Girl in the Bedouin Tent

Quick. Contained. Lethally effective. Though Amir retained enough control to do no more than stop the aggressor in his tracks. It was more difficult than he’d expected to stifle the urge for violent retaliation. The need to avenge Cassie was a roaring tide in his blood.

The man was easily recognisable as the one who’d led Cassie into the feasting tent last night. The gaoler she’d flinched from. The man who’d left his mark on her skin.

Anger scythed through Amir’s belly.

He gathered Cassie to him. Despite the enveloping cloak it could be no other. Her size and proximity to his tent made it inevitable. Who else would have the temerity to keep fighting so desperately against the biggest, most brutal guard in Mustafa’s retinue?

As he drew her in, close within the curve of his arm, every sense confirmed her identity.

How could a woman he barely knew feel so familiar? It wasn’t merely that she fitted perfectly, tucked under his chin, her arms snaking around his waist as if for support. It was something indefinable that stirred unaccustomed sensations.

A need to protect. A desire to comfort.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was a hoarse gasp that tore at his control. He felt the heat of her heavy breathing through the fine cotton of his clothes and pulled her in tighter.

Nevertheless she stood stiffly, as if poised to repel further attack, every straining muscle tense.

This woman was brave to the point of being foolhardy.

‘What possessed you to leave the tent?’ She knew there were guards. That she’d be stopped if they saw her.

‘It was so late I thought you weren’t coming back.’