“Come.” He kept walking. “We have to hurry if we’re to beat the sun.”
She tossed a glance towards the horizon, where black was bleeding gold and pink, glistening with the promise of the new day.
“Beat it where?”
He sent her a glance that was teasing and birthed a million butterflies in her tummy. “You’ll see.”
When they
rounded the corner, several servants stood, dressed in black with silver threads at their cuffs. It was a different uniform to what she was used to seeing.
“My stable team,” he said, waving a hand towards them. They bowed low; no one looked at her.
Chloe was used to that.
Raffa spoke in Ras el Kidan, the words fast so that Chloe – although proficient – caught only the gist of what he was saying. Saddle. One. Bag.
She followed the hasty movements of the men, as they led one horse away and focused on the other, removing the saddle, leaving only clips around his spectacular middle section, and a rolled bag on either side.
She had often thought Raffa was like a wild beast, and looking at this beautiful animal, the comparison was impossible to miss. The rippling, dark muscles, the intelligent, all-seeing eyes rimmed with dark lashes, the unmistakable strength and energy.
Within minutes, the servants were standing in a line. Raffa spoke to them curtly, “Away now.”
Chloe almost chided him for his rudeness, but when he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the horse without warning, she understood why he’d dispatched with the audience.
“Apparently there’s no elegant way to mount a horse in a dress,” she said, using humour to deflect her embarrassment. What must she have looked like as he settled her on the beast? She didn’t have long to recover. Within seconds he was right there with her, his own body easily lifting up onto the horse, so that he sat tightly behind her, his legs locking hers to the animal’s sides, one arm curling around her waist to steady her.
Every single nerve ending reverberated with awareness.
“Where are we going?” The question was husky and she was glad he wasn’t looking at her to see the way she’d sucked her lower lip between her teeth, the way her pupils were dilated in her eyes.
“You’ll see.” He breathed the words against her neck, and goosebumps chased themselves over her body in response. “Ready?”
“How can I be ready if I don’t know where we’re going?”
“You strike me as someone who’s ready for just about anything.”
It wasn’t necessarily a compliment and yet it fired pleasure inside of her. Before she could respond, he kicked the side of the horse and made a grunting sound, so the animal lurched forward. His other hand came around Chloe, taking the reins, so that she was firmly imprisoned by his body, held tight in a way that made every part of her aware of him.
And it wasn’t only his nearness, it was the magic of the morning. The clearness of the sky as he brought her out of the stable yard and down a narrow track that gave way to sand. It was the twinkling of stubborn stars overhead and the fragrance of the desert, the musty smell of the horse, and the man behind her, yes.
He rode hard and fast, racing the sun’s progress. It must have been at least an hour without a single word passing from him to her, and yet she felt every single shift of his body. The tightening of the reins, the lurching of his legs, and pleasure was coiling inside of her like a snake ready to strike.
She’d never been this far from the palace – not across the desert – and it was impossible not to be awe-struck by the sheer size of its expanse. In every direction there was sand, and more sand, and now that the sun was up, warmth was surrounding them. He rode harder and faster and the sameness of her view altered, showing a shape on the horizon. He was riding them towards it, so she watched intently, her eyes squinting as they drew nearer. Buildings!
No, ruins, she clarified, as they got close enough for her to make out the details. They were the colour of the desert, as if they’d organically risen from the ground, as though they were of this land. Perhaps forty houses, all two story, built side by side, with no roofs that she could see – flat at the top, and open windows. There was an odd kind of vegetation that had grown through the ruins, marking its ochre colour with green veins in places.
“What is this place?” She asked, her voice discordant from disuse.
“The ruins of Shakam al abut.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“I’m not surprised.” The horse’s hooves made a clicking sound and when Chloe looked down she recognised paved stones beneath them. Raffa stilled the beast and then leaped off with his easy athleticism, keeping a hold of the reins. Chloe felt his absence immediately.
He spoke a few words to the animal and then reached for Chloe. She wanted to tell him she could get down herself, but the horse was almost twice her height and if she’d felt inelegant being foisted onto him earlier that morning, she was pretty sure she’d look even worse dropping to her bottom.
Raffa gripped Chloe’s waist and lifted her easily, despite the fact she was higher than he, sliding her down his body in a way that was like striking a match to oil. She was already throbbing with need, the ride across the desert having been a form of sensual torture, so that now, feeling him so close, she ached to wrap her hands around his waist and stand up on tiptoes, to cleave her lips to his and taste him.