Annie West - Girl in the Bedouin Tent

‘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.

‘Keep it with you till I return you to safety. It’s far more effective than the paring knife you dropped.’

Stunned, she looked at his smiling mouth, then up to grim eyes that belied his light-hearted tone.

Suddenly she believed. She trusted.

‘Sleep with it, Cassie. And if anything frightens you in the night, remember you have this.’ On the words he lifted her hand and pressed the tip of the dagger against his chest.

His hand fell away and still the deadly blade rested on his bare, bronzed skin.

Holding the heavy knife took all her strength. Yet within, something surged as she watched him watching her from beneath hooded lids. As she saw the blade glint with every slow rise and fall of Amir’s chest.

Her heart squeezed. He gave her not just words, but the power that had been taken from her. The power to protect her self.

The knife wobbled dangerously in her fist and he closed a gentle hand around hers, lowering it to the cool cotton sheet near her shoulder.

‘Rest now. No one will harm you.’ He released her, his hand hovering a moment as if to stroke her cheek. Then his hand dropped.

His lips thinned and abruptly he stood, towering above her, his wide square shoulders and tapering waist perfect male symmetry outlined by the single lamp.

Before she could respond he pulled the coverlet over her, and she couldn’t help but tense. He stood a moment watching her, then with an abrupt movement bent to tuck in the bedding. A moment later he was striding to his side of the bed.

Cassie’s eyes followed him. She took in the power of his lean torso and the powerful buttocks and thighs encased in pale drawstring pants that rode low on his hips. She’d never known a man to look so elemental. So … male.

Heart in mouth, she watched him lift the coverlet on the far side of the bed and slip beneath it. Without a word he turned away from her.

How long she lay there, staring at the golden expanse of his back, Cassie didn’t know.

Eventually, despite her determination to remain watchful, her eyelids flickered and her fingers loosened their hold on Amir’s knife.

As exhaustion finally claimed her she was aware of a growing sense of peace.

She was almost asleep when her drowsy brain registered why it was she felt so safe. Not because of his words. Nor the concern she’d read in his eyes. Nor the blade he’d given her to defend herself, even against him.

It was the cursory, almost unthinking comfort of that one final action.

How many years had it been since anyone had tucked her into bed for the night? Had showed her such tenderness?

Her heart clutched at the memory, then warmth filled her as she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

She was totally oblivious to the man who turned in the bed and propped himself up to watch her through the night, his brows drawn together in a frown.

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