Chapter Thirty-six #2
“Oh, I intend to, English, and soon. I will make you purr for me again. You do remember—”
“Stop it!”
“I see you do,” he said with a devilish grin. “I do as well. So why are we wasting time—”
“Oh!”
Chantelle shot to her feet, only to have his arm snake around her legs and pull them out from under her.
She landed half on him, half on the pillows, but in only a moment she was flat on her back, his body covering her, his hands capturing hers and stretching them far above her head.
She was trapped, and no matter how hard she exerted herself to dislodge him, it did no good.
“Don’t stop,” he murmured thickly by her ear. “I can feel your body’s movements with every part of my own.” She went still and he chuckled. “You are so predictable, English. I believe we have played this game before.”
“Let me up,” she gritted out between her teeth.
“I prefer you like this,” he said, grinding his hips into her. “It brings back such wonderful memories.”
“I hate you.”
He shook his head slowly in answer. “You are angry with me. You don’t hate me.”
He was amused. She saw it in his eyes, in the slight twisting of his lips. He wasn’t taking her seriously. Or if he was, he felt confident he could charm her around. But he couldn’t, and she was afraid when he realized that, he would finally get angry, too.
“Don’t presume to tell me what I feel, your highness,” she said tightly. “You can’t command feelings the way you do everything else.”
“I thought I was fairly good at it the other night.”
She gasped at this pointed reminder of how easily he had made her want him. “That was before you lied to me!”
At last he frowned, demanding, “What are you talking about, woman?”
“You led me to believe that you had not been with another woman since you first saw me. I know now that the very night you bought me you spent with Sheelah, and the next night you summoned—”
“Enough!” Derek cut in sharply.
Christ! And he thought he only had to explain away Jamila.
What could he say? Certainly not that while he had lain in his empty bed thinking of her, his brother’s bed had not remained so empty.
He couldn’t defend himself without giving up the game.
He couldn’t tell her the truth about Jamila either.
For Miss Woods to be released, everyone had to think he had taken her to bed, including Omar—including Shahar.
Bloody hell. He hadn’t lied to her before, but now he would have to lie through his teeth.
“You accuse me of lying, Shahar, when I spoke from the heart. I wanted only you. From the first moment, you excited me as no woman ever has before.”
“That didn’t stop you from—”
“You were untried, woman! You were innocent in mind as well as in body. I couldn’t summon you immediately, as was my desire. You needed at least a little instruction so that you would know what to expect and not be afraid of our coming together. Or did you want to share my bed that first night?”
“No,” she replied stiffly. “And I don’t care who did. Nor do I care why someone did. The point is that you told me no one did, and I believed you. It made a difference in the way I—well, it made a difference.” And then, bitterly: “But that’s what you intended, isn’t it? That’s why you lied to me.”
“Did I lie? Or did I tell you the truth, that you were all I wanted, all I could think about?” He didn’t wait for an answer, taking advantage of the momentary doubt he detected in her eyes.
“Did I allow you months of training? Did I listen when I was told you were not ready? Who knows better than you that I did not, that I could not wait to see you again? And then you rejected me. Do you know how that made me feel?”
“I—”
Chantelle fell silent, at a loss for words.
She hadn’t expected to find herself on the defensive.
She hadn’t expected to experience this feeling of guilt, either, that was tightening in her chest. But he was right, damn him.
He hadn’t actually lied to her, hadn’t actually said specifically that no other woman had shared his bed.
And she had thought of that, that she had simply misinterpreted his words, or that he had just phrased them wrong.
I spoke from the heart. You were all I wanted. There was no misinterpreting those words, and damn it to hell, she believed him again. Then why didn’t it give her joy?
Derek relaxed somewhat, sensing that he had won this round.
He didn’t give Shahar a chance to throw up the next hurdle, hoping he might bypass it entirely with a little luck and a lot of skill, which he immediately brought into play with a kiss meant to shatter the last of her defenses.
And it worked. She didn’t turn her head away to avoid his lips.
He could feel her arms going slack, her body fitting more snugly to his.
As she yielded, he let go of her hands and felt her fingers drift into his hair. And then suddenly she yanked.
“Ouch! By Allah—”
“I warned you,” Chantelle cut in furiously. “If you wanted a willing bedmate, you should have summoned Jamila again. She would—”
Derek clamped a hand over her mouth. He didn’t take into account that he had convinced her he wouldn’t hurt her physically, or that he had told her he’d accepted the challenge of subduing her. It simply turned his blood cold that this anger of hers could make her so heedless of its consequences.
Jamil would have been flattered by it, and amused, but not for long, and certainly not enough to allow her to actually fight him. Derek wasn’t amused. He knew that she had come to trust him, which was why she had finally surrendered, and now she was feeling betrayed.
But thank God Jamil’s tastes were different from his own and his brother hadn’t decided to keep Shahar for himself.
She wouldn’t have passed a week without some serious punishments which would have eventually broken her spirit.
She didn’t realize how lucky she was, nor could he tell her.
But what was the point, when she only had him to deal with?
That he had been concerned for her welfare was a natural reaction, but it gave a hard edge to his voice now.
“If I had wanted Jamila, I would have sent for her. I wanted you, Shahar. I wanted you yesterday as well, but foolishly thought you might be grateful for a day of respite after I was so relentless in giving you none the night before.”
She pried his fingers away from her mouth to snap, “Don’t you dare claim it was for my benefit!”
“I also thought you had too much pride to succumb to jealousy.”
Her eyes flared at this new attack. “Jealousy? Not on your life! It was just brought home to me that this is no more than a whorehouse, and you are the—”
“Don’t say it!”
“Why not? If I made love to a different man every night, that is what you would call me. And don’t tell me it is different for a man, that you are allowed, that you in particular are allowed. Your world might think so, but mine does not.”
“Does it not?”
It enraged her further that he smiled when he asked that. “Then let me put it this way. I do not. Now will you…let…me…up!” She shoved at him again, but he couldn’t be budged.
“I will let you go, Shahar, when you forgive me for hurting you.”
She made the mistake of meeting the warm glow in his eyes. That and his husky timbre sent a shiver along her nerve endings.
“You didn’t hurt me,” she insisted, turning her head to the side. “I just ignored a few basic truths for a while, but I am back on the right track now.”
“Don’t do this, Shahar.” He took advantage of the throat she exposed to him, nuzzling his lips there.
“It meant nothing to me.” His lips moved toward her ear, and he took a moment to draw her earlobe between his teeth.
“I cannot even recall what I did or said last night, it was so insignificant.” He was murmuring right into her ear now, so that each breath affected her.
“But I can remember every single moment I spent with you.”
Chantelle’s thoughts had scattered, and she couldn’t seem to get them back. “You—you can’t be faithful. You don’t know how.”
“If that is what it will take to have you willing again,” he promised recklessly.
She shrugged him away from her ear, doubting her hearing. “You don’t mean that,” she scoffed. “My God, I have even been told you exhaust yourself in order to satisfy everyone. You should be glad that at least one of the women you own won’t feel neglected if you ignore her.’’
“It would devastate me if that were so, but you know it is not. Now that you have tasted the pleasures of the body, you would miss this.” He slid a hand between their bodies to capture a breast. “Even now I can feel your nipple hardening, begging for my kiss.”
“Sto—” The word turned abruptly to a scream, for suddenly behind him there loomed a dark shape, but all Chantelle actually saw was the flash of a dagger raised above the Dey’s head.