Awakened by Her Desert Captor (4 page)

He was dressed in his signature three-piece suit. As if they were in Paris or London. En route to some civilised place. Not here, in the middle of a harsh sun-beaten land. Here in the middle of nowhere. Here where she'd just thought nothing could touch her.

Arkim Al-Sahid looked so dark, and his face was etched in lines of cruelty.

A small voice jeered at Sylvie,
Did you really think he would do nothing?
And underneath the shock was the pounding of her heart that told her that perhaps, in some very deep and hidden secret space, she
hadn't
thought he would do nothing. But she'd never expected this...

He reached forward and her sunglasses were plucked off her face and tucked away into his pocket before she could react. She blinked, and he came into sharp, clear focus. Dark hair brushed back from a high forehead. Deep-set eyes over sharp cheekbones. His patrician nose giving him a slightly hawk-like aspect.

And that mouth... That cruel and taunting mouth. The mouth that even now she could recall being on hers. Hard and demanding, sending her senses into overdrive. It was curved up into the semblance of a smile, but it was a smile unlike anything Sylvie had ever seen. It was a smile that promised retribution.

When she remained mute with shock, one dark brow arched up lazily. ‘Well, Sylvie? I'll be exceedingly disappointed over the next two weeks if you've lost the ability to do anything with your tongue.'

* * *

Arkim tried to ignore the frantic rate of his pulse, which had burst to life as soon as he'd seen her distinctive shape appear in the doorway of the plane. Slim, yet womanly. Even in casual clothes.

Her glorious red hair glowed like the setting sun over the Arabian sea. Her face was as pale as alabaster, her skin perfect and flawless. Her eyes were huge and almond-shaped, giving her that feline quality, her left eye with that distinctive discolouration. It did nothing to diminish her appeal—it only enhanced it.

Irritation rose at her effortless ability to control his libido.

Arkim was about to say something else when she got out a little threadily, ‘Where are the other girls?'

He felt a twinge of guilt, but pushed it down deep. He glanced briefly at his watch. ‘They're most likely performing, as arranged, for the birthday celebrations of one of the Sultan's chief advisors—Sheikh Abdel Al-Hani. They'll be on a plane first thing tomorrow morning.'

If possible, Sylvie paled even more. It sent a jolt of something horribly like concern through him, reminding him of when her stepmother had slapped her in the church and how his first instinctive reaction had been to put himself between them.
Not
something he relished remembering now.

But now the shocked glaze was leaving her face, colour was surging back into her cheeks and her eyes were sparking. ‘So why am I not there too? What the hell
is
this, Arkim?'

Nurturing the sense of satisfaction at having Sylvie where he wanted her, rather than his other more tangled emotions, Arkim settled back into his seat. ‘Believe it or not, people here call me Sheikh too—a title conferred upon me by the Sultan himself...an old schoolfriend. But I digress. This is about payback. It's about the fact that your jealous little tantrum had far-reaching consequences and you aren't going to get away with it.'

Sylvie put out a hand and Arkim noticed it was trembling slightly. He ruthlessly pushed down his concern. Again. This woman didn't deserve anything but his scorn.

‘So...what? You're kidnapping me?'

Arkim picked a piece of lint off his jacket and then looked at her. ‘I'd call it a...a
holiday
. You came here of your own free will and you're free to go at any time... It's just not going to be that easy for you to leave when there's no public transport and no mobile phone coverage, so I'm afraid you'll have to wait until I'm leaving too. In two weeks.'

Sylvie clenched her hands into fists on her lap, her jaw tight. ‘I'll damn well walk across the desert if I have to.'

Arkim was calm. ‘Try it and you'll be lucky to last twenty-four hours. It's certain death for anyone who doesn't know the lie of this land—not to mention the fact that someone as fair as you would fry to a crisp.'

Sylvie was reeling, and trying hard not to show it. She felt as if she'd fallen through a wormhole and everything was upside down and inside out. Panic tightened her gut.

