The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (30 page)

She turned and found he stood noiselessly behind her, silent as his totem, the cobra. Duke of Caldwell he might be, but a Khamsin warrior too.

"Not reading," Kenneth said, taking the book from her and setting it down. "Fighting."

She stared in bewilderment and he took her hands in his. "Defending yourself against men who would harm you, my love."

"I cannot. I’m not a warrior."

"No, but I can teach you a few valuable skills. Skills that will serve you well should another man ever attack you, Badra."

Intrigued, she studied him. "What will these skills do?"

"Badra, Rashid and I are not always around to protect you. Obviously. If you’re ever alone, you’ll be able to defend yourself. It’s a good feeling, knowing how to do that."

"Very well, Khepri. Teach me, then."

"This is where a man is most vulnerable."

In her soft, blousy trousers and short scarlet jacket with long sleeves, she stood facing him. Kenneth took her hand and guided it between his legs.

"Kick a man here and you’ll cause considerable pain—and considerable damage."

The shock of feeling her hand on his genitals collided with the brisk efficiency of his words. He wrapped his hand around hers, cupping the dangling softness of his testicles.

Letting her pull her hand away, he stepped back, eyeing her critically. "The best way is to knee him, but you’re rather short."

"I am not short."

"I like you that way," he teased. "Use your whole leg."

Exasperated, she aimed. As her leg jerked upward, he maneuvered out of the way. "Again," he prompted.

She repeated the move several times, but he kept moving away, twisting and moving. Frustration built inside her.

‘Too slow. Again. Put some power into it."

Sweat dripped down her temples. Badra eyed him with a calculating look. He was much larger, muscled and quick. She felt like a bird trying to kick an elephant.

A pretty bird ... must catch a man off guard. She swung her hips and gave a flirtatious smile. Placing her hands on his chest, she moistened her lips. Then she lunged forward and with all her might, kicked toward his groin.

He caught her leg, barely.

Kenneth smiled—a slow, approving smile this time. "Excellent. Catch a man off guard, then attack."

A flush again ignited her cheeks—this time from the pleasure of his praise.

He showed her a few more moves, including the points on a body where most damage could be inflicted. Very gently, Kenneth pressed a thumb just above the hollow of her throat. "With the heel of your hand, deliver a quick, sharp blow here. This can strangle a man and kill him," he told her.

She shuddered at the knowledge warriors possessed. But it fed her confidence, as Kenneth had assured her it would.

They broke off to eat, and downed large glasses of cold, sugared tea. Badra watched Kenneth’s throat work as he drained his glass. "You’re not teaching me this simply to guard myself against a random attack. You’re doing it for an escape."

"Yes," he said quietly. "When we finally do take you out, Badra, if I’m not there to protect you, I want you to fight your way free. Do whatever you must to escape."

She set down her glass, dismayed at the grim set of his jaw. "What do you mean, if you’re not there?"

"I may be killed and unable to help you," he said simply.

He said it very gently, looking at her. She stared. Breath caught in her lungs. "Khepri, you couldn’t—"

"I could. I told you, I will never again let another man hurt you as long as blood runs in my veins. But ..."

Her mouth went dry. She drank more tea. "You are no longer my falcon guard. Why do you risk your life for me, Khepri?"

His gaze held hers intently. "Because I’m bound to you by something greater than a mere oath. I love you, Badra. I would die to keep you safe."

Her glass shook as she set it down. The simple declaration was uttered with stark honesty, and it brought to the fore all the considerations that were Khepri. His willingness to sacrifice his life for her freedom and his hard resolve. She saw the quiet determination of a man wanting to protect a woman. Not because of an oath, but because of love.

Kenneth took another orange slice, ate it, then wiped his hands with the damp towel provided with the meal. He stood, his tender look gone, the hardened warrior having returned. "Well, shall we resume our lessons?"

He left her to rest in the afternoon as he scouted the building, but Badra could not sleep. She picked up Dickens and curled into the window seat. Soon she became engrossed in another world. When Kenneth returned, he joined her in the alcove.

His smile warmed her insides. "Read to me," he told her.

Clearing her throat, she began. Kenneth leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. She read a few pages and stopped.

"I’m tired. Here, you go on." She handed him the book.

Kenneth’s eyes flew open. He stared at the pages, a blank look shuttering his eyes.

"Khepri? I thought you liked the story?"

"I like hearing your voice, that’s all."

