The Sheikh's Princess Bride. Annie West
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that?’ His fingers dug into her arm.
‘Tariq! Let me go. You’re hurting.’ Fear trickled through her insides at his fierce expression. She couldn’t recall him ever looking this way. It was like staring into the face of a warrior intent on blood.
‘My apologies.’ The words were stilted but in an instant his hand was gone, the savage light in his eyes muted.
Yet Samira was still trapped. His big frame cornered her, blocking access to the door.
‘Who was it?’ He growled, the sound tracking across her skin and burrowing deep inside. ‘Tell me.’
‘Why? There’s no point.’ Restlessly her fingers slid along the slim strap of her bag. ‘I’m not accepting their offers.’ She shivered. Such an arrangement would destroy her.
‘Does Asim know?’
Samira’s lips twisted. ‘You think I’d tell my brother about that? You have to be joking.’
She’d had enough trouble getting Asim to promise not to lay a hand on Jackson Brent all those years ago. Vengeance wouldn’t help, only inflame the situation. Now here was Tariq, looking like he wanted to take somebody apart limb from limb.
A kernel of heat flared in the cold emptiness of her abdomen. He mightn’t want her but he cared enough to be incensed on her behalf.
Samira sighed; his protectiveness was one of the attributes that would make him a wonderful husband and father.
She straightened to her full height, wishing she’d worn higher heels so she didn’t feel so dwarfed. It wasn’t just his size. He bristled with a furious energy that made her far too aware of the solid muscle and power in that long, strong body of his.
She dragged in oxygen, telling herself she wasn’t overawed by this macho male. Wasn’t her brother another of the same?
Her deep, sustaining breath drew in something new: sandalwood and spice and hot, male flesh. Her nostrils flared eagerly and she stiffened, stunned as a swirl of reaction eddied within.
Samira stepped back, disturbed at the way her body betrayed her.
‘Not so fast.’ Tariq paced with her, hemming her against a sofa. ‘I want to know—’
‘No. You don’t.’ Finally Samira reasserted herself, projecting the composure she gathered about herself when the going got tough. ‘It’s none of your business, Tariq. You’re not my keeper. In fact you’ve just passed up the opportunity to be anything to me but an old friend. An acquaintance.’
His mouth flattened and she sensed his keen brain sifting her words. He didn’t like them but there was nothing he could do.
‘So, once more, thank you for your time and goodbye.’
She didn’t offer to shake hands. The imprint of his touch still burned her upper arm. Not from pain but, she assured herself, because she wasn’t used to being so close to a man. The tremulous little stirrings in her belly—the quickened breathing, the reaction to his skin’s aroma—were proof of that. It wasn’t anything personal.
‘Wait.’
Samira hesitated, then slowly lifted her eyes to his. There it was again, a twinge of something that felt far too much like physical awareness.
‘What is it?’ The words shot out, crisp with challenge.
‘Have you asked anyone else?’
Her eyes widened. ‘To marry me?’ Did he think she’d lined up a list of candidates to interview by the hour?
What sort of woman did he think she was?
Desperate.
The word surfaced despite her efforts to suppress it. And she was. But not desperate enough to do this more than once. Today’s humiliation was enough.
Besides, only Tariq had tempted her to think of marriage. There was no other man she trusted enough.
‘Only you,’ she said at last, daring him to preen at the compliment.
‘And will you ask anyone else?’ He leaned closer, looming over her as if to intimidate.
Except Samira was undaunted. She might have laid herself open to rejection but she had her pride. That and her determination never to give up were what kept her going. She didn’t need his interference or his sympathy.
Anger spiked.
Deliberately she reached out and tweaked the precise knot in his silk tie, twitching it unnecessarily, then patting it in place, ignoring the heat of bone and solid muscle beneath his shirt.
‘It’s kind of you to be interested in my plans, Tariq, but what I do is none of your business. It ceased to be when you rejected my proposal.’ She favoured him with a gracious smile that masked her desire to see him squirm. ‘I’ll give your regards to Asim and Jacqui when I see them, shall I?’
His hand clamped over hers as she made to withdraw it. He pressed her palm against the crisp, body-warmed cotton of his shirt so she caught the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath her touch. It felt too intimate.
She should have known not to play provocative games with Tariq. He had so much more experience than her.
‘Not just yet.’ He paused, his keen gaze roving her features. ‘Come back tomorrow for my final answer.’
Samira stared back, hope and disbelief vying for supremacy, anticipation stirring. ‘You seriously want time to consider?’
His thumb stroked hers in a long sweep, drawing a tiny, jittering reaction through her.
‘You raised some persuasive points.’ He murmured in that dangerously deep voice. ‘It would be premature to reject the idea out of hand.’
Did he hope to delay long enough to go behind her back and contact Asim, hoping her brother would scotch her plans?
As if it mattered. She wasn’t in the market for just any husband. If Tariq turned her down, that was it.
‘You’ve changed your tune.’ Samira narrowed her gaze and pulled her hand from his before the tingling in her fingers spread up her arm.
He shrugged, the movement emphasising his superior size and strength, but she refused to be intimidated. ‘You took me by surprise. I need to think about it.’
Slowly, Samira nodded. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt. What other choice did she have? She smiled, hope rising tentatively, and watched something flicker and intensify in that deep gaze.
‘I understand. It’s not a decision to be taken lightly.’ She hesitated, searching for the right words. ‘You needn’t worry, either, that I’d interfere with your...personal life.’ A flush warmed her cheeks but she ploughed on. It had to be said and it might be a clinching argument in her favour. ‘I know you have a lot of lovers and I don’t expect...’ Samira paused, searching for words.
‘You don’t expect me to give them up? Is that it? You give me carte blanche to play the field?’ Tariq’s tone was harsh and for some reason she didn’t understand why he looked angry.
Samira frowned, wondering what she’d said to stir his temper. Surely she was offering the sort of arrangement any man would appreciate?
She understood his decency, his honour and strength, but after so many years apart he was a stranger in many ways.
‘I’m not looking for love or sex, Tariq.’ Valiantly she suppressed a shudder at the thought of deluding herself with either, making herself vulnerable again. ‘I don’t expect you to pretend you feel for me what you did for your first wife.’ She’d had her fill of pretence from a man. All she wanted was honesty. ‘And it would be unfair to expect you to be celibate. I understand a man like you has needs.’
‘Needs?’ Tariq’s gaze honed to shards of rough-cut emerald.