The Sheikh Who Loved Her. Kate Hardy
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the world, but they had all seen something in Lucy—just as he had. His hackles rose. ‘Lay off her, boys,’ he warned, lifting off his helmet. ‘You could all see Lucy was overwhelmed when we rocked up.’
This drew a second chorus of knowing smirks, which he ignored. ‘The least we can do is give her a chance to get used to us.’
‘To you, don’t you mean?’
He refused to dignify Theo’s comment with a reply.
Tom drew alongside him to observe discreetly, ‘That’s extremely thoughtful of you …’
‘It’s nothing.’ Razi dismissed the comment with an impatient gesture. ‘Lucy was fine when we left and she’s probably asleep by now. She also left food on the table at the chalet, so if we need anything to eat later we can rustle up something for ourselves.’
‘Just like the old days,’ Theo agreed, coming up on his other side.
Not at all like the old days, Razi’s exchange of glances with Tom confirmed. This trip was not the same as the trips they had enjoyed in their carefree teenage years, but the briefest of stops before the weight of responsibility tied each one of them in their different ways. But for all their machismo they were up to the task, Razi concluded, taking a look around his friends. ‘Last one to the bar buys the drinks.’
Impossible to imagine their fortunes could be counted in billions as the four friends jostled and wrestled their way across the piste.
Okay, so this was it. But she needed an urgent trip to the ladies’ room first …
‘No looking back,’ the girls warned Lucy as they accompanied her to the stage.
‘I feel sick.’
‘There’s a fire bucket in the wings,’ one of the girls pointed out helpfully.
‘I can’t remember the words.’
‘You don’t have to remember the words,’ the girls reminded her in chorus. ‘This is karaoke, Luce.’
‘What if I can’t see the screen?’
‘We’ll sing along with you.’
‘What if I can’t hear you?’
‘You’ll hear us,’ they promised.
The compére was already on stage, waiting for the crowd to quieten so he could introduce Lucy. Would they ever quieten enough to hear her? It seemed unlikely, thank goodness. Freeing herself from her supporters, Lucy stepped reluctantly up to the red curtain someone had hastily drawn across the makeshift stage and peered through. She couldn’t see anything; the light was so bright—much better backstage in the dark where no one could see her. ‘Couldn’t I sing from back here?’
‘That’s a no, then,’ Lucy muttered as her friends exclaimed in protest.
She wished the spotlights weren’t quite so bright, or so well aimed. She felt nervous, hot and scared—and desperate not to let the side down.
‘There is one positive.’
‘A positive?’ the girls encouraged as she fought for breath.
‘Yes, I can’t make out any faces in the crowd—I took out my contact lenses,’ she managed on a gasp, breathing deeply into lungs that seemed suddenly on fire.
All she could hear now were whistles, shouts and catcalls. The compére had succeeded in whipping the crowd up to fever pitch just in time for her appearance. Great. The position of the fire bucket had never held such colossal significance.
‘You’ll be all right once you get on stage,’ the girls assured her, hands poised on Lucy’s shoulders in readiness to push her on.
She didn’t have time to think about it. Blundering through the curtain, she was instantly deafened by the booming bass on the backing track and blinded by the lights. She put up her arm to shield her eyes and in doing so missed the introduction. The crowd was silent like a fierce beast preparing to pounce and rip her into shreds, while she stood curled in a protective huddle in the middle of the stage, spotlights illuminating her humiliation, while her backing track moved inexorably on.
Somewhere in the distance she heard the girls shouting her name …
It was no good. She couldn’t do it—not even for them. Blinking like a mole, she realised with horror that she couldn’t see or hear anything, let alone sing …
Clenching her fists with determination, she forced herself to make a tremulous start, and no one was more surprised than Lucy when her voice gradually gained in confidence and strengthened as the beauty of the melody overpowered her fears. She had insisted on singing a love song when everyone had begged her to sing an upbeat number, and, what with the poignancy of the words and the beauty of the music, she only had to imagine Mac and she was away.
She would never have believed she could enjoy herself so much on stage—even the crowd had silenced in appreciation. They’d gathered round her and many of them were arm in arm as they stared up at her, listening. Discovering she could lose herself in music was a magical experience … Thinking about Mac made it perfect.
CHAPTER FIVE
WHAT the hell?
As they entered the bar Razi’s gaze was immediately drawn to the stage where Lucy was singing.
Lucy was singing?
He couldn’t believe his eyes, though he’d have known her anywhere. But this was a very different Lucy. Her hair was a shimmering curtain of gold, hanging to her waist, and she was wearing make-up that enhanced her features without being too heavy. Her top was something blue and soft that framed her face and set off the lustre of her hair, but it was her singing voice that really captivated him—as it had every other man in the room.
His expression darkened as he took in all the other male onlookers lusting after Lucy. Her singing and the sincerity of her interpretation had them gripped. Her voice was richly seductive and as beautiful as if it came from her very soul. It was also the husky tone he had imagined hearing in bed …
There was a solid mass of bodies at front of the stage between him and Lucy, but it parted for him like the Red Sea. He didn’t even have to elbow his way through. His motors were running and everyone knew it. No one cared to get in his way. She had finished her song and the audience was demanding an encore. Men were cheering and wolf-whistling as he reached the front, by which time she was singing again. The fact that that they found her pleasing was irrelevant to him—or maybe even made it worse. His warrior ancestry pressed down on him. The fact that he adored women demanded action. For however short a time Lucy Tennant was his to protect and defend—
And make love to, he added silently as she stared at him in alarm.
Her voice faltered. The audience fell silent. The tension mounted. He sensed a tipping moment when the crowd would either cheer her to the rafters or boo her off the stage. Her eyes locked with his in silent appeal.
For one fire-burst moment she was so high on adrenalin she exulted in the fact that Mac was staring at her. She had been persuaded to sing an encore, but she wanted to sing for Mac—so he could see who she could be and hear what she could never hope to express in words. This was Lucy Tennant flying high and wide, allowing the music to speak for her. Singing made anything possible …
Or would have done, had not Mac’s eyes been narrowed. With disapproval? It was hard to tell. He was looking at her—the audience was looking at him—and then at her. And back to Mac. Their little drama was proving far more interesting than the karaoke competition and she could hardly ignore him. Slowly but surely all her confidence-inspiring adrenalin seeped away, and then everything spiralled in. What was she doing singing on a stage—other than looking ridiculous?
But then the incredible happened. Mac’s face changed, relaxed. His eyes darkened as he stared at her and his mouth slowly curved in a sexy smile. Was that a nod of approval? Was it? Mac wanted