C.C. MacKenzie's Blog, page 5

Thank you so much for the love for No Rules…..

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5.0 out of 5 stars Absolutely marvellous

27 January 2018

Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase


Omg I have read this in one go. I love cc characters ,and the other cast that make an appearance Nico,Bronte,sophia, marvellous.what of oliver and Ana bannana beautiful wedding just what she wanted. Love the scene in the doctors with Ana and oliver so funny tickled my funny bone. Just wish there wasn’t such along period between books. But I know you can’t hurry the creative process. Well done thumbs up for this one can’t wait for taniths story. Xxxxx



5.0 out of 5 stars Heartwarming

3 February 2018

Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase


I must admit I was a bit apprehensive to read this book because I didn’t know Chloe but boy am I glad I did. I loved her so gutsy a good Ludlow female. I will be reading it again and again. CC has done it again. Wonderful!







stars Brilliant

8 February 2018

Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase


Brilliant. I Love CC’s writing and books and this excelled as always. Totally recommend.



5.0 out of 5 starsNo Rules is an understatement!
29 January 2018 – Published on Amazon.com
Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase


All the rules were thrown out and turned upside down, which made for so much fun. I can’t let go of these characters, Serge worked his way into my heart and squeezed so hard I laughed and cried at the same time. I blame it on the hand lingering and that noble penis….I need to know more, what’s ahead for them now that he has found love for the first time.



5.0 out of 5 starsPassion and humor!
30 January 2018 – Published on Amazon.com
Format: Kindle Edition


C C Mackenzie’s latest installment into the Ludlow Nights series is captivating. No Rules is the story of Serge Morretti and Chloe Rucker. Chloe has gotten herself in a bit of a hole she is trying to dig herself out of. Serge is into his family business and vying for a position on the board that seems to come with strings attached. They strike a deal to help each other reach their goals. Will it work? Follow these characters on their journey of ups and downs. C C Mackenzie writes with passion and humor in this series. Highly recommended.



5.0 out of 5 starsLove.
27 January 2018 – Published on Amazon.com
Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase


I must say that each time I read one of CC’s books I’m filled with joy. I love the way all the stories intertwine and the connections with each character grow. I’ve especially enjoyed this book because of Serge and his ‘noble penis’. He’s so hellbent about showing that he’s not being a good man that he doesn’t realise he’s already a good man. And perfect for Chloe who needs him to help her stand. At least that how I feel. I also love that Ms CC always includes a lesson within her stories. She just slips it in so neatly and its absorbed easily. I’ve enjoyed this series and cannot wait for it to continue. Now on to my second read of this book

Are all y’all ready for another Desert Orchid chapter? Read on, my darlings…..

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There are many things I love about my readers. They’re kind, have a fabulous sense of humour and fun. And they simply adore a brooding bad boy……

Enjoy…..

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

Chapter Fifteen

The outrageous bathroom of their bedroom suite had walls of Italian marble and floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

Khalid rested his palms on the ivory walls of the shower and let five jets blast his body. The sting of the force of the water was just what he needed to give himself a reality check. What the hell did he know about running a country? What the hell did he know about being a husband? His first weeks in the role of King of Onuur had been an unmitigated disaster. Instead of bringing stability and peace, he’d unwittingly brought chaos to the palace, heartbreak to the country, and to the woman he loved. Guilt slid a sharp blade deeper into his soul and his conscience. By selfishly following his art, he’d let his people down. But worse, he’d let Charisse down, too.

The scent of liquid soap, ginger and spice, rose to mingle with the steam, as he lathered his body.

His father had made it clear, crystal clear, that he must put his country and his wife before his God given talent to paint. If he’d put his duty before pleasure, then he’d have son Charisse’s trust. She wouldn’t have felt the need to go riding out into the desert in the middle of the night to meet Sheik Abbas. She wouldn’t have been shot.

Khalid closed his eyes tight shut as the memory of her lying in the dirt, bloody and broken entered his mind.

Her beloved horse Diablo was dead.

And he knew by the way her mind wandered at times, by the way her eyes became deep blue pools of terrible sadness, that her heart was broken. Not once had she wept about her loss or made a fuss. Charisse appeared to have the enviable ability to accept her lot in life.

He closed his eyes against the sting of soap as he massaged shampoo into his scalp.

Try as Khalid might to remain optimistic for their future, to quiet the inner critic who whispered sly words in his mind, the truth again hit him hard.

A truth that was a bitter pill to swallow.

He wasn’t good enough for her.

Oh, he might talk big to his parents and his brother, demanding that Arabella Faulkner bring in an elite counter insurgency team. But what the hell did he know about military tactics or special operations? His brother was the trained military man who dealt with the security side of keeping the El Haribe family in power.

Then he’d gone and compounded his sins by telling Charisse he loved her.

And God bless her, she’d told him she loved him, too.

The love in her eyes for him had terrified him even as it made his heart fill with a tremendous happiness. However, they still hadn’t discussed the incident in their past that had brought them to this point. Namely, the accident that had changed both their lives.

And had changed the behaviour of her father.

Somehow the right moment hadn’t arrived for them to talk.

Khalid let the pounding water rinse the shampoo from his scalp, and admitted he’d avoided the topic, and so was Charisse.

Christ, who could blame her?

Alone in the shower with only himself for company, Khalid admitted that he didn’t want to have that conversation with her.

He needed memories that were too painful for both of them to bear, to remain exactly where they belonged—in the past.

What was the point of digging up old hurts, old fears, when they should live in the moment and cope with events that demanded their attention now.

By the way she’d looked at him today when they’d promised themselves to each other, he knew that she expected him, trusted him, to deal with whoever threatened her and their country. And for a crazy moment as they’d exchanged vows, he’d believed he could do it, too.

But now all his personality flaws and past failures rose high on a wave of self-doubt. A wave so powerful it drowned the fragile shoots of his self-belief.

What the hell had he been thinking?

Overwhelmed by the sense of too many emotions from the past and present colliding, an oil slick of anxiety that he didn’t have a fucking clue what he was doing lay too heavy in his gut.

Sarif had told him that he would have a strategy in place after Khalid and Charisse returned from their honeymoon. The main thing was to keep her out of harm’s way.

However, in reality Khalid felt that the past was repeating itself. He’d permitted his family to clean up his mess. Again. And he was running away from his responsibilities. Again.

On the other hand, he needed to keep his wife—God, his wife—safe.

His hand slapped off the water.

Khalid grabbed a white towel of thick cotton from a heated towel rail.

Heart heavy, he wrapped the towel around his hips, and wandered into their bedroom.

Junah had helped Charisse prepare for him.

Using a hand towel to rub his hair, he kept a careful eye on the woman who was his wife.

She sat on the edge of the bed looking perfectly relaxed and for some reason that fact bothered him.

Well, he wasn’t relaxed.

He felt like shit.

Tension rose from his shoulders, up the back of his neck.

At the moment his wife was busy rubbing ointment on the livid bruise on her hip.

The sight made him take a deep inhale of breath.

He could actually count her ribs.

And her fragility not only scared him—it annoyed him.

It annoyed him, a lot, because everything, everything, that had happened to her was all his own fault.

She winced as she touched a tender spot.

Her white teeth bit down hard on her bottom lip.

After placing the pot on the bedside table, she turned to him. Blue eyes studied him from his toes to the top of his head until they stayed on his. Now she was perched on the bed wearing a tiny pair of panties in ivory silk along with a matching top with shoelace straps. Her glorious hair was confined in a single loose plait that hung down her back to her slim waist.

As ever her delicate beauty made his heart ache.

And he wondered now if falling madly in love with the sister of the girl he’d killed was a sick sort of Karma. That the universe was ensuring that he would suffer the loss of the one he loved more than life, of Charisse, as payback for his past mistakes, for his recklessness.

He knew he needed to talk to her about his past. To tell her truth of what he’d done, eventually.

What then?

How on earth could she remain married to him knowing it was his actions and his choices that day that had killed her sister?

Not for one second did Khalid entertain the idea that Charisse might be capable of forgiveness.

How could he, when he’d never forgiven himself?

Then the reason for why she’d married him became crystal clear in his tortured mind.

Charisse had married him out of a sense of obligation. Out of a sense of duty to an old man and a country that had given her shelter when she’d needed it most. Amir and the people of Onuur had embraced Charisse and loved her. And in return, Charisse had embraced and loved them, too.

Khalid just couldn’t imagine Charisse ever divorcing him or turning away from the people of Onuur, no, she’d never do that. But once she learned the real story about Khalid’s part in the accident, would she turn away from him?

How could she not hate him?

And what then?

What if he lost her?

What if their love turned to hate and they ended up imprisoned in a relationship destroyed by a lack of trust?

The demons that had haunted him for too long returned—in force.

Then a little voice whispered that perhaps it might be better not to tell her what he’d done, after all ignorance was bliss? It was all in the past. And it might be an idea to let sleeping dogs lie, so to speak.

He shook his head.

No.

If the last six years had taught Khalid anything it was that hiding from the truth, living a lie, ate a little bit more of a man’s soul every single day. He needed to be true to himself and because he loved her, he needed to be true to Charisse, too. And that meant being honest with her, and being his authentic self.

Even if it meant he lost her forever.

Dark thoughts swirled in a confused mix as a strange wave of unreality swept over Khalid.

He was the king of a country he knew nothing about. With a populace who regarded him with distrust and suspicion. And who could blame them? And now he was married to a beautiful woman he adored. A woman who thought she loved him. But a woman who was also in terrible danger.

And he wondered how the hell all this had happened to him in less than a month.

Taking a deep but agitated breath, he closed his eyes.

Khalid El Haribe knew how women ticked.

After all, he’d had plenty of them.

He was good with beautiful, funny, intelligent women.

Now he opened his eyes to study Charisse.

But not one of them could touch the fabulous creature who now lay back against a waterfall of white pillows on his big bed.

No.

Their bed.

Her big blue eyes smouldered —clearly, there was no other word for it—as she curved her spine and stretched like a sleek, lazy kitten. All long limbs and soft skin. The scent of her, floral bath oil, and aroused woman spun around him.

“I have been waiting for you,” she purred deep in her throat in a way that fired his groin.

And for the first time in his life he felt a lack of confidence with a woman.

He tried to disguise the tremble of his hands as he rubbed his hair with the towel.

“That’s what I love about you, baby. You get straight to the heart of the matter.” He ran his fingers through damp hair and watched that secret little smile play on her fabulous mouth as her gaze went hot as she followed the movement of his fingers.

She may not have liked his hair in the beginning, but she loved it now.

“You look gorgeous, Rock Star.”

His lips twitched.

Ah, it appeared Charisse was channelling her inner goddess to make it crystal clear she wanted him.

“You’re good,” he told her, his voice deep with an emotion he couldn’t name. He felt that emotion burn in his throat, behind his eyes. And then he realised it was the way she stared at him. He read desire and something that looked like possession.

“Better believe it,” she said.

He swallowed, realising something about her made him nervous.

Why the hell did he feel nervous?

“What happened to the shy and retiring Charisse?” he wanted to know, playing for time without a clue why.

Those amazing blue eyes narrowed now as she studied his face.

“She’s madly in love. And she needs her man.”

He cleared his throat as her soul stealing smile squeezed his heart.

“Now you’re scaring me,” he admitted, becoming increasingly alarmed as perspiration snaked down his spine.

Those blue eyes went to slits as she turned onto her side and leaned on her elbow.

“That’s the first lie you’ve ever told me.”

Shit.

She was a mind-reader now?

Actually, he was feeling terribly unsettled, off-balance, edgy.

Then the truth struck him.

Charisse had managed to take complete control of the situation, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Then she sat, assuming the yoga position sukhasana and straightened her spine.

She looked absolutely fabulous sitting there like a princess, proud and regal as those blue eyes stayed on his as if seeing right into his soul. And again he wondered what the hell was the matter with him?

“You don’t want to love me. Do you?”

 

 

He went absolutely still.

By Khalid’s frozen expression Charisse knew her shot in the dark had hit the mark.

A few short hours ago, she’d been sitting in the garden of the Royal Palace in Dhuma talking to Queen Janaan. Then she’d been swept up in the moment in Khalid’s arms. Someone had attempted to kill her. And Khalid, in the grip of volatile emotions, had told her that he loved her and they’d shared one of the most special moments of her life.

They’d married with only Arabella and his family at witnesses.

Now they were in some fantastic mountain hideaway.

But she’d known, from the moment he’d entered their bedroom, that something was very wrong. Since they’d arrived his mood had plummeted from a suppressed excitement to self-absorption and introspection. That brooding look she knew and loved so much was back in his eyes. And she realised the devils that haunted him, rode him too hard, were back. She could tell by how his strong jaw clenched and that fabulous mouth narrowed. And his mother’s words spun into her mind, reminding her that it was her duty as his wife to distract him.

Khalid, Charisse realised now, was great in a crisis. His love for her had overcome any self-doubt. Once he’d set his mind on a path, nothing changed it. He’d been assertive. And she suspected that he’d surprised himself, as well as his family.

But now he’d had too much time to think. Too much time to begin to doubt himself.

Why, Charisse wondered, had she thought she could handle this man?

She didn’t doubt him and had believed his words when he’d told her he loved her.

However, at the moment he didn’t look particularly happy about it.

In fact, since he’d declared himself and all through the brief wedding ceremony, he’d given the impression of a man who was about to walk the plank and be tossed into a shark infested sea.

Struggling to keep the wobble of dismay from her voice, she kept the tone friendly.

“I believe in you. Amir believed in you. Remind me to show you his letter to me when we return to Onuur.”

Those grey eyes turned dark.

His eyes now burning with an emotion she couldn’t read.

“Why?”

His tone was not at all friendly, and she swallowed the need to yell at him, to demand to know why he was spoiling such a special moment for them.

Instead she jerked her chin up, and met his stare head on. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to show me his letter?”

“Because I love you. Because I want no secrets between us.”

He glared at her even as his face went white.

And she was reminded of a disgruntled dark angel, all the way from the top of that glossy coal black hair to his bare feet.

His deep voice was almost a growl, “Love! I wasn’t expecting love. I don’t do love.”

The angry frustration in his voice, with himself, made her grin.

And suddenly Charisse felt a hell of a lot better.

Poor Khalid, he was totally devastated.

In a good way.

Her grin grew into a huge smile.

The warning flare in that dark gaze didn’t prevent her giving him big eyes.

“Oops,” she said.

He ran his tongue over his top teeth.

“Oops?” he repeated in a silky voice.

“Mmm hmm. You’re scared of your feelings for me.”

Something like anger flashed in his eyes as he tossed the towel and stood before her in all his naked glory. His gaze burned into hers and she recognised he was standing before her stripped not just physically, but emotionally as well.

He placed his fists on his hips.

“My feelings for you make me feel weak. You terrify me, and I hate it. Why did you go out into the desert in the middle of the damned night? Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you understand you don’t get to make those kinds of decisions without me? We’re in a relationship here!” His voice cracked and he showed his back to her for a couple of heaving breaths before spinning around. His eyes burned into hers. And what she saw made her heart beat too fast. “Goddamn it! You don’t get to make the rules. If we’re to do this thing, then we do it together. If anything were to happen to you…” He took another deep breath, and his voice broke. “I couldn’t bear it, Charisse.”

His chest heaved as she read the honest truth in his dark eyes, heard the pain in his voice.

He was so terribly scared.

But not just of love, she realised, but of losing her, too.

Her eyes glued to his, she rose and went to him.

Standing before him, she wrapped her arms around that amazing warrior’s body, all lean and muscled. She tipped back her head to stare into those stormy grey eyes. Even though his fierce erection pressed into the soft flesh of her belly, he didn’t touch her.

