Girl in the Bedouin Tent (5 page)

She needn’t have worried. He sat her on the edge of the wide bed and stepped back, well out of arm’s length.

Out of sensibility for her situation? The possibility was intriguingly novel. The bud of warmth inside her swelled.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, forcing herself to sit straight despite new aches.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘No.’ She lifted her head, meeting a dark gaze that seemed to bore right through her attempt to gloss over her injuries. ‘I’m OK.’

Amir’s brows arched eloquently, as if he knew just how much pain she’d borne, but he said nothing.

‘How about you? Are you injured?’ She hadn’t seen exactly how he’d taken down the guard.

His mouth turned up at one corner in a lazy smile that tugged something in her chest tight. ‘Never better.’

‘Good.’ She clasped her hands, unsure of the expression in those dark eyes. As an actress she prided herself on her knowledge of body language, but this man was so hard to read!

‘Thank you for coming to my rescue.’ The words emerged primly, as if she thanked him for a trifling favour, when they both knew that without his intervention she’d have been—

‘I told you I’d look after you. Why didn’t you believe me?’

Cassie spread her hands. No point saying she’d learnt never to take anyone’s promises at face value.

When she’d woken, rested and unharmed in that massive, empty bed, she’d almost wondered if she’d dreamed Amir’s presence. But his dagger in her fist had been real. His belongings further proof he’d been there.

‘I couldn’t be sure. Besides, I’ve been alone so long I’m used to looking out for myself.’

‘You’ve had a traumatic experience.’

Cassie nodded. She hadn’t been talking about just that, but there was no point revealing her isolation had taken a lifetime to grow.

‘When I didn’t see anyone all day I—’

‘No one?’ Amir scowled. ‘What about servants bringing food and water?’

Cassie shook her head and watched as the lines bracketing his mouth grew deep and fire lit his eyes.

‘Go on.’ His voice was grim.

‘There’s nothing more to say. At first it was OK. I felt safe and … comfortable.’ Even though she’d chafed at the inaction, waiting for his return when all she wanted was to get away.

‘Then, as evening drew in, I started to worry.’ She looked away from his sharp scrutiny. No need to tell him she’d thought he’d decided to leave her to her fate. ‘I wondered if something had happened to you.’

‘And about what would happen to you if it had?’

Quickly she nodded, not wanting to think about it, remembering the savage blows that had rained down on her. She drew a deep breath and shifted to ease the aches in her back and side. ‘Finally I gave up waiting. I took your knife and tried to slip out the back of the tent.’

If only she’d done as he’d said—trusted in his word to protect her and stayed where she was. She’d tried. She really had. But as the hours had ticked by it had become increasingly difficult to believe he would return. To believe she could trust him.

‘I don’t like to think what would have happened if you hadn’t rescued me.’

‘You are my responsibility.’ His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was no mistaking its grim edge. Amir wasn’t happy about this situation either.

‘I’m.’ Cassie shut her mouth before she could blurt out that she was no one’s responsibility. She looked after herself! But in her current situation independence was an illusion, possible only with the concurrence of this man. The knowledge ate at her like acid.

Stoically she repressed a shiver.

‘You’re cold.’ He took a step forward, then halted. Cassie
was glad of his distance. This man could crowd her with just a look.

‘Your dagger!’ She started, suddenly remembering the knife she’d dropped as she’d wriggled from under the tent. ‘We’ll look for it later.’

‘No!’ She couldn’t have that on her conscience.

In the darkened room last night she’d noticed nothing but the fact he’d trusted her with a blade against his bare skin. That he’d given her the means to protect herself. But today she’d examined the knife and been stunned to discover what looked like an antique heirloom.

The scabbard was encrusted with rubies cut in old-fashioned cabochon style. The blade, wickedly sharp, bore a flourish of exquisite calligraphy near the hilt. The handle was a work of art: an emerald the size of an egg embedded in precious metal.

The thing was probably a national treasure!

Cassie shot to her feet, then paused, a hand going to her lower back as pain slammed through her. That guard had pulled no punches.

