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lobelia321Title: Desert Heat Lust
Author: Lobelia Lovebite
Category: Mills & Boon Intrigue / Harlequin Silhouette Intimate Moments Suspense pastiche.
Pairing: orig
Length: short
Dara Stuyvesant-Bond was the daughter of the British Imperial Ambassador, so of course it was she who was kidnapped by Sheikh Zafiq al-Qra'dr.
Dara was kidnapped, and also her fiancé, the rich and wealthy Sir Sebastian de Rolincourt. Sebastian's father had died before his son's birth, of tuberculosis, and Sebastian had been brought up by his mother, the Marquise Françoise de Rolincourt. Sebastian cried out for help in French but the Bedouin guards stationed outside their compound in the port city of Omoor either did not understand the language of the colonists, or pretended not to understand it.
The sheikh, his turban wrapped tightly around his head and face, bound both of their hands and nudged them towards a pair of camels waiting in the courtyard.
"Leave me be, you dastard!" yelled Dara and struggled against her bonds.
The sheikh said something in Arabic. His voice was rough and smoky, like a fire blazing across a wooden hearth. Dara did not understand what he said but it was clear that he was telling her to be quiet. It was also clear that the smoke of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She looked up.
The man's face was veiled. Only his eyes were visible, and they burnt into her with night-black savagery.
"I am the daughter of the ambassador!" she yelled, forcing strength into her voice. "Let me go!"
The hand of the sheikh closed roughly over her mouth. She smelled the musk and turmeric on his hot skin, and perhaps a whiff of camel's turds. She knew it was wrong but heat slammed through her.
"Be quiet, okay?" the sheikh whispered in English, his lips so close to her ear she could feel the fire of his breath.
Her heart thudded. What was the matter with her? She should be screaming and struggling yet her bones were melting into the manly arms of the sheikh as they heaved her up onto the camel's back. The sheikh's eyes raked over her body. She was wearing a white silk gown. Her shawl had been trampled underfoot. Her hair streamed over her shoulders in a liquid blonde cascade.
"And who is this?" The sheikh's voice ripped through Dara's consciousness.
"He is..." Dara faltered. "He is my brother."
Shame flushed her neck and her body. She didn't know why she had said this. Why had she denied Sebastian's true status? Why had she not told the sheikh that she and Sebastian were to be wed within the week? They had travelled to the Kingdom of Hrq'at-Noor to obtain the blessing of her father. She had been so happy, carefree and laughing her girlish, innocent laugh.
Now she looked at her fiancé. His blonde curls flopped carelessly across his aquamarine eyes, and in the struggle the buttons of his shirt had come undone, exposing his pale, comely chest. But next to her, she felt the heat in the blood of the sheikh and the unyielding strength of his scimitar-like muscles. She could not bring herself to reveal the truth to this man of the desert.
The camels' hooves thundered across the courtyard. Within minutes, they were out in the desert. Plumes of sand rose into the searing air behind them.
Dara's heart pounded.
The sheikh was sitting behind her, the reins firmly in his capable yet elegant hands. She was pressed against his strong chest. She could feel the heart beating in his breast. She could feel the hardness of his virility against her lower back.
A fire she had never known before rippled through her blood. She felt dizzy.
After an hour's hard ride, they reached an oasis. The sheikh dismounted. Dara hobbled onto the sand. Her wrists chafed against the rough hessian of her bonds.
Sebastian stood against a date palm. His hair was dishevelled, and the colour had risen on his cheeks. He stepped towards the sheikh. "Look here, my good man," he said. He shot a glance at Dara. Guilt flooded her belly. But another glance told her that he had already forgiven her, and suddenly she realised why. Sir Sebastian thought that she had lied to the sheikh to protect them both.
Air rushed into her lungs like a wind in the mountains.
The sheikh tore off his turban and threw it carelessly to the ground. His black hair streamed free, sleek and shoulder-length. His cheeks were razor-sharp. His eyes flashed as they ran up and down her body, and suddenly she was aware that she was wearing neither bonnet nor shawl. She crossed her arms, painfully aware of the hardness of her nipples beneath the sheer fabric of her frock.
Desire slammed into her thighs.