His fists were clenched at his sides, the vein in his neck beat a frantic tattoo.

“You know, it’s going to be wonderful being married to you. It’s so wonderful to know that the man I love loves me back to the point where I can drive him crazy. I will be your anchor, a calm place for you to be, in the storm of life. We will build a strong, deep foundation for our marriage.” She pressed her lips to that wide chest, an illicit thrill ran up her spine as she felt him shudder. “You know, people do say that from commitment comes great strength and freedom. And I believe that is very true.”

Her palms rubbed soft circles of comfort on the warm skin of his back, and his big body shuddered again.

Lifting her head, she stared up into his face.

Heat scorched those magnificent cheekbones.

“I am not good enough for you.” His deep voice was hoarse, as if the words were torn from his soul.

Staring into his eyes, she realised that he absolutely believed every single word.

A sudden fury burned in her blood, leapt into her throat.

Sliding a hand into his scalp, she gripped his hair and tugged his face down to hers.

“Where the hell do you get off making a decision like that? Who are you to judge what’s good enough for me? How dare you talk like that about the man I love.”

He blinked.

Then he gazed at her with eyes filled to the brim with a cocktail of mixed emotions.

Among them she read a deep shame, suffering and a heavy guilt that broke her heart.

 

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Tomorrow is Chapter Sixteen, and it will be edited since it’s a love scene.

Christine X

On a snowy and windy night, settle back and enjoy Chapter Fourteen of Desert Orchid…..

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Hello, my darlings!

The wind has icy teeth this evening, and it’s snowing. It’s at times like this I could do with the hot desert sun. Here’s Chapter Thirteen, and Khalid’s reached the end of his tether…..

 

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

Chapter Fourteen

Three hours later, Khalid sat on a couch in his parent’s sitting room, his aching head in his hands, while a heated debate raged around him.

He stood.

He’d had enough.

“Quiet!” he roared. His father, mother, brother and Arabella Faulkner simply stared at him as he continued, “Thus far I’ve followed your advice. I brought Charisse here believing the palace was secure. I don’t care how the nurse got through your precautions. The point is that security, even here, is compromised. This is the second attempt on her life and there will not be a third. Do I make myself clear?”

Arabella took a deep breath, gave him a single nod of her head.

Bravely, she stepped closer to put forward her argument.

“To attack her here, in the palace, means the issue that faces us is much bigger than anything we could have imagined. We need to bring in specialists. I have contacts from my time in the military. Good men from the United States and the United Kingdom special forces. Men that we can trust and know how to deal with what we are up against.”

“How did you get the name of the traitor from the nurse?” Khalid wanted to know.

Arabella’s brown eyes went flat and cold. “Sodium Thiopental. She sang every tune we wanted to hear.”

King Abdullah merely nodded.

“So, the nurse is Omar’s niece. And both come from a tribe banished from this land many years ago.”

Khalid knew his history. In Arabia forty years was not a long time to hold a grudge. When his father ascended the throne, times had been deadly with feuds among the tribes. The desert sands had run red with the blood of the fallen. Hatred was an emotion passed from generation to generation. And from what had happened today, their enemies would never give up until they had attained their goal. The death of Charisse.

But why?

Why not go after his father, his brother, or even himself?

“If this is revenge for past sins, why attack Charisse? She is beloved by her people,” he spoke his thoughts.

Arabella responded, “To destabilise the region? We only have the woman’s point of view. She was acting on instructions and has no idea who is behind the assassination attempt or why. We can theorise all we like. But the person we need is Omar.”

Khalid gave her such a fierce look, she blinked. “Bring in whomever you need to help us. But find him,” he ordered. The tone was a dismissal. Arabella bowed her head and strode from the room.

“I suspect the attempt on Charisse’s life was a last ditch attempt to stop the wedding,” Sarif said.

Khalid shook his head.

“None of this makes any sense. Surely her father is aware that we will hunt him down and destroy him like a rabid dog?”

His mind seethed over different scenarios, which he knew were a waste of time until they had facts. Now was the time for action.

He turned to his father. “Has the imam arrived to perform the wedding ceremony?”

His father nodded.

Khalid continued, “Then we will be married immediately.”

His family simply stared at him.

“What has Charisse got to say about this?” his mother demanded.

Khalid looked at her. “Charisse,” he said. “Will do as she is told.”

And was that respect in his mother’s eyes? He couldn’t care less. His priority was to keep his woman safe.

Sarif’s dark eyes met his. “Then what?”

“Then I get her the hell out of here. Somewhere secure. And somewhere she can heal. Arabella Faulkner will fly us out tonight.”

He moved to leave, but his mother placed her hand on his arm.

“Where are you going?”

Khalid shook his head. “I cannot tell you that. The less people who know our whereabouts the better.”

His mother jerked back as if he’d slapped her.

Face white she spoke in a shocked whisper, “You don’t trust us?”

Taking her in his arms, Khalid hugged his mother tight, and stared over her head into the stunned faces of his father and brother.

“Of course I trust you. With my life. But we’ve been betrayed twice. There will not be a third time.”

Dressed in black jeans, a matching cashmere sweater and warm jacket to keep out the chill of a desert night, Charisse found herself bundled into the rear passenger seat of an unusual looking helicopter.

A helicopter painted matt black.

Under strict instructions from Khalid, Arabella had packed all the supplies they’d need and checked the aircraft herself.

Dressed in black jeans, sweater and boots, Khalid slid into the seat next to Arabella and indicated Charisse wear the headphones he handed her.

He turned to her, his eyes so dark and intense that her heart beat too fast in her chest.

“Can you hear me?” His voice came, crystal clear, in her ears.

She nodded and was relieved to see her husband smile.

This gorgeous, vigorous and young man was her husband.

She still couldn’t quite believe it.

They’d been married in a ceremony put together so fast, her head still spun. After his declaration of love for her, and his kisses, she’d naturally assumed their wedding night might have been consummated under candlelight. Instead, she was about to be flown away to a secret location.

But then this was Khalid. He never ceased to surprise her.

And by the way his family had behaved, they’d been astonished by the new take charge Khalid, too. His father’s and brother’s eyes held a deep respect for Khalid that Charisse had never seen before, and her own heart swelled with pride for him. If some good came out of this unholy mess, if Khalid and his family became close again, then perhaps it was all worth it.

The information from Arabella that the attempts on her life may not be personal, but rather, an attempt to destabilise the whole region didn’t make sense in Charisse’s opinion. But the El Haribe’s were in contact with their allies, and specialist help, something about black ops teams, had already been despatched from the United States and the United Kingdom.

Her life, Charisse decided, had turned into something from an action movie. Assassins, political intrigue, blood feuds, and the hard truths of her own past, all swirled together in her mind. And even though Khalid had insisted that taking her away to recover and have a honeymoon at the same time was the right thing to do, she couldn’t help the feeling burning in her belly that she was running away.

Her dark thoughts were interrupted by the whine of the helicopter as the rotor blades spun. And then they were airborne. Charisse had never flown in a helicopter at night. The weather was clear, no cloud, and she realised the light from the moon highlighted the horizon. At first Arabella flew west, towards Sarif’s kingdom of Quaram. But once she’d flown the aircraft over the mountains, it dipped sharply and turned east.

Khalid spun to Arabella, his eyes narrowed and dark. “What are you doing? This isn’t part of the plan.”

She handed him a thick envelope.

“Staying under the radar. Queen Janaan and I had a long chat. She came up with a location that no one will ever think to look for you. Read it.”

Although he didn’t look happy, Khalid whipped out a tiny penlight, tore open the envelope, pulled out thick parchment and read. Charisse watched him shake his head as a big grin spread over his wonderful face.

He turned in his seat, dark eyes twinkling into hers. “You’re gonna love this.”

Arabella spoke in their ears, “Her majesty is a very clever woman.”

Bemused, Charisse asked, “Where are we going?”

Khalid shook his head. “Wait and see.”

Charisse gave him a dark look. She was beginning to find the lack of control over her destination, her future, and any say in what was happening in her country incredibly frustrating. Very soon she was going to have words with her husband. Just who the hell did he think he was?

“Care to share?” Charisse asked.

Her icy tone had his brows shoot into his hairline.

Khalid opened his mouth, but Arabella shook her head, her eyes totally focused on the task at hand. “Not over the radio, please. The hills have ears.”

He shrugged. “Okay. Just sit back and relax.”

Easier said than done.

But Charisse did as she was told.

The only light in the helicopter was from the radar screens, and Arabella took it nice and easy. No one spoke for the next forty-five minutes.

Then the aircraft lingered at the front of a wall of sheer rock, it went up-up-up, until they dipped over the edge into a wide valley surrounded by a mountain range. It was pitch black as the helicopter hovered.

Arabella turned on a flashlight on the undercarriage of the craft and waited. Then lights flickered on the floor of the valley below illuminating a scene straight out of a James Bond movie. There appeared to be a very large landing pad below a huge property built into the side of the mountain.

They landed.

Once the helicopter rotors ground to a halt, Khalid helped her out. It was just as well his strong arm supported her waist because Charisse felt the world tilt.

“What on earth is this place?”

Arabella tossed her a grin but said nothing, before she shouldered a huge back-pack and trundled out a metal case on wheels from the helicopter.

Khalid held her close, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead that had the blood fizz in her veins.

Dark eyes glittered into hers. “It was built during the second world war as an emergency communications centre for the allies. My father re-fit the building for my mother as a place to escape the stresses and strains of court life. Here, they can chill out, and take time to simply be together.”

Movement sensors had more lights flicker on as Arabella led the way into what looked like a vast cave. But once they entered, wide steps carved out of the rock led up to what appeared to be an ultra-modern concrete box.

Releasing her, Khalid moved to assist Arabella heft the luggage before leading the way up the stairs. They stepped through a vast oak door and entered a fantastical space with high ceilings. The room smelled of candle wax and fresh flowers. Low lights shed a gentle glow on a huge open plan sunken sitting room. Large couches covered in butter-soft leather the colour of treacle, three of them, surrounded a vast coffee table set in front of an open fireplace. Logs flickered lazily in the open hearth. On the right-hand side, one wall was made of glass from floor to ceiling. The constellations glittered with millions of stars in a velvety black sky.

Then Charisse jolted in shock as two grey-haired servants, their eyes wide, materialised from a side door. They’d obviously been woken by their arrival. Khalid immediately went to greet them.

The elderly man’s rheumy eyes lit-up as he recognised his prince.

He smiled, showcasing a mouth with the grand total of three white teeth.

Then he bowed deeply.

Khalid stepped forward. “Faris and Junah, please meet my wife, Charisse, Queen of Onuur,” he said a low voice.

Charisse moved to shake each bony hand. Their eyes were now filled to the brim with an emotion that caught her throat. The love they had for Khalid was clear to see. Then they bowed again and scurried after Arabella to help unload the helicopter.

Feeling strangely shy to be alone with him for the first time since their wedding, which was ridiculous, Charisse took her time to calm her nerves as she explored the immense room hollowed out of sheer rock.

She turned to him. “It’s amazing. Do they look after this huge place on their own?”

Khalid stepped into her, and all the while dark eyes never left her face. Those eyes missed nothing, she realised, as he took her hand and brought it to his mouth.

“They came thirty years ago. And stayed.”

She blinked. And couldn’t help the little shiver that ran up her spine.

“They never left?” Her voice sounded too high. She cleared her throat. “You mean they’re trapped here?”

He shook his head, sent her a slow smile. “They are brother and sister. My parents took them in after they had been shunned by their tribe. They were born with no vocal cords. A birth defect. They are very happy here.”

Charisse’s soft heart broke for the siblings. Even though Dhuma was a forward thinking country, among the desert tribes some things took longer to find acceptance. Communication, the singing of songs, and in particular the telling of stories were the way histories were kept alive. To have members of the tribe who couldn’t speak would be a severe handicap to their ability to survive. And certainly marriage, having a family of their own would have been impossible.

“Can they read and write?”

Khalid nodded. “Yes.” Again he took her hand, and the way his eyes went dark and intense as they met hers had her heart skip in her chest. “Let me show you around.”

Together and with her hand held tight in his, Charisse walked with Khalid into a new future.

 

Desert Orchid – Copyright

By CC MacKenzie

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

Published by More Press

ISBN 9781909331075

The right of C C MacKenzie to be

identified as the author of this

work has been asserted by her

under the Copyright Amendment

(Morals Rights) Act 2000

This work is copyright.

Apart from any use as permitted under

the Copyright Act 1968, no part

may be reproduced, copied, scanned,

stored in a retrieval system,

recorded or transmitted,

in any form or by any means,

without the prior permission

of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places and

incidents are either a product of

the author’s imagination or are

used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to actual people

living or dead, events or locales is

entirely coincidental.

 

Thank you for the amazing feedback. We’re not half way through the book. A lot more to come…..

Christine X

 

 

Desert Orchid, Chapter Thirteen…

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Hello, my darlings!

I’m late tonight, due to the family descending….

Here’s Chapter Thirteen, and a turning point…..

 

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Chapter Thirteen

It was hard not to laugh, but Khalid battled to keep his expression fierce and disapproving.

He’d never seen two people look more guilty as the women who sat before him.

As he took in Charisse’s flushed cheeks and the empty bottle of vintage champagne his brows lifted.

“Well, well, and what have we here?” he said in a silky voice that had his fiancée fight a losing battle with helpless laughter.

Charisse was not used to alcohol.

He wondered if either woman had considered how the heat and strong painkillers added into the mix might affect his beloved?

Charisse turned to him and those big blue eyes, filled to the brim with mischief, made his heart trip in his chest. The wide smile on her fabulous mouth caught the breath in his lungs. She looked so beautiful. The loose, thin fabric of her clothes couldn’t hide how willow slim she’d become. Along with the silver colour of her hair, the ivory silk of her gown and gold slippers she wore, she resembled a ray of vivid sunshine.

His fingers itched to paint her.

In an attempt to rise, Charisse swayed on her feet.

Khalid moved fast to scoop her up into his strong arms.

She’d lost too much weight and was as light as a child.

Then Charisse wound slim arms around his neck.

Her fingers slid through his hair.

She ran her fingernails gently across his scalp.

A move which did amazing things to his libido.

Khalid’s blood pooled between his legs.

She smiled and blinked up into his face with big blue eyes brimming with sheer devilment.

“Thank you, Rock Star,” Charisse purred in her throat in a way that fired his groin and made his mother hastily suppress a delighted smile behind her hand.

With a narrow-eyed stare at his helplessly laughing mother, Khalid turned and strode towards the palace.

Someone, he decided, needed a siesta.

Charisse rested her blonde head against his shoulder and stared up at him with sleepy eyes.

Then she inhaled and moved in to sniff his neck.

“You smell wonderful,” she told him. Then she nuzzled and pressed a soft kiss under his ear. “You always smell wonderful.”

All the good intentions he’d fought so hard for over the past days leaked away, fast. She was in no fit state to be made love to and he was a man not used to waiting. His desire for her rode him so hard he winced from the pain of it.

Taking a shaky breath, he stared down into his fiancée’s happy face and tucked his tongue firmly in his cheek.

“Do I?” he drawled.

“Yep. Give me a kish.”

Khalid bit down hard on his bottom lip, determined not to laugh.

He merely shook his head, slid her a look.

“A kish? How many glasses of champagne did you have?’

With a deep frown creasing her smooth forehead, and totally unaware it made her look absolutely adorable, Charisse thought very hard.

“Two!” she announced. Then she pouted her fabulous mouth in a way that made his pulse thrum through his system. “I wanna kish,” she slurred.

