Hot Arabian Nights. Marguerite Kaye

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СКАЧАТЬ I choose when I choose. You may be acting Regent, but I am not accountable to you.’

      Kamal’s eyes flashed with temper. ‘No, but I am accountable for this kingdom.’ He heaved himself to his feet. ‘Things have changed, Azhar.’

      ‘Which is precisely why I have decided that in this interim period...’

      ‘You have decided!’ Kamal hissed a vicious curse. ‘Ten years you have been gone, and you think you can pick up the reins as if you had been gone ten minutes, making changes here and changes there to things that have been functioning perfectly well without you. Ten years you have been out in the world making your fortune, caring nothing for what happens back here, but still expecting me to protect your inheritance. Ten years I have been here, supporting our father through his illness, taking up his responsibilities when he was too weak—and what have you been doing? You have no right to criticise me, certainly no right to judge me.’

      ‘Kamal...’

      ‘You do not deserve this kingdom or its riches. You never wanted them. They should be mine!’

      ‘Kamal!’ But his brother threw off his restraining hand and stormed down the steps of the kiosk. ‘You speak in anger but you are absolutely right,’ Azhar muttered wearily under his breath. ‘I have never wanted to rule, and I do not deserve to own any of it.’

      * * *

      As Julia turned the corner and took the path leading to the kiosk, Kamal came barrelling towards her, pushing her violently from the path as he passed, his face scarlet, creased with rage. Stooping down to retrieve her headdress and her scattered drawing materials, she stared at the departing Sheikh in astonishment.

      ‘Are you hurt? Let me help you.’ Azhar, who had obviously come after his brother, bent down to help.

      ‘I’m fine, thank you. What on earth happened to make him so angry?’

      Azhar shook his head, leading the way to the terrace and pouring them both a cup of the bitter dark coffee he preferred unsweetened, and which Julia was learning to enjoy. She waited while he sipped, drummed his fingers on the table, sipped again, staring out at the garden. He was dressed today in dark-blue trousers under a striped blue tunic. Shadows smudged the skin under his eyes. A pulse beat in his throat and the fact he flexed the fingers of his left hand compulsively were the only signs that his temper was not completely under control.

      Finally becoming aware of her scrutiny, he looked up. ‘As a parting shot he called me the illegitimate son of a donkey, which may sound ludicrous to you, but in our language is a great insult. Treasonous in fact, when directed at a future king.’

      ‘A fact which I am sure will give him a sleepless night worrying about the consequences, once his temper cools.’

      ‘Kamal knows perfectly well that I would not punish him for something said in the heat of the moment, and in private.’

      ‘Does he? Then I hope he is duly grateful. Were the cases reversed, I doubt you would find him so forgiving.’

      ‘No, no, you mistake the matter,’ Azhar said. ‘When all is said and done, Kamal is my only brother.’

      Julia opened her mouth to tell Azhar exactly what she thought of Kamal, then thought the better of it, recalling her other, most unfortunate comparison to Prince George. ‘Obviously, you know him much better than I,’ she said, in what she hoped was a neutral tone.

      Her hopes were unfounded. ‘Equally obviously, you do not actually believe that,’ Azhar said. ‘Please enlighten me.’

      The pulse was still quite visible in his neck. ‘No,’ Julia said.

      ‘No, you do not agree with me, or, no, you will not enlighten me.’

      She managed to stop herself from folding her arms defensively just in time. ‘No, I will not be intimidated into saying something which will make you even angrier than you already are,’ she said.

      ‘I am not angry with you.’

      ‘Yes, you are,’ Julia said, ‘because for some reason, you are reluctant to be angry with your brother.’

      The flexing fingers stopped. Azhar pushed his coffee cup aside and got to his feet, staring out over the garden. ‘I am angry with Kamal, but it is unfair of me to be so. He resents my return, quite understandably so, when he has been custodian of the kingdom for so long. He perceives my enquiries into the well-being of the kingdom as criticism of his judgement. Again, understandably.’

      Azhar did not sound at all convinced, Julia thought as she finished her own coffee and joined him. It was the first time he had admitted to any concern over his brother’s abilities, that his travels out into the kingdom were not merely to allow him to become reacquainted with it, but to ascertain its state of health, but she decided not to draw attention to this fact. ‘If your brother had nothing to hide,’ she said instead, ‘he would have no need to be defensive.’

      ‘I might be defensive myself, if the situation was reversed,’ Azhar replied. ‘Kamal—oh, I don’t know. Things here have changed, Kamal told me so himself. No doubt he is anxious for my approval, nothing more.’

      He gave himself a little shake. ‘Enough of Kamal. This is one change that I heartily approve of,’ he said, pushing her hair back from her face. ‘From the first moment I saw you, I wanted to see it like this.’ He smoothed her hair down her back, his fingers feathering down her spine. ‘A river of fire.’

      His touch was certainly setting her alight. She suspected he was using her as a distraction, but at this moment Julia was more than happy to be distracted. She stepped into his embrace, setting her hands on his shoulders, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath the soft cotton of his tunic. ‘Is there such a thing as a river of fire?’

      Azhar slid his hands up her sides to rest just under her breasts. ‘A river of fire is what you have kindled in me,’ he said softly.

      He must be able to feel her heart hammering. He must be able to feel the heat of her skin through her tunic. Julia flattened her own hands on to his back, smoothing down the ridge of his spine to the taut curve of his buttocks. His pupils were dark. His breathing was just very slightly ragged.

      Azhar cupped her breasts. She bit back a moan as he began to circle her nipples with his thumbs. The thin layer of silk grazed her acutely sensitive skin. His touch sent ripples of sensation down her body, making her belly clench, making her insides throb. He leaned closer, his mouth on her ear, nipping at her lobe.

      Her body was clamouring for her to throw herself at him, to beg him wildly to take her, words that she had never spoken in her life. She was a mass of pulse points. Her nipples ached. She curled her fingers into his buttocks simply to stop them wandering, and felt him tense at her touch, saw the flare of heat in his eyes. He kissed his way along her jaw. He licked his way along her bottom lip, all the time his hands cupping and stroking, stoking the fires which blazed under her skin, running a path from her nipples to her belly to the raw ache building between her thighs.

      And then he kissed her. A dark kiss, like melting chocolate, like warm honey, sweet and heady, it clogged her brain and added to the clamouring of her body. His tongue touched hers, stroked hers, making her languorous and setting her alight at the same time. When he broke the kiss she moaned in protest, until he covered her nipple with his mouth, sucking through the silk of her tunic, and Julia let out a strange little mewl of СКАЧАТЬ