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chain she sought. Then she pulled her cross out of her bag. After she fastened it around
her neck, she sank into sleep again.
When she next opened her eyes, the shadows of sunset had darkened the room. Rashid
was sitting cross-legged in the corner, leaning against the wall with brocaded cushions
propped around him. He was reading a book, a large text with Arabic calligraphy on the
front. She wasn't sure, but she guessed it was the Qur'an.
Distant but clear, a chant drifted in the window. It curled through the evening, as eerie
as it was beautiful, rising and falling in an arabesque of sound. Rashid lifted his head,
going still as he listened. Then he rose to his feet and left the room.
A great booming woke Lucia, like the firing of a cannon. She couldn't have dozed for
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Catherine Asaro - The Veiled Web
long; dusk still filled the room. Had she really heard the noise? She floated on a sea of
slumber, that netherworld between waking and sleep. Gradually she became aware of
music and voices in another part of the house. Then she sank back below the surface,
into deeper sleep.
When Lucia next woke, it was well into the night. Rashid lay facing her on the bed,
asleep but fully dressed, with starlight ghosting across his body. The fresh scents of
soap tickled her nose, and she could smell his damp, clean hair. Although his eyes were
closed, he didn't look relaxed enough to be deep in his slumber.
"When did you come back?" she murmured.
He opened his eyes and said what sounded like, "After breakfast."
"Breakfast?" At night? Or had he actually said, "Breaking my fast?"
He touched her face, this time making no attempt to stop himself as he traced the curve
of her cheekbone. She wasn't sure if the jump in her pulse came from anticipation or
wariness. Or both. Earlier in the day he had refrained from touching her at all, except to
catch her when she fell. Now she felt none of that restraint. She was acutely aware of his
size and strength, and the heat he radiated.
Rashid slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against his body. She laid her
palms flat against his chest. Instead of pushing him away, though, she slid her hands
across his shirt. She felt the soft cloth under her palms, and beneath that the hard planes
of his torso.
Murmuring in an unfamiliar language, he pressed his lips against the top of her head. A
breeze rustled the curtains, sifting air across them. The night outside sounded muted and
distant: a creak of branches, the call of a bird, no city hum or growl of traffic. Insects
chirped, and somewhere a dog barked.
Rashid laid his palm on the back of her head, somehow making that simple gesture
erotic, as if touching her hair was an act of intimacy. He rolled the strands between his
fingers the way a connoisseur would savor a fine wine. Then he let his palm slide down
her back along her hair, all the way to her hips. She felt the strength in his hand. He
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repeated the motion, skimming her back, pressing in at her waist, sliding his palm over
her curves. Mesmerized, she closed her eyes.
When he splayed his hand at her waist and pulled her against him, Lucia tipped up her
face, trying to see him in the starlit shadows. He bent his own head, searching, as if to
whisper in her ear. But it wasn't her ear he sought. Instead he kissed her.
Lucia tensed, her palms still flat against his chest. A faint alarm far back in her mind
warned her to stop, but she ignored it. She didn't want to think. She wanted to kiss her
husband. She kept her hands between their bodies, like a last hope for the revival of her
fading common sense. Right now, though, fading common sense had a lot to
recommend it.
Rashid deepened his kiss, tangling his hand in her hair. Eyes closed, Lucia relaxed and
moved one of her palms across his chest. When he felt her tension ease, he rolled her
onto her back, trapping her under his body. His hand slipped under her blouse and
across her skin until it cupped her breast.
Common sense came back with a jolt, accompanied by confusion. It was too much, too
fast. This time she did push at his chest, trying to make him stop. He kept stroking her,
with both his hands now, kissing her also as he held her down with his weight. The
alarms in her mind blared, reminding her like a deluge of ice water that she was alone in
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