Heart full with nothing but love for her, he watched those big eyes, with their thick lashes, close.

Her head lay on his chest.

As Khalid entered the blessed coolness of the palace he saw Sarif and Arabella Faulkner deep in conversation.

The bodyguard’s head jerked up and she raced forward.

“What’s the matter?”

Since Khalid still hadn’t forgiven her for taking Charisse into the desert, his tone was not friendly. “Too much heat. Too much champagne.”

“You gave her alcohol?” she asked in a disbelieving voice.

His temper spiked at the tone.

Who the hell, Khalid thought furiously, did she think she was speaking to?

Sarif took one look at his face and stepped into the breach.

“Miss Faulkner, I believe you have work to do?” The cool reprimand in his voice made the bodyguard go stiff and her face flush.

She nodded once, turned and stalked down the corridor.

“That woman forgets herself,” spat Khalid.

“She’ll be out of your hair soon enough. I’m taking her into my close protection staff.’ Now Sarif’s dark eyes rested on Charisse. “What happened?”

The woman Khalid carried slept soundly.

He held her close as her arms fell from around his neck and her body went limp.

“Charisse will not agree to your plan for Arabella. They are very close, and I do not want her upset.” Then he spoke in a long-suffering tone. “In answer to your second question, our mother happened to her. They shared a bottle of bubbly in the garden. And I doubt it occurred to either of them how the heat might affect the patient. Or, that she’s on strong painkillers. This… is the result.”

Sarif’s granite hard features broke into a grin that took years off him.

“Seriously? I can’t remember the last time I saw mama drink wine.”

“Yeah? Well, you can go and sort her out. I left her crying with laughter under a magnolia tree. And she sounds as if she’s back in Texas.”

“I need to see this,” Sarif muttered under his breath before strolling out the doors into the gardens.

Khalid strode quickly up the stairs, and down a wide corridor to Charisse’s rooms.

Sitting on a chair outside the room, he noticed there was a new nurse on duty.

Her dark eyes went wide when she saw him carrying Charisse.

She followed them into the bedroom and stood by as Khalid laid her on the bed.

“Is it time for her painkiller?” he asked.

It wasn’t unusual for new staff to be nervous around him, but he frowned at the way the young nurse trembled.

She kept her eyes downcast and nodded.

“Yes, Highness. I need to inspect the dressing on her wound.”

Her eyes clicked to his, and he recognised surprise as he made himself comfortable in a chair.

With a flick of the wrist he indicated that she continue.

The nurse unbuttoned Charisse’s top.

She unfolded a surgical pack.

Then washed and dried her hands before snapping on latex gloves.

Taking great care, she removed the dressing.

Khalid leaned forward and saw the wound no longer looked inflamed. But the livid bruise had spread under Charisse’s armpit and down over her hip. The nurse inspected and re-dressed the wound. Then she turned to her bag and brought out a syringe and a small glass vial filled with clear liquid.

Her colour was high and her hand shook.

Watching her, Khalid frowned.

Charisse normally took her medicine by mouth.

“What’s that?”

The nurse turned to him and he saw she was very pale now with perspiration beading on her forehead.

“An anti-inflammatory. I don’t want to disturb Her Royal Highness.”

That statement made absolutely no sense.

Of course a sharp sting would waken her.

In an instant the atmosphere in the room changed.

Khalid stood.

“Stop!”

He moved fast but not fast enough to stop the needle pierce Charisse’s arm.

She moaned and blinked awake.

Khalid grabbed the nurse’s slim wrist as his arm went around her neck.

His strong fingers twisted the wrist of the hand holding the syringe, and the nurse cried out as she dropped it. She sobbed, but didn’t put up a struggle as Khalid roared for help.

Arabella burst into the room along with the young army medic Khalid recognised from the helicopter. The medic bent down to pick up the syringe.

“Do not touch it,” Khalid bit out. “We don’t know what’s in it.”

Now he turned to the nurse being held by Arabella.

He grabbed the nurse’s black hair and tipped up her face.

The sheer hatred seething in her eyes threw him for a moment.

“What did you give her?”

She lifted her chin. Her eyes were wild with a certain satisfaction that turned the blood in his veins to ice.

“She’ll tell me,” Arabella ground out as she muscled the nurse out of the room.

The medic used a tissue to pick up the vial and syringe to inspect them.

“Not all of it was administered, Highness. It appears to be an opiate. She needs a receptor blocker.” He rushed out of the room.

Heart thundering in his ears, Khalid took Charisse in his arms.

Her beautiful white blonde hair spilled over his arm as her head lolled forward.

He tipped up her chin.

“Talk to me!” he commanded, his voice hoarse with fear.

His thumb lifted the tissue thin skin of her eyelid. Her pupil, he saw with something like terror in his heart, was fully dilated.

Where the hell was the medic?

Moments later the physician flew into the room, ripped open the sleeve of Charisse’s top and inserted the antidote into a vein.

She was so fucking fragile and helpless as she lay in his arms.

The medic measured her vital signs and still Khalid held her, he simply could not let her go.

Charisse gave a low moan.

Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to focus.

“Khalid?”

Overwhelmed, he buried his face in her neck and just inhaled the scent of her.

Flowers and warm woman.

Christ. Again, he’d almost lost her.

He lifted his head and her face swam as the truth in his heart almost made him sob out loud.

“I am here, my darling. I am here.”

Dear God help him, he loved her.

Dropping to his knees at the side of the bed, he took her hand to his lips as his heart threatened to explode through his ribs. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. To lose her would destroy him in ways he dare not contemplate. Then other truths hit him. She wasn’t the only one who was vulnerable. Love made him vulnerable, too. His love for her made him face up to hard facts of life. He’d failed to protect her.

The young medic’s face was pale but determined.

His dark eyes met Khalid’s as he listened to the beat of her heart through a stethoscope.

“I can give her epinephrine, adrenaline. It should make her more alert and assist her heart and lungs. With your permission, Highness?”

Khalid nodded.

While the medic administered the medication, Khalid kept a hold of her hand, brought it to his mouth to nuzzle ice cold fingers. His eyes never left her face. She was too white. And moments later he almost wept as her fingers squeezed his in a weak response. All the while the doctor listened to her heart and lungs.

He smiled now at Khalid and nodded. “We need to monitor her, but the worst is over.”

With difficulty, Khalid swallowed the rock wedged too tight in his throat.

“Can I have some time alone with her?”

The medic nodded once. “Of course, I will be outside when you need me.”

When the bedroom door closed, Khalid laid his head gently on the flat belly of the woman he loved…

He took a shaky breath and inhaled her scent as Charisse’s frail fingers attempted to explore his hair.

“That’s the last time I’ll ever drink champagne,” she murmured.

He found himself crying and laughing at the pissed-off tone in her voice.

“Look at me, Khalid,” the words, softly spoken, were a command.

He raised his head to drown in dazed blue eyes and what he read there, understanding and unconditional love, humbled him as a human being and, as a man.

She licked her lips and continued, “The time has come for nothing but the truth between us. Agreed?”

He spoke from the heart, “I love you, baby.” His words were the merest whisper.

Her wide smile almost made him want to weep, because he knew he wasn’t man enough for her, wasn’t good enough for her, or for Onuur and its peoples.

Charisse and Onuur deserved so much more.

“I love you, Rock Star.”

The words brought joy to his heart. But they also brought a sense of desolation and despair. He thrust the negative emotions aside. His fears meant nothing. The most important thing was to assure her safety, and to give her his love.

He bent his head and took her soft mouth. Her lips opened under his, and he knew he’d come home. Her tongue, shy and untutored, explored his bottom lip and his whole body shuddered in response.

The breath sobbed from his throat as he buried his face in the heady cent of the delicate skin of her neck.

“Dear God, Charisse, I thought I’d lost you.”

He lifted his head, and again his mouth took hers.

This kiss was supposed to be gentle and tender. But it didn’t last. And soon a mutual hunger that could not be denied, overcame shock and fear. He clung to her as she clung to him. All that mattered was their love. A love that would endure no matter what challenges the fates threw in their path to happiness.

 

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Thank you so much for the feedback, I’m thrilled you’re enjoying the story…..

More to come.

Christine X

Desert Orchid, Chapter Twelve…

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Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Chapter Twelve

Charisse awoke in a sunny bedroom.

She smelled antiseptic and flowers.

All was quiet.

She had a cannula in her left arm.

Her other hand was held by Khalid’s. His dark head rested on her bed. He was sound asleep. Deep lines of exhaustion ran down each side of his beautiful mouth.

A young woman wearing a nurses’ uniform popped her head in the door and padded to her bedside.

She smiled at Charisse. “Would you like to suck on ice?”

Charisse nodded as Khalid’s head jerked up.

His dark eyes flew to hers. “Hey, honey. How’re you feeling?”

The nurse slipped a sliver of ice in her mouth and the liquid melted in her parched throat. She gave her another as Charisse became aware of a dull ache near her left hip.

“What–?” she croaked.

“What happened?” Khalid finished the question for her, and she gave a nod. “You were shot.” His eyes stayed on hers as a black brow rose. “And when you’re feeling better, we are going to have a little chat about your late night jaunts into the desert.”

“Diablo?” she whispered.

She read the grief and sad truth in his eyes.

His fingers squeezed hers. Her mouth trembled. Asim had given her Diablo as a colt. She’d even helped to train him. Her eyes closed tight as the pain of yet another loss battered her heart.

Then her eyes flew open.

“The dogs?”

Hot tears ran from her eyes, into her hairline, to seep into her pillow.

“They are fine,” Khalid said, his voice brusque.

Her eyes met his and she read the fury.

Who could blame him?

She’d left the palace without his permission.

By now he knew about her meeting with Sheik Abbas, about Omar, and he’d want to know exactly why she hadn’t told him. It now hit Charisse hard that she’d behaved very badly. In fact, by leaving the palace without proper protection she’d been incredibly stupid. On the day of their marriage Khalid would become the ruler of Onuur. She hadn’t given him his place, or the proper respect.

The ache in her side reminded her of why she was here. Pushing down the blanket, she lifted her hospital gown to investigate the wound. And winced when she saw a livid bruise the size of a man’s fist glowing red and angry under a white dressing taped to her side.

“A little nick,” Khalid told her in a drawl that did nothing to hide his annoyance.

Her face burned as his hand reached over to slide her gown over the wound and pull up the sheet.

She opened her mouth, but before she said a word, a doctor entered.

As the medic gently examined her wound, Charisse expected Khalid to leave the room, but he didn’t budge. The doctor made it clear she’d had a lucky escape. She was expected to make a full and quick recovery.

But when the nurse turned her over to lie partially on her tummy, Charisse’s face burned. The soft moan that escaped from her throat was not just of pain, but of mortification, too.

Oh no.

Khalid’s shocked inhale of breath made her bite down hard on her bottom lip.

He’d be horrified and appalled. Any normal man would be by the livid scars that marred the flesh of her lower back, her buttocks.

The nurse returned her to rest on her back, and Charisse closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at the nurse, or the doctor. And certainly not at Khalid who now held her hand as if he’d never let it go.

The sound of the door closing had her open her eyes to find they were alone.

“Look at me.” His tone informed her it was an order, not a request.

Heart pounding in her chest, she did as she was told.

Dark eyes burned into hers with an intensity that made her lick her dry lips.

Her eyes stung.

“Did my uncle do that to… ?”

Horrified he should even consider such a thing, she shook her head.

“No,” she whispered.

Those eyes never left hers. “Your father? Don’t look so surprised. I’ve been hearing plenty about that son-of-a-bitch.” Now he took her hand to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss on her fingers. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me what had happened to you?”

Not prepared to go there with him, not yet, she shook her head.

Another fat tear escaped and ran into her hairline.

He pressed another kiss to her fingertips.

“Okay. You need to sleep. But, Charisse, we have a lot to talk about.”

And she looked forward to that conversation with nothing but dread.

Ten days later, Charisse lay on a fat cushioned daybed made of white wicker.

The bed was set in the shade of a tree in the stunning rose garden of the royal palace in Dhuma.

She was dressed in a light kimono of silk the colour of fresh butter and buttoned to the neck, fitted matching pants, and gold ballet slippers. With drowsy eyes she watched honey bees buzz lazily from flower to flower. The air, warm and scented, was having a soporific affect on her senses, leaving her more relaxed than she had been for months.

Arabella was now seconded to Prince Sarif’s personal staff. And she was co-ordinating the search for Omar. The man had disappeared. The theory was that someone was hiding him. And Khalid feared a conspiracy.

Sheik Abbas had arrived to see for himself that Charisse was in fact alive and gaining strength by the day. He’d offered his support to help root out the source of growing dissent against Khalid in Onuur. Sheik Abbas had also managed to receive an undertaking from the King Abdullah and his sons that once Omar was found, he would be handed over to him to receive a just punishment for his crimes. For once Khalid and Charisse were in agreement, perfectly happy to let the tribes deal with the man.

There had been a tricky moment when Khalid had made it crystal clear to the Sheik that his future wife would no longer be meeting him in the middle of the night in the desert. Things had been tense between two proud men before they’d come to an understanding, as Arabella called it.

The stitches in Charisse’s wound had been removed.

And although still in a little discomfort, she was healing very nicely and had cut back on painkillers. The doctors were more than happy with her progress.

Arrangements for her delayed wedding to Khalid were also well underway.

They were to be married in a low-key ceremony in two days at the royal palace in Dhuma, followed by two weeks alone at Sarif’s ocean-front hideaway.

Khalid still hadn’t had his little talk with Charisse. And her nerves were in shreds every time she thought about digging up a past she preferred to keep buried nice and deep in her psyche. She believed in living in the moment and thinking about the next day, not time travelling into the past or the future.

Now she turned to the woman who was making herself comfortable in the chair next to her.

Queen Janaan was slim and tall. Dressed in a sheath of navy blue silk, she was a stunning brunette with delicate features and an amazing bone structure that she’d handed down to her sons. Although in her late fifties, she looked a decade younger. Her smooth skin was unlined. Now Janaan poured mint tea into a fragile cup and handed it to her.

Charisse smiled. “Thank you.”

Over the past days she’d found Khalid’s mother to be a lovely, warm woman. A woman who cared deeply for her family and her country. Her name before she’d taken the honorary name of Janaan, which meant the soul of the people, had been Catherine.

Pale grey eyes, just like her son’s, twinkled now as she smiled.

“You’re welcome,” she responded, her voice friendly with a lovely soft Texan drawl that always made Charisse smile. “Charisse is a special name. Did you know it means beauty, grace and kindness? It suits you.”

The beautiful woman wrinkled her nose and shook her head, which made Janaan’s eyes dance. “You don’t like compliments?”

A quizzical look entered those grey eyes when Charisse puffed out her cheeks, deciding that was a no-win question.

“I’ve never found my appearance to be a blessing, Highness. More of a curse.” And that was putting it mildly.

Janaan’s eyes went cool. “What happened to you after your mother died was the work of a monster, not a man.”

Refusing to let the sly slide of fear take root in her stomach, Charisse gave a jerky shrug of a narrow shoulder.

“It is what it is, Highness.”

Charisse didn’t want to be rude, but neither did she want to talk about her past. God knew she’d done enough of that with the psychologists Amir had insisted she’d talked to. As far as Charisse was concerned she was all talked out. She accepted that nothing that had happened to her had been her fault. That she’d done nothing to provoke her father’s behaviour towards her. That she could have done nothing to stop her mother taking her own life. She’d accepted all of it, and more.

“When it is just the two of us talking like this, please call me Janaan. Highness becomes  a little wearing after a while, don’t you agree?”

Charisse grinned in response to the twinkle dancing in the Queen’s eyes.

