Jewel of Persia

Only the ones young and innocent enough to hear the whisper of Jehovah, but old enough to guide their nurses. She smiled at the memory of rapt little faces.

He tugged on a piece of her hair. “You have been avoiding me as well. Not once have you shared a meal with me.”

It was her turn to sigh. “I did not want to watch.”

His brows drew together. “Watch what?”

“You charming Lalasa’s and Diona’s servants.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and set her back a few inches. “You are jealous of slaves? When you never were of the other wives?”

Her gaze fell to the heavy chain of gold around his neck. “I know. Perhaps it is because I knew I would share you with your other wives. I did not realize . . .” She bit

her lip and shook her head. “And I never had to be jealous before. Before, I was your favorite.”

“Lovely Kasia.” He cupped her face, lifting it up. She blinked away tears. It had been so long since he had called her that. “The slaves are nothing—I accept them only

out of kindness to the concubines, who apparently weary of my demands.” A smile teased his mouth. “I have been too hard on them. I want them to be you, and they never are.



She could be her, if only he would let her. “I am sorry I have avoided you, my love.”

“As I am. No more, hmm? Otherwise I may send some other unfortunate relation home in disgrace, until I am left with only my own wisdom.”

She smiled. And when he lowered his head, she strained up to meet him, curled her arms around him. The heat of the kiss fused their lips together and brought life pounding

through her again—the glory of it gave her wings.

All too soon he broke away with a moan. “You ought to go.”

“No.” She held him tighter and trailed her lips down his jaw. “Let me stay. Please, Xerxes. I cannot go on like this. Let me stay. Let me live tonight.”

“Kasia . . .”

She pressed closer and nipped at his ear. “Do you not know how I have missed you?”

“Until these last few days, we were beside each other half the day.” The insistence was weak.

“But there was always someone else on your other side.” She ran her nose down his neck. “I have missed touching you.”

His heart galloped against his chest. “You have touched me.”

“Not like this. It has been like that first week after we met—I have dreamt of you every night, but awakened to realize I could not have you.”

His hands settled on her hips. “You will drive me to insanity, woman.”

“Fair enough—I will go with you.” She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

“Kasia.” The impatient twitch of his fingers promised pleasure, but his face still showed an unresolved will. “I know you want a child—”

“It is not about a child.” She met his gaze so he could see that in her eyes, then kissed his lips softly. “It is about you. I want you, Xerxes, nothing more.”

“It is not that simple.”

“Why not?” She forced her fingers to relax so that she might sweep them over his broad shoulders, down his chest, around his back. If she had to use every weapon of the

senses to prevail, then so be it. She could not spend another night with nothing but dreams of him for company. “If you want no risk of a child, then just hold me. Let me

kiss you.”

The passion was there, smoldering in his eyes. “Kissing you is never enough, my love.”

“But ignoring me is?”

There—capitulation. “Ignoring you has been torture. The less I have you, the more I want you.”

Anticipation shot up her spine. “What, then?”

His mouth quirked up into the grin she loved, even as he swept her into his arms. “I suppose I shall have to show you.”





Twenty-Three



Xerxes awakened slowly, reluctant to relinquish the perfect dream. A warm body nestled behind him, but when consciousness got hold of him, he would no longer be able to fool

himself into thinking it Kasia.

His eyes flew open, his senses went on alert. Curse and praise battled for a place on his tongue—he was a fool all right, one who ought to wish it a dream. Who knew what

penalty the god would exact for this, but so help him . . . he rolled over, his breath catching in his throat. Hopefully the god would credit him for trying.

A smile won dominion of his mouth as he settled in again, his ear against Kasia’s chest so he could hear the patient rhythm of her heart. Last night it had raced, swifter

than any ship in the fleet.

He trailed a hand up her leg and tried to focus his mind on the coming day rather than the night past. There was much to do. Deliver the planned speech to his command,

asking for their total dedication before they crossed into Europe. Then the first of them would put foot to bridge.

Kasia’s fingers feathered through his hair and her breath hitched, released. “Am I dreaming again?”

He chuckled and propped himself up. Her eyes were clear and bright again, her smile at the ready. He leaned over to kiss her. “I never meant to hurt you, my love. I only

want to protect you.”