Touch the Horizon Page 6

  She’d been aware of David’s gaze on her face for the last ten minutes, and the expression in his eyes was a combination of amusement, tenderness, and the same excitement that was surging through her. Such beautiful eyes, so warm and loving and wise.

  The door had scarcely closed behind the servant when David decisively set his glass down on the table. “I thought he’d never leave,” he said with a boyish grin. He pushed back his chair, stood up, and was around the table in seconds. He took her glass from her hand and set it on the table before pulling her to her feet. “Come on, windflower, let’s see if we can push those slips a little higher into the sun.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked, startled.

  “I want to touch you,” he said simply. “And I think you want to touch me, too, don’t you, sweetheart?” He was leading her toward the wide, scarlet-draped bed. “I’m not going to force the pace, but I don’t see why we can’t have a little of what we want now.” He stopped beside the bed and met her eyes gravely. “Unless I’ve read you wrong?”

  He was giving her the chance to back away. To pretend and play games if that was what she wanted. That wasn’t what she wanted. She’d always hated games, and, facing those clear, honest eyes, she knew she’d never be able to play them with David. “You haven’t read me wrong,” she said shakily. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? We only met this afternoon.” She licked her lips nervously. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “Haven’t you?” David pushed her gently down on the bed and sat down beside her. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s all perfectly natural and beautiful. Like I said, we’re only going to caress the petals and breathe in the scents. You already know a little about my body, as I know about yours.” His eyes twinkled. “We’re just going to enlarge that knowledge without having a sandstorm to distract us.” He slowly eased a narrow strap down from her shoulder, and the very deliberateness of the motion caused a little tingle of heat to go through her. “Such pretty shoulders. They look so fragile and fine-boned, but they’re not really.” His head bent, and his lips brushed the soft hollow beneath her collarbone. “They’re strong and sturdy, just like the rest of you.” He pushed her gently back in a reclining position on the bed and smiled down at her while he slipped the other strap from her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re so strong and healthy, love. It would worry me to death if you were frail.”

  “I’ve always been strong as an ox,” she said breathlessly, and closed her eyes in disgust. “Oh, Lord, that sounded romantic as hell. I told you I wasn’t used to situations like this.”

  She heard his low chuckle and then felt the shock of his lips on her other shoulder. “You’re doing fine,” he drawled, and she felt herself shifted as he lay down beside her. “And soon you’ll be doing even better.”

  “You would have a red bedspread,” she chattered nervously. “I look terrible in red. My hair…” She inhaled sharply as she felt the silken warmth of his lips on the rise of her breast. Her lashes flew open to see the sun-lightened gold of his hair only a few inches away. “It clashes,” she whispered.

  “I didn’t notice,” he said as he lifted his head to look down at her. He brushed a copper curl behind her ear. “So it does.” His eyes held hers as he slowly bent so that his lips were hovering tantalizingly over her own. “But we don’t clash, do we, love? We fit together.” He was brushing her with quick, gentle kisses between every phrase. “We complement each other. Your softness against my hardness.” He rubbed the slight stubble of his cheek against her with sensuous pleasure. “Your smoothness against my roughness.” He placed his hand lightly on her throat, observing with pleasure the bronze darkness of his skin against her lighter, creamy gold. “Even the colors are right.” His lips dipped to cover her own in a kiss of such exquisite tenderness that it made her throat ache with emotion. “All of our togetherness is right.” He kissed her again. “And it always will be. Forever, Billie.”

  Her hands moved up to curl in the thick crispness of the hair at the nape of his neck. Forever. It sounded so beautiful, she thought, as beautiful as this dreamlike loving. Suddenly she stiffened and pushed him a little away. This wasn’t a dream, and she didn’t believe in forever. Not for her. She couldn’t let this weaver of magic be fooled into thinking she did. He was already too dear to her to risk hurting. “No.” she said quietly, her hands moving with unconscious yearning over his shoulders. “Now. Tomorrow. Perhaps the next day. But not forever, David. You’ve got to know that.”

