The Sheikh Who Claimed Her: Master of the Desert / The Sheikh's Reluctant Bride / Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife

‘Feeling faint?’ he demanded caustically, refusing to be fooled by her amateur dramatics for a single moment.

‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, matching him stare for stare. Whatever it took, she wasn’t about to let him see how badly he affected her.

‘You’re not fine,’ he argued, narrowing his eyes. ‘You’ve had a shock and need time to get over it.’

She hoped that meant a reprieve, and shrank instinctively from his intense maleness as he eased away from the bench.

‘Relax.’ His lips tugged with very masculine amusement. ‘You’re safe with me.’

Did he mean that to be reassuring, or was he insulting her? And was she safe? Could he be trusted? For once, she didn’t know what to think. The man’s manner was dismissive and abrupt, and his appearance … Well, that was rather more intimidating than the pirates.

There could be no guarantees, Antonia concluded, even if he had bathed her wounds. So was the flutter inside her chest a warning to be on her guard, or awareness of his sexuality?

‘Are you travelling alone?’

A shiver of apprehension coursed through her as she stared into his eyes. Why would he ask that? ‘Yes,’ she admitted cautiously. ‘I’m travelling alone—but people know where I am.’

‘Of course they do,’ he said sarcastically. ‘So your family allows you to wander the world without their protection?’

This time she couldn’t hold back. ‘They trust me.’ She was not defending herself now, but Rigo, the older brother who had cared for her since her mother had died six months after giving birth to her, her father having passed away shortly after that.

But the man pursued her relentlessly. ‘And breaking the law is how you repay your family for their care?’

‘I’ve already apologised to you for coming on board,’ she fired back. ‘I explained I had no option but to board your yacht.’

His hands signalled calm as her voice rose. ‘Lucky for you I was moored up here.’

She balled her hands into fists as a last-ditch attempt to keep her temper under control, but all it gained her was another mocking stare. But what a stare … She couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to have that stare fire with interest, or darken with desire.

‘I hope you’ve learned your lesson,’ he snapped, shattering that particular illusion.

‘Oh, I have,’ she assured him meekly. It was time to stop dreaming and accept the facts. She was far too young and inexperienced to interest a man like this. He thought her fragile and foolish, and couldn’t know her determination. She wasn’t fragile, and this trip was her chance to prove she wasn’t foolish. To prove to the brother she adored—who protected her, perhaps a little too much—that she could survive without his supervision. Not that she’d made the best of starts, Antonia conceded as the man held her gaze.

‘Tell me more about your family,’ he prompted.

Being the object of such an intense stare was both alarming and seductive, but she wouldn’t tell him anything that might risk her mission. She hadn’t come to Sinnebar on her own behalf, or as part of some ill-thought-out adventure, but to persuade the authorities in the country to open a branch of her brother’s children’s charity. Rigo’s work had already helped so many sick and disadvantaged children, and she had pledged to help him expand the reach of his charity across the world.

And there was a second reason, Antonia conceded silently. Coming to Sinnebar would give her the opportunity to track down information about the mother it broke her heart to think she couldn’t remember—not her voice, her touch, what she looked like or even the scent of her hair. She knew nothing at all about the woman who had given birth to her, beyond the fact that her mother had been very young when she’d died, and that before marrying Antonia’s father and moving to Rome she had apparently spent some time at the royal court in Sinnebar.

‘I’m waiting to hear about your family,’ the man said, slicing through her thoughts.

Antonia composed herself before replying, knowing it was important not to let anything slip. Rigo had drummed it into her from an early age that the truth was non-negotiable, though she might have to get used to twisting it where this man was concerned. ‘My family don’t know I’m here,’ she admitted, which was true in part, at least.

‘Your family don’t know you’re here?’ The man picked up the radio phone and held it out to her. ‘Don’t you think you’d better call them?’

No. Men like this, men like her brother Rigo, shared a common understanding. They would demand she return home immediately. Rigo might even insist on coming to fetch her, so once again she would be no more effective than a balloon, weightless and directionless as they batted her between them.

‘I’ll ring them if you don’t,’ he threatened.

‘No, please don’t.’ She reached out and then withdrew her hand, thinking better of touching him. ‘I don’t want to worry them.’ She mustered a steady stare. ‘Better to call them when I’m safely in Sinnebar and settled in a hotel, don’t you think?’

