FICTION: SEQUEL TO PRIDE AND AUDACITY
Crossing the Chasm — Part 3
She needed a savior — but the devil would have to do
Califar gaped at the woman clinging to his leg. Given three lifetimes, he could never have envisioned such behavior. The depth of her distress gutted him.
He tried to pry her arms from around his leg without doing further harm to her injured wrists. She clung tighter. He talked to her, calling her name. She whimpered and shook with violent tremors. If he didn’t break through the hysteria, she might retreat so far he would never reach her again.
He dropped to one knee. Filling both his hands with a mass of auburn curls, he forced her head away from his leg and lifted her mouth. He didn’t know who was shaking more when he claimed her lips.
Heat rushed to his head as a hidden well sprang open to spill out torrents of denied need. He slid his mouth from her lips and circled her face with hard, short kisses, all the while, murmuring an oath.
“By Allah, no one will ever hurt you again.”
He didn’t know how long he’d been satisfying his own need when his crazed mind registered the fact that she had released her grip on his leg.
In a heartbeat, he lifted her off the floor and into his arms. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. He felt the warm caress of her breath as she buried her face in the hollow of his neck. He walked to the cot. Not ready to release her, he sat on the edge and positioned her as comfortably as he could across his lap. Snatching his robe from the floor, he covered her. Gently, he rocked.
The dawn’s purple hues tinted the morning light when the woman in his arms finally slept. She lay limp as a wilted oleander blossom at sunset. Her cheek rested against his chest and the fingers of her right hand lay softly across his heart.
The damp trail of her tears made rivulets of moisture down his skin. Strangely, what she seemed to crave most was the safety of his arms.
Deciding it would be best to lay her down and give his aching back some relief; he stood and began to lower her to the cot. She stiffened, her hands clutching his shoulders. Even in sleep, she didn’t want to be alone.
There was only one way to give her what she needed. He lay down on his back and positioned her on top of him. A little more maneuvering and he finally got her legs stretched along the length of his. Since there were no protests, he took that to mean she had no objection to using him for a mattress, in her semi-unconscious state, anyway.
His body certainly didn’t agree. He smirked. That wasn’t true. The blood pulsing in his head and other parts of his body was proof of that.
Her womanly softness pressed snuggly into him. Days of heat and sweat could not mask the faint hint of jasmine in her hair. He froze as she wiggled her bottom and finally settled in a position more to her liking.
He covered them both with his robe and willed his body to relax. He stroked the hair from her face and wrapped both arms around her. As long as he lived, he would never forget the sound of his name as she had sobbed it over and over in the night. Not his name actually, but her shortened form of it.
“Cali…Cali…”
He willed his thoughts in the direction of their first meeting. Having accompanied Prince Rashid to New York for his marriage to Jacob Ballard’s daughter, he and Rashid had been in Mr. Ballard's reception area when Jessica entered the room like a desert storm. The sight of her had fragmented his thoughts and turned his blood to liquid heat under his skin. Clad in miniscule top and skirt, her bare shoulders covered in bouncing red curls, she was easily the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
They had met several more times over the course of the past year. As Princess Davar’s friend, he could not have avoided her company, or the resentment she still held for him.
When Princess Davar had resisted her arranged marriage and refused to acknowledge her husband, Prince Rashid literally picked up his wife and carried her away. Jessica tried to stop the abduction. The task of stopping Jessica had fallen to him.
She’d fought him like a tiger. He’d mastered her with a kiss he’d neither intended nor had the power to stop. The memory of those heated moments haunted him even now. She had not known how to deal with the forces ignited by that kiss, and ever since, she had despised him for it.
Jessica moved again. This time scooting her body upward until her head rested on the pillow next to his. The breasts crushed to his chest imprinted her seal on him with each breath she took. Her legs parted as she let each one rest on the cot beside his hips.
It was a good thing this woman slept because he was sure that defeat burned in his eyes.
Something touched his shoulder, drawing him from an exhausted sleep. He tensed but managed not to jerk. When he opened his eyes, he stared into ZaKar’s satisfied face.
“So, you spoke the truth. I was not sure that your claim to this woman was as you told me, a fact that I was going to question her about. But, I can see that she does know to whom she belongs. No woman would lie so accepting otherwise.”
Califar glared at the man staring down at him and prayed that Jessica would continue to sleep.
“Is a man not entitled to privacy with his woman?” Califar kept his voice low but steady.
“I regret to intrude,” said ZaKar, “but I must leave for a short time and thought it best to complete our bride contract before I depart. You will join me shortly, there is much to discuss.”
ZaKar studied Jessica a moment before returning his attention to Califar.
“You must tell me with what method you tamed this woman. My men say that she lowers her eyes to no man. Even I could hear her shouted insults halfway across this camp. It was only after she injured two of my men that she was bound as you found her. Such a woman must require a strong hand.”