  His eyes narrowed on her troubled face. “Poor little windflower. You’re trying your best not to hurt me, aren’t you? That conscience of yours won’t let you take your pleasure without being sure that no one is going to suffer for it.” He took her hands from his shoulders and held her palms against his chest. “Don’t worry. You’ve given me fair warning. I’m not going to blame you if I come out of this with a scar or two.” He was moving her hands up and down over the strong, supple muscles of his chest, an expression of almost feline pleasure on his face. “Some things are worth risking a great deal for.” Then, as she opened her lips to speak, he dipped his head and sealed them with a long kiss that took her breath away and caused her lips to part yearningly to have more of him.

  She could feel his heart begin to thunder beneath her palms as he began to taste with the delicate hunger of a gourmet who wished to savor every nuance of an exquisite feast. He explored the smoothness of her teeth, the warm darkness of her mouth, before stroking her tongue with an erotically teasing finesse that caused an aching heat to begin to build between her thighs. He raised his head, his chest laboring with the force of his breathing, a pulse leaping erratically in the hollow of his throat. “Turnabout is fair play, love,” he said hoarsely. “Would you like to taste me too?” She nodded slowly, her gaze fixed compulsively on the parted lips so close to her own. “Then, come to me. Take me.”

  She needed no second invitation. She pulled his head down with a trembling eagerness, her tongue exploring his lips and teeth with delight before capturing his tongue with her lips and sucking gently. He stiffened and groaned deep in his throat, his hips suddenly jerking forward against the cradle of her thighs. He plunged his tongue deeper within her, pressing the hollow of her cheeks gently with his fingertips, and she obeyed the signal by increasing the pressure and nibbling teasingly with her teeth. He jerked again, and she could feel his heart trying to burst through the wall of his chest. He raised his head and drew a deep, shaky breath, his eyes dark and glazed. “We’d better stop that, sweetheart. It comes too close to the real thing. I keep thinking of how sweet and hot it’s going to be when I’m drawn into you and held that tightly.” He moved down and rested his head lightly on her breast. “Your heart is beating as crazily as mine.” He rubbed his head back and forth against her. “And it’s causing mine to beat even harder to know I can make you that excited.” His hands were at the top of her dress. “I want to feel your heart under my hand. I want to taste your pretty breasts. Is that all right with you, windflower?”

  “You’ll be disappointed,” she said shakily. “I’m not exactly voluptuous.”

  “I won’t be disappointed.” He was pushing the dress carefully down to her waist, his eyes burningly intent on her small naked breasts. “Lovely,” he said softly. “Round, firm, and perfectly shaped, like creamy tulips with delicate pink centers.” His hand cupped her gently, his probing fingertips engendering a throbbing that spiraled in intensity. “I want to feel you respond as I suck the nectar from those pretty flowers,” he said thickly, lowering his lips to her nipples, which were already budding in invitation. His fingertips pressed over her heart with a light testing pressure as his lips closed on her. He gave a low growl of primitive satisfaction as her heart jumped wildly when he began the tender pulling suction that sent a rioting flame to the center of her being. The thumb and forefinger of his other hand began to roll the taut crest of her other breast, alternating gentle and rough pressure in tempo with the suckling of h
is mouth and tongue.

  She cried out and arched up against him, her hips searching blindly. “You like that?” he muttered, his teeth nipping gently at her. “Oh, God, so do I. I love to touch you. I wish I could have you like this always. Naked and swollen and just waiting for my hand and lips. I don’t see how I’m going to get through the next few days without taking you.” His warm tongue brushed the other tip held between his fingers. “I’m going to need something to hold me. Don’t put anything on between us. Okay? I want to know there’s just you, sweet and warm and clean beneath your clothes. And when I can’t take it any more, I want to be able to unbutton those clothes and take these pretty things out and hold them. Will you let me do that, Billie?”

  “Yes, if you like,” she murmured, her face flushed and languid. She would have promised him anything at that moment. She felt as if she were melting inside, liquid and flowing with emotions that were burning her with a blue-white flame.

