Captivated by the Sheikh: For the Sheikh's Pleasure / In the Sheikh's Arms / Sheikh Surgeon

Her head tilted back and her bright eyes met his. The force of their impact sent heat sparking through him.

‘It’s tempting but, no, I couldn’t. I have responsibilities.’

Her daughter. Of course.

Suddenly the prospect of their short relationship ending, as it naturally would, loomed on the horizon, far too close. The thought unsettled him.

Could it be that he wanted more than a few days with Rosalie? More than the pleasure of her body for the time it took him to recuperate and resume his normal routine?

‘Perhaps during another visit, later?’

She hesitated for a moment. Long enough for him to be appalled at how he hung on her answer. Did her presence mean that much to him?

‘Maybe one day,’ she said at last, slipping her hand away. ‘In the meantime I need to work on my painting skills. I’m so rusty.’

‘Then it’s a good thing you have time in which to work on them.’ He gestured for her to precede him towards the gate. ‘We will meet at the same time tomorrow?’

‘Yes, same time tomorrow.’ Her voice was light and breathless, as if she were nervous. But that didn’t bother him. She intended to meet him again, despite her…faintness earlier. His bloodstream fizzed in anticipation.

Whatever had happened to make her wary, Rosalie Winters kissed like a woman blind to everything but him. And he intended to capitalise on that enthusiasm. Very soon.

Chapter Six

ROSALIE looked around the huge room with its magnificent view over the sea and knew she’d stepped straight into a world of wealth that most people never experienced.

There was nothing gaudy or ostentatious here but Arik’s home was imbued with the luxury only serious money could buy. Generation upon generation of riches and privilege. And hard fought battles, she realised, noting the pair of antique muskets mounted over an arched doorway. They were decorated with the finest silver embossing, making them fit weapons for a sheikh.

‘It’s breathtaking,’ she said, turning slowly around. And it was. From the spectacular panorama along the coast to the superb silks of hand woven rugs and tapestries. From the fine-grained leather of low modern lounges to the high vaulted ceiling tiled in a mosaic the colour of lapis lazuli, complete with a sprinkling of golden stars.

‘It pleases me that you approve of my home.’ Arik was his usual urbane self as he watched her take in her surroundings. His eyes were unreadable, his tall body relaxed. Again she wished he wasn’t quite such a perfect host. She longed for a glimmer of the passion she’d seen in him two days ago. That she’d felt in the erotic caress of his mouth against hers.

Heat burned across her cheeks at the memory and she swung round towards the wide terrace that hung out over the cliff.

The memory of Arik’s kiss. She’d been unable to put it from her mind. Or forget her reaction to it.

She’d gone to the beach the following day, half nervous, half secretly thrilled at the thought of him kissing her again. This time he’d pull her close in his arms, let her feel his strong body against hers, alleviate her burgeoning curiosity to know his touch.

She’d gone expecting another lesson in seduction from this man who was obviously a master of the art. She hadn’t even considered not going—and that was the most telling thing of all. Despite her past, despite the fact that she hadn’t trusted a man in years, the need to see Arik again, to be with him, overrode all else.

Perhaps, as her mother promised, time did heal. Maybe she was ready to take a chance on life.

Rosalie stared through the plate glass doors to the terrace and, beyond that, the vivid aquamarine of the sea.

It had been a momentous thing for her, deciding she wanted what Arik offered: the chance to experience passion, to ease the unceasing hollow ache deep inside her that told her she wanted a man—wanted him. That had been a revelation of her own femininity. Proof that she really had moved on from her troubled past.

In the long ago days when she’d indulged in daydreams she’d pictured a future with a man by her side. Someone she could rely on, who’d love her always. But times had changed and she knew that what Arik offered was perfect for her now: a way to explore her feelings, assuage these new found sexual cravings in safety. For he would be tender. He could be trusted.

And he was experienced enough to teach her all she longed to know. She shivered and crossed her arms at the thought of what she wanted from Arik.

Too bad he’d obviously changed his mind.

She was ready for more. But now he behaved like a perfect distant gentleman. He avoided so much as touching her hand, had clearly pulled back from intimacy. Dully she’d wondered if she’d kissed so badly that he’d decided she was no longer worth the effort of seducing. It wouldn’t surprise her.

