Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride. Marguerite KayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
through the eyepiece and was instantly transported to the spellbinding creation that surrounded this little world.
* * *
The invitation to accompany Kadar on his early morning ride had been in her suite when she returned from her stargazing. The outfit which she wore for the occasion was perfectly suited for the purpose, consisting of a soft white sleeveless tunic under a long dark-red cotton coat with matching trousers. Her boots came up over her knees, the brown kid soft on her skin, the long pointed toes decorated with red stitching.
He had been waiting for her in the stables, had chosen for her mount the most beautiful Arabian mare she had ever seen. She rode astride like a man, there being no side-saddle available. It was a perfect morning, and she could not have asked for a more even-tempered equine companion. Above them, in the celestial blue of the early morning sky streaked with wispy cloud, the sun was pale gold, the air tangy with salt. As they reached the furthest edge of the long beach Constance reined in her mount. Kadar was already there, waiting. The sea was like liquid turquoise, breaking white onto the hard-packed golden sands, foaming around the legs of the steaming horses and pooling around an outcrop of rock. The shoreline was a cliff formed of the same ochre rock, the first trees which she had seen in the kingdom growing in neat rows further inland.
‘Olive trees,’ Kadar said, in answer to her unspoken question. ‘They screen some of our precious crop-growing land from the salt and the winds coming in off the sea.’
‘It is so beautiful,’ Constance said. ‘And this horse, she is so perfectly behaved. Whoever trained her is most skilled.’
‘She was bred in Bharym, as was my stallion. Rafiq, the prince of that country has the best stables in Arabia. I am fortunate enough to be one of the few men to whom he will sell his prized bloodstock.’
‘Does he sell only to his friends?’
‘He sells only to those he deems worthy to own and enjoy his precious horseflesh,’ Kadar said, with a faint smile.
‘Ah.’ Constance laughed. ‘I can see why he deems you worthy. You ride as if you were born in the saddle. I am extremely privileged to ride this beautiful creature.’
Kadar smiled. ‘Rafiq would approve of your horsemanship. My instincts told me you would know how to handle her. I was right.’
‘Thank you.’
‘The tide is far enough out this morning for us to venture around the headland,’ Kadar said, ‘unless you have had enough?’
‘I don’t think I could ever have a surfeit of this,’ Constance replied. Sea, sky, sands, horse and man, any of it, she thought, following in his wake. Kadar’s riding dress was similar to hers, consisting of plain cotton trousers and a tunic of blue-and-grey stripes. He sported long riding boots of black-kid leather. He sat perfectly upright in the saddle, holding the highly strung stallion with the careless-seeming ease of a naturally gifted horseman. His head was bare, his black silky hair dishevelled by the wind. Sweat made his thin tunic cling to his back, revealing the rippling muscles of his shoulders. For such a lean man, he was very powerfully built. He and the stallion were a perfect match.
The sea was receding further as they followed the headland, where the olive trees gave way to scrub on the cliff top, and the regular rush of the waves onto the sand quieted to a sigh. The mountains which Constance had spotted from the rooftop terrace yesterday came into view on the horizon now, and the cliff tops became more rugged in appearance. They turned sharply around the headland, and she gasped with delight at the perfect crescent of sand completely enclosed by the steep cliffs, a natural harbour formed by the outcrop they had just traversed, and an almost identical one on the other side of the bay.
‘What do you think of my special retreat?’
‘I am lost for words. Your country is so very, very beautiful. The light is magical. The blue sky, the azure sea, it is like living in a perfect picture. Everything here is so vivid, the colours so vibrant. So different from the muffled shades of grey so typical of England. It does something to the soul. Lifts the spirits.’ She laughed, embarrassed. ‘I don’t know what it does save that it makes me feel as if I am full of bubbles. I expect you think that is fanciful.’
‘I think that you reflect the scenery here,’ Kadar replied. ‘Bright. Vivid. Alive.’
‘Oh.’ Her cheeks heated. ‘Thank you,’ Constance said, both flustered and ridiculously pleased.
He helped her down from the saddle, his hands light on her waist. She watched him as he hobbled the horses, seating herself in the shade of the cliffs which ringed the bay. Her boots were extremely comfortable, but her feet were hot inside them. She pulled them off, wriggling her toes into the deliciously cool damp sand, leaning back on her hands to enjoy the breeze on her face. When she opened her eyes, Kadar was standing over her, looking down at her bare toes. ‘I was hot,’ she said, embarrassed, for she would never have dreamed of removing her shoes in company at home.
‘Yes,’ he said, giving her his Sphynx look, and dropping onto the sand beside her, prepared to follow her lead.
His boots were much longer than hers. His calves rippled as he removed them. His skin was the colour of the golden sands darkened by the sea. His feet had a very high arch, like her own.
‘Tell me how your stargazing is coming along.’
A subject even more distracting than Kadar’s feet! ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Constance said, smiling. ‘You’re probably going to regret doing so.’
It was easy to be transported to the heavens, especially in the company of a man who shared her passion, and could plug several gaps in her knowledge. Finally, she forced herself to stop talking not because she had run out of words but because her mouth had run dry. ‘I did warn you,’ she said.
Kadar was leaning back on his elbows. His hair was tousled by the wind. And he was smiling that special bone-melting smile. ‘I could not ask for a more diligent or enthusiastic court astronomer.’
‘You could, I suspect, easily obtain a far more learned one.’
‘Who would number the stars and plot their positions with mathematical precision. I much prefer your way of mapping the heavens. A night sky teeming with legends and mythological creatures. A romantic cosmos full of passion and wonder. I am very happy with my choice of court astronomer, thank you very much.’
He smiled again. Their gazes locked. He reached over to tuck her hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed the line of her scar. Her heart began to hammer. His fingers fluttered down her cheek, her neck, to rest at the pulse at the base of her throat. She surrendered to the urge to lean just a fraction closer, and he did the same. Shoulders touching. Legs. His breath on her cheek. She lifted her hand to his face, mirroring his touch, flattening her palm over the smoothness of his cheek, the roughness of his chin.
He dipped his head towards her. His lips were soft. His kiss was gentle. He tasted salty. She felt as if she was melting. Her fingers curled into the silky softness of his hair. She parted her lips for him, returning the pressure tentatively. Then he sighed. Lifted his head. Their hands dropped. Their bodies separated.
What had happened? Was that a kiss or wasn’t it? How had it happened, when they had both been so clear that it could not? Constance stared out to sea, completely at a loss. ‘I don’t understand it. I knew that I shouldn’t, my mind knew it was wrong, but my body wanted...’
Kadar muttered something under his breath in his own language. She risked a fleeting glance. ‘Your habit of speaking your thoughts quite unedited is sometimes dangerously enlightening.’
‘What do you mean?’
He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Constance, it took considerable willpower to break that kiss. Telling me that your body wanted—’ He broke off, shaking his head. ‘I don’t want to think about what your body wanted, or my body will—will wish to do something it must not.’
‘Oh.’ Her inclination was, shockingly, to wish that Kadar