  “I like.” The creases at the corners of his eyes deepened as he suddenly grinned. “And that’s a hell of an understatement, love.” His hands left her as he sat up and rapidly unbuttoned his shirt. “And now I’d like to feel all that soft roundness against me. Will you oblige me there, too, Billie?”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, but jerked open the cream shirt. The triangle of hair on his chest was a deeper gold, almost tawny, and looked invitingly soft and springy. “Sit up,” he urged, his arms going around her to pull her up into his arms. The scent of spice and musk wafted around her as she buried her face in the soft, downy pelt. Then he was pressing the center of her back, arching her to meet warmth with warmth, softness with smoothness. So alike, yet so different. She could feel herself swell and burn as he rubbed against her like a sleek, sinuous cat. “When I’m inside you, I’m going to do this,” he said, closing his eyes and holding her very still against him. “I’m going to lean over and love you with every inch of me. Can you see it, Billie?”

  She could see it so well, it stopped her breath. “Yes,” she said haltingly. It was hard to speak over the lump in her throat. She was so charged with emotion, she didn’t know whether it was passion or something else that caused that odd poignant ache. “I can see it, David.”

  He was curiously taut and stiff for a long moment, and then she felt him make a conscious effort to relax his rigid muscles. He pushed her away from him, and his lids flicked open. His eyes were no longer glazed, but brilliant and warm. So warm. He kissed her gently on the forehead. “Then, keep on seeing it, Billie.” His hands were pulling up the bodice of her dress and slipping the slender straps over her shoulders. “See it. Hold it. Remember it. Until the blossoming.”

  “Until the blossoming,” she repeated softly. There was a wrenching ache deep inside her, and she knew David was probably hurting with a frustration as intense as her own. Yet she wasn’t even tempted to try to alter his decision to wait for the growth that would fulfill the promise of what they’d known tonight. She was filled with a strange glowing serenity like nothing she’d ever known before. She pulled away from him and began to button his shirt while he watched her with that tender half smile.

  “You’re still trembling,” he said quietly. He touched her cheek lightly with a forefinger. “But then, so am I. It was beautiful, wasn’t it, windflower?”

  “Yes, it was beautiful,” she said softly, meeting his eyes steadily. “Very beautiful.” She tried to smile. “And now I think I’d better leave you and say good night.”

  He frowned and obviously was about to protest. Then he nodded slowly. “You’re right.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “I’d better get you out of here right away. I just didn’t want to let you go.” He slipped his arm around her waist with a casual familiarity that was both affectionate and endearing, as he accompanied her to the door. “I’ll walk you to your suite.”

  She shook her head as she opened the door and turned to face him. “I’d rather be on my own. I’ve got to find my way around this labyrinth sometime. It might as well be now.”

  He nodded wryly. “I think you’ll always be able to find your way, Billie. I don’t want to lead you or follow you. I just want to walk beside you.” He touched the tip of her nose gently, with a teasing finger. “But I can wait. Be as independent as it pleases you to be tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at about eight and we’ll have breakfast in the bazaar before I take you on that sight-seeing tour I promised you.” He gave her another warm smile before gently closing the door.

  She turned and walked slowly down the corridor, a tiny frown knitting her forehead as she realized the forlornness she was feeling was born of an emotion she’d never before let herself experience. How odd after all these solitary years at last to know loneliness.

  FOUR

  ARE WE TO be so honored as to see the treasures you’ve gathered in the back of your shop, Hassan?” David asked with solemn formality, gazing down at the eggshell fragility of the demitasse cup full of mint tea that he held. “I have heard wonderful stories of the Kirmans and Harizs you save for the eyes of only the chosen few.”

  Billie choked and tried to mask her giggle with a dignified cough, carefully keeping her gaze on her own cup. Oh, heavens, here we go again. She’d no idea David had such an impish sense of humor, until this afternoon.

  “Certainly, Lisan, it is my pleasure,” Hassan answered eagerly. “Naturally I was planning on showing you nothing but the best of my humble merchandise.” He set his own cup down on the elaborately carved tray, uncrossed his legs, and rose from the cushions to his feet. “If you will follow me, I will show you carpets that will dazzle your eyes.” He bustled toward a rich paisley wall hanging.

  “Another back room?” Billie murmured, setting her cup down on the tray.

  “Why not?” David asked blandly. “Everyone knows that all the real quality stuff is always kept away from the crude gaze of the hoi polloi.” He stood up, looking down at her with a mischievous grin. “You did want to go on a real Mideastern shopping trip, remember?”

  “I was just thinking of browsing in the bazaar again.”