She didn’t understand his gruff tone. "Another book then?"

Kenneth rubbed his temple, sighing. When his gaze met hers, a look of pain surprised her.

"Badra, no more secrets between us. It’s time you know something about me, as well."

God, how could he tell her? Kenneth braced himself and flipped open the book. His muscles tightened. "I can’t read."

She blinked, clearly bewildered. "But you read all the time when you lived among us. I always saw you with a book—"

"Arabic, Badra. I can’t read English. I never learned."

Her mouth opened. "You ..."

"Do you know what it’s like to leave everything familiar and return to a country you don’t know? Those first days it took all my strength not to turn back." A hard laugh escaped him. "I was born in England and knew nothing about my country. Not even"—he shoved a frustrated hand through his hair—"how to read an English book."

He looked away. "When I returned to England, I told no one about my inability to read. I was too ashamed. You’re the only one I’ve ever told."

After a minute, he met her gaze. Her expression shifted, transformed from incredulity to a calm smile. Badra gently plucked the book from his hands and slid toward him until their thighs touched.

"Now we know each other’s secrets, Khepri. Reading English is difficult, but I can teach you. Will you let me?"

Relief filled Khepri. She had not sneered. Not that he’d expected her to, but ... He slowly nodded.

She opened the first page and took his finger, placing it on the crisp sheet. "‘Chapter One. I am born’ …"

For nearly the entire afternoon, his love taught him to read. Badra made him sound out each word. Kenneth struggled to make sense of the letters, his normal self-consciousness over his illiteracy fading under her patient tutoring. Totally absorbed in the lesson, he read aloud a sentence and earned a delighted smile.

"Thank you," he told her, something in his chest easing.

Badra had taught him. Soon it would be his turn to tutor her, to return the favor. His body tensed with delicious anticipation as he fetched another book. He cupped her cheek.

"Read to me again, Badra."

As she reached for Dickens, he stayed her hand. "This one."

She stared at the copy of the
Kama Sutra
he placed in her lap. He had brought it from England, a book he’d hoped would help fulfill his secret fantasy—Badra reading to him the acts he wanted to perform with her.

A dull flush lit her cheeks as she scanned the page.

"Do you truly want to embrace your dreams, Badra? Do you want to know what it’s like to know passion?"

Her secret desire. She both feared and longed for it.

His deep voice slid over her like warm honey. Kenneth traced the edge of her jaw with his thumb. "Read it to me."

She dropped her gaze and began reading. His heat poured over her like his namesake, the god of the sunrise. She became aware of his thigh touching hers, his palm resting lightly on her knee. When she finished reading the page, Kenneth placed his hand on hers and squeezed.

"We don’t have any betel nuts," he said softly. "But we do have dates."

Kenneth took one from the fruit bowl. His lips parted and he slid the pitted date into his mouth and held it there, then slipped it out and pressed it against her closed lips. It lay there, warm and wet from the moistness of his mouth; then he brushed her lips with it. An inner tremble seized her. She did not open her mouth. He persisted, very gently but determined, giving light pressure to penetrate her lips, his other hand resting against the small of her back. His scent teased her—sandalwood and masculinity.

The symbolism of the act became apparent with each tiny thrust, each gentle but determined push against her mouth. Kenneth bent his head and murmured reassuring words, crooning to her in Arabic all the while. Her tongue wanted the date’s sweetness, tasted the wet juiciness. She reached out with her tongue to taste it, slightly parting her lips—and at that precise moment Kenneth gave one last firm, determined push and slipped it inside her mouth.

Startled, she took it in. She chewed slowly, let the fruit flavor explode in her mouth, and swallowed. Her huge eyes met his.

"That is how to eat a date, my love," he said softly, then covered her mouth with his. His kiss was deep and drugging, and he pressed her body close, devouring her mouth as she had the date. He tore away and framed her face in warm, strong hands. His deep voice flowed over her, seductive and full of promise.

"Let me fall again, Badra. Let me fall into you and drown in the full moon. Like Khepri, god of the sunrise, I want to die into you, the moon. Let the sun and the moon collide in passion and eclipse all else. I promise I will be there to catch you and I will not, ever, let your feet touch the ground. Come and dance in my light as I will dance in yours. Let me hold you in my arms and never let go."

"Khepri," she said in a choking voice. "I want to. But ... I’m afraid."

"I know," he said soothingly. "But the best way to erase fear is to face it. What do you fear the most?"