Emma Darcy - Australia - In Bed with a Sheikh!

His gaze dropped to her breasts, making Sarah acutely conscious of the stretch fabric of her skivvy hugging their fullness. Then he seemed to mentally measure her waist, the wide leather belt she wore undoubtedly aiding his calculation. The curve of her hips and the length of her legs were inspected, as well, much to Sarah’s growing embarrassment.

His appraisal of her feminine power increased her awareness of the strong sexual charisma which, at twelve, she’d been too young to recognise in him. It was certainly affecting her now, so much so it prompted the realisation he was probably used to women throwing themselves at him. Wealth alone was considered an aphrodisiac. With his looks…

An awful thought occurred to her. When Tareq had asked what she intended to offer him, had he imagined a proposition involving sexual favours? Was he summing up her desirability in case she took that line of persuasion?

Sarah almost died of mortification. She wouldn’t even know how to go about it. Men hadn’t featured largely in her life, none in any intimate sense. As for Tareq…she was losing all her bearings with him.

“The question is…how grown up are you?” he mused, the glitter of speculation in his eyes discomforting Sarah even further.

“I’m twenty-three,” she replied, fervently wishing everything could be more normal between them. She remembered feeling safe with Tareq all those years ago. She didn’t feel safe now.

“I know how old you are, Sarah. Your age doesn’t answer my questions.”

“I told you…this isn’t about me.”

“Yes, it is. It’s very much about you. How long have you been at Werribee?”

Was this a chance to start explaining? “Two years,” she answered, and it was as though she’d slapped him in the face.

She physically felt his withdrawal from her. There was the merest flicker in his eyes, a barely visible tightening of his jawline, no other outward sign. he remained absolutely still, yet she felt every thread of connection with her being ruthlessly cut.

“So…you’ve been assisting your father,” he said coldly.

Sarah realised he’d just cloaked her with her father’s sins, whatever they were. “Not with the horses. I’ve had nothing to do with them,” she rushed out. “I’ve been helping with Jessie. She’s ten years old, Tareq. My little half-sister. And she’s a paraplegic.”

A muscle in his cheek contracted.

Sarah plunged on, wanting him to understand the background. “Two years ago, Susan was terribly ill, being treated for breast cancer. Then Jessie was injured and Susan couldn’t cope. There were the boys, too…”

“Boys?”

“My half-brothers. Twins. They’re seven now but they were only five when I came back to Werribee to help.”

“You were asked to do so?”

“No. Susan wrote about Jessie.”

“Where were you then?”

“London. I’d just finished my finals at university.”

“And you dropped everything to help them?”

He made it sound incredibly self-sacrificing but it wasn’t. “I’ve always loved Jessie. How could I not come when she had to face never walking again?”

He frowned. “You stayed with her…all this time.”

“I was needed.” It was the simple truth.

His eyes bored into hers and she felt the reconnection. It was a weird sensation, as sharp and quick as a switch being thrown, making her nerves leap and jangle, an invasion she had no control over.

“The child belongs to its mother, Sarah,” he said quietly. “She is not the answer to your loneliness.”

Her heart pumped a tide of heat up her neck and into her cheeks; burning, humiliating heat. He knew too much about her. He was plucking at her most vulnerable chords. It had felt good to be needed. And wanted.

Her reluctance to cut herself off from those feelings had influenced her choice to stay in her father’s home longer than was strictly necessary, but she did realise it was time to move on. Though this latest disaster confused the issue.

“I can’t desert them now. Don’t you see?” she pleaded. “My father will be ruined if you take your horses away. What will happen to the children?”

“It is not your responsibility,” he retorted harshly. “Your father brought this outcome upon himself.”

“Did he? Did he?” she cried, and plunged into a passionate defence. “Was it his fault his wife got cancer? Was it his fault Jessie was crippled? There were astronomical medical bills and the house had to be renovated to accommodate a handicapped child, a special suite built on with all the aids for Jessie to learn to be independent, a special van bought to transport her. There were so many adjustments to be made, and the continual cost of physiotherapy, masseurs…Do you wonder that my father was distracted from doing his job properly?”

Sarah was out of breath from the frantic outpouring of words. Her eyes clung to Tareq’s, begging understanding. If he could see through her so easily, couldn’t he see this, too?

Or did he see an ongoing problem?

“But things are better now,” she hastily declared. “Susan’s been cleared of the cancer. She’s fine. No trace of secondaries. And Jessie has made fantastic progress. It’s amazing how much she’s learnt to do for herself. The boys have become good at helping her, too. So you see…my father no longer has so many worries on his mind. He could concentrate on the training if you’ll just give him another chance.”

Her plea seemed to be falling on deaf ears. There was no visible reaction to it on Tareq’s face, no trace of sympathy. She needed some response, some hint of whether he was reconsidering his stance or not.

His brick wall silence tore at her nerves. It went on for an agonising length of time. Sarah fought against a mounting sense of defeat. Was there anything more she could say that might touch him?

“Leave us, Peter.”

The quiet command startled her into jerking her head around. She’d forgotten the presence of Mr. Larsen behind her. He was still there, a witness to everything that had been said. His gaze was locked on Tareq, the chilling light eyes slightly narrowed, as though trying to discern the reason behind the command, or perhaps sending a silent warning that a witness was a wise precaution against trouble.

Whatever he thought, he left without a word, not even glancing at Sarah. The door clicked shut after him, emphasising the continued silence and making Sarah intensely aware she was alone with Tareq. She spun her attention back to him, fighting a rush of inner agitation. Her heart beat chaotically as he started walking towards her.

“You fight very eloquently on your father’s behalf,” he said, though he didn’t look impressed. “I find that quite remarkable since he didn’t fight for you. He gave you up, freeing himself to marry again without any encumbrances and have this family you care so much about.”

“Whatever my father’s shortcomings, the children are innocent,” she argued, inwardly quailing as Tareq came closer and closer. “It’s more for their sake that I’m asking you to reconsider your decision.”

He stopped so close she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. His eyes burned into hers with mesmerising intensity. “And if I don’t reconsider, you are willing to give them more devoted service. More of your time,” he said, stroking her cheek with feather-light fingertips as though seeking to get under her skin and feel all she was.

Sarah’s legs turned to jelly. His nearness was overpowering, his touch insidiously weakening both her mind and body. She’d never experienced anything like it in her life. Movement was beyond her. She could hardly think.

He raked back some curls and tucked them behind her ear, his eyes simmering into hers, holding them captive to his will. “I like your giving heart, Sarah. It’s a rare thing in today’s world.”