She pushed her sunglasses over her head. As her vision adjusted, a silver mare materialized out of the gloom, patiently standing in the aisle wearing a saddle and bridle. She was looking straight at her, and, Farah could swear, was stunned to see her. In the next second she whinnied and tossed her head. And, wow, what a beauty.

She’d seen enough Useel, purebred Arabian mares, in her father’s stables to recognize one. This one was remarkable even by his fanatical standards. Which figured. There was no way Shehab had anything but the best. The horse stood at least 15 hands, with an impressive depth of chest. Her short head had a beautiful concave profile, a broad forehead and wide jowls.

Farah’s admiring scrutiny faltered. The mare was trotting toward her, ears tucked, nostrils flared, snorting an unmistakable threat…

“Ablah.”

At Shehab’s admonition, the mare at once stopped and perked up her ears, her prominent eyes all but grinning sheepishly.

Farah swung around to him. “I hope that’s not your most accommodating mare.”

“Actually, she is.” He caught his lower lip in his teeth, his face ablaze with wickedness. “I like my horses spirited.”

“Yeah, and it seems you train them as guard dogs, too.”

“She doesn’t usually see strangers. She was probably wary of you.”

She smirked. “She didn’t seem wary to me, and I’m no longer sure I want to reprise my long-bygone equine experience.”

He gave her a considering look, then turned to the mare. “Ablah…ta’ee hena.” Ablah trotted to him at once, nuzzled him in the shoulder. He held her face in his hands, murmured in Arabic. Ablah shifted uncomfortably, looking positively shamefaced.

Farah was incredulous. “What did you say to her?”

He gave Ablah a stern look. “That I was upset with her because she wasn’t nice to you, that you’re the woman I crave.”

“That’s supposed to make her more amenable toward me? I bet that’s why she wasn’t nice. She’s jealous as hell.”

He huffed a chuckle. “She’s a horse, Farah.”

“She’s a mare, Shehab. I bet you have females of every species swooning within a hundred-mile radius.”

He flashed her a smile that left her wanting to flip down her sunglasses. “Though I’d be appalled to think every female rat and shrimp around were wiggling their whiskers at me, I’ll snap this up as the compliment I’m sure you meant.” She narrowed her eyes at him, stuck out her tongue. He laughed, pinched her cheek softly. “I can assure you Ablah won’t try to get rid of the competition. But if you’re not comfortable, I’ll ride her, and you can ride Barq.” He patted the neck of the other horse, which a stable hand had just led up to them, placing the reins in Shehab’s hand. “He’s taken with you.”

Farah looked at Barq, a magnificent black stallion who looked decidedly more docile than Ablah and who was checking her out with interest. She looked back into the mare’s eyes, almost saw the impish challenge there, then she shook her head. “Nah, I think I’ll get acquainted with Ablah. I’m sure we can come to an understanding, one lady to another.”

His smile brightened with approval. “That’s jameelati, always doing the unexpected.”

“Yeah, let’s just hope I don’t really do the unexpected and spend my sabbatical in traction. Say, what does Ablah mean?”

“‘Perfectly formed.’ Barq means ‘lightning.’”

Farah eyed the magnificent mare, then sighed. “And she knows it, too. And if Barq’s name is also descriptive, I’d say it’s a good choice I opted to ride Ablah.”

He gathered her to him, tilted up her face to his. “You do know I wouldn’t propose riding either if I wasn’t certain you’d be totally safe?” She nodded, smiled her total trust up at him. His smile widened as he half kneeled beside her offering a leg up. “Up you go.”

She put her foot in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle and let him boost her up only for Ablah to give a distressed whinny when she landed on her back.

“Oh, c’mon. So I’m no lightweight, but your master outweighs me by…” she eyed him hungrily, gave her lips an involuntary lick “…seventy pounds, at least. So quit pretending you’re about to keel under my weight.”

Ablah snorted, swished her tail. Shehab laughed at the dialogue between woman and mare. Then he bent to Ablah and murmured in her ear, his eyes on Farah. “Et’addebi.”

Ablah fell silent at once, stood motionless and stared ahead, like a soldier, all obedience and steadfastness.

Farah giggled. “What was that? A magic word?”

His eyes glittered pure onyx in the declining sun slanting through the wide-open doors. “Behave.”

She wanted to cry out that she was behaving, had already used up her courage in propositioning him, would never make a move again. Then she realized he’d just been translating.

