“It’s making a vast difference.” She briefly shut her eyes. “I may not be able to undress you… after all.”

“If you’re incapable of carrying out your duties tonight, my sweet houri,” he drawled, an undefined edge to his voice, “should I call for another of my harem ladies?”

How many times had she seen him like that- dark and handsome, ready for sex and play. And while he was not, in fact, some pasha or caliph with a harem, in his own way, he had one. Although his ladies were captive only to his great beauty and sexual expertise. “No, please, my lord,” she said, breathy with need. “I didn’t mean that. Please, let me stay. I haven’t been allowed in your bed for months.”

“I’ve been gone.” His dark gaze holding hers was self-willed and commanding. “You know you’re my favorite wife when I’m home,” he said, a kind of disengaged promise in the mildness of his tone.

“You don’t take me with you anymore,” she noted with a small petulance.

He couldn’t help but smile at her jeunesse doree pose. “Perhaps, I may again.”

“If I please you.”

“If you don’t displease me. You always please me with your body. It’s your temper that often displeases me.”

“I’ve changed, my lord. Ask anyone.”

“We’ll see. Come.” He held out his hand.

She immediately rolled from the bed in a shimmer of jeweled light and delicious sensation and came to stand before him.

He ran his hands over the glittering necklaces resting on her breasts. “You do these justice.”

“I’m pleased you think so, my lord.”

His erection surged at the docility in her tone. “The eunuchs tell me you’re progressing in your lessons.” He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and tweaked them lightly. “You’ve not had to be disciplined for your temper of late.”

“I’ve been on my best behavior, my lord, so I could be admitted back into your good graces. You have but to test my accommodating nature, my lord, and you’ll be gratified, I assure you.”

With a gentle squeeze, he released her nipples. “Undress me, then, and we’ll see if your temper has improved.”

“You’ll see it has, my lord.”

“You must fold my clothes and put them away.”

His instructions brought a momentary spark to her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. “As you wish, my lord.”

“And you must be wet for me.”

“I am, my lord.”

“I’ll see for myself. Later…” He pointed at the buttons on his waistcoat.

And she did as she was bid. His coat and waistcoat were removed and folded away, his shirt as well.

“Now, my shoes,” he said. “Kneel.”

That small hesitation again, but she obeyed, the descent to her knees, shifting the object inside her, bringing her to a breathless standstill.

“Are you capable of serving me?” He touched her bent head.

“Yes.” She drew in a shallow breath. “Yes, my lord.”

He lifted one foot and she slid off his evening shoe, each movement intensifying the throbbing ache deep inside.

“Look at me.” He snapped his fingers. “Show me how wet you are.”

With effort, she concentrated on his words, gazing up past his blatant erection to meet his eyes.

“Put your finger in and show me that you’re ready.” So might some satrap speak, with utter authority.

“Here, my lord?” Her voice trembled, all sensation focused on her pulsing need.

“Yes. There. On your knees.”

Gently stroking her head as though she were a favorite pet, he watched her finger disappear between her legs, saw her shudder faintly, his erection rising higher in response. A moment later, having regained a modicum of composure, she raised her hand to him.

“Bring it closer,” he commanded.

And she lifted her hand higher.

Her finger was drenched with glistening liquid. He touched it lightly, scooping up a dab of fluid on his fingertip. He raised his finger to one nostril. “I like your smell,” he said, as though he were her vetting agent. “I always have.”

“You used to say you’d know me in the dark, my lord.”

He smiled. How many times had he inhaled her fragrance in the dark. “I’d know you anywhere.” Moving his hand, he placed it near her nose so she could draw in the scent of herself. “You’re in rut, I’d say. Are you ready for me?”

“I am, my lord. May I, in all humbleness, ask the same of you?”

He glanced down. “Open my trousers and see for yourself.”

“Would you prefer me kneeling or standing, my lord?”

He felt his penis swell at the sudden image that came to mind. “Kneeling. So you can take me in your mouth.”

“Yes, my lord.”

How did she do it? Make him want her even more with that breathy acquiescence? Willing women were a norm in his life, so it wasn’t the compliance, but rather, knowing how rarely Caro yielded her independence that brought him to rut.

All his senses were riveted on her touch as she slid his buttons free and eased his trousers down. Stepping out of them, he kicked them aside, suddenly past any obligatory folding of clothes. And when she fumbled with the small pearl buttons on his undershorts, he muttered, “I’ll do it”

A second later he was stepping out of his shorts and a second after that, he sucked in his breath. She’d taken his penis between her hands and was forcing the stiff length downward to her mouth. As she touched the small slit in the tip with her tongue, his breath caught in his throat and when she slid the engorged head past her lips and into her mouth, he felt the silken friction jar his body like a hammer blow.

Tamping down a ramming speed mentality, he grasped her ruby earrings, exerted a slight pressure and tipped her face up so he could see her eyes. “So docile, darling. You have improved,” he whispered, her eyes huge, her mouth stuffed full. “If you continue to please me, I’ll send for you more often. Would you like that?”

Unable to speak, she nodded as any well-trained houri would.

Her meek submission perversely pleased him; he hadn’t realized he was despotic. Or perhaps other women had never inspired his possessive impulse. Take a little more, darling.“ He pulled gently on her earrings, drawing her closer and another portion of his erection disappeared into her mouth. ”Do you like servicing me?“ His voice was hushed, fresh blood pumping into his rigid penis with each powerful beat of his heart.

