Virgin Seduction

He lifted his head and stared at himself in the medicine cabinet mirror. The candlelight made his face gaunt, his eyes shadowed and bleak. What the hell was the matter with him? A bridegroom after a night like this-he should be considering himself the luckiest, the happiest man in the world. Either that, or, considering his circumstances, he ought to be kicking himself all the way to kingdom come and back. In actual fact, he wasn't feeling either one of those things. Truth was, he didn't have any idea what he was feeling.

So, he'd made love to his wife. He'd consummated his marriage, even knowing what it would mean to both of them-so much for his willpower. And it had been about the most mind-blowing, intense pleasure of his life. And, except for the fact that it pretty much committed him to this marriage whether he wanted it or not, what had it changed? The woman sleeping in there in his bed was still, in almost all the ways that counted, a stranger to him. The woman he'd committed to share the rest of his life with came from a culture so different from his, she might as well have been from another planet. The woman he'd held in his arms, immersed himself so totally in he couldn't have told where he left off and she began…the woman into whom -God help him-he'd poured his genes…was still Leila Kamal, princess of Tamir. Wasn't she?

So why did his arms feel empty now without her? Why did his body still ache with wanting her? And most mystifying of all, what was this terrible ache of tenderness he felt for her in his heart?

Having no answers for himself, he went into the bedroom where he'd stowed his overnighter, took out a clean pair of shorts and put them on. Then he went out onto the porch and sat on the steps and watched the dawn come.

At least he knew what he was feeling, now. Blitzed, shell-shocked, bewildered. And scared half to death.

* * *

Leila woke up with a delicious stiffness in every muscle and joint, the kind that felt so good when she stretched, long and luxuriously, like a great, lazy cat. There was also a mysterious swollen ache between her legs that registered her pulse in little pleasure taps, tiny echoes of what had happened there not so long ago. Under the blankets, she hugged her nakedness against a shiver of…what? Fear? Happiness? Perhaps, Leila thought, what I am is fearfully happy.

She was not surprised to find herself alone in the bed she had shared with Cade, but she was disappointed. When, she wondered, would she finally know what it was like to wake up in the morning beside her husband?

But she would never say anything of the kind to Cade. She must not presume too much. After all, just because he was her husband, just because he had made love to her, did not mean he loved'her. She was not so naive as to think those two were the same. And just then she was far too vulnerable to want to know the truth about how Cade felt about her.

Last night he had seemed so tender. She had even allowed herself to believe he must love her, in his own way, perhaps in some buried part of him. But this morning, he was gone from her bed, and no…she would not allow herself to presume. Never again. The risk was far too great. She would guard herself, as she had been doing ever since that terrible moment in Cade's bedchamber in the palace, when she had realized how disastrously she had misunderstood him.

Her body was now and would always be Cade's. So was her heart. But that was her secret, and for now she must bury it in the innermost keep of her soul.

She rose and dressed quickly in slacks and a long-sleeved blouse-and she really must, she told herself, buy some blue jeans, which seemed to be all people in Texas ever wore. After a brief stop in the bathroom, she went looking for her husband. He wasn't in the house, and for the tiniest moment she felt twinges of unreasoning panic- ridiculous, of course, did she think he would leave her here? But then through the living room window she caught a glimpse of him, on the front porch. Before going to join him, she paused and with her forehead pressed against the door, said a prayer. Please, God, let my face be serene. Please… let it not show him how hard my heart is beating.

He was leaning against a post and looking out over the railing, smoking one of his thin, brown cigars and holding a heavy crockery mug with symbols on it that Cade had told her were brands for cattle. Though he did not look much like a cowboy this morning, wearing blue jeans, yes, but with a white short-sleeved polo shirt and sunglasses. He looked fresh and clean as rain, lean and relaxed…and utterly unapproachable.

He turned when she came onto the porch. His face was composed as he lifted his mug to her and said, 'Good morning.'

'Good morning,' she said back to him. She wished she could see his eyes. She wished he would smile at her, just once with that lifting, unfettered joy she'd seen that morning in the palace courtyard. Just once. Then I would know, she thought.

'Want some coffee? There's still plenty…'

She glanced over her shoulder toward the house, then shrugged and said, 'Yes, thank you. I will get some in a minute.' She hesitated, then asked, 'Have you been up long?' Making it light, casual, not presuming too much.

He took a sip of coffee, then the cheroot. 'Awhile,' he said, blowing away the smoke. Then, softly, 'How 'bout you? Sleep well?'

Her heart gave a bump, and to keep it from her voice, she took a deep breath. 'Yes, I did, thank you. Very well.' We are like two strangers, she thought bleakly. How she wished she could go to him and slip her arms around his waist with the perfect faith that should be natural between husband and wife, lay her face against his chest and tell him joyfully and without reservation what was in her heart, that this morning was beautiful beyond words because he was in it.

Instead, she walked to the railing a little distance from him, and, leaning on her hands, looked out upon a morning that was fast becoming less beautiful. 'It smells fresh, after the rain,' she said, filling her lungs with air that felt heavy and smells that were alien. 'Will it be a nice day, do you think?'

'Hard to say.' Cade shifted restlessly and tossed away his cheroot. 'This is thunderstorm weather. You never know where they'll pop up.'

'Will we ride again today?'

Cade threw her a look of surprise. After last night, how could she even suggest such a thing? Either she wasn't thinking clearly, or he'd done a better job of taking care of her than he'd thought. He smiled crookedly. Memories made his voice husky. 'I don't think so. My backside's still a little bit sore. Besides-' he drank coffee and tossed away the dregs '-I think we'd better tidy up the place and then head on back.'

'So soon?' She looked at him and then quickly away, but not before he saw the look of disappointment that flashed across that all-revealing face of hers.

'I think we better. If we wait till this afternoon we're liable to run into thunderstorms, and I don't know about you, but I wouldn't care to fly through something like what we had yesterday.' His voice was rough with gravel, and he kept his face turned away from her so she wouldn't see the tension in it. Even with sunglasses on he didn't trust his own eyes.

And hell, why was it he couldn't just tell her how he felt, which was that he'd love nothing better than to stay here indefinitely with her in this old broken-down ranch house, live like a couple of bohemians, stay naked most of the time and make love whenever either of them felt like it? He didn't know why, except that even thinking about saying such a thing to her made him feel too vulnerable. He wasn't ready, yet, to hang his heart out in the open like that. Maybe he never would be.

'Besides,' he said, more abruptly than he meant to, 'I have a whole hell of a lot of work to do to get ready for the week. Got a schedule coming up that won't quit.' He lifted his coffee mug, saw it was empty and grimaced at it instead. Dammit, he'd done it on purpose, too, that was the hell of it. Scheduled himself to the brink of oblivion just to give himself an excuse not to go home to his wife. Well, hell. How was he supposed to know things were going to change on him so fast, and that he'd be wanting to spend time with her? 'I doubt I'm gonna be home much,' he said bitterly, 'at least for the rest of the week.'

'Of course…I understand,' she murmured. 'Then…I will go and get ready. Let me know when you would like to leave.' And she turned and walked into the house, tall, elegant and regal. Even with her hair a tumbled reminder of