But, no. He was also warning her not to try again to end the time he was bound on having together without sexual intimacy.

Before she could say anything, he swung up on Barq’s back and leaned toward her, lowered her sunglasses over her eyes, put his on, pulled Barq’s reins, rapped Ablah’s rump lightly, and the two horses fell into step with each other.

Shehab kept within an arm’s reach of Farah for the first few hundred feet, murmuring directions and encouragements until she was whooping in unbridled joy as she gained confidence, began to rise and fall with the rhythm of Ablah’s medium sustained gallop, the wind weaving its hot, dry fingers through her hair, sending it flowing behind her like living bronze fire.

And he again had to acknowledge that it was nothing short of a miracle. That he was out here, taking her on a tour of the island, instead of back in her bed, taking her, period. That he’d taken her riding, instead of having her ride him.

And she’d wanted to, had entreated him to let her.

The only way he’d accessed the unsuspected power that had enabled him to say no was that this torture had a flipside. In prolonging her seduction, he found himself reveling in the bittersweet anticipation, the burgeoning arousal.

Exhilaration bubbled inside him in answer to her unfettered enjoyment. He shouted to her over the whipping of wind and the staccato of hooves, “You’re a natural horsewoman, ya saherati.”

“It’s Ablah who’s a natural rookie mare,” she shouted back, giggling. “You were right. She is riding herself, so to speak, keeping me miraculously glued to her back.”

From then on they kept exchanging smiles and shouted comments, laughing at anything the other said.

He gave her a thorough guided tour, and she was the perfect tourist, gratifyingly interested and impressed. Then at the highest point on the island where both its sides could be seen, he brought them to a stop, carried her down from Ablah and to the spread beneath the shade tent he’d had erected for them.

He sat down, took her across him, one knee supporting her back, her breasts pressing against his chest, her buttocks against his erection. He took the lips she offered, thrust into the sweetness she surrendered, drew back only when torment lost the sweet edge, the bitter side beginning to cut deep, looked down into the emerald eyes that truly rivaled the crystalline shores of his island. So willing, so giving, so trusting…

No. Willing, yes. Giving, no. She wanted only to take. He must never lose sight of that.

Snatching his eyes away from her spell, he continued her education. “On that side of the island, the water is knee-high for over two miles before deepening very gradually. On the other, the depth drops hundreds of feet at once.” He cocked his head at her. “Do you swim?”

“I haven’t swum in over ten years, but I was quite the fish when Dad was alive…” She stopped, bit her lip.

Every time she mentioned the man she’d lived her life believing was her real father, her mood plunged. He wanted to probe, was burning to hear her version of why she’d so vehemently rejected the new father fate had sent her.

But no. At the merest slipup, she’d sensed she was being manipulated. He couldn’t afford another mistake.

He gathered her closer, cupped her breast. “So you’re a mermaid for real. I knew it.” He succeeded in distracting her as she melted in his hold, thrust her firmness in his hand for him to do what he would with it. He groaned as the dual-bladed weapon he used on her cut deeper into him. “It’s another perfection, ya aroosat bahri-my mermaid. By daylight, I’ll take you to the deep end, plunge you into the dimension of the coral reefs, and by moonlight, we’ll roam the shallows, soak in them.”

She shuddered at the images he evoked, and he moved to the next step in her sensory overload. He cleaned his hands, produced refreshments from the hamper he’d arranged, poured her some, put the tiny crystal hourglass-shaped glass to her lips.

She took a sip, moaned appreciatively, “Mmm-what’s that?”

“The famed Arabian coffee…a brew of lightly roasted special beans and cardamom. For best effect you eat this with it…”

She unquestioningly opened for the dried date he put to her lips, moaned as she described the incredible chewiness, the caramelized flavor. After he had her finish three cups and half a packet, he began fondling her lips, prodding her to lick his fingers clean of the stickiness. She was soon sucking him in earnest, every pull lodging in his erection, where he almost felt those lips performing the same abandoned ritual. He pulled his fingers out of her mouth, clamped her between his knees, stilling her movements before he exploded. “I said behave.”

The eyes that had gone smoky jade with arousal turned a disconcerted bottle-green at his growl.

It made him rush to add, “If you do, I’ll take you to see the burst of flowers and grass that followed the outpouring of rain a couple of weeks ago, before the green carpet dries and dies under the blistering sun. We might catch some of the island’s inhabitants taking a snack, wild rabbits, gazelles…”