The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) by Bonnie Vanak Page B

displays of strength before battle. The warriors strip to the waist, anoint themselves with ceremonial decorations and gather before a mighty bonfire, preparing themselves for the bloodletting to come. They dance to show to the sheikh their willingness to die."
    "Are women permitted in these ceremonies?" asked one woman faintly, fanning herself. A tiny bead of perspiration rolled down her temple.
    Kenneth gave Badra a meaningful glance. "No, for it is feared a lady would faint from witnessing such a spectacle." He added softly, "For women, such displays of male potency are reserved to the privacy of the black tents."
    Badra felt her cheeks flame at his remark. His sapphire eyes burned into her. Heat from her cheeks spread through her body, fanning it like a stoked fire—as if they were alone, and he’d dared to relay something forbidden, exotic and mysterious.
    Oh, yes. He was still vaguely threatening and yet exciting. Badra’s lips parted as she watched his long, elegant fingers stroke his wineglass’s stem as if it were live, warm flesh. Her imagination flamed as she pictured his hands caressing a woman’s soft thigh, teasing and arousing ...
    Her mental picture shifted. It was her thigh, the duke’s hooded gaze lazy and meaningful as it captured hers and his fingers slid slowly upward, heat flaring in their wake. Badra hitched in a trembling breath, disturbed and aroused.
    Fans fluttered wildly now as many flushed-faced women sighed. Kenneth asked them with wicked glee, "Would you care for me to explain the war dance of the Khamsin warriors?"
    A chorus of female voices cried out in unison. "Oh, yes!"
    The duke smiled and obliged them. The women craned their necks forward to listen. A mutual sigh of their admiration undulated down the table as he sketched with his hands how the warriors tangled with each other "like wildcats" to demonstrate their prowess to their sheikh. And how they denied themselves their wives’ company before battle but after victory, the warriors stalked off to their tents and demonstrated a "savage, insatiable prowess." Kenneth’s suggestive look hinted at air filled with different cries—female cries of pleasure.
    They all listened, clearly enthralled. And by the time he finished, every woman was flushed. Several looked faint.
    The duke gave each a polite smile before riveting his attention to Badra. Her insides felt as formless as fresh yogurt. Kenneth’s burning gaze pierced her.
    "Well, Badra, I hope my explanation of the Khamsin rituals did not make you homesick," he said.
    "It sounds like you are the homesick one," she noted.
    His startled expression stopped the breath rising in her lungs. Sadness lingered there, twisting her emotions. In his face she saw a longing, the call of sand and sun and the warbling of warriors racing on their mares to battle. Then the look vanished like thirsty sand drinking precious raindrops.
    "Why, my dear Badra," he drawled, his Egyptian accent fading, replaced by a proper British enunciation. "How can I be homesick when it’s clear I am perfectly at home?"
    He picked up his crystal wineglass. But the sadness she could not forget. It reminded Badra of all she’d lost herself. His camaraderie. His fiercely protective nature. His love.
    For she had become his enemy.
    It was terrifying. Deep inside, Kenneth was a Khamsin warrior still, tempering his might with a veneer of urbane witticisms and genteel nobility. If he knew her crime ... would he release the turbulent emotions raging inside him and unleash them on her?
    Her heart lurched. Badra dropped her gaze, remembering her secret dream. She had become his wife and joined him in this strange, new world—a journey together, a challenge faced as one heart, one soul.
    But it was a dream as elusive as mist. She was a former slave, a concubine. Now a smuggler of the duke’s treasure, who belonged to a tribe that had banished Kenneth from their midst forever.
     

 

Chapter Seven

     
    How could he have