Wrapped In Pleasure Part 11

Delaney refused to answer. In fact, she had a question of her own. "How did you find me?"

Storm laughed. "Dare put your picture out over the FBI wire service as a most-wanted fugitive and we got a tip."

At her frown, Storm held up his hand and said, "I was just kidding, Laney. For goodness sakes, cut the 'I will kill you dead if that's true' look. Chase took a peek at the folks' caller ID and got your new cell number. The telephone company was able to trace where the roaming fees were being charged. Once we had that pinpointed the rest was a piece of cake."

Delaney shook her head. "Yeah, I bet it was, like none of you have anything better to do with your time than to hunt me down. I am twenty-five, you know."

Stone rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and the cost of milk was two-fifty a gallon yesterday, so what's your point?"

Delaney glared at the five of them as she came down off the porch. "My point is this. I can take care of myself, and if you start trying to get into my business, I will do the same for yours."

Four of the men looked uneasy. Of course it was Thorn who took her threat in stride. "You're welcome to mess things up with me and the woman I'm presently seeing. She's the clingy type, and I've been trying to get rid of her for weeks."

Delaney glared at him. "If your mood hasn't run her off then nothing will." She inhaled deeply, knowing her brothers were hopeless. They would never treat her like the adult she was. "Well, since you're all here, you may as well help carry my stuff to the car."

Chase lifted a brow. "You're leaving?"

"Yes."

"You never said whose car those tire tracks belonged to," Dare reminded her.

Delaney turned to go into the house, knowing her brothers would follow. She decided to tell them the truth since she knew they wouldn't believe her, anyway. "The car belonged to a prince, a desert sheikh from the Middle East," she tossed back over her shoulder.

She smiled when she heard Storm say to the others, "And she thinks we're stupid enough to believe that."

Chapter 11.

Jamal gazed out of the window of the private plane as it landed at the Tahran airport. Any other time he would have thought it was good to be home, but tonight was an exception. His heart still ached for Delaney.

What was she doing? Was she thinking of him the way he was thinking of her?

"It is time to disembark, My Prince."

He lifted his gaze and met Asalum's concerned frown. Only someone as close to him as Asalum could know the pain he was feeling. He turned his head to look back out of the window, not saying anything for the longest time, then he said quietly, "I'm no longer filled with obsession, Asalum."

Asalum nodded. "And what is it now, Your Highness?"

"Depression."

Asalum shook his head. That much he had already concluded. The loss of the American woman was having a powerful effect on the prince.

Jamal slowly stood. He had noted the long, black limo parked on the runway. As usual his father had sent an entourage to welcome him home. With a grim set of his jaw he walked off the plane.

Within less than an hour's time he arrived at the palace. Sitting high on a hill it looked like a magnificent fortress, commanding its own respect and admiration, and had served as home for the Yasir family for hundreds of years.

After going through the ma.s.sive wrought-iron gate, the limo had barely come to stop when a beautiful, young dark-haired woman raced from the front of the house into the courtyard.

"Jamal Ari!"

Jamal smiled for the first time since leaving America and watched his sister come to a stop next to the car, anxious for him to get out. A few moments later he found himself standing next to the car and embracing his sister, Johari.

"It's so good to have you home, Jamal Ari. I have so much to tell you," she said excitedly, pulling him through the huge wooden door she had come out of.

Jamal shook his head. If anyone could pull him out of his despairing mood, it would be Johari.

Later that night Jamal heard a soft knock on his door. He had claimed complete exhaustion, and his father had agreed to put off their talks until the next morning. Jamal had escaped to his private apartment in the palace, the entire west wing that was his. Rebakkah, Asalum's wife and the woman who had been his personal servant since birth, had brought him a tray of food a while ago that sat untouched on the table. He had no appet.i.te to eat.

He opened the door to find his stepmother, Fatimah, standing there. A beautiful woman with golden-brown skin and long, black wavy hair that flowed to her waist, she had retained her pet.i.te figure even after giving birth to two children. It seemed she never aged and was just as radiant at forty-four as she had been when she had come into his and his father's lives twenty-two years ago. He was not surprised to see her. Like Asalum, Fatimah knew him well and she knew when something was bothering him.

She stepped into his apartment and turned to face him. Concern was etched in her dark eyes. They were beautiful eyes that were all seeing, all knowing. "What is it, Jamal Ari?" she asked softly, studying him intently. "You are not yourself. Something is bothering you, and I want you to tell me what it is so I can make it better."

Jamal leaned against the door. He couldn't help but smile. When he was younger it seemed Fatimah had always been able to do that-make things better. Even if it pitted her against his father. She had never been outright disobedient, but she had definitely let the king know how she felt about certain things.

"I don't think you can make this one better, Fatimah," he said quietly. "This is something I have to work out for myself."

