Girl in the Bedouin Tent

‘What about this?’ She hooked a hand through the finer chain encircling her waist. He followed her gesture, his gaze dropping to her almost bare body. Heat coursed through her. ‘Can you get this off?’

He shook his head and slowly lifted his eyes. ‘I’d need tools to remove it. Tools I don’t have with me.’

Dismay filled her. She’d have to keep wearing it? Unlike the other one, this wasn’t heavy but it was a potent reminder of her untenable situation. A slave chain.

Her heady sense of freedom disintegrated as harsh reality returned.

‘When we return to Tarakhar it will be a quick matter to remove it.’

Silently Cassie nodded, telling herself she was grateful for what he’d achieved. Suddenly exhaustion crept into her limbs and she felt the last of her energy seep away.

Amir gestured to the massive old-fashioned hip bath the servants had filled with hot water. Curls of steam rose languidly from the surface.

‘I’ll leave you now to wash.’ He turned and was almost out through the door before pausing. ‘Call if you need anything.’

By his watch not much time elapsed before she emerged from the bathing room. But it seemed like hours. Hours in which Amir had soothed his fury by planning suitable punishment for Mustafa and those involved in the kidnapping. Yet Amir’s thoughts strayed continually to Cassie Denison’s vibrant face, her courage and determination. Her lush body.

Those long minutes working the ancient padlock free of the chain at her waist had been torment. He guessed she’d steeled herself against his touch. He hadn’t questioned her yet on how badly she’d been abused by her kidnappers, and bile rose in his throat at the thought of any of Mustafa’s rabble laying hands on her.

That was what had made his hands unsteady: anger.

He’d been eager to get the job done, to give her the privacy she needed. Yet he’d been curiously fumble-fingered. It hadn’t just been the old lock that had been the problem. His unsteady hands had been as much to blame.

Her innocent questions about the old wall hanging, no doubt scavenged by Mustafa in some raid on an ancient stronghold, had channelled Amir’s thoughts in directions that were too intimate for comfort.

He knew the look, scent, sound and feel of her. In one moment of heady madness he’d wondered how she’d taste on his tongue, till he’d pulled himself up short and focused on the lock.

His celibacy these past months told against him, letting his thoughts easily stray to sexual pleasure. It had been too long since he’d taken a woman into his bed.

He breathed deep. His advisors were right. The sooner he married the better.

Mistresses were well and good, but he grew tired of their demands and their grasping eagerness. How long since the pleasure of having beautiful women vie for his attention had begun to pall?

A wife wouldn’t cling. A wife would be busy with the royal household, with raising their children. But she’d be there for his comfort too.

He smiled, enjoying the notion.

Till he realised the woman in his imaginings had eyes of deep violet and hair like tumbled corn silk.

The bedroom was still, almost dark but for the dimmed light of a single lamp. Yet Cassie paused on the threshold, her heart thumping.

The bed was massive. Low and wide enough for four. Yet it looked far too full with just one man occupying it.

No matter that he’d given his word. That he’d assured her she was safe. Cassie couldn’t share his bed.

A shiver spidered its way down her backbone, drawing her skin taut at the idea. Silently she crept across the carpeted floor to gather up her black cloak. Holding her breath, she reached her other hand to the bed and slid a massive pillow towards her.

He remained oblivious, his chest rising and falling slightly with each breath.

A spurt of indignation filled her that he should be so unaffected by her presence, her story of abduction and ill use, that he’d fallen asleep. Yet it made this easier.

With quick, efficient movements Cassie wrapped the cloak around herself and curled up on a silk carpet beside the bed. She nestled her head on the plump pillow and almost sighed her pleasure. Every bone ached with tiredness.

‘You can’t sleep there.’ The crisp voice came out of the darkness. Instantly she stiffened.

‘I prefer to sleep alone.’

‘We’ve been through this, Cassie.’ Was that a sigh she heard? ‘Still you do not trust me?’

‘It’s not …’ Of course it was. A matter of trust.

But how could she trust this stranger as completely as he expected?

A stranger whose touch had been gentle yet soothingly impersonal as he’d removed that hated lead chain. A stranger whose deep voice and efficient, unfussy care had eased her frayed nerves and given her support when she needed it.

Still—

Her thoughts disintegrated as warmth surrounded her. Strong arms lifted her tight against his solid form.

Terror engulfed her, obliterating her tentative sense of wellbeing. Cassie fought to escape but could get no purchase on the smooth, hard muscle of his bare torso. Not when his body seemed made of unbreakable steel beneath the warm silk of his skin.

A whoosh of air was expelled from her lungs as he dropped her onto the bed. Cassie barely touched the mattress before she was scrabbling to escape, but he sat beside her, his hip hard against her own, his hold firm as he captured her flailing hands in one of his.

‘Enough!’ The single word broke through her panicked struggles. ‘Enough. You are quite safe.’

Safe? Cassie stared up at a broad, muscled torso dusted with dark hair, to a dangerously angled jaw accentuated by the shadow of stubble. Her heart gave a single lurch. Of fear or something else?

‘You can’t sleep on the floor. You will sleep here, with me, and you will give the impression, when the servants arrive in the morning, that you are well content. Is that understood?’

Eyes like glittering black jade met hers. ‘Cassie? Do you understand? It must appear we spent the night as lovers. For your own safety. Unless you wish to be taken away.’

Cassie swallowed, the movement like scratching sandpaper in her throat. Through the manic pounding of her heart the only sound was her ragged breathing. Fury, she assured herself.

He leaned a fraction closer and the scent of sandalwood tickled her nostrils. ‘All right?’

‘You give me no choice!’ She had no doubt he’d bring her back if she shifted from the bed.

‘I’m glad you understand.’ Amir moved then, bending away from her and reaching out to something beside the bed.

Cassie froze, wary and at the same time mesmerised by the shift and bunch of muscles in his torso. She’d never realised how imposing a naked male could be up close.

‘Here.’ He closed her fingers around something cold. ‘My gift to you.’ He straightened.

Frowning, Cassie turned from him to look at the heavy object in her hand.

‘Hold it like this.’ His hand closed around hers and he drew from the scabbard a lethal-looking blade that gleamed wickedly in the lamplight.

‘You’re kidding!’ Cassie’s breath sucked in on a hiss of disbelief.