Now Janaan’s eyes went wide. “I can see why Khalid is madly in love with you,” she said.

Sincerely shocked, Charisse simply stared. “He doesn’t know me. It’s only been weeks since we met.” Alarm and something like excitement skittered up her spine. “Surely you are mistaken?”

Janaan’s dark brows winged into her hairline. “I know my son. He understands women very well.” Now her lips thinned in annoyed disapproval. “Of course, he’s had plenty of practice… of a certain type… You, I imagine, are a unique experience for him.”

Charisse still felt the after effects of a general anaesthetic, a sluggish thought process. But her pulse kicked as the words sank into her brain.

“I am not altogether sure I want to be a unique experience for him. There’s nothing special about me.”

Janaan blinked.

Then her grey eyes went sharp and cool in a way that made Charisse wonder what on earth she’d said to offend her.

“You do not strike me as a stupid woman, Charisse,” she said briskly.

The verbal slap on the wrist was a shock.

Stung, Charisse lifted her chin.

“I’m not. However, neither am I delusional. Khalid craves excitement. He craves the next thrill. I’ve never known a man who jumps from one thing to another. He finishes nothing, except his paintings.” With relief she saw Janaan relax and the warmth return to her grey eyes. Khalid’s mother, she realised, was no pushover. “He will soon tire of me,” Charisse added, believing every word.

Janaan shook her head.

“You have much to learn about men. However, I won’t interfere.” She smiled, took a sip of her tea. “It will be interesting to see how he copes with his feelings.”

Charisse frowned as she took a sip of her own tea.

Didn’t Janaan understand how damaged her youngest son was?

Placing her cup and saucer on the table between them, Charisse gazed at the older woman.

“Do you have any idea how greatly he suffers? That he never sleeps? He paints all day and all night.”

Colour drained from Janaan’s smooth skin, leaving her too pale. Her slim hands fisted on her lap, and Charisse’s stomach clutched. Wondering if she was doing the right thing by talking to Khalid’s mother about him, she swung her legs down and moved carefully to sit next to her. She took the queen’s hand before continuing,

“He never speaks of the accident that killed my sister and his. If I try to broach the subject of his past, he closes himself off. I believe he carries the burden of guilt. And it is a heavy burden too hard to bear. It may destroy him.”

Janaan stared at Charisse in fear. A fear which turned to confusion and upset.

The queen rose, and began to pace back and forth.

She stopped and turned to look down at her future daughter-in-law.

The grey eyes were stormy now as they clashed with hers.

“None of us blame him. The powerboat came out of nowhere and shot cross their path. There was nothing, nothing, Khalid could have done to avoid the collision…” The horror of that day poured into her mind. She placed a hand over her mouth, eyes huge and filled to the brim with swimming emotions. “Dear God, I know he’s always held himself responsible, but I had no idea he…” She blinked back tears and sank to the edge of the couch. Her eyes were fixed on Charisse. “After the accident, we were so devastated to lose Jamila. And we feared we were going to lose Khalid, too. He was in a coma for many days. He recovered physically. But psychologically he has remained closed off to us. I have tried to reach him…

“And I know Sarif has fought a battle to bring him back to us, but his attempts have led to nothing but arguments and made Khalid distance himself even further from his family, and his country.”

The whole family, Charisse realised now, had never come to terms with the loss of a beloved daughter and sister.

Something that had struck her quite forcibly when she’d arrived at the beautiful palace in Dhuma now entered her mind. “I notice there are no photographs of Jamila.”

Janaan flinched, as if from a hard slap. Charisse was famous for her tact and diplomacy. Now she wondered where the hell it had gone.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Horrified to have hurt a woman who’d been nothing but kind to her, she closed her eyes. “I have a big mouth…”

“No. No, child.” Janaan lifted her purse of soft leather, plucked a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “You are quite right. There are no photographs of Jamila in the main reception areas. We’ve been selfish enough to keep her to ourselves in our private apartments. Please, Charisse, do not look so stricken. You have not offended me.”

After an endless moment, during which Charisse silently berated herself for her crass stupidity and insensitivity, Janaan blew her nose heroically.

Their eyes locked as the queen shook her head.

“You were far too young to be married to Amir. If only I’d known about it. I’d have kept you with me. Amir was old enough to be your grandfather. And grandfather’s, Charisse, do not make love to their granddaughters,” Janaan said in a tightly disapproving voice.

Baffled, Charisse blinked.

Then her mouth made an O shape in shock.

Heat burned up her neck, into her face, and she shook her head.

Her voice was no more than a whisper, “Oh no. No. Our relationship was not a physical one.”

With dismay growing by the moment, she read the patent disbelief in Janaan’s sharp gaze.

When, Charisse wondered, would she learn to shut her mouth?

However, there was no way she would permit the queen to make wrong assumptions, or blame Amir, a man who had treated her like a daughter, for something he had not done.

With her heart hammering in her throat, Charisse realised that nothing but the truth would do. It didn’t matter that just thinking about the circumstances that had brought her to Amir made her body tremble, or that a cold sweat trickled down her back. For years she’d blamed herself, her looks, for what had happened. Until Amir had brought in two therapists who specialised in helping victims of child abuse to help her understand, and to finally accept, that her father’s behaviour was not her responsibility.

But she couldn’t seem to help the sense of shame – a shame that went too deep in her psyche – for the fact that her own flesh and blood had used his fists, and worse, on a vulnerable, defenceless, child. A child who had already lost so much. Mortification incinerated her flesh from her toes to her scalp as Charisse bowed her head to fix her swimming gaze on the white knuckles of hands clenched too tightly in her lap.

Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, “My mother didn’t have an easy or happy time of it in her marriage. My father was too controlling and demanding, obsessed with Mia, and not in a healthy way. Looking back, I think that was why my mother fought for my sister and I to attend boarding school in England. After Mia and my mother died, my father, I think, became unhinged. At least that’s what Amir believed. My father tried to have…” Her whole body gave a convulsive shudder as she gave Janaan the edited version of events. “Intimate relations with me… I fought him… but he is big and strong and I couldn’t… in the end he couldn’t maintain an… he wasn’t able to do it. So he used his fists, his feet, and a riding crop to beat me until I bled.

“By the time I came to Amir I was ill, and emotionally traumatised. For six months I couldn’t utter a word. Amir looked after me, cared for me, educated me, and loved me as a father should love a daughter. He never once looked upon me as a sexual object of desire. I owe him my life.”

“Bastard!” The way Janaan snarled the world viciously, brought Charisse’s head up. Their eyes met and she read nothing but fury, along with an unstinting support, which lightened the heavy load Charisse carried deep within her heart. “I am referring to your father, child. Amir kept you in seclusion?”

“Yes. To protect me. But it was my choice, too.”

Janaan narrowed her eyes. Her soft mouth went tight.

“And you always wear the veil?”

Charisse felt tension built across her shoulders at the implied criticism. “Yes, when I leave the palace. My husband requested that I comply with tradition.”

“Forgive me, but I am confused. For a woman who complies with tradition, what on earth were you doing riding out in the middle of the night to meet a Sheik in the desert?”

It was a very good question.

And now Charisse wondered how she was going to explain the complex working relationship she’d had with her late husband.

“Amir was a unique mix of the old world meeting the new. I might be a woman, but he only saw my intellectual capabilities and skills, not my gender. He regarded me as the right person for the job. Because my only agenda was to represent him and do what was best for the people, he trusted me implicitly to be his voice during government meetings. And, yes, he did permit me to meet with the most powerful man after the king in our country. He also expected me to be modest at all times and to wear traditional dress and to behave in a certain way. I did not and do not have a problem with his beliefs.”

“I find the idea of me standing in for Abdullah in meetings simply… fascinating. As far as clothing is concerned, you might find, my dear, that Khalid believes differently. Although, as my son, he respects a woman’s right to choose.” She paused, thought hard for a long moment. “And so your father wants you dead.” The remark was a statement rather than a question.

Charisse shrugged. “If he is the one who has put a price on my head. And we must remember that we do not have proof. If it is, then he fears losing everything he has worked for if the truth comes out.”

Even though she’d expected to have this conversation with Khalid, Charisse had found it a huge release, even cathartic, to talk about her past and the present situation with Janaan. And she found it easy to tell her nothing but the truth.

“The more powerful my father became, the more Amir believed he would harm me. And that, I think, is why Amir thought of Khalid as my husband. He spoke to King Abdullah of his plan.”

Janaan lifted a perfect eyebrow and nodded very slowly.

“And my husband, as I discovered very long ago, is perfectly capable of keeping secrets.” She gave a twisted smile, and patted Charisse’s cold hand. “Don’t look so anxious. You are not telling tales. This is typical behaviour of an El Haribe male. The little women are to be protected at all costs while the big strong men keep them safe.”

With a decided gleam in her grey eyes, she lifted a little silver bell and rang it once.

A servant, clad in the livery of the royal household, materialised and bowed deeply.

“Champagne on ice. And a platter of fresh fruit,” the queen ordered in an unexpected slow Texan drawl that had Charisse biting down hard on her bottom lip.

Trying hard not to laugh at how much the queen resembled Khalid when she was in the mood to be naughty, Charisse grinned into grey eyes brimming with sheer wickedness.

“Are we celebrating?”

“You betcha, honey!” Janaan sat back on the couch. Crossing long legs, she folded her arms and stared into the distance, apparently deep in thought.

After a timeless moment, Charisse placed her elbow on the arm of the couch, rested her chin on her hand, and decided to nudge the conversation along.

“Want to give me a clue what we’re celebrating, Janaan?”

The queen simply held up a finger as a silver platter of sliced mango and a variety of berries was placed on the table. Tall glasses of delicate crystal were filled with liquid bubbles that sparkled and fizzed. A heavy ice bucket of solid silver was placed on the table and held an open bottle of the best champagne.

Once the servants had bowed and left, Janaan handed a glass to Charisse and picked up her own. She clinked their glasses together and announced gaily, “To us! Never let the bastards get you down.” She took a sip, then their glasses clinked musically again. “Don’t get angry, get even.” Another sip and another musical clink. “And welcome to the family, honey.”

Charisse rarely drank alcohol.

She didn’t have the head for it.

Then she decided, what the hell, it would be churlish of her to refuse.

So she took a long sip. It was fruity and gorgeously pleasant. So she took another.

Janaan sat back, again deep in thought.

Watching her, her future daughter-in-law realised there was a tough cookie under Janaan’s fragile, polished exterior.

Silence reigned until the first glass was empty and refilled.

Then Janaan made a low, “Hmm,” sound under her breath.

Charisse wondered what on earth was coming next.

She didn’t have long to wait.

“Khalid cares deeply for you. He is madly in love. He is worried about you. Very worried. And that is a very, very, good thing,” Janaan drawled, sounding as if she was back in Texas.

Bewildered, but having the time of her life, Charisse gave her big eyes.

“Why is the fact he is worried about me a good thing?”

“Because if he’s worried about you, it means he is not brooding. It means he’s not in one of his black moods.” Janaan’s eyes slid to hers. “You’d better prepare yourself for those. I’ve often wondered if we should have insisted that Khalid have counselling after the accident. But he refused to entertain the idea. My son is very stubborn. You do realize he’ll blame himself for everything that has happened to you.”

Annoyed, Charisse took another sip of her wine. “That’s ridiculous. How is he responsible for my father’s behaviour?”

“Cause and effect. He’ll see the death of Mia, which he firmly believes is his fault, as the catalyst that killed your mother, tipped your father over the edge, and made him abuse you. Then there’s the fact you were shot on his watch. Since his bodyguard is in the frame, he’ll quite happily take the blame for that, too. And then there’s the orchestrated unrest in Onuur, which he’ll worry over like a dog with a bone. All the while holding himself responsible. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Tiny wings of anxiety fluttered at her throat as Charisse did indeed see where Janaan was going.

“If you’re correct, then there is no logic to his thinking. He’ll put himself under immense pressure.”

The queen considered the remarks as they sipped their wine.

“Logic has nothing to do with Khalid’s thinking, or his behaviour. When he’s in a funk you’ll need to learn how to distract him.” Grey eyes studied her over the rim of her glass and Charisse felt the need to squirm under a direct gaze that reminded her so much of Khalid.

“You are a virgin?”

Charisse inhaled wine and choked.

Janaan handed her a tissue.

Once she’d caught her breath, her eyes flew to Khalid’s mother who’d cocked her head to watch her carefully. Since the truth was burning her cheekbones, what on earth was the point of lying? Taking a deep breath as if she was about to dive into the deep end of her swimming pool, she met eyes that missed nothing.

“Khalid made love to me shortly after we met.”

The delighted peal of laughter from Khalid’s mother was the last thing she’d been expecting. Janaan shook her head. Torn between mortification and the thrill of being able to talk about such things with another woman, Charisse couldn’t help but grin in return.

Thank goodness the woman didn’t think she was a slut.

“That’s my boy! He never hangs around when he wants something. I’ve heard all about Khalid’s sexual prowess.”

“Really, mother?” a deep voice drawled from behind them.

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Chapter Thirteen tomorrow… and Khalid takes things into his own hands…..

Christine X

THE GIFT THAT JUST KEEPS ON GIVING….. It’s the LH sneak peek…

 

 

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Hello, my darling readers,

It’s Friday and it’s the Ludlow Hall sneak peak time. Yay!

The Dower house…

Bronte was having a bad day. It’s half-term. And the children were driving her crazy.

She’s way behind with a mountain laundry—thanks to a washing machine Armageddon. The consequence of a blocked waste pipe, which she fixed herself. One of life’s great mysteries was how a sock had managed to find its way into the waste pipe. Smaller mountains of assorted dirty laundry littered the floor. Whites. Dark colours. PE kits. And baby clothes. Plus, a huge pile of bedding. Eve had thrown up last night. The child’s projectile vomit like something out of a horror movie. Which meant Bronte stank to high heaven of disinfectant, baby puke and sweat.

After too much pushy-shovey during and after breakfast, and in spite of their red-faced mother screaming at them at the top of her lungs to desist, the kids were banished to their separate bedrooms. Winter half-term, pouring rain, and bored kids, Bronte decided, was its own special kind of hell.

The sound of a car crunching over the gravel drive had her look to heaven. She hope to hell it wasn’t an unexpected visitor. If it was Rosie that would be okay, ’cause Rosie would sympathise and probably pour her a huge glass of wine. If it was a member of the local mums and tots group, she gazed at her clothes and sniffed her armpit, and decided she wouldn’t answer the door.

In the event it was neither.

Her husband walked through the door carrying a brown cardboard box.

She took one look at Nico, all dressed to impress in a smart dark suit and crisp shirt, silk tie, with not a freaking hair out of place, and she growled low in her throat.

“What are you doing home?” She checked the clock on the wall, just in case she’d lost track of time. “It’s only 2.30 in the afternoon. What’s this, a half-day?”

Nico, his gaze taking in the complete and utter disaster that was the laundry room, and breakfast dishes still littering the kitchen, read the situation easily enough.

His brows lifted.

“I brought you a present,” he said. “Although with that welcome, I’m not sure you deserve it.”

He gave her a huge smile.

She didn’t smile back.

“Piss off,” she hissed.

Nico winced.

“Trust me,” he said. “This will make your life so much easier, cara mia.”

Bronte moved to the sink, washed her hands, dried them, and turned to him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

Nico stepped over the detritus on the floor, placed the cardboard box on the worktop.

Grey eyes twinkling, he turned to her and opened his arms.

“Wanna hug?”

His wife simply gave him a bland stare.

“I stink of baby puke. I haven’t even managed to drag a brush through my hair. In fact, the way I’m feeling right now the last thing I want from you or anyone else is a hug.”

