The Desert Virgin

“It’s difficult to imagine that a woman like this—any woman, for that matter—could do something so terrible it would anger a man like you, Excellency,” he said, hoping the barbarous lie would work.

It seemed to. Asaad’s grip loosened.

“You are correct, Mr. Knight. I am a kind man. A generous one. But Layla pushed me beyond human endurance.”

The name suited the setting. So did her costume. But the blue eyes and golden hair threw him. They were rare in this place. Hell, they were all but unknown.

“I imagine you are thinking she is not from here.”

Right on the nose, you greasy bastard. Cam smiled lazily, as if it were something that really wasn’t of much interest. “I did wonder, yeah.”

“I bought her,” the sultan said matter-of-factly. “Oh, not the way it sounds, I assure you. We are an ancient culture, sir, but we abhor slavery. No, the lady came to me willingly. She is a dancer. That is what she prefers to call herself but really, she is… I think your word is whore.”

Cam nodded. He understood. He’d been in this part of the world before. Women like this called themselves models, actresses, dancers…but Asaad was right. Basically they were whores for sale to the highest bidder.

The blonde stood straight and tall under his scrutiny. Was she trembling? Maybe, but the wind blowing in from the desert was cool and she was damned near naked. That could explain it. So could the fact that she was Asaad’s prisoner. From what he’d seen of things, that would make anybody tremble.

Asaad leaned closer. “I met her on holiday in Cairo. She was performing in a club. I sent her a note… Well, surely you know how these things go.” He dug his elbow into Cam’s ribs, as if buying a whore’s favors was something they had in common. “Layla is a woman of, shall we say, significant talent. That is why, when it came time to return home, I offered to take her with me.”

Cam shot another look at the woman. Her head had come up; she was staring almost blindly into the darkness beyond the courtyard and yes, she was definitely trembling.

Not that it meant a damn to him.

“And she accepted,” he said, making it a statement instead of a question.

“Of course. She knew it would be worth her while. All went well for a few weeks. She was inventive. Imaginative.” Asaad gave a deep sigh. “But I wearied of her. A man needs variety, is that not so?”

“Wouldn’t sending her back to Egypt be simpler than making her your prisoner, Excellency?”

The sultan threw back his head and laughed. “You are an amusing man, Mr. Knight. Yes, of course. Much simpler. And that was what I attempted to do. I made arrangements to send her home—with a substantial bonus.” His smile faded. “Yesterday, just before she was to leave, I learned she’d stolen a priceless jewel from my chambers. This, after all I’d given her! When I confronted her, she tried to put a dagger between my ribs.” Asaad let go of Cam’s elbow and stepped back. “I have been trying to decide what to do with her.”

What to do? How to do it, the sultan surely meant. The penalty for theft and attempted murder could only be death. That the woman had survived a day was something of a miracle. Tomorrow, she’d be food for the vultures. But tonight…

And then Cam understood. Asaad had a plan, and it was as transparent as glass.

The woman was shaking, she was on display—but she was docile. Why? If her life was at stake, why wasn’t she pleading for mercy?

There could only be one reason. The sultan must have promised her mercy. All she had to do to was follow his orders, and those orders surely involved Cam.

She was to be a gift.

He’d take her to bed, she’d perform tricks that would keep him from thinking and Asaad would let her live. But why? Was she supposed to put a knife in Cam’s belly while she feigned passion? No. Asaad would want him alive until he signed the contract.

Maybe the son of a bitch just wanted to watch through a hole in the wall. Maybe his men were going to break in and grab him while he was screwing the woman.

Maybe that was the night’s real entertainment.

“Don’t look so grim, Mr. Knight. Layla tried to kill me. She doesn’t warrant your concern.”

“Frankly, Excellency,” Cam said with a man-to-man grin, “my only concern—if you want to call it that—is over the world’s loss of the lady’s considerable talents.”

“Indeed.” The sultan leaned toward him. “Then you will be happy to hear that I have decided to give her to you for the night.”

“You are most generous,” Cam said, trying to look as if he meant it. “But you may recall what I said earlier. I’ve had a long day, and I am—”

“Tired.” Asaad winked. “But we are both warriors, and a warrior knows the best way to renew his strength. Unless… Is she not to your liking? She has the morals of a desert viper but you have nothing to fear. My men will stand guard outside your door.”

Cam almost laughed. He’d just bet they would.

“She will give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.”

“I’m certain she would, Excellency. Still—”

“Take a better look, Mr. Knight.”

Asaad cupped the woman’s breast and pinched the nipple through the gold fabric. She flinched but made no sound. Cam jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from grabbing the sultan by the throat. So what if Asaad manhandled her? She was his to do with as he pleased.

He’d seen worse in his years undercover. Black ops wasn’t for the faint of heart.

Still, something about what was happening made his belly knot.

“Touch her yourself, Mr. Knight. See how smooth her skin is.”

Asaad ran his hand over the woman, from her breasts to her belly. She swallowed hard, her throat visibly constricting, and drew a breath that made her nipples press against the gold cloth that contained them.

The sultan laughed.

And Cam felt his body respond.

He wanted to touch her. Shove Asaad out of the way and put his hands on Layla instead. He despised himself for it but the need burned in his belly, hot as flame.

He wanted to bare her breasts, see if her nipples were the pink of rose petals or the pale rust of apricots. Taste them, roll them on his tongue while he slid his hand between her thighs, under the thong to the hot, wet center of her.

He told himself there was a logical reason for this insanity. All the adrenaline he’d burned these last hours, anticipating danger, meeting it, being on constant guard…

Any man would be more than ready for the release you found in sex. Never mind that the woman was a whore, a thief and worse. That she’d sold herself to God only knew how many men.

She was beautiful, and he wanted her…but he wouldn’t take her. She was a golden trap.

Cam stepped back, drove every X-rated image from his head.

“Do what you want with her,” he said coldly. “I’m not interested.”

There was a silence. Then the woman’s head came up. Her lips curved in an insolent smile as her eyes swept over him, lingered on the taut fabric at his groin, then rose to his face.

“What he means, Lord Asaad,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving Cam’s, “is that he’s not man enough to use me properly.”

She spoke in English but the insult was clear. A collective roar went up from the assembled men. After a shocked moment, the sultan threw back his head and shouted with laughter.