Annie West - Girl in the Bedouin Tent

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.

‘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?