Nico ignored what had turned into a rant, and just grabbed her and held her tight.

His nose twitched.

She was right, she didn’t smell her usual fragrant self.

“Bad day?”

She snuggled into his chest and gave a heavy sigh.

“The worst, she muttered into his silk tie.

He smelled absolutely amazing, freshly laundered shirt, shower gel and the cologne she loved so much.

“I hate half-term,” she said.

Nico nodded.

“Don’t worry, he said into her hair and gave her another quick squeeze. “We will do this together.”

Bronte sniffed, step back and rubbed her hands on the legs of her jeans.

She studied the box on the worktop.

“Okay,” she said, and hoped to heaven it wasn’t some new piece of digital equipment. “Hit me with it.”

 

Nico shifted, opened the box and brought out what looked like a tall black tube.

Bronte just stared at it.

Her heart fell, it was a new piece of digital equipment.

Nico, on the other hand, looked thrilled.

He said, “It’s Alexa. And she is going to change your life.”

Bronte was not convinced.

She scratched her nose.

Folded her arms and cocked her hip.

“Okay,” she said, “show me exactly how that tube of metal is going to change my life.”

Nico took off his jacket hung it carefully over the back of a kitchen chair, rubbed his hands again, whipped out the instruction booklet and set up by linking it to their Wi-Fi and integrating the device from what he called, the mother-lode.

“It’s from Amazon.” He sent her a cheeky wink. “Its voice recognition artificial intelligence. All you have to do is tell Alexa what music you want to listen to, or turn on the radio, or order items from the store, and she does it. It’s like magic.”

Bronte, pouring two black coffees into cups, and lifted her brows.

She sank to a kitchen chair, folded her arms and just watched.

What was it with boys and their toys, she wondered.

It didn’t take long for Nico to set it up.

And within half an hour he had ordered a couple of items from Amazon.

Bronte reckoned she quite liked Alexa’s voice, she sounded friendly. And when Bronte asked Alexa to play rock music and she did, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“That is so cool,” she said. Her temper improving by the minute.

Looking pretty pleased with himself, Nico dropped a kiss on her cheek.

“I’ll have a shower. I’ll be down in a couple of minutes and I’ll help you with all this. There’s nothing we cannot do when we work as a team.”

Well, Bronte had to agree with that sentiment.

She strolled out the door with him, and gave his tight butt a pat.

“Maybe we could shower together and save water?” she whispered.

His strong arm came around her waist. “Just what I was thinking,” he said in a deep, growly voice.

As Bronte and Nico strolled out the door, a little blond head appeared slowly, very slowly, from behind the back of a lilac velvet sofa.

Sophia, dressed in pink leggings that hit above her ankle, and an oversized white hoodie that proclaimed, ‘The Snuggle Is Real,’ and clutching a battered looking Raggedy-Ann doll,  strolled over on bare feet to check out Alexa.

Emerald eyes wide, she placed her arms on the worktop and stared unblinking at the machine.

“Hello, Alexa,” said Sophia.

***

Next morning, Bronte was busy at her twelve burner stainless steel hob, making a full English breakfast for her hungry horde. In a good mood, she shook her booty to a rock song via Alexa. The device was soooooo cool.

The peal of the doorbell had her yell, “Nico! Could you get the door?”

“Si,” he yelled back from his study.

She heard him opening the door, and chatting to the postman.

A minute later, he walked into the kitchen-dining-living space, carting at least six cardboard boxes.

Her brows rose. “Good Lord, what’s all that?”

Checking the parcels, Nico shook his head. “I ordered two items.”

Using tongs to lift a pile of crispy bacon onto a plate, she placed the plate in the middle of the table. Wiping her hands on the tea towel tucked into the waistband of her black skinny jeans, she wandered over to find Nico using a sharp knife to open the boxes.

“From Amazon,” she muttered.

When Nico took out a large box of Lego—Elsa’s Sparkling Ice Castle, she goggled.

“Whoa,” she said.

The next box opened, it was like Christmas all over again, held more Lego—this time a BIG selection of Mighty Micros Spiderman VS Scorpion Street Showdown.

“Wow,” she whispered.

By this time, Nico’s shoulders shook so hard, he needed to take a breath as he opened box number three. A huge box of Mega Blocks for ages 1-5.

“Aww, that must be for Eve,” Bronte said, her eyes going all teary. “What’s in this one, it’s big.”

Nico opened it, and blinked. “Mio dio. It is the iScoot Blaze Tonio’s been after.”

Bronte picked up a receipt invoice, and bit down hard on her top lip. “Alexa ordered it. All of it.”

Her eyes met his as they turned their attention to another box.

A heavy one this time.

“What do you thinks’ in here?”

His grey eyes, twinkling, met hers. “There must be something you’d love to have.”

She shook her head. “I’ve no idea.”

When he opened it, she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Omigod. It’s the Tefal Cook4Me Multicooker. But… it costs a fortune.”

He opened the last box, it didn’t weigh much.

And Bronte collapsed into a chair laughing so hard, she nearly peed her pants.

It was a ‘Man Tin’ (Leads, Screws & Other Pointless Stuff I must keep.)

 

And right then, Tonio and Luca strolled into the kitchen.

They wore below the knee jean shorts and hoodies.

The boys stopped dead, and stared, wide-eyed, at all the goodies lined up on the table.

“Wow!” said Luca, diving on the Lego box. He held it in his hand as if it was the crown jewels. His beaming smile split his face. “This is sooooo cool. Thank you, papa!”

Tonio’s dark eyes flew to Nico as he grabbed the box containing the much-longed-for scooter.

“Grazie. Grazie!”

“We’ll need to buy him protective gear for that,” Bronte whispered into Nico’s ear.

“Si.”

And then, without a word, Sophia slid into the room.

She wore soft blue jeans and navy hoodie.

Her big emerald eyes studied the toys, her brothers’ clear deeeeeelight, and then flicked to her mama and papa’s wide eyes as they watched her face.

“Um…,” she said, her fingers playing with her blonde tail.

“Um?” Bronte said in a soft voice.

Nico crouched down in front of his daughter, took her little hand in his.

“Were you speaking to Alexa?” he asked in a soft voice.

Sophia’s brows flew into her hairline. “She’s nice.”

Luca, carefully unwrapping Lego, glanced at his sister. “Who’s Alexa?”

Sophia, eyes glued to her papa’s, said, “Alexa? What time is it?”

There was a slight delay and then a woman’s voice said from the tall black tube, “The time is 9.20 am.”

Luca’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Wow! That is amazing,” he whispered.

Bronte ran her hand through his dark curls. “Isn’t it?”

“Did you ask Alexa for all of these?” He indicated the boxes on the table.

“Uh huh,” she said in a soft voice.

“Didn’t Alexa say how much they cost?” Nico wanted to know.

“Uh huh.”

“They cost a lot of money,” Nico said.

Sophia went nose to nose with her papa.

“I know.” Then she stroked a small finger down his cheek. “But you’re filthy rich, papa. We can afford a nice surprise now and then. And mama’s always wanted one of those Cook4Me pots because she works too hard looking after all the heathens in this family. So I asked Alexa to send one and she said yes.”

In response to the absolute logic of her statement, Nico grabbed her in a big hug.

“Your heart is in the right place, bambina.”

 

Meanwhile, Bronte couldn’t help but laugh.

Wait until Rosie heard all about Alexa.

Seriously, she couldn’t make this stuff up!

 

FINE

Hehehe!

Real life is stranger than fiction. This actually happened to someone I know. Not on the scale of Sophia. One dozen boxes of cake mix. LOL!

 

Christine X

Chapter Eleven, Desert Orchid…..

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GOOGLE PLAY   iBOOKS   BARNES & NOBLE   KOBO   AMAZON USA   AMAZON UK

Hello, my darlings, it’s bitter cold here with ice and snow forecast.

So here’s chapter Eleven of Charisse and Khalid’s adventure to keep you warm?

Enjoy!

 

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Chapter Eleven

Shock and terror that Charisse was dead had Khalid’s heart batter too hard against his ribs.

Seizing his gun and roaring for Omar at the top of his voice, he raced down the stairs. The spine chilling howl of the dogs had him sprint through the palace.

The sound of running feet, the cries of alarm, had him picking up the pace as he raced towards the gates.

What the hell had she been doing out of the palace in the middle of the damned night?

And why the fuck hadn’t he been told?

If Arabella Faulkner had known about this, had condoned it, without telling him, he’d have her head.

And where on earth was Omar?

All these questions and more ran through Khalid’s mind as he sped through the gates towards the crowd gathered around horse and rider.

He came to a hald, his heart stopped, before jolting in his chest to beat so fast he pressed his fist to the spot.

The acrid smell of death had his legs turn to jelly.

Blood.

Everywhere.

It was clear Diablo was dead.

The magnificent animal had been shot through the head.

And dear God, the woman who held his heart was lying on her back in the dirt.

Blood covered Arabella’s frantic hands as she bent over Charisse and pressed a thick wad of gauze into a wound that oozed a puddle of life giving fluid, the colour of claret, on the ground. The dogs were baying even as Arabella fired instructions to a protection officer who was inserting a line into Charisse’s vein connected to a bag of plasma while another gave her oxygen.

Soldiers, faces fierce, turned towards the mountains with guns at the ready.

They stood in a tight formation around the people working to save her life as Charisse was lifted onto a stretcher.

Khalid swallowed the bitter taste of fear burning at the back of his throat.

She was too pale.

He was going to lose her.

Arabella’s eyes met his and she didn’t so much as flinch beneath his utter fury.

“It looks as if the bullet has nicked a rib. We need to get her out of here.”

The thought of someone attempting to take the life of Charisse had a red haze of rage blurring Khalid’s vision.

Coward.

To attack a defenceless female was an act of unutterable cowardice.

And he swore an oath that whoever was responsible for this would pay, in blood.

Yet another protection officer was spoke in clipped tones into a satellite phone.

And Khalid realised the man was speaking to Sarif.

He’d never felt so helpless or so utterly useless in his entire life.

They fought to stabilise Charisse as the army medics arrived.

“Highness,” the protection officer said to Khalid. “Prince Sarif must speak with you.”

Khalid took the phone. “Sarif?”

As luck would have it his brother was already on his way to Onuur by helicopter and the decision was made to fly Charisse immediately to the Royal hospital in Dhuma.

 

The following two hours, first in the helicopter, and then the hospital, were something Khalid knew he’d never forget as long as he lived.

Not once did he take his eyes from Charisse.

God, she looked so young, so vulnerable and too bloody pale lying on the stretcher.

In the helicopter a young army medic’s hand trembled as he adjusted her oxygen mask and Khalid knew just how he felt. The medic turned to him and spoke to him through their headset,

“She is lucky to be alive. Half an inch and the bullet would have hit a lung.”

Arabella never let go of Charisse’s hand.

The bodyguard opened her mouth to speak to him, but Khalid was so fucking angry with her he didn’t want to hear it.

“Report to Sarif as soon as we land. I do not want to see your face again.”

The woman went bone white and gave a single nod before Khalid turned his attention to Charisse.

And if she managed to get through this ordeal alive and whole, Charisse would find that her future husband had ways of disciplining his wayward fiancée.

Never again would she ride out into the night doing God knew what.

Never again.

But then a wave of grief crashed over him and brought him to his knees. Sorrow replaced anger and he buried his face in her silver hair and prayed to God like he’d never prayed before for her life to be spared.

 

 

Charisse was drifting in a lovely white space.

All she could hear was a faint bleep-bleep of a heart monitor and she wondered if she was asleep in Asim’s room, and then with a plunging heart she remembered that he was dead.

The smell of antiseptic tickled her nose and the sound of high-pitched voices invaded her consciousness.

Khalid.

Khalid’s voice was raised.

And he was angry, so very angry.

She tried to frown but it appeared she floated in some kind of fog.

Her throat hurt.

Her eyelids appeared to be glued together and she struggled frantically to open them.

What was the matter with Khalid?

Why was he shouting?

“And why the hell did no one tell me of this? I’m only going to be her fucking husband.”

Another voice, a man, older and a little frail answered.

A woman told them to hush.

Then oblivion claimed her again.

Khalid simply stared at the two people who’d brought him into the world.

His mother’s face was pale. She wore slender pants of ivory silk under a matching long sleeved, high necked tunic edged with black embroidery. She was a slim and striking woman, who diligently kept a weather eye out for any stray grey hair that threatened to mar the perfection of hair as black as jet.

With the face of a hawk and wearing the robes of his office his father sat, spine ramrod straight, while his mother stared at her husband in patent disbelief.

Sarif rested his hands on the back of a couch and shook his dark head in amazement.

His eyes met his father’s. “You and my uncle Amir bought Charisse?” Sarif asked in a voice dripping with incredulity.

Khalid stood utterly still before thrusting both hands through his hair.

He seriously felt he’d stepped through the looking glass and was living in a parallel universe.

“What the fuck is this?”

His mother frowned at the expletive and turned to her husband. “Abdullah, my darling. Explain yourself.”

King Abdullah of Dhuma never explained himself, or his actions, to anyone. But looking at his family he knew the time for secrets was over. His dark eyes stared unseeing into the distant past as he began his tale.

“Charisse is the twin sister of Mia Chanteluelle.”

Queen Janaan’s gasp and the collective shocked silence in the room had Khalid blink.

Charisse was the twin of the girl he’d killed in a speed boat accident? An accident that had taken the life of his beloved sister and had almost killed himself?

His brother’s hand pressed on his shoulder and squeezed hard.

Khalid placed his hand over his brother’s and held on tight.

A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him as the King’s sharp eyes bored into his.

“It was an accident!” his father roared and thumped the arm of his chair with his fist.

Khalid knew the point was debatable, but he needed to hear the rest of this.

King Abdullah took a breath and continued,

“Three months after the tragedy her mother committed suicide. And her father… well, her father is evil. He owed too much money to the wrong people and sold Charisse to the highest bidder.” He winced as his wife cried out, her hands covering her mouth as her horrified gaze never left his face. And his sons were looking at him as if he was speaking in tongues. “Asim always felt that it was grief that made Pascal Chanteluelle do such a heinous thing. But I am not so sure, and after the attempt on that girl’s life, I am certain of it.”

Trying to get his head around what he was hearing, Khalid’s legs went like jelly as he sank to the edge of a chair, and scrubbed his face with his hands.

He stared at his father and leaned forward.

He needed clarity, and he needed it now.

And to be absolutely certain he understood exactly what his father had said, he articulated each word very carefully.

“Are you telling me her own father sold her?”

The King nodded.

And the words Khalid had spoken to Charisse when he’d asked her if his uncle had bought her and her reaction to them now made so much sense. As did the dark shadow that lay at the back of those big blue eyes.

King Abdullah’s eyes went hard now as he spoke, “Her mother was a famous beauty. Mia was the more outgoing of the twins, and apparently the man adored her, doted on her. With her colouring, her long limbs, her hair and blue eyes, Charisse would command a large price in the market for white slaves.”

Khalid had a perfectly healthy imagination and had no trouble at all picturing a young and terrified Charisse in the clutches of a relentless evil.

His hands fisted as another fist, one of utter horror, squeezed his heart. “Slavery?”

“This is true,” said Sarif. “Although these days the girls tend to come from Eastern Europe. Only the very wealthy can afford to buy a child or a young woman taken from the United States or Europe.”

Khalid looked at his brother as if he’d never seen him before. “You talk as if stealing children, young women, is an everyday event,” he said, his voice now a throaty growl threatening impending violence.