She nodded; she couldn’t do more.

“Would you like me to come in your mouth?”

She shook her head, wanting him inside her.

His voice went soft. “Are you refusing me?” And he pushed in further, moving one hand to the back of her head to hold her in place.

She growled, a low, moody sound that vibrated along his turgid length as though in warning. Then she bit him. Not hard, but enough to gain his attention before pulling away.

“Are you refusing me?” he asked again, not in play this time, his voice oddly constrained.

She sat back on her heels, a ravishing surge of lust streaking upward with her heels pressing into her bottom. “I’m as selfish as you,” she said on a caught breath. “And dying for you. You please me now.”

“Why should I?” He smiled faintly. “If I’m your master and you’re my houri.”

Her green eyes were dark with passion, the rubies and pearls glittering bright. “You must do it for love,” she said.

He hesitated, gazing down at the lush woman at his feet-his wife… strange, strange word. “For love,” he murmured, uncertainty echoing in his words.

“If you oblige me, I might be induced to obey your orders on occasion as well.”

He grinned; the Caro he knew had spoken. “If it’s worth your while, you mean.”

“You might find it worth your while to look for those hidden jewels. Have you thought of that?”

“You always were a little hussy,” he murmured, intrigued and perhaps more remarkably, willing to defer to her. Bending down, he lifted her into his arms. “Very well, la duchesse mine, let’s see what you’re hiding from me.”

She savored the beauty of the word, mine, feeling as though she was part of Simon somehow, as though she was no longer alone. And whether he knew or whether she fully knew what the future would bring, she was happy. She purred low in her throat from sheer joy and also from the luscious pressure of the jewels inside her. With her legs draped over her husband’s arm and the slight jarring movement from his stride, enchantment was taking on another more tangible form.

If not aware of his wife’s affectionate musing, Simon understood the physical manifestations that elicited that purr. “Maybe I should just walk around the room while you come.”

Her gaze was heated. “What a marvelous idea.”

“If I was grossly magnanimous, I might, but I’m as selfish as you.”

“A fact well known in the world at large.”

“One can only hope your selfishness isn’t as well know as mine.”

“If I wasn’t so attuned to my sexual desires, I might take issue with your male double standard.”

“But since you are…”

“And you as well.”

“We’ll fight later,” he said with a grin, gently placing her on the bed. “Now do I get my prize?”

She patted the bed and the bracelets on her wrist glittered and sparkled.

But he didn’t lie down beside her. He moved her legs enough so he could sit cross-legged between them, his knees brushing her thighs, the light-weight foretaste of his strength and power. But he touched her mons with a delicate brushing stroke. “Do I have to guess, or may I look?”

“Guess.”

“Not the pearl necklace.” He tapped the rope of pearls wrapped around her waist. “And it looks as though a great many rubies are accounted for.” Leaning forward, he ran his palms over her throat and breasts, then down her arms so she felt the metal settings sink marginally into her flesh. “But there were some diamonds weren’t there?” he said, softly, “with pearls…”

“Maybe.”

“And if I were to press here, just a little,” he placed his palm on her pouty vulva. “Would you feel that?”

It took her a moment to respond, for the strumming pleasure to calm enough for her to speak. “You’re an excellent husband.”

“How excellent?” he whispered, increasing the pressure of his hand.

She moaned softly and lifted her arms to him.

“Do you want me inside there, too?”

She hesitated briefly and then nodded.

“Are you sure?” The words were heated, bluntly sexual and perhaps not a question after all.

“Does it matter what I say?” She’d heard the surety in his voice.

“Maybe,” he murmured. “Let me know.” Spreading her thighs wider with a gentle nudging touch, he moved between her legs with a fluid grace, readying himself to enter her.

She watched his muscles coil and flex as he shifted his weight, his lithe power always a flagrant aphrodisiac-like his sexual talents. And she felt a renewed glow of happiness quite apart from the heat of passion scorching her senses. He was hers by some curious act of fate-at least now, this moment, she more practically reflected. Curling her arms around his neck, she ran her hands over his muscled shoulders and waited, aching and fevered.

He was fairly certain what was inside her, but preferred erring on the side of caution. Gore had liked the pearl and diamond bracelet enough to call his attention to it. He should fit if it was the pearls.

But he slipped a finger inside her first, just to be sure. This was his wedding night, after all. He intended to be up all night and for that, he’d want his wife unscathed.

“Pearls,” he whispered, touching the bracelet that was strung with small diamonds separating the pearls. Looking up, he smiled at Caro. “We should manage with those. They’re small.”

“Soon, I hope,” she murmured, trembling at his touch.

“Yes, dear, your servant, dear.” His voice was low, his finger running the length of the bracelet, smoothing it straight along the length of her vagina. “Stop me anytime,” he whispered, beginning to enter her, holding one end of the bracelet at the very entrance to her sleek passage. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He moved forward slowly, the pressure of his penis forcing each pearl into his flesh and hers, the unreeling friction curling with tantalizing rapture through their heated senses one pearl at a time until he was lodged deep within her body.

“I’m moving back now.” The pressure was so acute, he felt she needed warning.

“No, no…” She clutched at him. “Stay.”

He did for a lengthy interval while she panted in little delirious inhalations and then he moved back just a fraction while she shuddered in his arms.

“Oh, God…”

Understanding that particular heated supplication, he moved marginally again and then once again, settling into a rhythm of limited penetration and withdrawal that took all his considerable restraint to maintain.