Emma Darcy - Australia - In Bed with a Sheikh!

On the sixth day they’d gone fishing with Captain Bob, which had been another new and exciting experience until she’d had the misfortune to hook a very big fish on her line. She wasn’t strong enough or practised enough to reel it in. Tareq had stood behind her, his arms around her waist, one hand helping to hold the rod in its holster, the other closed over hers on the handle of the reel, showing her how to play the fish on the line.

It wasn’t a sexual embrace, merely a supportive one, yet it blew away all Sarah’s concentration on what she was supposed to be doing. It was Tareq who eventually landed the fish. All she remembered was his breath warming her ear as he gave instructions, the strength of his fingers pressing on hers, the electric excitement coursing through her body from the contact with his, the sudden scorching hunger to feel everything he could make her feel.

When he moved away, admiring the catch netted by Captain Bob, Sarah was left trembling violently, shocked by the snaking intensity of sexual need which was still writhing through her. She dropped shakily onto the closest bench seat and stared at the fish, caught no matter how much it struggled. Like her, she thought, only Tareq was still playing her on his line.

“Let it go,” she’d croaked, then fiercely challenged the quizzical look from Tareq. “I want it released.”

“Your fish,” he conceded, nodding to Captain Bob.

It wasn’t really hers. He’d caught it. Perhaps that was why she felt such a savage surge of satisfaction, watching it swim free again, a silver flash in the water, escaping the painful confusion of being pulled into a different, alien world.

On the seventh day, Tareq had casually announced he was taking her shopping for clothes.

Defiance had leapt off her tongue. “No!” The thought of parading a range of outfits for Tareq’s approval, having his eyes measuring their effectiveness, how well each garment fitted her figure…her stomach had cramped. She couldn’t bear it.

Tareq had frowned at her vehemence. “I thought you would enjoy it.” His frown had deepened. “There is also the matter of feeling at ease when we start mixing with others, Sarah.” A quiet, gentle reasoning. “Inevitably, you will suffer considerable scrutiny as my companion. Critical scrutiny.”

Resentment at her enforced position had spilled out. “And you’d prefer me not to look the little brown mouse at your side.”

His eyes had sparked with amusement. “You’re more a lioness than a mouse. Protecting your cubs.”

His reminder of the children made this even more a cat and mouse game to Sarah. Except Tareq wasn’t a mere cat. He was a dangerous, dark, and very sleek panther, prowling around her, waiting to pounce, keeping her in almost intolerable suspense.

“It is irrelevant to me how you are dressed, Sarah,” he’d declared. “My main concern was to protect you from the bitchiness of other women. However, if you feel armoured enough against their barbs…”

She wasn’t. She knew she’d hate being looked down upon, hate looking like a fish out of water. “I do need some new clothes,” she’d admitted grudgingly, then in a proud show of independence, had added, “It’s just that I want to go shopping by myself, choose them myself, and pay for them myself.”

To her intense relief he had let her do precisely that…after the embarrassment of having to accept the thirty thousand dollars he put in her credit account, a three months’ advance on the salary he’d arbitrarily decided upon.

“But I don’t do anything!” she’d protested.

“That’s for me to judge,” he’d answered.

Recognising the futility of arguing, Sarah, nonetheless, had no intention of frittering away anything like that amount on clothes. Sam Bates had driven her to Naples, a shoppers’ paradise with its many fashion boutiques, and she’d managed to find quite a few bargains amongst end of season stock that had been marked down.

Temporarily freed from the turmoil Tareq stirred, Sarah had enjoyed acquiring a range of clothes she felt really good in, assuring herself she didn’t have to be competitive. As long as she was confident in her appearance, she’d be fine. Though she did wonder if Tareq was as uncaring about it as he said.

“Pleased with what you’ve bought?” he’d asked on her return to the house, eyeing the shopping bags with interest.

“Do you want to be shown?” she’d challenged.

He’d laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll see soon enough.”

But there’d been something—a cynical glint in his eyes?—that had made Sarah suddenly feel there’d been a purpose in letting her go shopping alone, a test in giving her so much spending power. The sense of being weighed on everything she did had her swinging from fierce belligerence—why should she care what he thought of her?—to sick panic, because she did care.

It was crazy to crave his good opinion, crazy to crave what could only be a self-destructive liaison with him. There might be physical satisfaction—even intense pleasure—in experiencing his sexual expertise, but there’d be humiliation, too, knowing she was letting down the ideals she’d clung to for so long. All the same, she hadn’t known how strong carnal desire could be…its raging demands, its dreadful distraction, its power to pervert any normal thinking.

Sarah closed her eyes to the brilliant light of this new day, wishing she could shut Tareq out as easily. Maybe it would be easier with the company of other people around them, drawing his attention away from her. Looking at the horses he wanted to see had to be a diversion, too. The trip to Silver Springs might be less of an ordeal than she’d initially thought.

After all, she didn’t know the people she’d be meeting. What they thought about her didn’t really matter. Here today, gone tomorrow. Tareq was the unavoidable constant. Somehow she had to learn to live with the way he affected her.

A knock on the door. “Sarah?” His voice calling out.

Her eyes flew open. Her heart catapulted around her chest. She had to work some moisture into her mouth before answering. “Yes?” It came out high-pitched and quivery. He hadn’t entered her suite all the time they were here. Was that about to change?

“There’s a letter from Jessie. Do you want to come and read it?”

So much for her fevered imagination! On a wave of sheer delight, Sarah leapt out of bed, thrust her arms into her light silk wraparound to cover up her satin slip nightie, and raced to the door. She’d bought and sent postcards to Jessie and the twins but they couldn’t have received them yet. It was a lovely surprise to get a letter so soon.

Her face was lit with happy anticipation as she opened the door, her smile spontaneous as she held out her hand for the expected envelope. Tareq grinned at her, his eyes taking in her dishabille and obviously savouring the lack of restraint apparent in her appearance. In sharp contrast, he was immaculately groomed and freshly clothed in body-hugging blue jeans and a white and navy Lacoste sports shirt.

Fighting a prickling sense of vulnerability, Sarah stared pointedly at his empty hands. “You said…”

“Tousled hair becomes you.”

Was he checking how she looked first thing in the morning? Her teeth clenched. It was a non-effective action in stopping the rush of heat to her face. “Tareq…” she bit out.

“The letter came in on E-mail. You’ll have to read it off the monitor screen in my study.”

“E-mail?”

“Much quicker than the postal service.”

Incredulity billowed over her confusion. “Jessie’s using E-mail?”

“It’s not difficult once you’ve learnt how. Follow me and I’ll show you.”

He set off, taking it for granted she would do as he dictated. Sarah hesitated, torn between having her curiosity immediately satisfied and wanting to bolt back into her bedroom and get properly dressed so she wouldn’t feel at such a disadvantage. the drawcard of modern technology won over fears that seemed silly with Tareq’s back already turned to her. Tying her belt firmly to prevent her gown flying apart, she trailed after him to the study which was furnished with every form of communication.