Sarif gave a single nod. “Slaveholding has been a trade for centuries. And don’t take that tone with me, brother. You can rest assured that we do everything we can to put a stop to human trafficking. Unfortunately, not all countries stand by the agreement to outlaw the practice.”

King Abdullah continued, “We are talking of Charisse, are we not? Her father has connections to unsavoury elements. Asim was told of the sale of a beautiful young girl and who was behind it. He informed me and together we ensured Charisse was taken to safety. After all, even if indirectly, we were responsible for her situation.”

Silence.

Bile rose like acid into Khalid’s throat.

“You mean I am responsible for her situation.” He stared at his family. “How am I going to tell her that I am the man who killed her sister? The man who destroyed her life? She will never, ever, forgive me.”

“She already knows,” his father said.

For the second time in as many minutes Khalid felt as if he’d been hit by a truck. It was impossible for his mind to grasp the fact that Charisse was prepared to have a life with him after learning the truth that he was the one who had killed her sister. He simply could not compute that fact. “I don’t understand.”

His father leaned forward in his chair. “Thanks to Amir, Charisse realises that no one person was responsible for a freak accident. She does not blame you, Khalid.”

“Only because she does not know the whole truth!” he yelled into his father’s stern face.

After burying his head in his hands, he scrubbed his face.

Then he raised his head and simply studied his family. Was there such a thing as mass delusion? Their refusal to apportion blame where it belonged, firmly with him, was something he’d never been able to understand.

What the hell was wrong with these people?

Queen Janaan took a shaky breath and looked at her youngest son with eyes filled to the brim with sadness and grief. “We hold no one to blame for a tragic accident, Khalid.”

He did not, could not, believe them. They’d been over the same ground so many times and he’d heard it all before. But nothing, nothing would change what had happened on that day or that he was responsible. Then he remembered that Charisse’s life was all about duty to her people and her country. And he knew she was the type of person to fulfil her obligations, even if that meant marrying and living with the man who had brought her nothing but suffering.

However, what was happening now was not about him, it was about Charisse.

“So because he sold her, this is why her father wants her dead?”

The king shook his head.

“He wants her dead because Pascal Chanteluelle is the former French foreign minister and head of the Global Finance Fund and tipped to be the next head of the European Union. While she was married to Asim and kept in seclusion and out of the public eye he couldn’t touch her. However, she’s about to be married to a man with a too high public profile in the gutter press. Questions will be asked. When she disappeared her father stated she’d run away. Now Asim is dead and acquisitive eyes are turned towards Onuur, and to us. The region is more unstable by the day. This may be an opportunity for a man like Chanteluelle to work with others to destabilise our countries, grab the wealth, and get rid of his daughter while he’s at it. Once Charisse is your wife she will once again fall under our immediate protection. We can only hope he will leave her in peace.”

Khalid rose to pace as he tried to wrap his head around everything he’d learned.

Now he turned to his father.

“By your tone you don’t believe he will leave her alone?”

His father shrugged.

“I am not without influence. I have friends in the American and British governments who will not tolerate a man like Chanteluelle behaving like a modern day Genghis Khan. He is already under investigation for his part in the European financial crisis. He is a man who thrives among the chaos he creates. I have sent a clear message that another attempt on her life will not be tolerated and we will expose him for what he is. But he has grown powerful. He fears her. And when an animal is in fear for its life, it attacks.”

Sarif spoke, “We found the rifle, which is being run through testing. Arabella’s team found shoe prints that match the weight and size of Omar in the spot the shot was taken. I don’t believe in coincidences. There is the distinct probability that Omar is the assassin. Although, I don’t suppose his disappearance is much of a surprise since his proclivities have been revealed.”

Khalid took a shaky breath wondering what other shocks this day might bring.

“I had no idea he was a molester of young boys. And now you believe he might be the assassin?”

Sarif shook his head.

“We have no proof. However, the temptation of ten million dollars to such a man might be too good an opportunity to miss.”

Utter fury blasted through Khalid.

“What was Arabella Faulkner thinking taking Charisse out into the desert in the middle of the damned night?”

“Charisse met Sheik Abbas.”

Khalid stared at his father in amazement as his temper spiked.

“Why the hell was I not told of this? I’m only going to be her fucking husband,” he roared. Quite forgetting that he’d been immersed in his art and had left explicit instructions that he was not to be disturbed for any reason.

“Khalid!” His mother’s tone told him he sailed too close to the wind.

His father’s fierce glare held his. “If we had told you of her identity, you would have refused to marry her. My brother and I took the decision that once Charisse began to trust you, to know you, we were sure she would tell you everything about her past.” Without taking his eyes from his son, the king leaned forward. “And I am asking myself why she did not.”

His youngest son gave a low groan as he held his head in hands.

“Have you any idea of the things I said to her? We found the debit in my uncle’s accounts for three and a half million Euros and I assumed she’d whored herself. And then we found the deposits Asim had left for her in banks in Switzerland…”

“Oh, Khalid.” His mother’s shocked whisper only made the sharp blade of guilt sink deeper into his heart.

“And she did nothing, said nothing, to defend herself?” Sarif wanted to know.

Khalid lifted his head, stared at his brother. He could hardly tell his family that he’d hauled her into his arms and almost ravished her on the spot, could he?

“I didn’t give her much of a chance,” he admitted.

The person he needed to talk to was Charisse.

A need to protect her, strong and powerful, rose up into his chest. And Khalid swore then and there that he would never, ever leave her side. If anyone thought they were going to hurt a single hair on that beautiful head of hers then they’d need to go through him.

And if he ever came face to face with her snake of a father, and his bastard of a bodyguard, he’d kill them with his bare hands.

 

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Don’t miss tomorrow’s episode, it’s a doozy!

Christine x

Desert Orchid, Chapter Ten…..

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Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Please note that Chapter Nine was a love scene that I can’t publish on the blog…..

Chapter Ten

Three days later, a shocked Charisse received a report by Arabella on Omar’s behaviour, which had horror and revulsion roiling in her gut.

Her bodyguard’s mouth was white.

Fury rolled off her in palpable waves.

Charisse knew what she had to do.

The safety of her people came first.

Feeling sick to her stomach, she stood.

“Send boys under the age of eighteen back to their tribes immediately. And the rest that remain must never walk unaccompanied.”

Arabella nodded. “Sheik Abbas has sent a message. He wants to meet with you in the usual place.”

Charisse’s eyes flew to hers.

“He has heard of this?” Then she wondered why she’d asked such a stupid question. Abbas was one of the most powerful men in Onuur, and as such he had plenty of informants in the palace. “Of course he has. We’ll ride out at midnight.”

“We’ll take the dogs?”

Charisse knew why Arabella had asked the question. For the last three days Boris had spent most of his time with Khalid, while Rufus stuck to her like glue.

“Yes.”

Her bodyguard’s dark brown eyes stayed on hers. “Prince Khalid must be told of this. At the end of the day Omar is accountable to him.”

Arabella was right.

Charisse didn’t want to even consider the possibility that her future husband was aware that his protection officer had a taste for young boys.

As for Khalid, she hadn’t seen him since their night together.

She’d battled very hard to overcome the combined feelings of hurt, arousal and a lingering anxiety that perhaps her innocence had been a bitter disappointment to a man whose sexual exploits had graced the headlines of tabloids across three continents. His whispered promises to teach her the joy of sex had led her to an expectation that he might repeat his lesson.

No such luck.

Apparently, he was once more in full creative flow. And he’d made it abundantly clear he was never to be disturbed when the muse struck, which was perfectly ridiculous.

How on earth was he supposed to run a country part-time?

His parents and brother were due to arrive for their wedding in two days. That’s if Khalid could be bothered, Charisse thought savagely, to tear himself away from his painting for his own wedding.

She decided not to disturb him, for now. “We’ll gather facts before I speak with him.”

Not at all happy with that idea, Arabella glowered.

“How is it possible he is unaware of Omar’s behaviour?”

Charisse had asked herself the very same question, but she’d already made one mistake in prejudging Khalid and she wasn’t about to make another.

“We must give him the benefit of the doubt. If it turns out Khalid is aware that Omar is a paedophile then the wedding is off and I’ll tell King Abdullah why. Not only that, it will become my personal mission in life to ensure Khalid does not rule this land.”

“Very well. But if I find that son-of-a-bitch Omar laying a fat finger on any boy, I’ll shoot his balls myself.”  Her bodyguard let out a very long breath. “By the way, keep your pistol on you at all times.” Charisse stared at her and Arabella continued, “I don’t like the way Omar looked at you either. The whole vibe of this place has changed since they arrived. I always trust my gut.”

Arabella was right.

These days the atmosphere around the palace had a dark and brooding edge to it. As if the whole structure was holding its breath. Initially, Charisse had put down her servants’ skittishness around Khalid as nerves due to the changes he’d implemented, especially in relation in how they dealt with her. He demanded to be given his due as the ruler of Onuur, which was fair enough, but what did he expect the staff to do when he was out of contact for days at a time?

Over the years during Asim’s illness, the servants had become used to deferring to Charisse. Plus, her late husband had encouraged her to run the palace and implement change.

But it hadn’t take Charisse long to discover it was Omar who made the staff in the palace fearful—and now she knew why. This morning, he’d trapped a twelve year old boy in his room. The child’s cries for mercy had saved him from certain rape.

The bodyguard hadn’t been seen since the incident early this morning and had managed to evade capture.

Logic and her heart told her she should interrupt Khalid and alert him to the issue.

But she wanted to give the security team, headed up by Arabella, time to apprehend Omar. Plus Sheik Abbas was not a man to be kept waiting. He’d specifically asked to see her. If she told Khalid of the request he would most certainly forbid her to go. But that would be seen as a snub to the Sheik and Charisse knew the trouble Abbas might make in the country for a new and untried King. No, she would meet the Sheik and speak to Khalid in the morning, and in the meantime pray his bodyguard was captured.

The most important thing was to get the facts assembled and see what Sheik Abbas knew.

However, Charisse was worried.

The wedding might not yet have taken place, but to all intents and purposes Khalid now ruled Onuur. By asking to meet her alone, Abbas had not given Khalid his proper place, and that made her angry. The Sheik should be willing to give him chance. The last thing she wanted to do was to have a rift develop between Khalid and a very powerful man. A man she knew and respected.

As she prepared for her meeting, Charisse’s heart felt very heavy in her chest.

 

Once the palace was quiet and settled for the night, Charisse rode out on Diablo with Arabella and four close protection officers who were a part of her own personal guard.

Ever ready for adventure, and delighted to be free of the confines of the palace, Boris and Rufus streaked ahead.

The velvety darkness of the night sky was lit by a half moon. In the heavens constellations glittered like crystalline jewels. In spite of her worries Charisse found herself almost relaxing for the first time in days. The night was chilly and she wore a thick hijab woven from the finest cashmere, which covered her head, nose and mouth. The guards wouldn’t be happy, but Charisse kicked a heel against his flank, and couldn’t help but give Diablo his head.

She crouched low over the stallion’s back as he raced over compacted sand leaving the other riders behind in a cloud of dust.

The exhilaration that came with a breakneck speed made her grin.

The scent of the desert, that unique earthy flavour, flowed under her robe tickling her nose and drying her throat. God, she loved this land and its people.

Slowing into a gallop and then a trot, she waited for Arabella and the rest to thunder to her side as Diablo danced a two-step shuffle.

“How many times have I told you not to do that?” Arabella barked.

Unrepentant, Charisse shrugged. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Well try harder. No point in borrowing trouble, Highness. We have plenty of issues to be getting on with.”

 

Fifteen minutes later they trotted into the ruins of an ancient city beautifully carved out of monolithic mountains of sandstone and found oil fires staked into the earth to light the way.

As Diablo shuddered to a trembling stop a Bedouin tribesman stepped forward to take the reins.

Charisse leapt to the ground, her riding boots kicking up dust as she strode over to the tall man waiting for her beside a welcome fire. He was dressed in loose black robes, his dark head uncovered and she saw for the first time grey streaking through his cropped black hair and beard.

Abbas was in his late forties and a virile man as his six wives could attest. He had twenty children and had just added another fine son to his expanding nursery.

Charisse held out both hands and he bowed low placing his forehead on her fingertips.

“It is good to see you, Highness. My heart is heavy with sorrow for the loss of our King.” His deep voice rumbled in his vast chest. He’d been chewing mint leaves and the scent blended with newly washed skin and clean clothes.

Charisse took a deep breath.

“My heart is heavy, too, Sheik Abbas. How fares your family and your people?”

He turned and indicated they should sit on plump leather cushions arranged near the fire.

“They are well, thank you. Please, sit.”

A servant poured the thick, rich and sweet coffee beloved in the kingdoms of Arabia and with a nod of thanks Charisse accepted a tiny gold cup from the Sheik. Traditions of hospitality were faithfully adhered to in the desert. They set the stage for the discussion to come, traditions that anchored Charisse to the earth, and she took them very seriously.

She sipped even as her heart kicked.

Being summoned to Abbas was not unheard of, but to be asked to meet him so soon after Asim’s death and Khalid’s arrival was such a break of protocol that it could only mean that trouble lay ahead.

She wondered what was coming.

Dark eyes, sharp and filled with a ruthless intelligence held hers.

“I have news that will bring more heartache and pain to you, Highness.”

The way he said the words had Charisse brace herself.

Those eyes, black as obsidian stared at her under thick brows.

His nostrils flared.

Abbas was very angry.

Actually, he was furious, and her palms went damp.

“Word has reached me that a contract for ten million United States dollars has been offered for your death.”

Charisse went utterly still.

The nerves deep in her belly turned to solid ice.

So, the game had begun.

And Charisse found she wasn’t surprised or even shocked.

In some ways it was a relief that her enemy had shown his hand so soon and so clumsily.

Maybe, she hoped, he was losing his touch.

Abbas frowned as those shrewd eyes narrowed into hers.

“You do not appear surprised, Highness.”

Not wanting to meet his eyes, the man saw too much, Charisse took a careful sip of coffee all the while staring into the dancing flames of the fire and pulled her mind away from the horror of a fateful night that would haunt her dreams for as long as she drew breath.

Her eyes now lifted and met his.

“I’m not.”

His brows rose.

“You know who would wish you dead?”

She gave a single nod.

“Indeed. Thank you for the warning. However, I must speak with you about the young boys…”

Abbas shook his head.

He held up a hand to silence her, and now his black eyes went fierce.

“Please do not change the subject. How is it possible for you to have such an enemy?” he demanded to know in a tone that made her flinch. “Since your marriage you have not left this land. You have worked tirelessly for the people. I must know the name of the person who wishes you harm. Understand this, Highness, after the passing of their king the people would find it too hard to cope with the loss of their beloved queen. Especially if her death was a violent one. Distrust and suspicion would multiply. War among the tribes must surely follow.”

No way would Charisse show him she shared his fear for her future and for the future of her people. However, until her marriage, she trusted Arabella and the tight security that surrounded her to keep her safe. More importantly, Abbas’s words told her the secrecy that surrounded her arrival in Onuur and the reason for her marriage to Asim was water tight. Charisse released a relieved breath. She had no idea how the Sheik would regard her if he knew the truth. Abbas was a highly conservative and deeply religious man. She wasn’t prepared to take the risk of one of the most powerful men in the country rejecting her as the queen of Onuur.

She took a steadying breath. “King Abdullah and Prince Sarif and Khalid have the situation well in hand,” she said briskly, stretching the truth and at the same time refusing to meet his eyes.

“You do not trust me, Charisse?” he asked in a soft whisper.

Now her eyes flew to his.

Dismay he should think such a thing filled her heart.

“With my life, Sheik. I do have a suspicion of the person involved but at the moment no hard facts. And until I have facts then giving you a name would be nothing more than rumour.”