"So," said Sheikh Zafiq al-Qra'dr. He turned and cast an appraising glance at Sebastian. "You are the lady's brother?"
Sebastian swallowed. Dara could see his Adam's apple move. So, clearly, could the sheikh because he yanked a jamiya'h from his belt. With one bound, he came up close to Sebastian and thrust the peak of the dagger into the white man's throat.
"Are you really the lady's brother?" growled the sheikh.
Sebastian's eyes didn't falter. They met the sheikh's flaming gaze with a cool steadiness. "Why don't you find out?" he spat. There was challenge in his voice.
Dara froze. She'd heard that note of challenge before, two months before, at a fox hunt on Sebastian's Yorkshire estate. He'd yelled at the hounds, or at the horses, she couldn't quite remember which. He'd completely ignored her, so caught up had he been in the business of the hunt.
Now that she thought of it, Sebastian might have been yelling at the stable boy.
"You don't bear much resemblance to the lady," said the sheikh. His voice was low and dangerous. His skin was toffee-coloured against the pale neck of Sebastian.
"No?" replied Sir Sebastian. His lips quivered in the heat.
"You're blond, like the lady, that is true," said the sheikh. He raked his free hand through Sebastian's silken hair. "But your eyes are a different colour." He ran a thumb along Sebastian's left eyebrow. "And your chest," he murmured, "is flat." The sheikh ripped open Sebastian's shirt and passed his free hand across the smooth expanse of skin, possessively, hungrily. "Unlike the lady's."
The sheikh's voice had grown thick and strange.
"These differences are not the differences between brother and sister," said Sebastian. Dara shivered at the sound of his voice, full of defiance. "They are simply the differences..."
"I know," growled the sheikh and dropped his weapon. "Between man and woman."
"Do you want to see the real difference?" snarled Sebastian, and Dara's senses swirled.
The camels stomped and tugged against their reins. Sir Sebastian dropped his breeches into the desert sand.
Realisation thumped into Dara's heart. Desire flamed through her veins.
It was a desire destined not to be fanned.
Thick flowed the juices of the sheikh's ferocious passion.
THE END
© Lobelia
written and posted 24 Feb. 2008
Author: Lobelia Lovebite
Category: Mills & Boon Intrigue / Harlequin Silhouette Intimate Moments Suspense pastiche.
Pairing: orig
Length: short
Dara Stuyvesant-Bond was the daughter of the British Imperial Ambassador, so of course it was she who was kidnapped by Sheikh Zafiq al-Qra'dr.
Dara was kidnapped, and also her fiancé, the rich and wealthy Sir Sebastian de Rolincourt. Sebastian's father had died before his son's birth, of tuberculosis, and Sebastian had been brought up by his mother, the Marquise Françoise de Rolincourt. Sebastian cried out for help in French but the Bedouin guards stationed outside their compound in the port city of Omoor either did not understand the language of the colonists, or pretended not to understand it.
The sheikh, his turban wrapped tightly around his head and face, bound both of their hands and nudged them towards a pair of camels waiting in the courtyard.
"Leave me be, you dastard!" yelled Dara and struggled against her bonds.
The sheikh said something in Arabic. His voice was rough and smoky, like a fire blazing across a wooden hearth. Dara did not understand what he said but it was clear that he was telling her to be quiet. It was also clear that the smoke of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She looked up.
The man's face was veiled. Only his eyes were visible, and they burnt into her with night-black savagery.
"I am the daughter of the ambassador!" she yelled, forcing strength into her voice. "Let me go!"
The hand of the sheikh closed roughly over her mouth. She smelled the musk and turmeric on his hot skin, and perhaps a whiff of camel's turds. She knew it was wrong but heat slammed through her.
"Be quiet, okay?" the sheikh whispered in English, his lips so close to her ear she could feel the fire of his breath.
Her heart thudded. What was the matter with her? She should be screaming and struggling yet her bones were melting into the manly arms of the sheikh as they heaved her up onto the camel's back. The sheikh's eyes raked over her body. She was wearing a white silk gown. Her shawl had been trampled underfoot. Her hair streamed over her shoulders in a liquid blonde cascade.
"And who is this?" The sheikh's voice ripped through Dara's consciousness.
