India closed her eyes as he fondled her. She sighed, and leaned her head back against his shoulder. She had never felt so cared for in her entire life. She was at ease with this man as she had never been at ease with Adrian Leigh. How could this be? She had loved Adrian. Loved? Aye, it was past, she realized, and as she did, she knew that her father had been right. It had just been an infatuation that she had, in her inexperience, stubbornly insisted was more. But it hadn't been more. Yet what was this that she felt for Caynan Reis? And did she feel anything other than curiosity or budding lust? If she didn't feel some emotion toward him, then how could she allow him the liberties he was now taking? And she had indeed allowed him. He had not taken advantage of her. Oh, she could not hide behind that old excuse of wanton maidens!

"What is it, India?" His voice sounded softly in her ear, and he then nibbled upon her lobe. "You are distressed. I sense it." His big hands continued to caress her breasts.

"I wonder what sort of creature I am that I enjoy your attentions," she said candidly. "I have been taught that the license I now grant you is an intimacy allowed only between husband and wife, yet I permit you to kiss and touch me in a familiar manner… and I feel no guilt. How can that be, unless the high moral character that I have always attributed to myself does not exist and I am little better than a lewd trollop offering her favors in the High Gate."

His hands fell away from her breasts, and, taking her by the shoulders, he turned her about. "Look at me," he said sternly, and, when she raised her eyes to his, he continued. "This is not your England, India. Your parents have raised you well that you hold such a high moral standard up for yourself, but even in England, such standards are not ordinary despite what king and church may proclaim. You must know that, India. Here we do not count it a sin that a man desires a woman. That is why we are allowed up to four wives at one time, and many concubines to please us." He touched her cheek tenderly. "Did it ever occur to you, India, that perhaps you are beginning to care for me, and this is why you feel no shame at our behavior?" His mouth brushed over hers lightly, and his deep blue eyes questioned her gently.

India blushed, and a tremor ran through her slender frame. "I… I… Oh! I hate this feeling of confusion!" she suddenly cried.

"I told you nothing would be between us unless you wanted it as much as I do," he reminded her, praying silently that she would not elude his passions once again. He was struggling to remain patient.

"But I do want… I do!" India said softly, and then she hid her head against his chest Why in God's name was she behaving like such a complete ninny? What was the matter with her? Did she care for him?

Allah! he thought. Were all virgins like this? Damn the little witch! She had given her consent, and he would wait no longer. Without a word he swept her up into his arms, gaining his bed, his arms still tightly about her as he collapsed against the pillows.

"Oh!" Her eyes were suddenly wide, and she knew instinctively that there was now no going back. As he slipped her from the comfort of his embrace upon the boldly striped mattress, his look was a look of undisguised passion that even she could recognize, and India thought suddenly of her mother. Had not Jasmine willingly shared herself with Prince Henry Stuart? A liaison that had resulted in her half-brother, Charles Frederick Stuart? And that had been in England!

"What are you thinking?" he demanded.

"That your gaze burns me, my lord," she dissembled.

He laughed, and once more kissed her mouth lightly. "If you but knew my thoughts, little virgin, you would burst into flame," he told her. "I cannot ever remember desiring a woman as I desire you, my precious India." He caressed her face with the back of his hand.

"I am not yet a woman, my lord," she half whispered back.

"We will shortly remedy that," he told her, his kisses becoming more ardent as they moved over her face and down the graceful column of her throat, across her chest, and finally to her breasts.

His lips were warm, and seemed to burn her delicate skin wherever they touched. She was acutely aware of everything, her senses suddenly sharpened to every nuance of his passion, even of her own body. Her breasts seemed to be swollen. They almost hurt, and when his mouth closed over a nipple and suckled upon it, a small cry escaped her. "Ahhh, God!" She felt his tongue swirling about the nipple teasingly, and then his teeth gently, very gently, nipped at the sensitive tip. "Ohhhh!" His tongue swiftly laved over the nipple, soothing it, but he hadn't really hurt her at all. When he lifted his dark head, she eagerly guided it to her other nipple so it, too, might know such pleasure.

Then she felt his other hand caressing her belly, moving in teasing little circles over the silky skin. She ached with both pleasure and anticipation for whatever was to come. The hand slipped lower to cover her Venus mound, and India felt her breath catch in her throat. Brushing his fingers over the smooth mound, he ran a single digit down the moist crease separating the fleshy folds. She couldn't breathe, and then the finger pressed itself between the tempting furrow, touching her in a place she hadn't even known existed. India gasped sharply, and the finger began to caress that place. Reaching out, she dug her fingers into his shoulder.

"This is your pleasure place," he murmured, his finger rotating itself about the sensitive nub of flesh. "You can feel it, my precious, can't you? The joy is beginning to stir within you, isn't it?"

"Yes!" Dear heaven, this was sweet. She would die with delight, she thought, pressing herself up to meet his hand. She felt as if she were going to burst there, and then indeed she did, the pleasure permeated her entire body like slow, warm wine, oozing through her veins until the delight was as suddenly gone as it had come. "No!" she protested.