‘Cassie?’

She forced a taut smile as she turned towards the edge of the tent. ‘I’m just a bit stiff.’ ‘Are you always this stubborn?’

‘Always.’ What he called stubborn she called getting on with life.

She sensed him just behind her as she searched for the place where she’d wriggled out of the tent. The heat of his big frame so close to her should have disturbed and intimidated after the events of the past few days. Yet strangely she found his nearness comforting. As if nothing could harm her while he was there.

Nonsense! It was absurd wishful thinking. Dangerous thinking.

Yet as she crouched down and investigated the layers of
carpet at the place she’d escaped Cassie found herself grateful for his reassuring presence.

‘There.’ A long arm reached round her and grabbed the gleaming hilt, half hidden beneath an edge of carpet.

Cassie froze, her pulse rocketing. The sense of being surrounded was suddenly too real and not at all reassuring.

But instead of pressing home his physical advantage Amir stood, then extended his hand to her. ‘Here.’

It was on the tip of Cassie’s tongue to refuse his help. But grappling with the guard had taken its toll. She felt as if she’d had a run-in with a herd of wild horses.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky as his hand engulfed hers and he pulled her up. Strange how the touch of that callused hand seemed so much more real than the smooth handshakes of the men she met and worked with in Melbourne.

His was the touch of a hard-working man. A man of decision. Of strength.

Cassie blinked and withdrew her fingers, disturbed at the trend of her thoughts.

‘I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if anything had happened to it.’ She forced herself to turn and meet his enigmatic gaze. ‘It must be worth a fortune.’

‘Far more than a fortune. Its value is in the fact it’s been passed through my family for centuries.’

‘Yet you gave it to me?’ Cassie frowned, snapping her gaze from his arresting features to the weapon in his hand.

‘Your need was greater than mine.’

He made it sound so simple. Yet to trust a stranger, even for a short while, with such an heirloom seemed crazy.

‘Here.’ He extended his hand, palm open. Light reflected off the gem in the hilt and dazzled her. ‘Keep it till you’re free.’

For an instant Cassie knew an insane urge to push his hand away and say she felt utterly safe here, with him.

Until she remembered the guards surrounding the tent. The
malice in Mustafa’s eyes. She reached for the weapon, her fingers closing around its solidity.

She concentrated on its weight, the protection it represented, and tried to ignore the ripple of sensation that coursed through her when her hand touched Amir’s.

A
MIR
was reading a report on a new gas pipeline when he sensed her enter. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet, and without the jingling coin belt there was no obvious sign of her presence.

Yet he sensed her.
Felt
her here, in his domain.

Deliberately Amir forced himself to read another long paragraph. The pipeline was far more important to him, to his plans for Tarakhar, than the woman who’d finally emerged from the bathroom.

Yet the words ran together, jumbling into incoherence as he pretended not to notice her. Finally he thrust aside the papers and looked up. His breath seared his lungs.

She stood defiantly, as if daring him to comment. Her chin was up, her eyes narrowed, and her feet planted a little apart.

In other circumstances Amir would have warned her that the spark of challenge in her eyes, far from dousing male interest, only heightened the delicious temptation of the picture she made.

Gone was the dancing girl outfit. Instead she wore a collarless white shirt of his.

Whatever misguided sympathy had possessed him to offer his clothes for her to wear after her bath?

But how could he have known that Cassie wearing his shirt would be one of the sexiest sights he’d ever encountered?

Heat coiled low as his eyes flicked over her.

The cotton covered her almost to the knees. She’d rolled
the sleeves up and the material hung loose around her. Yet the slit neck dived to her cleavage. The hint of a shadow there intrigued him as she moved restlessly.

Worse, the cotton clung to her breasts, firm and high even without the bustier. As he watched, her nipples peaked, thrusting against the fine material.

Amir swallowed, his mouth drier than the great interior desert, as he dragged his gaze down to shapely legs and dainty feet.

Less is more.

It was true. The dancing costume had been blatantly sexy, designed to appeal to the basest of male hungers.