"He is..." Dara faltered. "He is my brother."
Shame flushed her neck and her body. She didn't know why she had said this. Why had she denied Sebastian's true status? Why had she not told the sheikh that she and Sebastian were to be wed within the week? They had travelled to the Kingdom of Hrq'at-Noor to obtain the blessing of her father. She had been so happy, carefree and laughing her girlish, innocent laugh.
Now she looked at her fiancé. His blonde curls flopped carelessly across his aquamarine eyes, and in the struggle the buttons of his shirt had come undone, exposing his pale, comely chest. But next to her, she felt the heat in the blood of the sheikh and the unyielding strength of his scimitar-like muscles. She could not bring herself to reveal the truth to this man of the desert.
The camels' hooves thundered across the courtyard. Within minutes, they were out in the desert. Plumes of sand rose into the searing air behind them.
Dara's heart pounded.
The sheikh was sitting behind her, the reins firmly in his capable yet elegant hands. She was pressed against his strong chest. She could feel the heart beating in his breast. She could feel the hardness of his virility against her lower back.
A fire she had never known before rippled through her blood. She felt dizzy.
After an hour's hard ride, they reached an oasis. The sheikh dismounted. Dara hobbled onto the sand. Her wrists chafed against the rough hessian of her bonds.
Sebastian stood against a date palm. His hair was dishevelled, and the colour had risen on his cheeks. He stepped towards the sheikh. "Look here, my good man," he said. He shot a glance at Dara. Guilt flooded her belly. But another glance told her that he had already forgiven her, and suddenly she realised why. Sir Sebastian thought that she had lied to the sheikh to protect them both.
Air rushed into her lungs like a wind in the mountains.
The sheikh tore off his turban and threw it carelessly to the ground. His black hair streamed free, sleek and shoulder-length. His cheeks were razor-sharp. His eyes flashed as they ran up and down her body, and suddenly she was aware that she was wearing neither bonnet nor shawl. She crossed her arms, painfully aware of the hardness of her nipples beneath the sheer fabric of her frock.
Desire slammed into her thighs.
"So," said Sheikh Zafiq al-Qra'dr. He turned and cast an appraising glance at Sebastian. "You are the lady's brother?"
Sebastian swallowed. Dara could see his Adam's apple move. So, clearly, could the sheikh because he yanked a jamiya'h from his belt. With one bound, he came up close to Sebastian and thrust the peak of the dagger into the white man's throat.
"Are you really the lady's brother?" growled the sheikh.
Sebastian's eyes didn't falter. They met the sheikh's flaming gaze with a cool steadiness. "Why don't you find out?" he spat. There was challenge in his voice.
Dara froze. She'd heard that note of challenge before, two months before, at a fox hunt on Sebastian's Yorkshire estate. He'd yelled at the hounds, or at the horses, she couldn't quite remember which. He'd completely ignored her, so caught up had he been in the business of the hunt.
Now that she thought of it, Sebastian might have been yelling at the stable boy.
"You don't bear much resemblance to the lady," said the sheikh. His voice was low and dangerous. His skin was toffee-coloured against the pale neck of Sebastian.
"No?" replied Sir Sebastian. His lips quivered in the heat.
"You're blond, like the lady, that is true," said the sheikh. He raked his free hand through Sebastian's silken hair. "But your eyes are a different colour." He ran a thumb along Sebastian's left eyebrow. "And your chest," he murmured, "is flat." The sheikh ripped open Sebastian's shirt and passed his free hand across the smooth expanse of skin, possessively, hungrily. "Unlike the lady's."
The sheikh's voice had grown thick and strange.
"These differences are not the differences between brother and sister," said Sebastian. Dara shivered at the sound of his voice, full of defiance. "They are simply the differences..."
"I know," growled the sheikh and dropped his weapon. "Between man and woman."
"Do you want to see the real difference?" snarled Sebastian, and Dara's senses swirled.
The camels stomped and tugged against their reins. Sir Sebastian dropped his breeches into the desert sand.
Realisation thumped into Dara's heart. Desire flamed through her veins.
It was a desire destined not to be fanned.
Thick flowed the juices of the sheikh's ferocious passion.
THE END
© Lobelia
written and posted 24 Feb. 2008