Sheikh's Honor

“Can you imagine that Princess Zara would have encouraged me to come here, into the home of her own family, if such a dreadful thing had happened?”

“If she was pretending to herself it hadn’t happened, she might,” she felt driven to point out. It wasn’t that she believed it, necessarily, but it was possible. He had to see that.

He stared at her, honestly startled. “Pretending to herself? How could a woman pretend such a thing? Why would she?”

Clio felt anxiety creeping up in her. “It does happen, you know! Women take the blame on themselves, or they don’t want to face what happened to them! Denial does happen!”

He was silent, watching her. Then he said softly, “Does it, Clio? Are you sure?”

“If you understood anything about psychology you wouldn’t have to ask.”

“Do you deny something? Has someone hurt you, so that it is easier to imagine I hurt your sister than to accept what happened to yourself?” he asked, proving that he understood more than somewhat about psychology.

She gasped in indignant fury and clenched her fists. Never had she so wanted to hit someone. But she looked at Jalal and saw the warning in his eyes. Gentle as he was with the children, his look warned her that he would not be gentle with her if she attacked him.

“Nothing has ever happened to me!” she exploded, her rage escaping in words. “Let’s get one thing straight, Jalal—whatever did or did not happen in your camp, we’re enemies, and it’s because of what you yourself did.”

He shook his head in flat contradiction. “We are not enemies. That is not what is between us,” he said softly.

Five

Clio opened her mouth soundlessly as shivers like a flood ran over her body.

“You make your sister an excuse to avoid what frightens you. That is all, is it not?”

He stepped closer, and she backed up against the counter. In the pit of her stomach a hard ball of fire suddenly revealed itself.

“I am not afraid!” she protested hotly.

“Good,” he whispered, and when she lifted a hand in protest his hand wrapped her wrist. Every nerve leapt at the touch. Fury seemed to come from nowhere and whip against her like wild wind.

Slowly he bent closer. He was going to kiss her.

She couldn’t allow it. She wanted to hit him. Something like a scream was in her throat and she wanted desperately to beat him off. But she couldn’t seem to work her muscles.

“Do you always just do what you want without asking?” she demanded.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmured thoughtfully, his mouth only inches from her own. “In this country, do men ask permission for such a thing?”

She tried to swallow. “Yes,” she said defiantly. Her mouth felt as dry as the desert he came from, where the rules between men and women were so different. She wanted to push him away, to get to a place where the air was clear. But the unfamiliar lassitude would not let her go.

“Then they understand nothing.” He drew closer, and she felt the heat of his arm encircle her back, his firm hand at her waist. His breath touched her cheek as his eyes challenged hers. She felt the look deep inside her, stirring the depths of her self.

He stroked the skin that she had so foolishly left bare between her short top and low-cut shorts. Sensation skittered down her body to her toes. Under the thin top, her breasts shivered.

Suddenly she was angry with herself. This was the man she had sworn only days ago would be always her enemy!

“What do men do in the desert?” she demanded cynically. “Grab whatever they see? Well, of course they do!” she told herself brightly. “You proved—”

“In the desert we first make sure that a woman longs for the kiss, and then we kiss her without asking.”

The sheer male arrogance of such a statement caused angry fire to leap in her chest and abdomen. She clamped her teeth together, because she could hardly prevent herself from shouting at him that he was an arrogant barbarian. But he had warned her….

His hand was moving against her spine. His other hand touched her neck, and his thumb traced her jawline.

Her mouth felt swollen—not that she wanted any kiss from him! But he was as mesmerizing as a snake, he really was. She flicked her eyes up to his.

The naked desire she saw there shook her to the core. She had thought him attracted, but not as powerfully as this! He looked at her like a starving man. Clio’s heart tripped into an unsteady rhythm. Feeling she didn’t recognize roared through her.

“Then you will never kiss me,” she said, finding her voice.

His hands stilled their motion. The heat was too much. She felt burned.

“Do you challenge me, Clio? When a woman challenges a man, she must beware. He may accept her challenge.”

She had no idea why his words created such sudden torment in her, or what that torment was. Her whole body churned with feeling. She felt faint, almost sick. She wished he would get away from her, so she could breathe.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you hear the word no as a challenge?” she asked defiantly.

His thumb tilted her chin, bringing her face closer to his full mouth, and her heart responded with nervous, quickened pulse. He smiled quizzically at her.

“But I have not heard the word no, Clio. Did you say it?”

Bee-bee-bee, bee-bee-bee.

They were both jolted by the high, piercing sound. Jalal frowned and looked around, and Clio tried to gather her wits.

“Is it a fire alarm?” he asked.

She finally identified the noise. “Oh, my God, it’s an intruder alarm!” Clio cried, and as he released her she ran to the monitor panel above her father’s desk in an alcove. A dozen lights glowed steady; one was flashing its urgent beacon. She bent down to read the tag.

“Solitaire!” she breathed. “It can’t be Dad, he wasn’t going there today.”

He watched as she opened a small cupboard and snatched up a set of keys, then stood back out of her way as she whirled and lightly ran to the screen door of the kitchen and opened it.

“Ben!” she called.

Jalal followed her as she ran along the wooden porch and down onto the dock. When she reached the boat, he was right behind her. She quickly untied the stern rope, and when Jalal bent to the bow, Clio clambered aboard and started the motor. Meanwhile Rosalie and Donnelly raced towards the dock from further along the beach.

“The intruder alarm has gone off at Solitaire! It’s probably a raccoon!” she cried, as Jalal came aboard with more grace and expertise than his first effort. Clio swung the boat in a wide arc, and as they passed the end of the dock, she continued to Ben and Rosalie, “You’d better call Dad! Tell him I’m on my way there and I’ll call him if there’s a problem.”

Rosalie stood holding Donnelly’s hand, and all three were nodding. “Be careful!” And then Clio booted up the motor and the boat obediently climbed up out of the waves and planed across the surface at top speed.

“What is Solitaire?” Jalal asked, settling beside her.

She blinked and seemed to see him for the first time. “Oh, hi!” she said. It had seemed so natural for Jalal to be there that it was only now she actively registered his presence.

“One of the rental cottages,” she said. “It’s kind of isolated.”