Fatimah looked at him for a long moment, then nodded, accepting his right to request that she not interfere. For now For now. "Well, whatever has you in such a sour mood will soon be forgotten. I sent word to Najeen that you had returned."

A frown covered Jamal's face. "Najeen?"

Fatimah's feminine chuckle bathed the air. "Yes, Najeen. Have you forgotten who she is?"

Jamal walked away from the door. He didn't want to see Najeen or any woman for that matter. The woman he wanted to see was millions of miles away. "Najeen will no longer be my mistress," he said softly.

Fatimah raised a dark brow. "Why? Do you have another?"

"No." He sighed deeply, not in the mood to explain. But seeing the surprised look on Fatimah's face he knew that he should. "I will be sending Najeen away, back to her homeland where she will be taken care of in the comfort she has become accustomed to until she takes another benefactor," he quietly decreed.

Fatimah nodded as she studied him. Her distress level rose. He was acting in a most peculiar way. "Is there a reason for your decision?"

His lashes lifted and his dark eyes met her even darker ones. Fatimah saw anxiety in their depths. She also saw something else that alarmed her. "Jamal Ari? What is it?"

He crossed the room to the window. The view outside was magnificent, but for the first time he didn't appreciate it. "While in America I met someone, Fatimah. A woman who stirred me in a way no other woman has. A Western woman who initially fought me at every turn, a woman who is just as proud and stubborn as I am, someone who was my complete opposite on some things but then my total equal on others. And..."

Silence. Across the room Fatimah watched his profile. She saw the way his hands balled into fists at his sides; the way his jaw hardened and the sharp gaze that was looking out the window without really seeing anything. "And what?" she prompted, hoping he would continue.

Slowly, he turned to face her and she saw the torment in his features. "And someone I fell helplessly and hopelessly in love with."

Fatimah's heart took a lurching leap of surprise in her throat. "A Western woman?"

He met her gaze thinking, my my Western woman. From the moment Delaney had gotten out of the car that day she had arrived at the cabin, a part of him had known she would be his. He just hadn't known that he, in turn, would become hers. "Yes," he finally responded. Western woman. From the moment Delaney had gotten out of the car that day she had arrived at the cabin, a part of him had known she would be his. He just hadn't known that he, in turn, would become hers. "Yes," he finally responded.

Fatimah studied him. "But you've never liked Western women, Jamal Ari. You always thought they were too modern, headstrong and disobedient."

A smile forced its way to his lips when he thought of Delaney. In her own way she was all those things. "Yes, but I fell in love with her, anyway."

Fatimah nodded. "So what are you going to do? You love one but are planning to wed another?"

Jamal inhaled a deep breath. "I must do what I must do, Fatimah. I am duty bound to do what is needed for my country."

"And what about what is needed for your heart, Jamal Ari?" she asked, crossing the room to him. She had taken him into her heart as her son the moment she had seen him many years ago. "Your heart is breaking. I can sense it."

"Yes," he said, not bothering to deny it. "A good leader's decisions should not be ruled by love, Fatimah. They should be ruled by what is in the best interest of his people. My feelings matter not."

Fatimah looked at him, aware of the coldness settling in him. The bitterness, as well. She smiled sadly. For as long as she had known him, Jamal Ari had always had a mind and a will of his own. Yes, he was as dedicated to the people as his father, but still, he did exactly what pleased him, which usually had been fast cars and beautiful women. But now for what he considered to be the good of his people, he was willing to bend his mind and his will. And in doing so he was slowly destroying himself.

"Your father once thought that way, Jamal Ari, but now he thinks differently," she finally said, hoping to make him see reason before it was too late. "And I hope you will open your mind to do the same. Love is a powerful beast. It can bring the strongest of beings to their knees."

Without saying anything else, she turned and walked out of the room. The door closed stiffly behind her, bathing the room in dead silence.

That night Jamal dreamed.

Delaney was with him, in his bed while he made love to her. Not caring that he wasn't using protection of any kind, his body repeatedly thrust into hers, glorying in the feel of her beneath him, of him being inside of her. In the darkness he could hear her moans of pleasure that combined with his own. He could actually feel the imprint of her nails on his back and shoulders as she gripped him, her fingers relentlessly pressing deeply into his skin. He felt his body moving closer to the edge and knew what he wanted more than anything. He wanted to impregnate her with his heir, just in case she wasn't pregnant already. He could envision a son with dark, copper-colored skin and a head of jet-black curls and eyes the color of dark chocolate.

His hand reached up and cupped her cheek, bringing her lips to his; lips he now hungered for all the time; lips he would tease into submission. They were also lips whose touch could arouse him to no end, drive him literally insane; lips belonging to a mouth he had branded.

He then gave his attention to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as they thrust firmly and proudly from her body, taunting him to taste, which he did. He loved the feel of them against his tongue, wished he could love her this way forever and never have to stop. Around her he always felt primal, needy, l.u.s.ty.

