Girl in the Bedouin Tent

‘But you can’t expect me to stay here!’

‘I cannot cut this visit short.’

‘Not even to rescue a woman in distress?’ Cassie never thought she’d play the helpless female, but her situation was dire.

He spread his hands, drawing her gaze to long, capable fingers and strong wrists.

‘I’m here to put an end to the sort of border raid to which you fell victim. If diplomacy fails force will be needed. I’m sure you’ll understand my preference not to risk the lives of my citizens unless absolutely necessary.’

At his words she raised her head and found her gaze captured.

‘I cannot risk what’s happened to you happening to anyone else.’

Cassie sat back on her heels. She applauded his purpose. Yet she had to fight to suppress a demand that he take her away from here now—this instant!

‘But even if you’re staying here I could—’

‘What?’ His eyebrows arrowed down and his lips thinned. ‘Find your own way to safety?’

Did he have to sound so dismissive? She wasn’t that naïve. ‘Perhaps some of your people could take me.’

Already he was shaking his head. ‘I only have a small staff with me and all are required here.’ He paused. ‘I regret it, but your only option is to leave when I do.’

Cassie clamped her mouth shut and looked away, lest he see the desperation in her eyes.

‘This isn’t as I’d wish it either.’ His voice dropped. ‘But it’s the only way. Look at me, Cassandra.’

Startled by the sound of her name on his lips, she swung round. ‘Cassie.’

‘Cassie, then.’ Eyes as black as the midnight desert sky bored into hers. She had the unnerving sensation he looked deep into her soul. ‘You will forgive my need for absolute honesty?’

‘I’d prefer it.’ Knowledge was strength. She needed to know where she stood.

He nodded. ‘It’s essential the camp believes I am content with this arrangement. And that you accept it.’

Her eyes widened as his meaning sank in.

‘Should they believe otherwise, Mustafa will give you to someone else and find me a replacement companion. Or keep you for himself.’ Dark eyes pinioned hers. ‘Do you want to risk that?’

Dread coursed through her veins and she shuddered, remembering the avid faces of the all-male crowd who’d watched as she was presented like some trophy to this man.

Reluctantly she shook her head. She’d stay. For now.

Half an hour later Cassie stood rigid, eyes fixed on a wall hanging of a courtyard garden with fountains and ornamental trees and beautiful ladies. One played a stringed instrument, one brushed the long, dark hair of another who lifted a cup daintily to her lips. Yet another picked a blossom with delicate fingers.

‘It’s a garden of pleasures,’ the voice, low and rich, murmured. His breath was a puff of warmth on her bare arm and her skin contracted as if brushed by soft suede.

Cassie cleared her throat. ‘Really?’ She tried not to notice the way his body heat seemed to inflame her bare skin when he stood so close. Whenever his fingers brushed her bare torso she felt a curious trembling.

‘Absolutely. In countries like this a garden is a paradise, a place of bountiful water, of green growing things and beauty.’

Cassie knew he only spoke to keep her mind off the fact that he was having trouble unlocking the long lead to the chain around her waist. Yet she found herself lulled by the tantalising burr of his low voice.

Half an hour of kindness, of reassurance, and her terror had abated. Enough for the rigid tension to seep away and anxiety to drop to a barely there undercurrent.

Now she registered other things. A growing awareness of the man beside her, and of her own body.

Perhaps it was the aftermath of stress that made her so sensitive to his nearness. And to his touch.

‘And the women in the picture?’ She searched for a way to keep him talking. She told herself it was to keep her mind off the worry that the ancient padlock on the chain would never open. Not because she needed distraction from the feel of his large hands brushing her skin with a delicacy that sent whorls of sensation through her.

‘Steady, now. This lock is very stiff. You need to be still.’

Cassie sucked in her breath as he insinuated his fingers beneath the chain at her waist and tried to ease the lock free.

‘The women represent the pleasures of the senses. Soothing music, the scent of blossom, the taste of sweet nectar, the pleasure of touch and the sight of beauty.’

He tugged, then moved, adjusting his hold, and she hurried into speech. ‘That’s fascinating. I just thought it was a nice design.’

‘It’s far more than that. It can be read on several levels.’ She felt the soft brush of his hair on her bare skin as he bent close over the old lock. ‘Really? What other meanings does it have?’

One hard shoulder shrugged against Cassie’s hip. There was a sound of grating, then at last a click. A moment later he straightened, holding up one end of the long lead chain and its ancient padlock.

He grinned, a three-cornered smile that creased his face in unfamiliar lines and made this autocratic lord of the desert suddenly look younger, more approachable and devastatingly attractive.

Cassie’s heart thudded to a quickening pace.

Because the loathsome chain was off. That was all.

‘The picture is also a metaphor for the pleasures to be found in a lover.’ His eyes held hers and Cassie’s breathing shallowed. ‘The feel of her soft skin, the sound of her sighs, the feminine scent of her, the pleasure to be found in the sight and the taste of her.’

His gaze dropped to her lips and a tingle of effervescence shot through her blood.

An instant later he’d stepped away, his attention on the chain in his hands. Cassie drew a deep breath, telling herself she was glad he’d moved. Her gaze dropped to the chain and she wrapped her arms around her torso. To be tethered like an animal had been degrading.

‘You’ll be more comfortable without this.’ Anger coloured his voice and his knuckles tightened on the ancient links before he let it fall with a dull thud. ‘I will have it removed in the morning.’

Her stomach clenched hard and hope flared at the sense this man really did take her part. Always she’d fought her battles alone. This time she was grateful for help.

‘Thank you, Your Highness.’ Was that her voice, so breathless?

His head jerked up and their gazes collided. ‘In the circumstances we can drop the formalities. You may call me Amir.’

Cassie swallowed. After all she’d been through why did this simple, sensible offer touch her to the core? Was she so desperate for a friendly face? A gentle tone?

She still felt so … vulnerable.

‘Thank you, Amir.’ She paused, listening to the sound of his name on her tongue.