Her Ardent Sheikh. KRISTI GOLD
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the club members had underestimated the man’s dangerous determination, and Ben despised the fact they had not been better prepared.
At the moment, he needed to question Jamie Morris about the crash. Make her aware that he would be her shadow for however long it took to apprehend Klimt. Ensure her safety at all costs. In order to accomplish his goal, she would have to come home with him.
Carefully he planned his approach so as not to frighten her. Yet, considering all that she had been through the past few weeks, he doubted she was easily intimidated. And he suspected she would not like what he was about to propose.
But the members of the club depended on him. Little did Jamie Morris know, so did she.
Jamie took two more steps, stopping at the Royal Confection Shoppe not far from her original location. The song she sang with such passion died on her lips. For that Ben was grateful.
She stared for a long moment at the display of candies with a wistful look of longing. Ben studied her delicate profile, her upturned nose, her full lips, but he had never quite discerned the color of her eyes. He suspected they were crystalline, like precious stones, reminding him of his family’s palace in Amythra, a place far removed from his thoughts more often than not in recent days. Reminding him of Royal’s missing legendary red diamond and trusted friend Riley Monroe’s murder. Reminding Ben of his mission: to find the missing red diamond and return it to its hiding place with two other precious stones. The jewels’ existence had been known only in legend, but they were very real. The Texas Cattleman’s Club members served as guardians over the heirlooms, as set out by the club’s founder, Tex Langley. No member took the duty lightly, including Ben. And he was as determined to protect Jamie Morris in the process of recovering the jewel.
Jamie turned away, but not before Ben caught another glimpse of her plaintive expression. Then she began to whistle as she moved to the curb toward her aged blue sedan parked across the downtown street. He must make his move now.
The squeal of tires heightened Ben’s awareness, the bitter taste of danger on his tongue. He glanced toward the grating noise to find that a car was headed in the direction of the sidewalk, aimed at an unsuspecting Jamie Morris.
His heart rate accelerated. Sheer instinct and military training thrust him forward, in slow motion it seemed. Protect her! screamed out from his brain.
As he reached Jamie, the vehicle’s right front wheel swerved onto the sidewalk. Ben shoved her aside, out of danger, sending her backward onto the concrete in a heap. Her head hit the pavement with a sickening thud. The car sped away.
Ben knelt at her side, his belly knotted with fear—fear that he may have caused her more harm in his efforts to save her. “Miss Morris? Are you all right?”
When Jamie attempted to stand, Ben took her arm and helped her to her feet, relieved that she seemed to be without injury.
She grabbed up the bag from where it had landed next to a weathered light pole, brushing one small hand lovingly over the plastic. “I’m okay.”
Concerned over her condition, he grasped her elbow to steady her when she swayed. “Perhaps we should have you examined by a doctor.”
She stared at him with a slightly unfocused gaze and as he had suspected, her eyes were light in color, verdant, clear as an oasis pool. A smile tipped the corner of her full lips as she touched the kaffiyeh covering his head. “White Sale in progress at Murphy’s today?” With that, her eyes drifted shut, and she collapsed into Ben’s arms.
He lifted her up, noting how small she felt against him. Fragile. Helpless. Had he failed to protect her after all? If so, he would never forgive himself.
Lowering his ear to her mouth, he felt her warm breath fan his face. He laid his cheek against her left breast and felt the steady beat of her heart. A wave of welcome relief washed over him, and so did an intense need to shelter her.
A small crowd of Saturday-morning shoppers began to gather. Sounds of concern echoed in Ben’s ears. “Is that little Jamie Morris?” someone inquired. “Is she dead?” another questioned. An older gentleman asked if he should dial 911.
“No,” Ben stated firmly. “I shall find her proper medical attention.”
Her injuries must be worse than they appeared, but at the moment he needed to get her away from the open street. Away from imminent danger. Although he had not seen the culprit, he knew who had been behind the wheel—Klimt—yet he did not know where he had gone.
Tightening his hold on Jamie, Ben crossed the street and headed for his car. She still clutched the bag, but her body lay limp against his chest.
Thankful that she was small, he laid her across the bench seat of his sedan and tossed the bag into the back. He quickly rounded the car and slid into the driver’s side, grabbing for the cellular phone and hitting the speed dial to access Justin Webb’s private number as he pulled away from the curb.
“Yeah,” Webb answered, the noted physician sounding suspiciously as if he had recently crawled from bed. Ben suspected that either his new child or his new wife, had kept him up all night. He believed it to be the latter.
“We have a serious problem, Sadíiq. Someone has tried to run down Miss Morris in a car, then escaped.”
“Is she okay?”
Ben studied Jamie’s face resting near his thigh. Her eyes fluttered open, and she mumbled something he did not understand. “I pushed her away before he could do serious damage. She stood on her own before fainting, but she has struck her head on the pavement. At the moment, she is in and out of consciousness.”
“Is she bleeding?”
Ben searched for signs of blood with one quick glance over Jamie’s curled form. Blessedly, he saw none. “Not that I see.”
“Can you rouse her?”
Ben shook her shoulder. “Miss Morris?”
She curled her knees farther into her body and her hands against her breasts. She smiled up at him for a moment before drifting off again.
“Yes. But she falls back to sleep. I will take her to the hospital.”
“Don’t,” Justin said firmly. “If Klimt did this, then he could be waiting for you there. Take her to your place. Talk to her. Try to get her to stay awake. I’m on my way.”
Ben clicked off the cell phone and tossed it onto the floor. He shook Jamie’s frail shoulder again. “Miss Morris?”
“Hmmm…?” Her eyes fluttered open.
“Where are you injured?”
“I’m fine, just fine,” she muttered, then inched closer to him and rested her head on his thigh, facing the dashboard, one hand cupping his knee beneath his djellaba.
She stroked delicate fingers up and down his silk trouser leg and mumbled, “Nice.”
Ben’s flesh quaked beneath her random touch. His thigh muscles contracted, not in protest but in pleasure. He did not find her proximity nice at all. He found it intoxicating, as was the scent of roses filtering through his nostrils. And his thoughts at the moment were anything but nice.
“Mother.”
Ben briefly took his gaze from the road and looked down on her innocent face and half-closed eyes. “What about your mother?”
She tried to raise her head then let it drop back into his lap. “Dress. Mother’s dress.”
Obviously she referred to the garment she had retrieved earlier. It must hold great sentimental value, the reason why she had made haste in reclaiming it from the sidewalk.
Ben laid a hand on her silky hair and stroked it gently. “Do not worry. It is here, safe from harm.”
Looking somewhat satisfied, she turned her face and nuzzled her nose against him.
Precisely against the crease