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Authors: Sandra Marton
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turning her to flame but he was the flame, shimmering against her as he held her, his kiss branding her with heat. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, then slid against hers as her mouth opened to his, silk against silk.
Dear God, what was the matter with her? This man was everything she hated, he was her enemy, her abductor...
He felt the sudden tightening of her muscles and he reached between their bodies, caught her hands and held them fast.
âDonât fight me,â he whispered.
But she did, twisting her head away from his, panting beneath his weight. Still, he persisted, kissing her over and over until suddenly she went still and moaned his name.
âYes,â he growled, the one word an affirmation of his triumph.
Joanna wrenched her hands from his and buried her fingers in his dark hair, drawing him down to her, giving herself up to the drowning sweetness of his kisses.
Khalil whispered something swift and fierce against her mouth. He drew her from her seat and into his lap, holding her tightly against him, his body hard beneath hers. His hand moved over her, following the curve of her hip, the thrust of her breast. Her head fell back and the dampness of wanting him bloomed like a velvet-petalled flower between her thighs. He bent and pressed his open mouth to the silk that covered her breast, and she cried out.
The sound rose between them, piercing the silence of the little cabin. Khalil drew back and Joanna did too. They stared at each other and then, abruptly, he thrust her from him, shoving her back into her seat and rising to his feet in one swift motion.
âYou see?â His eyes were like sapphire coals in his taut face; his voice was cold, tinged with barely controlled cruelty. âI could have you now, if I wanted you. But I do not. I have never wanted any woman who offered her body in trade.â
Joanna sprang towards him, sputtering with fury, her hand upraised, but Khalil caught her wrist and twisted her arm behind her.
âI warn you,â he said through his teeth, âyou are done insulting me, you and your father both!â
âWhatever it is youâre planning, Khalil, I promise you, you wonât get away with it.â
He looked at her for a long moment, still holding her close to him, and then he laughed softly.
âItâs dangerous to threaten me, Joanna. Surely youâve learned that much by now.â
His gaze fell to her mouth. She tensed, waiting for him to gather her to him and kiss her again. This time, she was prepared to claw his face if she had to rather than let him draw her down into that silken darknessâbut suddenly a voice called out from beyond the curtain.
Khalilâs smile faded. âWe have arrived.â
She fell back as he let go of her. âWhere?â she asked, but he was already hurrying up the aisle towards the front of the plane.
She knelt in her seat and leaned towards the window. Some time during their confrontation, the plane had not only descended, it had landed. She pressed her nose to the glass. It was still night, yet she could see very clearly, thanks to a full moon and what at first seemed the light from at least a hundred lamps.
Her breath caught. Torches! Those were flaming torches, held aloft by a crowd of cheering men mounted on horseback.
With a little moan, she put her hands to her mouth and collapsed back into her seat.
They had arrived, all rightâtheyâd arrived smack in the middle of the thirteenth century!
CHAPTER FIVE
I T WAS the sight of the horsemen that changed everything. Until now, Joanna had let herself half believe that if what was happening was not a dream, it was some sort of terrible prank, one that would end with the plane turning and heading back to Morocco.
But the line of horses standing just outside the plane, the robed men on their backs, the torches casting a glow as bright as daylight over the flat plateau on which theyâd landed, finally forced her
Dear God, what was the matter with her? This man was everything she hated, he was her enemy, her abductor...
He felt the sudden tightening of her muscles and he reached between their bodies, caught her hands and held them fast.
âDonât fight me,â he whispered.
But she did, twisting her head away from his, panting beneath his weight. Still, he persisted, kissing her over and over until suddenly she went still and moaned his name.
âYes,â he growled, the one word an affirmation of his triumph.
Joanna wrenched her hands from his and buried her fingers in his dark hair, drawing him down to her, giving herself up to the drowning sweetness of his kisses.
Khalil whispered something swift and fierce against her mouth. He drew her from her seat and into his lap, holding her tightly against him, his body hard beneath hers. His hand moved over her, following the curve of her hip, the thrust of her breast. Her head fell back and the dampness of wanting him bloomed like a velvet-petalled flower between her thighs. He bent and pressed his open mouth to the silk that covered her breast, and she cried out.
The sound rose between them, piercing the silence of the little cabin. Khalil drew back and Joanna did too. They stared at each other and then, abruptly, he thrust her from him, shoving her back into her seat and rising to his feet in one swift motion.
âYou see?â His eyes were like sapphire coals in his taut face; his voice was cold, tinged with barely controlled cruelty. âI could have you now, if I wanted you. But I do not. I have never wanted any woman who offered her body in trade.â
Joanna sprang towards him, sputtering with fury, her hand upraised, but Khalil caught her wrist and twisted her arm behind her.
âI warn you,â he said through his teeth, âyou are done insulting me, you and your father both!â
âWhatever it is youâre planning, Khalil, I promise you, you wonât get away with it.â
He looked at her for a long moment, still holding her close to him, and then he laughed softly.
âItâs dangerous to threaten me, Joanna. Surely youâve learned that much by now.â
His gaze fell to her mouth. She tensed, waiting for him to gather her to him and kiss her again. This time, she was prepared to claw his face if she had to rather than let him draw her down into that silken darknessâbut suddenly a voice called out from beyond the curtain.
Khalilâs smile faded. âWe have arrived.â
She fell back as he let go of her. âWhere?â she asked, but he was already hurrying up the aisle towards the front of the plane.
She knelt in her seat and leaned towards the window. Some time during their confrontation, the plane had not only descended, it had landed. She pressed her nose to the glass. It was still night, yet she could see very clearly, thanks to a full moon and what at first seemed the light from at least a hundred lamps.
Her breath caught. Torches! Those were flaming torches, held aloft by a crowd of cheering men mounted on horseback.
With a little moan, she put her hands to her mouth and collapsed back into her seat.
They had arrived, all rightâtheyâd arrived smack in the middle of the thirteenth century!
CHAPTER FIVE
I T WAS the sight of the horsemen that changed everything. Until now, Joanna had let herself half believe that if what was happening was not a dream, it was some sort of terrible prank, one that would end with the plane turning and heading back to Morocco.
But the line of horses standing just outside the plane, the robed men on their backs, the torches casting a glow as bright as daylight over the flat plateau on which theyâd landed, finally forced her
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