‘What about my job? I'm expected back—it was only supposed to be a one-night event.'

Arkim's face was scarily expressionless. It made her want to reach across and slap him, to see some kind of reaction.

‘Your job is unaffected. Your boss has been recompensed very generously for the use of your time. So much so, in fact, that I believe he can finally start the renovations he's been wanting to do for years. As a result of my generous donation the revue is actually closing for a month from next week, while they do the work.'

She had to choke back a lurch of even greater panic; it was common knowledge how much Pierre wanted to renovate—he'd been begging for loans from banks for months. And this would be perfect timing...before the high tourist season.

She spluttered. ‘Pierre would never let one of his girls go off on an assignment alone. He'll raise hell when I don't return, no matter how much you've offered him!'

Arkim smiled, and it was cold. ‘Pierre is like anyone else in this world—mesmerised when large sums of money are mentioned. He's been assured that your services are required as dance teacher to one of the Sheikh's daughters and her friends, who want to learn the western way of dancing. The fact that you're here with me instead is something he doesn't need to be aware of.'

Sylvie folded her arms, trying to not let on how scared she was. She injected mockery into her voice. ‘I'm surprised. I would have thought your morals wouldn't allow you to come within ten feet of me—much less arrange a private performance.'

Arkim was no longer smiling. ‘I'm prepared to risk a little moral corruption for what I want—and I want you.'

She sucked in a breath at hearing him declare it so baldly. ‘I should have known you'd have no scruples. So you've effectively
bought
me? Like some kind of call girl?'

Arkim's mouth curled up into that cruel smile again. ‘Come now...we both know that that's not so far from the truth of what you are.'

This time Sylvie couldn't hold back. She was across the seat and launching herself at Arkim, hand outstretched, ready to strike, when he caught her wrists in his hands. They were like steel manacles, and she fell heavily against his body.

Instantly awareness sparked to life, infusing her veins with heat and electricity. Even now, when she was in the grip of panic and anger.

‘Let me
go
.'

Arkim's jaw was like granite, and this close she could see the depths of anger banked deep in his eyes. He was livid. She felt a quiver of real fear—even though, perversely, she knew he wouldn't hurt her physically.

‘No way. We have unfinished business and we're not leaving this place until it's done.'

Sylvie was excruciatingly aware of her body, pressed to Arkim's much harder and more powerful one. Of the way her breasts were crushed against him, as they'd been crushed against him once before...when he'd thrust her back from him and looked at her as if she'd given him a contagious disease.

‘What are you talking about?' she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

The expression in his eyes changed for the first time, flashing with a heat that Sylvie felt deep in her belly.

‘What I'm talking about is the fact that I'm going to have you—over and over again—for however long it takes until I can think straight again.' A note of unmistakable bitterness entered his voice. ‘You've done it, Sylvie—you've got me.'

She finally broke free from Arkim's grip and sat back, as far away as she could. ‘I don't want you.'
Liar
, whispered an inner voice. She ignored it. She hated Arkim Al-Sahid. ‘As soon as this car stops I'm out of here, and you can't stop me.'

Arkim merely looked amused. ‘Each time we've met you've demonstrated how much you want me, so protesting otherwise won't work now. Where we're going has no public transport, and it would take you about a week to walk to B'harani—days in any other direction before you hit civilisation.'

Sylvie crossed her arms over her chest, a feeling of claustrophobia threatening to strangle her. ‘This is ridiculous.' The thought of being alone with this man in some remote desert for the next two weeks was overwhelming. ‘You can't force me to do anything I don't want to do, you know.'

He looked at her, and there was something so explicit in his gaze that she felt herself blushing.

‘I won't need to use force, Sylvie.'

And just like that the humiliation she'd felt that night in the study of her father's house came back and rolled over her like a wave.

She fought it. ‘This just proves how little you really felt for my sister. Hurting me will only hurt
her
.'