Breaking protocol, he placed his hand over hers. “Promise you will call upon me at once if you need my help.”

His face swam in front of her eyes but she nodded. “I give you my word.”

Dark eyes searched hers and she saw that although he accepted her word he was not happy. Abbas was a man who liked to have his finger on the pulse of his country. He was dedicated to the advancement of his people and fiercely loyal to the crown.

“I will trust in Allah to keep you safe, Highness.”

She bent her head in agreement.

“I must speak with you about the young boys…”

He raised his hand to cut her off and stood.

Placing his hand under her elbow, he helped her to her feet.

Their meeting, it appeared, was over.

“It is not seemly for us to speak of such things. Later today, I will meet with Prince Khalid.”

In other words it was perfectly fine to discuss the fact someone wanted to take her life, but child abuse was not a fit subject to discuss with a woman.

But she wouldn’t give up.

“I understand your reluctance to discuss Omar with me, Sheik Abbas, but I was planning to talk to Prince Khalid…”

Abbas interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

“No. Leave the issue in my hands, Highness. It will be an honour for me to cut off the head of the snake.”

Charisse knew when to give up.

She was a woman and that was that.

So be it.

Abbas bowed low over her hand.

“There is unrest among the tribes about the choice of husband for you and ruler for this land. Rumours and tall stories are spreading like locusts on the desert wind. You must marry Prince Khalid soon, Highness. The protection of the El Haribe’s will do much to ensure your safety and bring stability to our country.”

“The wedding will take place in forty-eight hours,” Charisse assured him. “A small ceremony. We must honour the memory of Asim.”

Abbas nodded as he led her back to Diablo and an anxious looking Arabella.

“Which is just as it should be. Khalid will settle down after his wild ways. He will give you strong sons.”

Since she didn’t want to dwell on how Khalid was going to give her strong sons, Charisse nodded once.

She turned to the man who’d been loyal for so many years to the house of El Haribe.

“Blessings be upon your family and your people, Sheik Abbas.”

Charisse leapt upon Diablo’s back.

Rufus and Boris whined with pleasure under the stroking hand of the Sheik.

“Blessings be upon you, Highness. May God go with you.”

 

Arabella trotted at her side. “And what was all that about?”

Well out of earshot, two bodyguards rode ahead and two brought up the rear.

“There’s a price on my head. Ten million dollars,” Charisse said in a low voice.

The hiss of breath exhaled from her bodyguard was followed by an expletive.

“He doesn’t hang about, does he?”

“He is a man who knows no boundaries,” Charisse agreed.

“He’s a sick bastard. Have you told Prince Khalid about your past?”

Charisse pondered on just one more hurdle yet to be overcome on the journey that was her life.

She shook her head, and ignored Arabella’s low hiss of irritation.

“And I won’t until I have to. My instincts tells me Khalid is a good man. A troubled man, but a good man. Before I tell him the truth of my past, we must see how he deals with the news of Omar.”

Arabella said nothing, but her stiff body language said it all.

She was not pleased.

The moon lit the way as they approached the narrow pass that linked two mountain ranges.

The White Palace rose majestically in the distance.

Home.

She would never leave this place.

Not willingly.

And as Charisse spurred Diablo into a fast trot, she knew she’d never felt so alone, so vulnerable, and so isolated, since she’d been fifteen. Fear for herself and, more importantly, for her people, laid waste to her heart. She had a price on her head. Put there by a man who’d almost destroyed her. A man who’d told the world she’d run away after the deaths of her mother and sister. A man who lied. And a man who had more than a nodding acquaintance with pure evil.

Now she was about to be married to another man, Khalid. A man who didn’t want her or the responsibility for the people of Onuur. He was utterly selfish. Uninterested. He put himself and his so called art before his people or his wife-to-be. His bodyguard was a vile excuse for a human being. And it worried her that Khalid may have known about Omar’s deviant needs. Hadn’t Khalid warned her that he himself had dark needs? Now she questioned just what those words had meant and cursed her lack of sexual awareness and experience.

She wondered if perhaps by marrying Khalid she’d bitten off more than she could chew. But she’d survived the worst that life could throw a helpless young girl, and she’d survive this, too.

No point in worrying and wondering over something that could not be changed. If Khalid had no knowledge that his close protection officer was a paedophile then she would marry him. If he was also arrogant, controlling and had the relentless streak of an El Haribe male then so be it. To be fair to him, he was also struggling to come to terms with his new responsibilities. So Charisse decided that there would be plenty of time to explain to him about her past after they were married. If she told Khalid the truth before the wedding he’d probably run a mile. And who could blame him?

However, her conscience reminded her that, by not telling him the truth and giving him a chance, she wasn’t being entirely fair to Khalid. Too bad. He’d just have to suck it up and get on with it. Life wasn’t perfect. Life wasn’t fair. Life was full of challenges to be overcome.

And what about love that little voice asked.

Charisse lifted her chin and stiffened her spine.

What use had she for love?

She might secretly dream of loving a man who adored and respected her and valued her for what she was as a human being, and as a woman, as well as a Queen. But dreams were for children. Daydreams had no part in the reality of her life. She would make the best of it and if God looked kindly upon her, she may be blessed with a child to love.

With a quick whistle to the dogs, Charisse gave the signal to Diablo and the stallion leapt ahead.

Khalid padded into his studio dressed in low slung jeans and a T-shirt.

Running shaky fingers through wet hair, he hunted for a hair tie.

He’d wolfed down the first food in twenty-four hours before collapsing on his bed.

He’d slept for eight hours straight.

Now he studied his work in progress.

Christ, she look fabulous.

He’d managed to capture the look in her eyes that had wound him up so much when he’d first met Charisse.

Utter contempt.

Now that look in her fabulous eyes made him smile.

And in a few short hours she would be all his.

He couldn’t wait.

Picking up a slim brush, he dipped it in black paint. The title of this painting had come to him while he’d slept. While he’d dreamed of Charisse.

Now he grinned as he carefully wrote, Desert Orchid, in the bottom left hand corner.

She was like an orchid of the desert; a delicate beauty, fragile, but strong, as the storms of life rolled across the sand. Exquisite and brave. Yes, Charisse was most certainly his very own orchid of a desert ruled by him. And just like that, his body responded too powerfully, hungering for the hot, wet, heat and tight grip of his woman.

It had cost him, but he didn’t trust himself to go anywhere near her without thrusting himself into her hard and fast. She needed time to heal from their first night together.

As he tied back his hair, Khalid pondered on how much his life had changed in such a short space oftime. And his eyes were drawn again and again to the portrait of Charisse. He knew it was probably the best work he’d ever done. His eyes stared into hers and it was as if she reached out and touched him too deeply. For a man who had done his best to ensure he had no emotional ties to anyone, it was uncomfortable feeling. She was hardworking and very brave. He admired her as a person, but more importantly he liked her. And, he admitted now, he cared for her. Charisse haunted his every waking moment and every sleepless night. Even now his hands itched to touch her, everywhere. The memory of how she sounded as his fingers had entered her tight body made his groin harden too fast, made his breath hiss in his throat. For the first time in his life, his need of a woman was a physical pain.

What the hell had she done to him?

How could one night drive a man crazy?

It scared him.

His emotions scared him.

Sarif’s offer of his ocean retreat for their honeymoon was just what he needed to explore his complex feelings for Charisse.

 

The distant yip of a dog brought him out onto his balcony.

Khalid narrowed his eyes to search the mountain pass leading to the palace.

A half-moon and twinkling nebula lit the sky bathing the path in an eerie silvery light.

Galloping hard over the crest of a hill, coming towards the palace were two wolfhounds streaking before horses and riders.

Her body bent low over Diablo, he recognised Charisse immediately.

Then she pulled back into a trot and the dogs circled back to her side.

Khalid had to admire her style and rhythm.

She was at one with the huge beast.

Then about a hundred yards from the palace gate, Diablo dropped into a walk.

Now he frowned.

What the hell was she doing riding out in the middle of the damned night?

As if his thoughts had called out to her, Charisse raised her head to look in his direction and for a split second he was certain she saw him.

He lifted his hand to wave just as the sound of a single gunshot echoed through the mountains.

Charisse slumped over her horse.

Stunned, it took the sound of another gunshot to jolt Khalid into action.

Oh, God, no.

 

As Diablo slowed to a walk along the dusty road leading to the palace, Charisse didn’t see the glint of a rifle in the moonlight.

Turning to Rufus’s bark of warning she didn’t see the flash of the bullet. All she felt was the impact of being hit by a truck and then the sting of pain as metal sliced through flesh.

She didn’t even have time to take a breath to cry out as she slumped over the neck of Diablo.

Then another gunshot and this time her horse dropped to the ground.

The last sound she heard was the cry of rage from Arabella and the howls of her dogs.

 

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Chapter Eleven coming tomorrow, thank you so much for the kind messages!

Christine X

Desert Orchid, Chapter Eight…

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Chapter Eight

Khalid stared into sea-blue eyes.

Eyes a man could drown in.

He was dimly aware of the sound of the ceiling fans, and that the sing song of the wind in the palace had died down.

Beneath him, her body was warm and soft in all the right places, her heart beating a rapid tattoo against his chest.

She smelled fabulous.

Something fragrant and floral and utterly female.

Her breathing was erratic.

She was either terribly turned on, or terrified.

Or, by the look in her eye, both.

“I can hear your teeth chattering. Relax, baby.”

He needed to get her naked.

Reaching out he cupped the side of her face and drew her closer and their lips fused.

Even though his body had the patience of a starving lion, he forced himself to take it slow and easy.

But God, her mouth was so soft and warm and wet.

She tasted like a spoonful of the sweetest honey.

And all the while he kissed her, he took his time to strip her of her robe.

Then she lifted her arms as their hungry mouths broke contact for a millisecond as he swept her tissue thin vest over her head.

Her hands clamped over small breasts, her blue eyes went wide.

Aww, she was shy.

How cute was that?

With gentle hands he covered hers and pulled them above her head, anchoring her slim wrists with one hand as he looked his fill.

She was beautifully formed with small, pert breasts and soft smooth skin.

Her waist was tiny.

Khalid couldn’t help it, he purred deep in his throat.

She was perfect.

Her skin was the colour of fresh cream where the marks of her bikini had covered her and he wondered idly where she sunbathed.

Under his hot gaze her ruby nipples beaded as she shivered.

“Beautiful breasts. Are you cold, baby?”

She shook her head and wriggled under him in a silent plea for… something.

Her lips parted and in his pants his arousal made a desperate bid for freedom, which made him purr again. His fingers carefully explored the soft fullness of her breast and she groaned and his mouth found hers. He slipped his tongue into her to taste, to explore, and his erection ached painfully as the essence of her, the flavour of her mouth, the scent of her sweet breath and the tremble of her body made him grind his rock hard shaft into the cradle of her pelvis.

He’d thought the darkly erotic dreams of her, of his lonely nights, were hot?

They were nothing compared to the real thing, here, now, and in his bed.

An orgasm tingled the base of his spine and he took a shuddering breath.

Appalled, he wondered what had happened to his legendary self-control?

He pressed his mouth to the hectic pulse under her ear and took a deep breath.

It didn’t help.

She smelled  fabulous and all the while his hand stroked the silky soft skin of her breast before slipping down to her flat abdomen.

With a final burning kiss, he rose.

 

All Charisse wore were her panties.

The slick heat between her legs along with the ache deep in her belly told her she was more than ready for this.

He’d stripped her with a thoroughness and competency that took her breath.

Now, Khalid stood at the side of the bed and those amazing grey eyes simply devoured her from head to toe. With a dark gleam in those eyes and with a slowness that was the most exquisite torture, he pulled the cord of his loose pants.

They dropped to the floor.

The whimper that escaped from her throat should have shamed her.

Instead, her eyes went wide.

Oh. My. God.

His sex was a magnificent shock.

Her eyes flew to his.

She read heat.

She read lust.

Healthy fear burst the heady bubble of her desire.

This was a terrible, terrible mistake.

No way would he ever fit inside her.

What on earth had she been thinking?

Her mouth felt as if she’d swallowed every grain of sand in the desert as Charisse began to heel up the bed until her skull hit the headboard.

Khalid simply watched her through narrowed eyes that appeared slightly baffled by her behaviour.

And she supposed most women, experienced women, might be thrilled at the thought of being made love to by this big man.

But she wasn’t one of them.

This was going to hurt, and hurt bad.

“Nice panties,” he drawled in a thick voice that didn’t arouse, instead it terrified her. “I have a thing for ribbon and lace. No idea where you think you’re going because I’ve got all night to peel them off you.”

Charisse realised with alarming clarity that she should have told him the truth right from the very beginning.

She cleared her throat as he whipped off his hair band.

Black, glossy waves fell to his shoulders and he crawled up the bed towards her. He looked wild, untamed.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her heart went wild in her chest.

She simply could not take her eyes from his bobbing erection.

“Khalid,” she said sounding as desperate as she felt. “I need to tell you something.”

Then she yelped as he grabbed her ankles and yanked her down the bed.

He straddled her.

Placing his arms either side of her head, he bent down to stare into her eyes.

Oh. My. God.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t think.

Those grey eyes grew dark with sheer lust as he studied her mouth in way that made her lick her lips.

His eyes met hers.

“Do you, baby? Whatever it is can wait,” he growled low in his throat.

He caught her hair in one hand to tilt her head to the side. And then his mouth pressed hot and hungry kisses over her throat as his rough hand explored her breasts, her ribcage and down to her thighs.

Her overheated system, torn between a brutal arousal and utter terror, took her on the rollercoaster ride of her life.

A strong knee pushed her legs apart.

“Khalid! Please… you need to…”

He gave a throaty chuckle.

“Patience, baby. Hmm, you’re so ready for me. I’m going to make you scream my name, Charisse.”

The lust in his voice made her whimper.

He was going to make her scream all right, and not in a good way.

Something more than panic roared from her solar plexus and into her throat.

She gave sob as her whole system threatened to go up in flames.

And she realised with horror that Khalid had taken the sound as a sign she wanted more.

When he ripped off her panties and positioned himself in the cradle of her hips and his erection nudged her slick folds, Charisse couldn’t help it.

She burst into tears.

 

It took Khalid between one heart beat and the next to realise Charisse was pressing her palms against his chest not in lustful exploration but in an ineffectual attempt to push him off her.

And she’d turned her head away. Not for him to explore the hectic pulse in her neck, but to speak to him.

Her whimpering cries he’d taken for arousal. And now he realised his mistake.

Those shuddering breaths were not in fact lust, but sheer terror.

Her tears and great heaving sobs actually made his chest ache.

In a smooth move, he sat and stared at her, totally baffled.

What on earth was the matter with her?

She simply lay there like a rag doll.

A fist was pressed to her mouth and a trembling hand covered her eyes.

She wanted this, didn’t she?

Frowning, he battled with a frustrated anger.

Was she playing him?

No.

She was clearly beside herself and terribly upset.

Her lips trembled in a way that made him press his fist to his heart and rub hard.

He couldn’t bear her distress.

Gathering her in his arms, he sat her up with her back against the headboard.

Since her hands fluttered between her breasts and her sex, he handed her a pillow and she hugged it hard as she pulled up her knees.

Positioning himself directly in front of her, Khalid sat in the lotus position and stared in absolute fury at her shuddering shoulders.

 

“Start talking,” he growled.

Huge blue eyes drenched in tears blinked into his. And the tip of her nose was red. White teeth bit down hard on her bottom lip in a pitiful attempt to stop it quivering. And Khalid had never seen anything so beautiful or so utterly vulnerable in his entire life.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” she whispered and tears again gathered to swim in those big eyes.

