Children of Destiny Books 1-3 (Texas: Children of Destiny Book 9) Read online

  In Kirk’s arms, the familiar patterns of her lifetime were ended, and she was reborn into a new world where she was lost and uncertain. She would never feel she belonged anywhere else but with him.

  His fingers touched the necklace she always wore, then lifted it so that he could examine it. Abruptly, as though burned, he let it fall back against her throat.

  She had always been alone. Forever she had been waiting for this moment—when she would know that she belonged to someone else.

  It no longer mattered who he was, where he’d come from, or who she was. Nor did it matter that they were strangers, that they came from disparate worlds. Some force more powerful than either of their individual wills drew them irrevocably together.

  Gently he lifted her white face to his dark one, and she was powerless to resist him. His expression was odd, changed. The cold mask of his icy control had melted.

  One glance into her luminous dark eyes, and he too was lost. All his anger toward her for having gotten him into this horrendous mess was gone, all his reticence toward her as a woman vanished. His harsh features slackened and grew softer. She touched his cheek, traced the slight curve of his nose and could not imagine why she had not seen from the first how devastatingly handsome he was. His green eyes flared. In their sharp spiraling flame, Dawn instantly recognized unbridled male desire.

  He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  A thrilling breath caught in her throat. He touched her chin tenderly and drew her mouth to his. Every muscle in her body froze as searing male lips tentatively met the softness of hers.

  Then bunching her thick black hair tightly against her nape with his fingers, Kirk kissed her as though he would die if he didn’t, and the hot glorious response he evoked in her was new and frighteningly exquisite. With her hands she felt his body through the voluminous black robes, exploring the contours of his muscles, the bulging male shape of him.

  He was shaking from her gentle touching, and though she’d never known passion in a man before, she sensed her heady power over him. With a soft moan, she melted against him. His kisses sent ripples of fire sizzling from her mouth to the core of her being.

  His tongue entered her mouth and traced its hollow warmth. Flooded with an eager shimmering yearning, Dawn let her head fall back, limp and compliant. One of his hands slid inside the ragged gilt-edged bodice of her costume and found her breast to trace its rounded softness. Her nipple crested, tightening against his rough palm.

  She wanted his hands on her body—everywhere.

  “I want you,” she whispered, “to love me.”

  He drew a harsh ragged breath. It would be so easy to take her. He thought of her small firm body beneath his, pressing against him, and he went rigid with desire. She was looking at him in that hot way that made him know he had only to push her down, only to remove her torn costume, only to touch her naked flesh to have her quivering beneath his hand. He wanted to kiss her until her mouth became soft and sweet against his, until little whimpers rose from her throat. He wanted to make love to her until she begged him to take her, until she shuddered and moaned in ecstasy beneath him.

  This woman was a stranger.

  And yet she was not.

  He had never desired a woman more. But she was terrified and vulnerable, and he would be taking advantage of her if he didn’t break this off—immediately.

  Outside there was a shout. Men were running toward the stable, their boots and guns clattering past it, and Kirk MacKay was sprawled helplessly on the floor about to make love to the woman he’d come to rescue.

  Had he gone mad? How in the name of hell had he let things go so far? How could he have forgotten that they were in the middle of Aslam Nouri’s armed camp?

  These realizations and his concern for her brought him fumbling back to his senses. He raked his hand out of her costume and shoved her away. His heart was pounding violently. His face was flushed, his breath heavy, and he bent his head to keep from looking at her.

  “Why...did you stop?” she whispered shakily, dazed with hurt and rejection.

  Her voice was sweet as honey, flowing into him. Never had anything or anyone been more precious to him.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms, to take her then and there.

  He got to his feet and stumbled like a blind man toward the window.

  Outside three men were chasing a donkey that had gotten loose.

  Kirk turned back to her. “Don’t you understand? Anyone could have come in here, found us, slit our throats. Or worse—they stone women to death here.”

  She heard only his harshness, his coldness. “B-but...”