Worry them? Rigo would be down on her like a ton of bricks. Her brother only had to file a flight plan and he’d be over here. And what would that prove—that she was as headstrong and reckless as Rigo believed her to be? Her brother would never let her work for his charity then. And she had begged him for this chance to do a real job instead of accepting her brother’s generous allowance. It was a chance to do something for others instead of for herself. ‘The moment I’m safe on the mainland, I’ll ring them—I promise.’ She was taking a lot for granted by assuming the man would take her anywhere, but she had no option when there was everything to play for.

His eyes remained narrowed with suspicion, and then to her relief he shrugged. ‘You know your family better than I do.’

Yes, she knew Rigo. He could be a pain sometimes, but it was thanks to her brother she had enjoyed such a privileged childhood, which in Rigo’s language meant she could ride, ski, sail, fence and swim. More importantly, living with him had taught her how to survive a man like this.

As she watched him clear up the debris from the recent triage session, she offered to help. He ignored her. Closing the cupboard on his supplies, he turned to face her. ‘So all you wanted when you came on board was my food?’

‘What else?’ she said in bewilderment.

‘You weren’t thinking of stealing my yacht, for instance?’

Antonia’s cheeks flushed red. She had considered it.

He made a contemptuous sound, as if he already knew this, and then barked, ‘We’ll continue this conversation when you have no more excuses left.’

‘But, I—’

‘Not now,’ he snarled.

His tone only confirmed what she already knew—this was not a man to bend to her will, or to anyone’s will.

‘You will rest now,’ he said as if anything he commanded would happen immediately. ‘I’m prepared to give you time to get over the shock—but not much time. And don’t play me,’ he warned.

A shiver of awareness rippled down her spine. When he turned away, it was another opportunity to watch him again. Resting her chin on her knees, she realised that against all the odds she had grown calmer around him. Calmer and yet more unsettled, Antonia concluded, realising her libido had received an unusual boost. The man moved around the confined space with the confidence of someone who knew every inch of his territory intimately, and some of the openings were so small he had to raise his arms and coax his body through. He looked amazing at full stretch, like an athlete in the peak of condition. His air of command went with being super-fit, she supposed, though she found trying to pigeon-hole him in the outside world impossible. His frayed and faded shorts looked as if he’d hacked the legs off an old pair of jeans with the lethal-looking knife hanging from his belt, and his top had definitely seen better days.

She gave up trying to work him out. He could be crew or he could own the boat—either way, she had to build bridges and hope they stretched to the mainland. She waited until the next time he squeezed past to attempt to make her peace. ‘I apologise for trespassing on your yacht and for stealing your food and the knife. Please believe me when I say I would never have used the knife. And please don’t report me to the Sheikh.’

‘I thought I told you to rest,’ he said, showing no sign of having accepted her apology.

There was no chance of ‘playing him’, as he seemed to think, Antonia concluded, and he’d done nothing more than care for her as he would care for a stray dog, so she could forget the fantasies. Using her so-called womanly wiles had got her nowhere. And there was something more, something that made her shudder to think about it. While he was helping her, she was safe, but should he ever turn against her …

‘What happens next is up to you,’ he snapped as if he had read these troubled thoughts. ‘All you have to do is answer my questions promptly and honestly.’

And that was all? Did he know how intimidating and fierce he looked? ‘I will,’ she promised on a dry throat. If all your questions are connected to the attack, she hedged silently.

CHAPTER THREE

THE man might terrify her, but she was determined to hold her nerve; so much depended on getting to the mainland. If only she knew who he was it might be easier to talk to him, but she had searched for clues to his identity and found none on the yacht. There was plenty of food and drink in the tiny galley and all sorts of fancy technical equipment—and, now she put her shopping head on, she realised the blanket around her shoulder was cashmere. But the man remained a mystery. Apart from his working clothes, he wore a strap around his wrist formed of black twine, and the gold hoop in his ear which she found sexy, but neither item was unique.

It wasn’t much to go on. She should have noticed the name of his yacht, but she had been so traumatised when she’d clambered on board her thoughts had been solely concerned with survival. She hadn’t even paused to think who the yacht might belong to. Food, drink and a fast ticket back to the mainland had been her only concern. And if she had to steal a sleek, sexy racing yacht to get there, so be it.

‘I don’t have all day,’ he warned. ‘The least you can do is tell me why you’re here.’

Even if she had been prepared to tell him the truth it was hard to think straight with his sexuality overwhelming her. Command was instinctive for him, while she was a girl used to getting her own way; theirs could be an explosive partnership.

In the realms of fantasy only, Antonia cautioned herself firmly. She had been so absorbed in sleuthing it took her a moment to realise that he was holding out the most delicious-looking baguette. Slathered in butter, it had a wedge of cheese inside it so thick it would normally have fed her for a week. And she hadn’t eaten for … She couldn’t remember.