The expression on Arkim's face became incredulous at the mention of Sophie ‘You
dare
speak to me of hurting your sister? When
you
were the one who callously humiliated her in public?'

Words of defence trembled on Sylvie's tongue, but she bit them back. She would never betray her sister's confidence. Sophie had just been a pawn to him. It never would have worked. She had to remember that. She'd done the right thing.

But then she saw something in the distance and became distracted.

Arkim followed her gaze and said, ‘Ah, we're here.'

Here
was another, even smaller airfield, with a sleek black helicopter standing ready.

Slightly hysterically Sylvie remembered something she'd learnt when she'd taken self-defence classes after a—luckily—minor mugging in Paris. The tutor had told the class the importance of not letting an attacker take you to another location at all costs. Because if he did get you to another place, then your chances of survival were dramatically cut down.

It would appear to be common sense, but the tutor had told them numerous stories of people who had been so frightened they'd just let themselves be taken to another place, when they should always have tried to get away during the initial attack.

And okay, so technically Arkim wasn't attacking Sylvie, but she knew that if she got into that helicopter her chances of emerging from this encounter unscathed were nil.

The car came to a stop and he looked at her. ‘Time to go.'

Sylvie shook her head. ‘I'm not getting out. I'm staying in this car and it's going to take me back to wherever we landed. Or to B'harani. I hear it's a nice city—I'd like to visit.'

She hoped the desperation she was feeling wasn't evident.

He turned to face her more fully. ‘This car is driven by a man who speaks only one language, and it's not yours. He answers to me—no one else.'

The sheer hardness of Arkim's expression told her she was on a hiding to nothing. A sense of futility washed over her. She wouldn't win this round.

‘Where is it that you're proposing to take me?'

‘It's a house I own on the Arabian coast. North of B'harani and one hundred miles from the border of Burquat. Merkazad is in a westerly direction, about six hundred miles.'

The geographical details somehow made Sylvie feel calmer, even though she still had no real clue where they were. She'd heard of these places, but never been.

Something occurred to her. ‘This...' her mouth twisted ‘...this fee you've paid Pierre. I assume it's conditional on my agreeing to this farcical non-existent dance tuition?'

Arkim nodded. ‘That's good business sense, I think you'll agree.'

Sylvie wanted to tell him where he could stick his business sense, but she refrained. She didn't doubt that there really was no option but to go with Arkim. For now.

‘Once we're at this...this place, you won't force me to do anything I don't want to?'

Arkim shook his head, eyes gleaming with a disturbing light. ‘No, Sylvie. There will be no force involved. I'm not into sadism.'

His smug arrogance made her want to try and slap him again. Instead, she sent him a wide, sunny, smile. ‘You know, work has been so crazy busy lately I'm actually looking forward to an all-expenses-paid break. The fact that I have to share space with
you
is unfortunate, but I'm sure we can stay out of each other's way.'

Arkim just smiled slowly, and with an air of sensual menace, as if he knew just how flimsy her bravado was.

‘We'll see.'

* * *

Sylvie had never been in a helicopter before, and she'd been more mesmerised than she cared to admit by the way the desert dunes had unfolded beneath them, undulating into the distance like the sinuous curves of a body. It all seemed utterly foreign and yet captivating to her.

Her stomach was only just beginning to climb back down from her throat when she heard a deep voice in her ear through the headphones.

‘That's my house, Al-Hibiz, directly down and to your left.'

Sylvie looked down and her breath was taken away.
House?
This was no house. It looked like a small but formidable castle, complete with ramparts and flat roofs. It was distinctly Arabic in style, with ochre-coloured walls. Within those walls she could see lush gardens, and in the distance the Arabian sea sparkled. What looked like an oasis lay far off in the distance, a spot of deep green. It was like something out of a fairytale.

It distracted her from the shock she still felt after realising that Arkim was co-piloting the helicopter, and the way his hands had lingered as he'd strapped her in, those fingers resting far too close to her breasts under her thin T-shirt.