one in the room who knew her well enough to spot the desperation in her eyes. Until that moment, he’d tried to forget just how much time they’d once spent communicating through wordless glances. And accidental touches.