But he was a man to whom a promise was important and it seemed he was determined to stick to their bargain. Lunch yesterday had been a short affair. Then in the afternoon he’d driven her round part of the coast road, pointing out towns, historic sites and scenic vistas that should have caught and held her imagination. But she’d been too deep in disappointment to care.

How did you tell a man you wanted him to make love to you? Was it really that simple? And what if, like Arik, he’d clearly decided he was no longer interested?

Last night in her lonely bed had been the worst. She’d been so edgy she hadn’t slept. Even after a long phone chat with her mother and Belle. Even after a relaxing bath. All that had achieved was to remind her that her body was…aroused. Ready for Arik’s touch.

Heat scalded through her. Even now, after a second morning of polite decorum from Arik while she’d painted, she couldn’t banish her craving for him. It was shaming, this relentless need, the breath-stealing suspense as she watched his every move and hoped he’d reach out to touch her.

Sensual awareness had come late to her and she hadn’t yet mastered the art of controlling it. Why else was she standing here, breathless with the forlorn hope that even now, after two days of scrupulous distance, Arik might continue where their kiss had left off?

Blindly she groped for the door handle, swung open the glass door and stepped out. She needed air. She needed sanctuary. She’d been an idiot to agree when Arik had suggested they lunch at his home today. What she really needed was to get away while she had some shred of self-respect left.

She leaned heavily on the stone balustrade, her fingers gripping tightly, her chest constricting as she fought for control.

Laughable, wasn’t it? Finally to decide to take up Arik’s seductive promise of a no-strings affair and then to discover the option was no longer on offer. She shook her head miserably. Just another of life’s disappointments.

In the overall scheme of things, this surely didn’t rate such profound regret.

‘Rosalie?’ He stopped just a pace behind her and saw the tension stiffen her spine when she realised he was so close. The sea breeze fanned her hair and he shoved his hands deep in his pockets rather than reach out and fondle the silken tresses.

‘It’s a magnificent view. You’re so lucky to have this.’ Her gesture encompassed not only the beach far below but the ancient fortress that was his home. Yet he was more interested in the high uneven tone of her voice and in her averted profile.

She was doing it again, shutting him out.

Damn it! After two days of superhuman restraint, he deserved more. He’d read the pain so clear in her expression after their kiss and he’d respected her need for space. It had almost killed him, reining in the drive to claim her. To bind her close in his arms and not let her escape till he found satisfaction. That kiss, a mere taste of her treasures, had only titillated.

He needed more. Far more.

What had begun as an idle amusement had become a raw compulsion. He’d recognised her wariness, her fear, and gone slow. But he’d seen the hot desire in her unconscious responses and now it was time to act.

‘Yes, extremely lucky.’ He took another step towards her, close enough to feel the heat she generated and hear the hasty breath she sucked in. ‘My ancestors fought long and hard to win this territory and keep it safe for their people.’

‘And now you enjoy the benefits.’

Still her head was averted. Was she afraid of what he might read in her face? The thought spurred him. He leaned forward and placed one hand on the balustrade beside hers. There was a neatness to it—her hand, small and delicate, yet, he knew, clever and capable, beside his own. She’d be like that all over: skin pale and soft, dainty and feminine. In his mind’s eye he could picture his own darker, larger hand moving slowly across her bare flesh, sliding, caressing, discovering. He could almost hear her sighs as he located each sensitive spot on her body and claimed it for himself.

‘I make it my policy always to enjoy the benefits on offer.’

Her head swung round then, her eyes wide and confused. Her lips parted and he wanted to duck his head and taste her. Instead he took a slow breath and reached for her hand. It slid into his unresistingly and he felt his mouth kick up in a tight smile of satisfaction.

‘Come, Rosalie. Our lunch will be ready. You can admire the view later.’

She was silent as he led her into the house. Silent as he took her through room after room, giving her a potted history of the fortress-cum-palace that had been built by one of his ancestors hundreds of years ago. He had no idea if she took in his words; he barely registered them himself. He was more absorbed in the feel of her, hand in his, the proximity of her so close beside him as he took her deeper into the palace.

‘Your home is huge,’ she said at last as they approached the end of a long passageway.