  “Uh-uh.” David shook his head as he took her hand and pulled her up from the enormous cushion. “We did that yesterday. You nearly walked my legs off, and the day before that we had to go sight-seeing.” He grimaced. “Hell. I never knew a small city like Zalandan could have so many sights. You must have found every historic site and tourist trap since the town was founded.”

  “I told you I wanted to see everything,” Billie said with a grin. “What’s the use of visiting a place unless you can capture a little of the flavor and atmosphere?” She wrinkled her nose teasingly at him. “Besides, I’ve never been escorted around a city by someone who had the honorary key to it. All doors are opened to Lisan. They even overlook your peculiar preference for ladies who wear jeans and look more like boys than women.”

  “That’s not all that peculiar here in the Mideast,” David said, sapphire eyes twinkling. “And I thought I’d convinced you that you definitely have no resemblance to a boy, windflower. I think it’s about time we headed for that back room. You need another lesson.”

  “Again?” Billie’s lips were twitching. “This is the third one we’ve been in this afternoon. First there was the perfumery.” She sniffed delicately at the sleeve of his blue, oxford-cloth shirt. “You still smell a little of lilacs. Then there was the coppersmith…”

  “That was a mistake,” David admitted. He slipped an arm around her waist and propelled her toward the hanging where the obsequiously smiling Hassan was waiting. “How did I know there’d be all those copper pots and cooking utensils hanging from the ceiling? I was the one who nearly knocked myself out. After that, I figured that a carpet shop would be just what the doctor ordered.” He pushed her gently through the arched doorway and answered Hassan’s low salaam with a polite one of his own. Then the paisley hanging slid gracefully into place. “Alone at last.” He whirled and pushed her down on the pile of exotic carpets in the center
of the room. “Now, this is what I call an interesting shopping trip.”

  The tiny room was dusky, and the rich carpets hanging on the walls gave off an aura of timeless intimacy. Billie was choking with laughter as she gazed up at him. His blue eyes were dancing, and a lock of sun-burnished hair was hanging rakishly over his forehead. He looked so like a little boy who had put some deviltry over on the grownups that she experienced a sensation of melting tenderness. “It’s certainly a different one, anyway. Are we actually going to look at the merchandise this time?”

  “Of course,” David dropped down beside her on the bed of carpets, took her in his arms, and bore her back on the cushioned softness. “I intend to examine them very carefully.” He ran his fingers through her hair before he spread the copper curls out on the cream-and-spring-green pattern of the carpet. “See what careful attention I’m paying to the colors and textures of the weave?” He rolled her over so that she was facing him. “How I’m testing the resilience of the pile?” His hands were on the front of her shirt, rapidly unbuttoning it. “Now there’s only the final examination of softness.”

  Her eyes widened as they flew to the paisley hanging. “David, I don’t think—”

  “I told you it was considered bad manners to disturb a buyer while he was examining the merchandise,” David said soothingly. “Hassan would cut off his arm rather than barge in here.” He shook his head ruefully. “If you recall, old Said didn’t even come to the rescue when I ran into the copper samovar and yelled like a banshee.” He had her shirt open, and his hands were cupping and fondling her affectionately. “Sweet, so sweet.”

  It was sweet, she thought, gazing dreamily at his tanned, skillful hands on her paler flesh. For the moment there was nothing particularly sexual in the caress. In the past three days she’d found David was one of the most tactile persons she’d ever met. She’d remembered what he’d said about liking the wind and sun on his face while he was gardening. She could understand that now, after being the object of that sensual tactility. He was constantly touching her hair, playing with her fingers, running his hand in a long caress down her thigh, whenever they had a moment of privacy. In another man it might have been an annoying imposition, but this wasn’t the case with David. It was all done with such loving affection and simple delight that it made her feel like a precious treasure being polished and caressed to a mellow luster by those sensitive hands. At times she felt the sexual tension radiating beneath that gentle fondling, but he’d kept it so damped down, she’d been aware of it only on a subliminal level. It was as if, since that first night in his suite, he’d been carefully preparing the ground, nurturing their relationship with humor and tenderness, sprinkling it with understanding, and protecting it from the brash intrusion of the weeds of dissension and uneasiness.