“A strong woman only bends to a stronger man, is that not so? I control my woman, ZaKar, as I control all things that are mine.”
ZaKar took the implied warning with a slight nod of his head. “I look forward to our negotiations.” With that reply, he left the hut as silently as he had entered.
Califar exhaled deeply. He needed to get Jessica out of this camp before she recovered her strength. If he did not, there would be no doubt how little control he exerted over her. A situation that would put her in more danger.
She did not stir when he lifted her and slipped from the cot. Her skin felt cool to his touch, he hoped that meant the infection was under control.
He noticed the bag with his personal items now stood by the entrance. ZaKar must have left it there when he entered. He took the opportunity to wash, using the bowl of water on the side table, and dressed in clean clothes. There was only one room in the small hut. He grimaced thinking about Jessica’s reaction to the lack of privacy.
He opened his bag again and took out the clothes Princess Davar had included for Jessica. The simple Bedouin-style skirt and blouse would do well. He laid them by his open bag along with a toothbrush and soap.
Twenty minutes later, he made his way toward ZaKar’s quarters. Vehicles heavily packed with crates and fuel cans formed a line in the center of the camp. By the look of things, the site was probably moving soon. A fact that wouldn’t make much difference anyway, he thought, since he didn’t know his present location with total accuracy.
While he attracted quite a bit of interest, no one hindered his movement through the busy area. That changed quickly as he approached Zakar’s hut. Two heavily armed guards commanded him to submit to a search. Complying, he opened his robe and turned slowly in a circle. They checked his boots and belt for hidden daggers or small arms. Satisfied, they motioned for him to enter.
He didn’t know what he’d expected but, for sure, it wasn’t what he found. ZaKar and three older men sat on clean reed mats that looked as if they’d just been placed on the wooden floor. The camp leader gestured for Califar to sit opposite them. A somewhat battered ceremonial tea urn filled the space between. The wily camp leader had hastily set up a traditional tea ceremony complete with the three required tribe elders who were supposed to oversee the marriage negotiations. It was an old Bedouin custom still used by many of the desert tribes of Ahalamin. At least he knew what was expected of him, though he didn’t appreciate ZaKar’s foolish mockery.
He accepted a hot cup of sweet mint tea and listened as one of the older men extolled the virtues of the intended bride. Such a worthy bride would cost the bridegroom a great deal. Of course, Jessica possessed none of the listed virtues, but he could hardly declare that fact. Califar could see from the gleam in ZaKar’s expression that he intended to exert his dominance. He could only hope the man would soon tire of playing games.
ZaKar rubbed his chin and gave Califar a half-grin. “What say you, Califar Cadin? Does not the woman’s owner merit something in return for such a paragon of womanly virtue? Her beauty is the very gate of paradise. Such a devoted and submissive wife will bring honor to your house. What will you give for this treasure among women?”
Their gazes locked, each man searching for the other’s weakness. Califar tipped his head in a respectful gesture. He had no choice. If he wanted to remove Jessica from ZaKar’s control, he could not make another mistake because of pride or jealousy. He uttered the expected reply.
“No amount in heaven or earth can match the desirability of the woman you offer. I am unworthy and humble. All that I possess would be as nothing. Whatever you desire, I will give.”
“You are well versed in the old ways,” said ZaKar.
“These ancient ways are still honored by tribal law in Ahalamin. Now, do we play more games or do we get down to what it is you really want?”
A calculating coldness iced over ZaKar’s countenance as he rose to his feet. Califar did the same.
“As you say. What I want is three fuel tankers delivered to the location I will provide. Along with that, you will deliver three J-Tar Tactical Helicopters.”
He had expected worse. He turned and paced in feigned agitation for several seconds, camouflaging the relief he felt.
“You ask a lot,” he replied sharply.
“Surely, the exquisite woman who covered you like a soft blanket in the night is worth the price?” ZaKar dipped his head. The condescending smirk lifting the corner of his mouth more arrogance than an insult.
Califar paced some more and then shook his fist into the air, emphatic punctuation of his supposed displeasure. “You will have what you ask. Return the woman to Ahalamin. I will remain here until the delivery is made.”
“There is…one more small matter,” ZaKar spoke methodically as he lifted his chin to meet Califar’s icy gaze. I find that I have a desire to see this blessed union sealed. Therefore, I have arranged the claiming ceremony to take place this evening. I regret that the customary three days of bridal feasting will not happen, but at least, you will receive the bride you have so worthily paid for.”
Sweat ran down the back of Califar’s neck. Somehow ZaKar knew Jessica was not promised. He cursed the vulgarity of fate. This was ZaKar’s way of humiliating him, forcing him to claim Jessica or forfeit her life. No doubt, he could not envision a worse fate than for a man of Califar’s station to be shackled to a female infidel, especially an American she-devil.
He would not give him the satisfaction of knowing the knife he turned in his gut.
To be continued…
Read from the beginning…