  “If you’re smart, you’ll leave me the hell alone.” His voice was rasping, unsteady. He picked up his gun and checked it again. “What happened to the girl who was going to hate me forever? You certainly changed your tune in a hell of a hurry.”

  “You kissed me!”

  “My mistake, sister!”

  “Oooo! I do hate you!”

  “Good!”

  She turned away and buried her face in her hands.

  If only she did hate him! At least then she might salvage some remnant of pride left to her. But no! She had been so starved for human companionship, she had practically thrown herself at him.

  What kind of man kissed a woman as tenderly as he had, as though he were crazed for her, and then brutally rejected her? A tortured sob rose in her throat.

  From the window he broodingly watched her miserable figure. Her head was bowed so that he couldn’t see her face, but despite the concealing dark waves of hair spilling over her shoulders, he knew she was on the verge of tears. He had hurt her, and he hated himself for making her so unhappy.

  “Look. I’m sorry, okay?” he mumbled gruffly. “I’m not mad at you. I came here to save you, not to get you killed. I shouldn’t have let myself forget where we were.” His voice softened. “Why don’t you lie down and get some rest? Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. We’re clearing out of this dump as soon as the sun comes up. It’s going to be 120 degrees by ten o’clock. Moon’s going down right now. That means daylight in about two hours.”

  It wasn’t the world’s most gallant apology, but to her it seemed so. She wiped her cheeks dry of tears. “Why don’t we go tonight?”

  “Because your friend Aslam and his men are lurking behind every mulberry tree and mud hut,” he said.

  “And won’t they be able to find us better in broad daylight?”

  “Not if we’re invisible.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  The grooves beside his thin lips deepened. “Trust me.”

  “That’s not so easy, you know.”

  He squatted against the wall under the window and laid his head back wearily. Suddenly she realized how tired he was.

  “Lie down,” he said.

  This time she obeyed, but with the light of the moon gone and Kirk’s forbidding silence, the blackness seemed stifling, choking, worse even than when she’d been in that cell. Her fear of the dark was like a ripple from a thrown stone in the middle of a pool. It started in the center of her being and spread until it encompassed every part of her. She covered her lips with her hand, not wanting him to hear her when she began to whimper.

  But he heard. “What’s the matter now?”

  “Nothing...” But she couldn’t check the low sob that strangled even the tail of that single word.

  “There damn sure is. Either tell me or calm down. I’m trying to sleep.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “I—I’m scared of the dark.”

  Scared of the dark and she’d come to a country on the verge of revolution! “It figures,” he muttered. He wished he could ignore this crazy woman and her quiet sobs, but somehow every snivel seemed to tear his heart out. “Come over here, then,” he muttered roughly.

  “No. You don’t want me.”

  “That’s true, but I’m dead tired, and neither of u
s is going to get any sleep if you keep this up. Swallow your pride and get over here.”

  She hated him for his smug superiority, for his courage in the face of grim danger.

  She closed her eyes, and the dark seemed filled with demons and skulking Arabs with curved knives. Reluctantly she edged toward him. When she almost reached him she stopped, her pride holding her back, but he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her against his body. Even though she knew he despised her, his nearness made her feel safe, protected, and gradually the shudders of fear died as she nestled against him.

  He was glad of the darkness, glad of any barrier between him and this fragile woman. The barriers of a lifetime of careful emotional control were crumbling, and he didn’t want them to. He was safe when he kept his heart locked away. For years he’d avoided women, any real closeness to them. Still, she was a little thing, pleasant to hold. Dangerously pleasant.

  He knew the exact minute when she fell asleep. Her head drooped on his shoulder, her lips touched the pulse beat of his throat. She was so close he could feel the whisper of every warm breath beneath his unshaven jaw, the tremble of her every heartbeat. Her scent enveloped him and it was sweet despite all she’d been through.