"There is more," he promised her. "This is just the beginning." Then his finger pushed deeper, finding her passage, exploring her gently. He didn't doubt her maiden state, but he could barely contain his delight at finding her virgin shield fully intact. She was very tight, but already wet, her young body eager for the consummation. He knew he could wait no longer to enjoy her. Withdrawing his hand from her Venus mound, he began to cover her fair body with his, kissing her deeply as he did, his hands lightly pinioning her.

She was completely cognizant of his actions, of the hard length that had been pressing against her, and was even now seeking to possess her. She trembled openly as he tenderly spread her open to his attentions, and he kissed her again. The look on his face was one she could not fathom. There was no lust, only gentleness. "My lord?" she whispered, confused, her eyes seeking an answer.

The deep blue eyes looked down at her. "Little fool," he murmured to her. "Have you not yet realized that I love you?" Then without another word he thrust deep inside her, piercing her innocence.

His declaration astounded her even as the sharpness of her defloration briefly pained her. Then, after a moment, he began to move upon her, and India cried out softly at the pleasure she was receiving. She could feel his length, and the breadth of him as he plumbed the secret depths of her. She welcomed him, shyly at first, then more boldly, her arms wrapping about him into an even closer embrace.

"Put your legs about me." He ground the words out into her ear.

She obeyed the command, and then cried out as he plunged deeper into her softness. She had never imagined it would be like this. So wonderful! So intimate! So indescribable! She clung to him, her breath coming in hard bursts as he thrust to and fro within her body. Her nails began to claw at him. She couldn't help it. There was a tension building and building within her that needed release. "Ohhhhh, God!" she wailed. "I can bear no more! Ohhh, God, don't stop!" Then it was as if she was almost yanked from her body and flung among the stars. She soared, shuddering, as spasm after spasm wracked her, sending waves of heat and sensation slamming into her, leaving her gasping for breath.

He felt the walls of her sheath contracting and convulsing around his throbbing manhood, and Caynan Reis was astounded. India had been a virgin, and yet her passions were even now bursting, and forcing from him a torrid tribute. With a groan of complete surrender, his love juices filled her, engulfing her secret garden. I want sons from this woman was his last conscious thought, and then he rolled away from her lest he crush her, though his arms were still tight about her.

He came to himself at the sound of her soft weeping. "India, what is it? Allah forgive me if I have hurt you! Tell me, my precious." He leaned over her, kissing the tears upon her cheeks.

"I am so happy," she sobbed. "Will it always be like this between us? Will you continue to desire me, or have I lost my allure now that I am no longer a virgin?" She looked up at him, so vulnerable that it almost broke his heart.

"I love you," he told her once again. "Did you think I but said the words to ease your conscience, India, before I took you? I never thought that I should love a woman, but I love you. I will always desire you, little fool. AIways! I shall make you my wife as quickly as I can do so. You will be the dey's first wife."

"First wife?" She sat up now.

"I am allowed four," he teased her.

"And will you take four?" she demanded, her look angry.

"I think you will be more than enough wife for me, my precious," he laughed. "Allah, I am beginning to desire you again! I would not believe it possible, but I am!"

"Andyour harem, my lord?" she persisted.

"The dey of El Sinut would be made to look a fool, ruled by his wife, if he did not maintain a harem," he told her. "That is not a matter for us to discuss, India. Now, kiss me sweetly on the lips."

"Will you make love to your harem women?"

He pulled her down beneath him and kissed her hard. "It would seem I will have to, having such a disobedient favorite," he said to her, half laughing. "Am I to deny myself the company of women when you ripen with my children or your link with the moon is broken?"

"Are you so lustful then?" she asked him.

"Aye," he grinned mischievously at her, "I am. Now, fetch the love cloths, for my hunger for you grows as each minute passes."

She pouted, but then slipped from their bed to fetch the basin, and the soft cotton cloths. First, however, she washed herself, startled a moment by the blood smeared upon her thighs, realizing it was the proof of her lost virtue. Then she brought the basin, with its fresh water, and clean cloths to him.

"It is your duty to bathe my member," he told her wickedly.

India eyed his manhood suspiciously. She had, of course, washed him in the baths, but now… now it looked somewhat more lethal to her. Soaking the cloth, she wrung it out, and gingerly began her task. When she had finished, and removed the basin and cloths, he called her back to his bed again.

"I want you to caress my love lance," he told her. "Touch it, India. Hold it in your hands. It will not harm you."

She sat facing him, curious to learn more about this part of him that had given her such incredible pleasure. Cautiously she touched his manhood with her fingertips. It was warm, and stirred slightly beneath her touch. She drew her hand back nervously, then gamely reached out again, taking his member into her hand, her fingers closing about him gently. "It seems alive," she said. "I can feel it throbbing." She loosed him, and stroked his manhood with surer fingers now, as if she were petting a favorite pet. To her surprise it began to grow beneath her very eyes, thickening and lengthening, its ruby head sliding from its velvet sleeve. "Ohhh," India breathed softly.

"You see the power you hold over me, my precious," he told her. "I think of you and am excited. You touch me, and I am aroused." Reaching out, he began to caress her breasts again.