So he continued to make love to her, holding her tightly in his arms and whispering his words of love.

Thousands of miles away Delaney was in bed having that same dream.

Her body felt stretched, filled and hot. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt soul-stirringly tender from Jamal's caress, and she could feel him loving her in a way she had become used to: determined, forceful. And very thorough.

His touch felt so right, and she felt a simmering sense that relief was near. She moaned a low, needy sound when a s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sed through her body, and she gloried in the feel of being made love to this way. Then she exploded into tiny pieces.

Sometime later she opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. Rejoining reality she found that she was in bed alone. She curled her body into a ball as the waves of pa.s.sion subsided, sending tremors through her.

She lay there, too shaken to move. Her dream had seemed so real. It had been as if Jamal had actually been with her, inside of her, making love to her. Taking a deep breath she swung her legs down to the floor and eased out of bed.

Going into the bathroom she washed her face in cool water, still feeling the heat of her dream. She inhaled deeply, glad she had returned to her apartment and not done as her brothers had suggested and gone to her parents' home.

She needed time alone-time to deal with everything. Her brothers had relented and had given in to her request for privacy. But she knew their placidness wouldn't last long. For the moment they were humoring her.

Glancing up at the mirror, she studied her red, swollen eyes. After her brothers had left, indicating they would be back to check on her within a few weeks, she had lain across the bed and cried.

She knew she couldn't continue on this way. Jamal was gone and wasn't coming back. She had to get on with her life, and the best way to do that was to go to work. She was not supposed to report to the hospital for another two weeks, but she wanted to go to work now. She would call the chief of staff to see if she could start earlier than planned.

The best thing to do was to keep her mind occupied. She had to stop thinking about Jamal.

Jamal got out of bed drenched in sweat as chills from the night air touched his body, making him tremble. His dream had seemed so real. He inhaled deeply. There wasn't the lingering aroma of s.e.x, that special scent that he and Delaney's mated bodies generated.

He momentarily closed his eyes, memorizing her scent and visualizing in his mind the nights he had been pleasured by her body in reality and not in a dream. He could never forget the sight of her lying on her back...waiting for him. Her legs were shapely, long and sleek, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, there for him to touch and taste, and he had thoroughly enjoyed doing both. But what took his breath away to just think about it was her rear, perfectly rounded and curvy, making him hard each time he saw it.

The memories were making his body hard, and his breath was ragged. A part of him cursed the fate that had taken him away from Delaney. He acknowledged he would have left eventually, anyway. But knowing that had made every moment with her precious as time had clicked away. The time they had spent together had not been nearly long enough.

He reached for his robe from a nearby chair and put it on, then walked across the room to the door leading to the balcony. Stars dotted the midnight sky and softly lit the courtyard below. With its numerous lush plants, beautiful flowers and exotic shrubs, the courtyard had always been his favorite place to hide out as a child. But no matter how well he thought he could hide, Asalum would always find him. He smiled at the memory, breathing in the scent of gardenias and jasmine.

He then smiled at the thought of what Delaney would think if she ever saw the palace. A part of him could see her feeling right at home here. There was no doubt in his mind that with her Western views she would be a breath of fresh air. Her liberal way of thinking would no doubt scandalize some, but her caring would capture the hearts of others. The same way she had captured his.

Just thinking about her was torment. He straightened slowly and sighed. After he met with his father in the morning he would leave for Kuwait to meet with the other members of the coalition to reach another agreement with the Sheikh of Caron.

Then he would travel to Ranyaa, his estates in northern Africa. And there he would stay until the marriage arrangements had been worked out. He didn't want to be around anyone any more than necessary. He wanted to be left alone...to drown in his misery.

Chapter 12.

Delaney returned the squiggling baby to its mother. "She seems to be doing a whole lot better, Mrs. Ford. Her fever has broken, and her ears no longer look infected."

The woman shook her head, smiling. "Thanks, Dr. Westmoreland. You have been so nice to my Victoria. She likes you."

Delaney grinned. "I like her, too. And to be on the safe side, I'd like to see her again in a few weeks to recheck her ears."

"All right."

Delaney watched as the woman placed the baby in the stroller and left, waving goodbye before getting on the elevator. She sighed deeply. During the three weeks since she had started working she was getting used to being called Dr. Westmoreland. Her heart caught in her chest each time she heard it. All of her hard work and dedication to her studies had paid off. She was doing something she loved and that was providing medical care to children.

Someone behind her chuckled, and she half turned and saw it was Tara Matthews. Tara was a fellow resident pediatrician whom she had met when she began working at the hospital. They had quickly become good friends.

"Okay, what's so funny?" she asked Tara, smiling.

"You are," Tara said, shaking her head, grinning. "You really like babies, don't you?"