  Almost unconsciously his hand came to rest on the curve of her hip and slid softly up her flat stomach. He marveled again at how tiny she was, how perfectly formed, even if her figure wasn’t of the lush voluptuous variety he’d always preferred. His two hands could span her waist. She was built delicately with small bones like a bird, as though she were meant to soar. She was lovely just as she was.

  Gently he brushed his lips against her hair, then her closed eyelids and pulled her closer. Though he hated admitting it even to himself, he wanted her beside him. Had she remained on the other side of the room, he would have ached to hold her in his arms.

  It was dangerous to become involved with her, dangerous for both of them.

  But tonight she was a comfort. Maybe his last.

  Four

  A fierce desert sun streamed through the window, dabbing the squalid walls with patches of brilliance. A stray red beam flashed across Dawn’s face. Lazily she tried to twist out of its reach. Kirk grabbed her arm, and she stirred in annoyance.

  She rubbed her eyes and yawned, slowly becoming aware of several unpleasant facts. There was a new stiffness in her neck because her head had rolled from his shoulder and lay crookedly against the hard wall. Her face and eyes were covered with grit. Worse, in the night she had become intimately entangled with Kirk’s rock-hard body. His long black robes had ridden up, and to her horror she discovered that he was wearing almost nothing beneath them. Heat glued their clothes to their bodies, stuck bare skin to bare skin.

  Her ankle was throbbing because a naked, hairy leg was sprawled on top of it. She blushed when she realized his hand was casually draped across her breast and his legs jammed tightly between her thighs. If they had been lovers, they could not have been more inseparably coiled.

  Then the coldhearted brute jostled her arm again, and she jumped, furious.

  “Time to get up, princess,” he drawled in a husky, velvet male tone.

  Warm fingers on her breast moved possessively, just a little, and she felt a tingling awareness from his touch.

  She remembered the way he had so callously rejected her.

  “Don’t you dare shake me again!”

  “Since you’re awake now, there’s obviously no need.”

  Her eyes focused on the harsh lines of his dark, unrepentant face. He had removed his kaffiyeh, and she saw that his hair was thick and black and cut ruthlessly short except for an errant lock that fell rakishly across his brow. Despite his dark growth of beard, he had the kind of bold dangerous beauty her ballerina friends would have found irresistible. Most scoundrels as good-looking as he, knew their appeal and made the most of it. All the beautiful men she knew in the dance world certainly did. They went from woman to woman.

  He read her sour expression, knew she was thinking the worst of him and winked at her roguishly. “Do you always climb all over your lovers at night?”

  “How dare you imply—”

  “I wasn’t implying,” he replied cheerily. “You don’t leave a man alone. Why, at one point you climbed on top of me and even touched...”

  He seemed quite pleased by these events. A horrified breath caught in her throat as she realized that one of her hands was at that very moment still curled inside his naked thigh. She yanked it away.

  “W-would you shut up!” she stammered, shaken. “You don’t know when to keep quiet.”

  She heard his low chuckle. “Neither do you.”

  His hot eyes were devouring her. It was obvious he thought her a man-hungry wanton. Her cheeks flamed. “I never...I mean not once...” She broke off. Oh, Lord. What was the use of trying to make him believe she didn’t sleep around? Why should she care what he thought?

  “It was damned hard to sleep,” he murmured, “with you all over me.” His hand on her breast moved ever so slightly again. “Besides that, you snore, princess.”

  “I do not!” she whispered in a burst of stung vanity. She shoved his hand and his leg away and flounced grumpily to her haunches.

  He was studying the delectable curve of her spine and those rounded haunches intently. At least she wasn’t skinny there. His warm, amused eyes rose languidly to her face, and she found that even though she wanted to ignore him and try to recover her ravaged dignity, she could not look away from that insolent, jewel-dark gaze.

