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An Excerpt From: SHADES OF THE WIND
© Copyright CHARLOTTE BOYETT-COMPO, 2006.
All Rights Reserved, 2006
"This is unconscionable," Bahru grumbled. "I am hungry. Why are the servants not bringing in my food?"
"I believe my people are waiting for me to make an appearance."
Catherine was not prepared for the man who came into the dining room. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the portrait in the library come to life. As handsome as that dark rider had been, the real man himself was male beauty personified. She was so stunned by his appearance that she failed to stand to show him the respect he—as a member of the royal house of Ben-Alkazar—was due. All she was capable of doing was staring at him.
His shoulder-length hair was as sleek and glossy as a raven's wing and was tied back from his square-jawed face with a bit of dark ribbon. Thick, bushy eyebrows curved gently over eyes the color of dark rum and were shielded by the longest lashes she'd ever seen on a man. The almost perfect shape of his nose hinted at softness to his nature while his lips--those sensuous lips she had so admired in the painting--gave lie to the suggestion of softness and labeled him aggressive and perhaps a tad cruel.
And those hands! She thought with rapt dreaminess. His hands were deeply tanned—as was his face and neck. She had been mesmerized by the strength portrayed in the painting of those capable-looking hands controlling the power of a mighty steed. Seeing them now in reality, she felt a shiver of pure sexual thrill invading her lower body and put up a hand to stifle the whimper of submission that threatened to escape.
"I am glad you do not find me loathsome, Kate," she heard him say and forced her stare from those powerful hands to the compelling darkness of his golden eyes and was caught--and held--by the sensuality lurking there.
Catherine felt as though she were drowning in that intense gaze; being pulled down through a maelstrom of dark needs that set her blood to singing and her juices to flowing. Without knowing she was doing so, she lifted her hand to him as he came toward her with feline grace and reached out to accept her offering.
And when their fingers met! Catherine sucked in a wavering breath and felt her knees growing weak as his strong sword hand closed around her hand.
"Welcome to your new home, milady," he whispered, turning her hand so that the underside of her wrist was revealed.
He did not release her from his magnetic gaze as he lowered his head to place his lips to the erratic pulse at her wrist. He was watching her from beneath that long sweeping fan of lashes and as his tongue moved slowly, languidly over her flesh, she felt a leap in her pulse that brought a smile of satisfaction to the Prince's lips.
"Soft as satin," he murmured against her wrist and his teeth grazed her flesh for just an instant before he lifted his head to look down at her.
He is taller than I expected, she thought as she stared up at him. And his shoulders are so wide, so powerful. Beneath the loose white kameez, she could see the hard plains of his chiseled chest and another wave of passion spread through her lower body.
Bahru had shot to his feet as though he'd been spurred with a red-hot branding iron as soon as the prince spoke. "Forgive me, Your Grace!" he said, bowing as deeply as his slight paunch would allow. "I did not know you would be joining us and…"
"By all means take my seat, Bahru," the prince interrupted. "I will sit where I wish."
The prince had not relinquished Catherine's hand, but instead tightened his grip possessively as though he had no intention of doing so; and when he was seated, he still kept her hand in his, his fingers laced through hers.
"I trust your room is comfortable?" he asked and his voice was dark silk as it settled around her.
"My room is very comfortable," Bahru said. "Very comfortable."
Not even turning his head to look at Bahru, he asked his question again, directing his gaze into Catherine's eyes.
"Yes," she answered, unable to tear her eyes from his.
"And your trip? Uneventful?"
"We ran into bad weather around the Cape," Bahru said. "We…" He stopped, for the question was being repeated but not to him.
"Most pleasant," she replied. She felt overly warm for the prince was making slow, lazy circles in her palm with his thumb and the sensation was causing her blood to race.
"I am glad," Prince Khenty said. "I wish only the best for you, Kate."
Catherine could do no more than gawk at him as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers this time. In some distant, unheeded part of her, she knew she shouldn't allow him such liberties, but she felt as though all the bones in her body had melted and she was no more than a mound of clay ready--and more than willing--to have this man's strong hands mold her to his liking.
"I intend to make sure your life here at Anubeion fulfills all your fantasies, milady."
Bahru cleared his throat. "I was hoping we could…"
The prince turned his head and gave Bahru a look. "We will discuss your duties later this evening, taricheutes," he said and let go of Catherine's hand.
"Of course, Your Grace," Bahru was quick to agree.
"And what did you think of your ocean journey?" Khenty asked Catherine.
"As a matter of fact…" Catherine began
"She found it far more enjoyable than did I," Bahru answered for her.
A muscle jumped in Khenty's cheek. "Did you have bad weather?" he asked Catherine, ignoring Bahru.
"It was absolutely miserable," Bahru said, sitting down. "Rain just about every day and into the night on many occasions."
Without looking at Bahru, the prince asked him if his fiancée was an educated woman.
Bahru's brows drew together over his hawkish nose. "Yes, Your Grace. I would never consider Joining with a woman who was not…"
"And does she have opinions of her own?" Still Khenty had not looked at the man who had usurped the prince's place at the head of the table.
"I suppose she does," Bahru answered. "Although…"
"And is she capable of expressing those opinions in a clear and distinct voice?"
"If you wish to know of our journey, Your Grace," Bahru said with an ingratiating smile, "I can tell you…"
"I was not asking you for your thoughts, taricheutes," Khenty stated in a firm voice and he turned his head to spear the smaller man with a fierce look that opened the other man's eyes wide. "If I want your opinion, I will ask it. I was speaking to milady. I want to hear what she has to say. Do not interrupt her again." The dark golden gaze narrowed dangerously. "Is that clear to even an imbecile like you?"
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