The Sheikh Who Claimed Her. Barbara McMahon
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that she was wilful, strong, and courageous in all areas—and that their first encounter had only hinted at the fires beneath. When it came to sex, she had stated her needs in the bluntest of language, and appeared utterly without self-consciousness. She had even tried to take hold of him, and, finding her tiny hand would barely encompass half of him, she had exclaimed with impatience and angled herself hungrily—and this before the last of the exquisite tremors had had a chance to subside after her first bout of pleasure at his hands.
Cupping her chin, he made her look at him so he could be sure she knew what she was doing. Her eyes were still misty with desire and with passion, just as he had imagined them, but there was purpose there too. She had discovered physical love and was elemental in her need. Suddenly struck by a spear of jealousy, he demanded,
‘Would you do this with any other man?’
‘Are you mad?’ she demanded fiercely. ‘There could only ever be you.’
For her sake, he hoped that wasn’t true.
A cry of triumph escaped Antonia’s throat as Saif moved over her. This time he would take her. This time he would make her his. She had waited for this all her life, Antonia realised—this man, this moment. Whether Saif would admit it or not, he was part of her life now.
For a single night.
Could one night last a lifetime? It might have to, she accepted, seizing hold of his buttocks with fingers turned to steel. She drew her knees up and, with all the power of her sex, she urged him on.
Saif plundered her mouth while she sucked greedily on his tongue. He tasted ocean-fresh, pure, clean and strong, and with that all the spices of the east combined to seduce her senses. Every part of her was pressed against him and every part of her was keenly aware of him. That love-making came naturally to her was a revelation, and, feeling as safe as she did with Saif, made it perfect. She felt truly free for the first time in her life; free to be herself. There was only one jarring chord, which was the certainty that this level of harmony could only exist with one man.
He sank into hot, moist velvet. He was so much bigger than she was, he had intended to take it slowly, but she claimed him greedily, using her strong, young muscles to draw him in. He brushed her mouth and tasted her shock at this new sensation, and tasted her approval moments later. Withdrawing slowly, he plunged deeper still, while she sobbed her pleasure against his chest. ‘More? You want more?’ he prompted.
Her fingers closed around his buttocks. ‘I want it all,’ she assured him huskily.
Holding her wrists in a loose grip above her head, resting on the cushions, he made sure that was exactly what she got.
They made love all night and only drifted off to sleep in the quiet hours before dawn. She woke in time to see the waters of the Gulf glistening like a glass plate, with lilac fingers of light the only decoration. The waves were still, and seemed as content as she was, lying snug in Saif’s arms to wait for the start of a new day.
But she wasn’t content, because today everything must change, Antonia remembered. Today Saif might ask her name again and she must lie to him. She trusted him to take her back to the mainland, but when they arrived they would go their separate ways. Last night wasn’t real, last night was a fantasy. They didn’t know each other’s names, jobs, lives, or even where they were from; they had no future, and there would be no togetherness ever again. The pain she felt at the thought of it was acute, the irony unbearable. If this was normal life, they wouldn’t be facing the end, but the beginning; a beginning that might even lead to love. But as it was …
She could so easily fall in love with Saif, Antonia acknowledged, taking care not to wake him as she stirred, but loving each other wasn’t an option for them. She still had a job to do—a job she was determined to finish, and to finish well. She couldn’t settle for giving up now and going home. If anything, meeting Saif had only inspired her to do more, to achieve more.
‘You’re awake,’ he said, shifting his powerful frame in lazy contentment.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ Or to do anything to hasten the day, Antonia thought wistfully.
‘I want to be disturbed,’ Saif assured her, drawing her close.
She shivered with desire at his touch and didn’t have the heart to bring what must end soon to an abrupt finish now. ‘You’re dressed?’ she said, tracing the lines of the top he must have tugged on some time during the night. He was wearing shorts too, she noticed.
‘I had to go and check on the progress of the search,’ he reminded her.
‘Of course.’ She relaxed. But even as they entered into this most normal of conversations she knew the spell was broken. The look in Saif’s eyes had changed. He was already thinking about bringing the pirates to justice, which required a speedy return to the mainland.
He confirmed it, springing up and shrugging his massive shoulders. ‘No time to waste,’ he said, staring out to sea as if to assess the weather. ‘Things look good.’
She had been expecting this, Antonia told herself firmly, but it didn’t make the pain go away. It hurt to know the magic had vanished, only to be replaced by the cold chill of unease—something she must shake off when she had promised to help Saif in every way she could. ‘I’ll go below to freshen up and dress.’
She wondered if he even heard her as he began the process of preparing the yacht to sail.
Saif sailed with the total mastery with which he did everything else, and it would have been a pleasure watching him at the helm had Antonia not been dogged by the same dragging sense of dread. Of course things could never be the same again between them; she knew that. And of course she accepted the fact that everything must change when they reached the mainland. But the cloud hanging over her refused to budge. It was as if the same fate that had engineered their meeting now decreed that she must suffer for it.
She had been tested quite a few times on this trip and come through, she reasoned in an attempt to reassure herself.
But who knew if she could do it again?
Antonia looked at Saif, who obviously didn’t share her concern. If anything, he seemed to have gained new purpose. It was as if with every nautical mile they travelled he was slowly changing back into the man he must really be.
They shared the rhythm of the sea beneath their feet and little else now, Antonia reflected. He didn’t need her help to sail the yacht, he’d told her, and so she was consigned to the role of passenger, a chance acquaintance who was being given a lift to port on a fabulous racing-yacht. ‘Is that Sinnebar?’ she said excitedly, catching sight of a coastline. She already knew it was. What she’d really wanted when she asked the question was for Saif to connect with her one last time.
‘Yes,’ he said briefly, but his focus was all on the coast.
They had sailed past the lighthouse guarding the entrance to the harbour before Saif spoke to her again. ‘You’ll have to get changed,’ he said. ‘And clean yourself up.’
In a phrase, Saif had turned her back into a much younger girl who needed his direction. ‘You can use the hose to get rid of the salt,’ he went on. ‘And you’ll find some robes under the bunk below. They’ll be too big for you,’ he added as he swung the wheel hard to line the giant yacht up with its berth, ‘But you can’t disembark in Sinnebar dressed like that.’
Like what? In a few words he had made her feel ashamed. What did he mean about the way she was dressed? She was dressed like someone who had escaped a pirate attack—the same way she had been dressed all the time they had been together. Had Saif even looked at her? Had he even realised what he’d said? He made her feel like a piece of flotsam that had washed up on his deck and now had to be swept away. She had hosed herself down with the fresh water, and she had tied her hair back. She’d done everything possible to make herself look respectable.
What Saif was actually saying, Antonia realised, was that she must never refer