  Those glorious eyes held her spellbound, stripping her, probing to her very soul. She felt the heat of him, the dangerous wildness pulsing just below the surface. Sleeping with her had stirred him. She who had lived such a disciplined, circumspect life had never known man-woman wildness before this moment, had never wanted to know it. But it was coursing through her veins now as he cast those devouring, liquid eyes on her. She sensed the extraordinary depth of his male sensuality, the extraordinary depth of the female sensuality she had never known she possessed until he had so effortlessly aroused it in her. She began to tremble, not just from fear but from her utter helplessness to deal with this new inexplicable susceptibility.

  “You do too snore,” he taunted, but his voice had softened and was almost tender. “Just a little.” Feeling her shiver, he drew her back into the circle of his arms because he was too hot-blooded to resist doing so. “I guess all your lovers have been too gallant to tell you that. You should try sleeping on your stomach. I’ve heard it helps.”

  “For your information, I know I don’t snore, and I’m not promiscuous the way a scoundrel like you probably is. And...I—I don’t even have one lover. I’ve never...”

  She felt his muscles tense as he brought her closer, staring into her eyes. She could feel his heart pounding where her fingers grazed his chest.

  His emerald eyes touched her mouth and the jutting swell of her breasts with a suggestive look that sent the blood rushing to her cheeks again. “You’re not saying you’re a virgin.”

  She pressed her lips together and looked away. “Would that be so terrible?”

  “I thought all dancers in New York City,” he murmured, “especially famous ones...took lovers.”

  His nearness, his eyes, the heat of him, the shared intimacies of the night, the expert fingertips that traced a line along her throat, that sensual low voice of his, all these things, intensified her discomfiture.

  “Well, you thought wrong!” she said, stumbling over the words.

  “Not that it matters—to me,” he replied casually, “how many you’ve slept with...or haven’t.” He swallowed.

  She stiffened with hurt even as she felt the strong grip of his hands harden possessively on her arms, pulling her closer, belying his indifference.

  She closed her eyes, wishing she had more pride than to let him draw her once more into his arms. Thus, she didn’t see him gazing down at her soft, frightened face framed by the flowing wildness of ebony waves, his des
perate expression that of a man who knew he was lost despite his powerful will.

  It was with pleasured surprise that she felt his hard mouth caress her temples, his breath warm against her skin. When his lips met the solitary tear that glazed one eyelash, he tenderly kissed it away.

  His fingers curved along her slender throat, turning her face toward his. She held her breath, not daring to breathe for fear his lips would cease exploring her. When his mouth closed over her parted lips, she could taste the faint saltiness of that single tear he had kissed.

  She sighed in utter surrender, but as her fingers curled into the silken thickness of his ink-black hair, Kirk ripped himself from her, placing his hands on her arms, his iron muscles keeping his body apart from hers.

  She opened her eyes dazedly and met the fury of midnight-dark eyes blazing from beneath the thick fall of black hair that tumbled across his brow.

  “Kirk?” She murmured his name in startled confusion.

  His chiseled features were a carved bronzed mask. Hers were soft and flushed with desire.

  He tore his gaze from the trusting innocence of her beautiful face.

  “Don’t hate me,” she whispered brokenly. “Please...”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “If only I could, princess,” he breathed out roughly. “If only I could.”

  A chill ran down her spine. She felt caught in a vacuum of boundless despair.

  He kept looking at her, his eyes burning fiercely, his heart pounding just as fiercely. Slowly he got a grip on his dark mood and pulled her to her feet.

  “Look out the window,” he commanded.

  Outside the village was coming to life. Men were strolling out of their tents and huts in answer to the call for prayer. Aslam Nouri was drawing an arc in the sand with the end of a glinting saber while his men knelt before him, all of them facing toward Mecca.

  The mere sight of her dark kidnapper made Dawn cringe closer to Kirk. She couldn’t take her eyes off the dagger-curved nose, the cruel lips of her former captor. She scarcely saw the other armed men taking their ritual splashes of cleansing water, going through the motion by sprinkling sand over their shoulders. She was too terrified to hear the ancient chant when it began, “Allah akbar, Allah akbar...” God is great, God is great.