He simply could not bear those tears.

“Stop crying!” he roared like a bull.

Her jolt of shocked surprise made him feel like an absolute bastard, but it had the desired effect.

She blinked rapidly as unsteady fingers swiped her cheeks.

“I’m a virgin.”

His jaw dropped.

Excuse the f*ck out of me?

For a breathless moment he stared at her in stunned disbelief as his brain attempted to compute the statement.

Yet again she’d thrown him a curve.

Whatever he’d been expecting it certainly hadn’t been this.

But why was he surprised?

She’d come to Onuur at the age of sixteen.

He knew she’d been a good and loyal wife to his uncle.

Every day he spent in the country only reinforced how hard she worked and how much she loved the people.

Why had he assumed she’d had lovers?

Was it because it was easier for him to think of her as a harlot with her eye on the main chance rather than admit how much she’d affected him as soon as he’d laid eyes on her?

He’d accused her of not giving him a chance.

What chance had he given her to show him how she ticked?

 

And he’d scared her.

Badly.

She was staring at him as if he was a ticking bomb about to explode.

All these thoughts and more raced through his brain.

But the one that brought him the most joy and relief was the realisation that no man had ever touched her. Khalid couldn’t remember a woman coming to his bed untouched. For his whole life women had come to him expectant and demanding.

He could only hope he had it in him to be careful and gentle with her.

Dear heaven, she’d trusted him enough to be the first.

No.

Not just the first, but the only lover she’d ever have.

He only hoped to God that he had it in him to look after her properly.

Her gaze kept flicking down to his aching arousal.

The truth hit him like a freight train.

She was terrified that he was going to hurt her.

A deep affection for this beautiful girl unlocked the padlock of the heavy chain that surrounded his heart.

With an unsteady inhale of breath, Khalid reached out to cup her face between his hands and tip it up to his.

“Baby, I cannot begin to tell you how happy you have made me with that news. You did the right thing to stop me.”

 

She blinked and he read a wary relief that warred with a needy disappointment.

God bless her, even though she was scared to death, she still wanted him.

Her courage humbled him.

“I should have told you before but I thought everything would be fine. I’m not stupid, Khalid. I understand perfectly well that the first time will hurt.” Those big blue eyes flicked again to his manhood and went wide. “But, it’s just that…”

He tilted her head and smiled into those amazing eyes.

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul.

In that case, Charisse had the most beautiful soul.

“You do great things for my ego. But I’m not much larger than the average man. Will you trust me enough to make it good for you?”

Charisse’s hands held on tight to his wrists.

She frowned now in a way that he found absolutely adorable.

“Only if you still want me.”

Her faith in him unmanned him in a way he’d never experienced before.

The expression of complete trust on her face made him tighten his grip on her chin and his own eyes went wide.

“Are you crazy? Of course I want you. We’ll take it nice and slow. I’ll stop whenever you tell me to. You are in the driving seat here.”

She closed her eyes and took a long, shaky breath. “I’ve been incredibly stupid.”

Another thought entered his head. “Have you ever been kissed before, baby?”

Her eyes flew to his and he read the honest to God truth.

No wonder the girl was trembling.

Stroking her arms to soothe, he heard her sigh, felt her body relax and her hands slid around his waist.

Very gently he placed his mouth on hers with a tenderness he should have shown her right from the very beginning. But their mutual hunger meant too soon tenderness wasn’t enough.

With exquisite care he made love to her with his mouth and took her deeper.

Her breath hitched. The low moan that came from extraordinary amazement squeezed his heart. And for the first time in his life he truly understood a woman’s needs enough to put her before himself.

Lifting his head, he stared into her eyes.

“This is making love, Charisse, not just sex.”

Still, she fumbled to cover herself.

Uncertain, she lifted her hand to his cheek and he wanted to cry for the hesitancy in her touch.

My God, she’d no idea what she did to him.

Then her teeth nipped his bottom lip and she slicked her tongue over the sting.

Ah, she didn’t like it too soft.

What a woman.

His erection stung and he forced his rampant libido to behave.

Tonight was all about her, not him.

He grabbed the pillow from her arms and tossed it on the bed with two more before he lay back against them and spread his legs wide.

“You keep looking at my shaft as if it’s a grenade with the pin pulled. You need to familiarise yourself with my body. It’s all yours, baby. Feel free to explore.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m all yours.”

And hoped she wouldn’t kill him.

 

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Annnnnnnnnd tomorrow is Chapter Nine…….

 

Christine X

Desert Orchid, Chapter

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Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

 

Chapter Eight

Khalid stared into sea-blue eyes.

Eyes a man could drown in.

He was dimly aware of the sound of the ceiling fans, and that the sing song of the wind in the palace had died down.

Beneath him, her body was warm and soft in all the right places, her heart beating a rapid tattoo against his chest.

She smelled fabulous.

Something fragrant and floral and utterly female.

Her breathing was erratic.

She was either terribly turned on, or terrified.

Or, by the look in her eye, both.

“I can hear your teeth chattering. Relax, baby.”

He needed to get her naked.

Reaching out he cupped the side of her face and drew her closer and their lips fused.

Even though his body had the patience of a starving lion, he forced himself to take it slow and easy.

But God, her mouth was so soft and warm and wet.

She tasted like a spoonful of the sweetest honey.

And all the while he kissed her, he took his time to strip her of her robe.

Then she lifted her arms as their hungry mouths broke contact for a millisecond as he swept her tissue thin vest over her head.

Her hands clamped over small breasts, her blue eyes went wide.

Aww, she was shy.

How cute was that?

With gentle hands he covered hers and pulled them above her head, anchoring her slim wrists with one hand as he looked his fill.

She was beautifully formed with small, pert breasts and soft smooth skin.

Her waist was tiny.

Khalid couldn’t help it, he purred deep in his throat.

She was perfect.

Her skin was the colour of fresh cream where the marks of her bikini had covered her and he wondered idly where she sunbathed.

Under his hot gaze her ruby nipples beaded as she shivered.

“Beautiful breasts. Are you cold, baby?”

She shook her head and wriggled under him in a silent plea for… something.

Her lips parted and in his pants his arousal made a desperate bid for freedom, which made him purr again. His fingers carefully explored the soft fullness of her breast and she groaned and his mouth found hers. He slipped his tongue into her to taste, to explore, and his erection ached painfully as the essence of her, the flavour of her mouth, the scent of her sweet breath and the tremble of her body made him grind his rock hard shaft into the cradle of her pelvis.

He’d thought the darkly erotic dreams of her, of his lonely nights, were hot?

They were nothing compared to the real thing, here, now, and in his bed.

An orgasm tingled the base of his spine and he took a shuddering breath.

Appalled, he wondered what had happened to his legendary self-control?

He pressed his mouth to the hectic pulse under her ear and took a deep breath.

It didn’t help.

She smelled  fabulous and all the while his hand stroked the silky soft skin of her breast before slipping down to her flat abdomen.

With a final burning kiss, he rose.

 

All Charisse wore were her panties.

The slick heat between her legs along with the ache deep in her belly told her she was more than ready for this.

He’d stripped her with a thoroughness and competency that took her breath.

Now, Khalid stood at the side of the bed and those amazing grey eyes simply devoured her from head to toe. With a dark gleam in those eyes and with a slowness that was the most exquisite torture, he pulled the cord of his loose pants.

They dropped to the floor.

The whimper that escaped from her throat should have shamed her.

Instead, her eyes went wide.

Oh. My. God.

His sex was a magnificent shock.

Her eyes flew to his.

She read heat.

She read lust.

Healthy fear burst the heady bubble of her desire.

This was a terrible, terrible mistake.

No way would he ever fit inside her.

What on earth had she been thinking?

Her mouth felt as if she’d swallowed every grain of sand in the desert as Charisse began to heel up the bed until her skull hit the headboard.

Khalid simply watched her through narrowed eyes that appeared slightly baffled by her behaviour.

And she supposed most women, experienced women, might be thrilled at the thought of being made love to by this big man.

But she wasn’t one of them.

This was going to hurt, and hurt bad.

“Nice panties,” he drawled in a thick voice that didn’t arouse, instead it terrified her. “I have a thing for ribbon and lace. No idea where you think you’re going because I’ve got all night to peel them off you.”

Charisse realised with alarming clarity that she should have told him the truth right from the very beginning.

She cleared her throat as he whipped off his hair band.

Black, glossy waves fell to his shoulders and he crawled up the bed towards her. He looked wild, untamed.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her heart went wild in her chest.

She simply could not take her eyes from his bobbing erection.

“Khalid,” she said sounding as desperate as she felt. “I need to tell you something.”

Then she yelped as he grabbed her ankles and yanked her down the bed.

He straddled her.

Placing his arms either side of her head, he bent down to stare into her eyes.

Oh. My. God.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t think.

Those grey eyes grew dark with sheer lust as he studied her mouth in way that made her lick her lips.

His eyes met hers.

“Do you, baby? Whatever it is can wait,” he growled low in his throat.

He caught her hair in one hand to tilt her head to the side. And then his mouth pressed hot and hungry kisses over her throat as his rough hand explored her breasts, her ribcage and down to her thighs.

Her overheated system, torn between a brutal arousal and utter terror, took her on the rollercoaster ride of her life.

A strong knee pushed her legs apart.

“Khalid! Please… you need to…”

He gave a throaty chuckle.

“Patience, baby. Hmm, you’re so ready for me. I’m going to make you scream my name, Charisse.”

The lust in his voice made her whimper.

He was going to make her scream all right, and not in a good way.

Something more than panic roared from her solar plexus and into her throat.

She gave sob as her whole system threatened to go up in flames.

And she realised with horror that Khalid had taken the sound as a sign she wanted more.

When he ripped off her panties and positioned himself in the cradle of her hips and his erection nudged her slick folds, Charisse couldn’t help it.

She burst into tears.

 

It took Khalid between one heart beat and the next to realise Charisse was pressing her palms against his chest not in lustful exploration but in an ineffectual attempt to push him off her.

And she’d turned her head away. Not for him to explore the hectic pulse in her neck, but to speak to him.

Her whimpering cries he’d taken for arousal. And now he realised his mistake.

Those shuddering breaths were not in fact lust, but sheer terror.

Her tears and great heaving sobs actually made his chest ache.

In a smooth move, he sat and stared at her, totally baffled.

What on earth was the matter with her?

She simply lay there like a rag doll.

A fist was pressed to her mouth and a trembling hand covered her eyes.

She wanted this, didn’t she?

Frowning, he battled with a frustrated anger.

Was she playing him?

No.

She was clearly beside herself and terribly upset.

Her lips trembled in a way that made him press his fist to his heart and rub hard.

He couldn’t bear her distress.

Gathering her in his arms, he sat her up with her back against the headboard.

Since her hands fluttered between her breasts and her sex, he handed her a pillow and she hugged it hard as she pulled up her knees.

Positioning himself directly in front of her, Khalid sat in the lotus position and stared in absolute fury at her shuddering shoulders.

 

“Start talking,” he growled.

Huge blue eyes drenched in tears blinked into his. And the tip of her nose was red. White teeth bit down hard on her bottom lip in a pitiful attempt to stop it quivering. And Khalid had never seen anything so beautiful or so utterly vulnerable in his entire life.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” she whispered and tears again gathered to swim in those big eyes.

He simply could not bear those tears.

“Stop crying!” he roared like a bull.

Her jolt of shocked surprise made him feel like an absolute bastard, but it had the desired effect.

She blinked rapidly as unsteady fingers swiped her cheeks.

“I’m a virgin.”

His jaw dropped.

Excuse the f*ck out of me?

For a breathless moment he stared at her in stunned disbelief as his brain attempted to compute the statement.

Yet again she’d thrown him a curve.

Whatever he’d been expecting it certainly hadn’t been this.

But why was he surprised?

She’d come to Onuur at the age of sixteen.

He knew she’d been a good and loyal wife to his uncle.

Every day he spent in the country only reinforced how hard she worked and how much she loved the people.

Why had he assumed she’d had lovers?

Was it because it was easier for him to think of her as a harlot with her eye on the main chance rather than admit how much she’d affected him as soon as he’d laid eyes on her?

He’d accused her of not giving him a chance.

What chance had he given her to show him how she ticked?

 

And he’d scared her.

Badly.

She was staring at him as if he was a ticking bomb about to explode.

All these thoughts and more raced through his brain.

But the one that brought him the most joy and relief was the realisation that no man had ever touched her. Khalid couldn’t remember a woman coming to his bed untouched. For his whole life women had come to him expectant and demanding.

He could only hope he had it in him to be careful and gentle with her.

Dear heaven, she’d trusted him enough to be the first.

No.

Not just the first, but the only lover she’d ever have.

He only hoped to God that he had it in him to look after her properly.

Her gaze kept flicking down to his aching arousal.

The truth hit him like a freight train.

She was terrified that he was going to hurt her.

A deep affection for this beautiful girl unlocked the padlock of the heavy chain that surrounded his heart.

With an unsteady inhale of breath, Khalid reached out to cup her face between his hands and tip it up to his.

“Baby, I cannot begin to tell you how happy you have made me with that news. You did the right thing to stop me.”

 

She blinked and he read a wary relief that warred with a needy disappointment.

God bless her, even though she was scared to death, she still wanted him.

Her courage humbled him.

“I should have told you before but I thought everything would be fine. I’m not stupid, Khalid. I understand perfectly well that the first time will hurt.” Those big blue eyes flicked again to his manhood and went wide. “But, it’s just that…”

He tilted her head and smiled into those amazing eyes.

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul.

In that case, Charisse had the most beautiful soul.

“You do great things for my ego. But I’m not much larger than the average man. Will you trust me enough to make it good for you?”

Charisse’s hands held on tight to his wrists.

She frowned now in a way that he found absolutely adorable.

“Only if you still want me.”

Her faith in him unmanned him in a way he’d never experienced before.

The expression of complete trust on her face made him tighten his grip on her chin and his own eyes went wide.

“Are you crazy? Of course I want you. We’ll take it nice and slow. I’ll stop whenever you tell me to. You are in the driving seat here.”

She closed her eyes and took a long, shaky breath. “I’ve been incredibly stupid.”

Another thought entered his head. “Have you ever been kissed before, baby?”

Her eyes flew to his and he read the honest to God truth.

No wonder the girl was trembling.

Stroking her arms to soothe, he heard her sigh, felt her body relax and her hands slid around his waist.

Very gently he placed his mouth on hers with a tenderness he should have shown her right from the very beginning. But their mutual hunger meant too soon tenderness wasn’t enough.

With exquisite care he made love to her with his mouth and took her deeper.

Her breath hitched. The low moan that came from extraordinary amazement squeezed his heart. And for the first time in his life he truly understood a woman’s needs enough to put her before himself.

Lifting his head, he stared into her eyes.

“This is making love, Charisse, not just sex.”

Still, she fumbled to cover herself.

Uncertain, she lifted her hand to his cheek and he wanted to cry for the hesitancy in her touch.

My God, she’d no idea what she did to him.

Then her teeth nipped his bottom lip and she slicked her tongue over the sting.

Ah, she didn’t like it too soft.

What a woman.

His erection stung and he forced his rampant libido to behave.

Tonight was all about her, not him.

He grabbed the pillow from her arms and tossed it on the bed with two more before he lay back against them and spread his legs wide.

“You keep looking at my shaft as if it’s a grenade with the pin pulled. You need to familiarise yourself with my body. It’s all yours, baby. Feel free to explore.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m all yours.”

And hoped she wouldn’t kill him.

 

Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

 

Annnnnnnnnd tomorrow is Chapter Nine…….

 

Christine X