The Treasure_ A Novel - Iris Johansen [32]
“Lady Selene,” Haroun prompted, gazing at her in puzzlement. Oh, God, she must look as weak-kneed and meltingly soft as she felt. She hurriedly lowered her gaze to the chessboard. “Your move.”
“I already moved.”
“Oh, I see you did.” What was wrong with her? She felt as if she were seeing, feeling everything through a veil.
Everything but Kadar.
Kadar was holding out his hand.
“We should talk,” she said.
“Later. It’s almost nightfall.”
Nightfall. The tower. Pleasure.
Instinctively she rose to her feet.
He took her hand. “Come.”
He was smiling, but she could feel the tension in his body. It was as strong as the tension that gripped her own. Her breasts were swelling and the tingling between her thighs was beginning, although he had done nothing but touch her hand. Sometimes no touch at all was needed. He would look at her and she would be swept away in a storm of sensuality and anticipation.
This was not good. She must force herself to think as well as feel. “I don’t see you anymore during the day. Where do you go?”
“Anywhere.” They began to climb the steps. “Away from you.”
“Why?”
“I find I cannot draw the line at the tower. I can think of little else except coupling. You have to have some rest.”
She lost her breath. “I do not think this . . . healthy. I’ve never—Is it Nasim or the hashish?”
He shook his head. “It is the two of us. I always knew it would be this way.”
“It’s madness,” she whispered. She added haltingly, “I can think of little else either. Body should not rule the mind. It must stop.”
“Tomorrow.” He opened the door of the tower room. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Hashish.
Silk.
Mellow candlelight falling on the divan where they took pleasure.
“Yes.” She slowly moved into the chamber. “Tomorrow.”
He smiled. “After all, it’s only pleasure. What harm can—My God.”
Her gaze followed his to the divan. “What is it?”
“Nasim.”
A slender whip with leather thongs lay on the soft cushions.
Kadar walked slowly toward the divan.
“Why is it here?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. He reached down and picked up the whip.
“Kadar.”
“Get out of here,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Why? What do you mean?”
He whirled toward the tapestry. “By God, no, Nasim.”
He hurled the whip at the tapestry.
The next moment he had grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the door. “Out.”
The door slammed behind them and he half-pulled, half-pushed her down the curving staircase. He was cursing softly, venomously.
“What’s happening?”
He paid no attention to her.
She stopped at the foot of the steps. “I’ll not go another step. Tell me.”
He drew a deep breath, struggling for control. “We weren’t proving amusing enough to Nasim. He wanted me to use the whip on you.”
“He wanted to punish me?”
“He didn’t—It’s a form of coupling.”
“What?”
“Sometimes pain increases the intensity.”
She stared at him, shocked. “For you?”
“I’ve never liked it. Even with a woman who did.”
“I cannot believe anyone would like it. As a child I felt the whip often and—”
“I know. Just believe me. Some women do like it.” He pushed her toward the door to her chamber. “Lock the door. I’m going to talk to Nasim.”
She remembered the rage with which he had hurled the whip. “He’ll be angry with you.”
“Yes.” He gave her a nudge. “Go on.”
An angry Nasim would be formidable, and Kadar would bear the brunt of his displeasure. “I’ll let you do it.”
“What?”
She tried to smile. “It won’t be the first time I’ve been beaten. It is nothing. I’ve enjoyed everything else you’ve done to me; perhaps this will not be so—”
“No.” He took a step closer and cupped her face in his hands. He looked down at her with a tenderness that took her breath away. He kissed her forehead. “Absolutely not.” He dusted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Never.”
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away.
“You treated me with disrespect,” Nasim snapped as soon as Kadar walked into the hall. “I should have your throat cut from ear to ear.”
“But then you’d have no one to accomplish your task.”
“I wanted to see how she’d respond