Girl in the Bedouin Tent. Annie West
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trained warriors. They won’t hesitate to use maximum force if attacked. You’ll come off worst.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Her eyes sparked fire. ‘You call them warriors? Kidnapping an unarmed woman? I thought the men here would have more pride.’
‘You’re right. Their behaviour blemishes honour.’
The mark branded him too. She’d been in his kingdom when abducted. It sickened him that she’d been plucked from his country and subjected to this.
‘Mustafa’s men will do what Mustafa tells them to.’
‘And you?’
She went too far this time.
‘Ms Denison.’ His voice rang with hauteur. ‘I give my word you have nothing to fear from me. The first I knew of your presence was when you were brought to me at the feasting tent.’
‘I …’ She faltered and her gaze dipped. ‘I see. Thank you.’
Like a balloon pricked by a pin, she seemed to deflate before his eyes. Instantly, regret lashed him. Where was his control? Strive as he might to reassure, his reactions to Cassandra Denison were too raw and unpredictable.
How to gentle her and win her trust?
He had a lifetime’s experience in pleasuring women. His lovers were well satisfied. But since adolescence females had pursued him. All he’d had to do was reach out and select the one he wanted. He treated them well, but he’d never had to exert himself to win a woman’s trust.
How was he to deal with this woman who defied yet intrigued him? A woman so reluctantly dependent on him?
CHAPTER THREE
‘WHY isn’t it so simple?’
‘Pardon?’
Cassie struggled to sound calm. ‘Getting me away from here. You said it’s not that simple.’
‘That’s right.’ He poured himself a drink, then raised a golden goblet to his lips.
Frowning, Cassie looked away to the table between them. There was something disturbingly intimate about watching the strong muscles of his burnished throat as he tipped his head back to drink.
Was it the stress of her situation that made her so hyperalert? Or the intimacy of this quiet lamplit haven, so peaceful after her recent trauma?
Slowly he lowered the goblet, and she had the unnerving feeling he was preparing to break bad news.
‘I’ve just arrived and I won’t be leaving for a week.’
Cassie nodded. ‘And.?’
‘And you will have to remain here till then.’
‘No way!’ On surging outrage she rose, only to subside again when he held out an arm to bar her way. He didn’t touch. His hand stopped centimetres from hers. But his expression had its effect. ‘If you expect me to wait around here a whole week—’
‘That’s exactly what I expect, Ms Denison. When my negotiations are over I’ll escort you to safety. In the meantime, so long as you remain in this tent, you are under my protection. No one will touch you while you are mine.’
Cassie’s eyes rounded. His.
A bolt of electricity zapped her.
It wasn’t news. That scene in the other tent had been brutally clear, despite the language barrier. Yet to hear him spell it out was too much.
‘I’m not yours.’ Her voice rose. ‘I’m not any man’s.’
He shook his head. ‘As far as Mustafa and everyone else in this camp are concerned you belong to me.’
‘That’s barbaric!’
What century did he think this was?
He shrugged. ‘Of course it is. Mustafa thinks to shore up his position by acts of bravado and posturing.’ Dark eyes dropped for a moment to her voluminous cloak, but she suspected it wasn’t coarse wool he pictured in his head. A tremor ran through her as she remembered his gaze on her bare skin. ‘The man has no subtlety.’
Out of nowhere heat washed her. She only just stopped herself wondering what sort of subtleties the Sheikh of Tarakhar preferred.
‘But you can’t expect me to stay here!’
‘I cannot cut this visit short.’
‘Not even to rescue a woman in distress?’ Cassie never thought she’d play the helpless female, but her situation was dire.
He spread his hands, drawing her gaze to long, capable fingers and strong wrists.
‘I’m here to put an end to the sort of border raid to which you fell victim. If diplomacy fails force will be needed. I’m sure you’ll understand my preference not to risk the lives of my citizens unless absolutely necessary.’
At his words she raised her head and found her gaze captured.
‘I cannot risk what’s happened to you happening to anyone else.’
Cassie sat back on her heels. She applauded his purpose. Yet she had to fight to suppress a demand that he take her away from here now—this instant!
‘But even if you’re staying here I could—’
‘What?’ His eyebrows arrowed down and his lips thinned. ‘Find your own way to safety?’
Did he have to sound so dismissive? She wasn’t that naïve. ‘Perhaps some of your people could take me.’
Already he was shaking his head. ‘I only have a small staff with me and all are required here.’ He paused. ‘I regret it, but your only option is to leave when I do.’
Cassie clamped her mouth shut and looked away, lest he see the desperation in her eyes.
‘This isn’t as I’d wish it either.’ His voice dropped. ‘But it’s the only way. Look at me, Cassandra.’
Startled by the sound of her name on his lips, she swung round. ‘Cassie.’
‘Cassie, then.’ Eyes as black as the midnight desert sky bored into hers. She had the unnerving sensation he looked deep into her soul. ‘You will forgive my need for absolute honesty?’
‘I’d prefer it.’ Knowledge was strength. She needed to know where she stood.
He nodded. ‘It’s essential the camp believes I am content with this arrangement. And that you accept it.’
Her eyes widened as his meaning sank in.
‘Should they believe otherwise, Mustafa will give you to someone else and find me a replacement companion. Or keep you for himself.’ Dark eyes pinioned hers. ‘Do you want to risk that?’
Dread coursed through her veins and she shuddered, remembering the avid faces of the all-male crowd who’d watched as she was presented like some trophy to this man.
Reluctantly she shook her head. She’d stay. For now.
Half an hour later Cassie stood rigid, eyes fixed on a wall hanging of a courtyard garden with fountains and ornamental trees and beautiful ladies. One played a stringed instrument, one brushed the long, dark hair of another who lifted a cup daintily to her lips. Yet another picked a blossom with delicate fingers.
‘It’s a garden of pleasures,’ the voice, low and rich, murmured. His breath was a puff of warmth on her bare arm and her skin contracted as if brushed by soft suede.
Cassie cleared her throat. ‘Really?’ She tried not to notice the way his body heat seemed to inflame her bare skin when he stood so close. Whenever his fingers brushed her bare torso she felt a curious trembling.
‘Absolutely. In countries