Yet the simplicity of what she wore now was more erotic than anything he could recall. Or was that because he knew beneath his shirt she was naked?

Quickly Amir looked away.

‘I have something for you.’ His voice was husky and he reached for water, telling himself he was dry after a day in the saddle.

‘A pair of shoes?’

His lips curved at her undaunted humour. ‘I’m afraid even I can’t conjure a pair small enough to fit you.’

He shoved aside the realisation that he liked her barefoot in his rooms. No doubt the sight appealed to some deeply buried primitive instinct for dominance.

‘Though I could arrange a smaller shirt if you like.’ Faruq was much smaller than he. Surely one of his shirts—?

‘No. Thank you. This is fine.’

Amir nodded and put the goblet down. Even as he’d suggested it part of him had protested at the idea of her wearing another man’s clothes.

What sort of crazy possessiveness was that?

Cassie Denison evoked primal responses no civilised man should feel.

Amir frowned. He’d had lovers since his teens. Beautiful,
accommodating women who gave him everything he desired. He couldn’t recall feeling possessive about a woman before.

‘What is it? The thing you have for me?’ She sounded tentative and Amir smiled.

‘Liniment.’ He let himself turn back to her, careful to keep his gaze on her face. Bare of make-up, her cheeks pink from a steamy bath and her hair pulled back in a long, gleaming plait of gold, she looked impossibly alluring.

His mouth tightened.

‘Liniment?’ Her head tilted to one side.

He nodded. ‘You’re bruised. This will help. One of my aides provided it.’ Ever prepared, Faruq had brought it for his own use, knowing that this time diplomacy entailed days of hard riding to which he, unlike Amir, wasn’t accustomed.

‘I just rub it in?’

Amir nodded slowly, the glitch in his plans only now dawning on him. ‘You may need help.’

‘I’m sure I’ll manage,’ she said hurriedly, reaching out a hand.

His fingers closed around the small pot. ‘Where are you hurt?’ He watched her eyes dip. ‘Cassie?’

She shrugged. ‘My hip. I told you, I can manage.’

‘And your back.’ He remembered the way pain had streaked across her features when she’d suddenly risen and how her hand had shot to her lower back.

He dragged in a deep breath, reviewing the few staff members he’d brought with him and discounting each in turn. To confront her with a man she’d never met was asking too much. There must be women in the camp somewhere, but he didn’t trust any of Mustafa’s people to care for Cassie.

Lead settled in his gut as he realised he had no choice. So much for his altruistic gesture!

‘Get into bed, on your stomach. I’ll see to it.’

‘I told you I’ll be fine. I—’

‘Don’t try my patience, Cassie.’ He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. He’d perfected the voice of authority long
ago. ‘You’ll feel worse without treatment and this will allow you to sleep.’

He met her wide eyes and a jolt of pure energy arced through him. ‘It’s just liniment, Cassie. Nothing else.’

She drew a slow breath, then another, and Amir kept his eyes trained on her face. Finally her gaze slid away. As if she was the one whose thoughts betrayed a baser self!

Without a word she slipped into the bed.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flurry of pale legs, and heat exploded through him, slicing through his good intentions.

He waited a full minute before getting to his feet, gathering himself. His lips twisted in a travesty of a smile. When had touching a beautiful woman become an ordeal?

Since he’d become responsible for her.

He knew the old traditions. The belief that if you saved a life that person belonged to you. For a second he lingered over the notion of Cassie as his, available to gratify his every pleasure. Yet it wasn’t so simple. His responsibility for her weighed on his conscience.

Slowly he paced to the bed. She lay with her head turned away, the covers just reaching the dip at the small of her back.

‘Lift the shirt higher.’ His voice was gravel, and swallowing was painful as he watched her wriggle under the covers and then tug the cotton high enough to reveal a narrow strip of pale skin.

‘Good.’ Amir kept his tone brisk as he sat on the edge of the bed and took the lid off the pot.

He turned his mind to massages he’d received, the placement of hands, the pressure on tight muscles, hoping to dredge up enough knowledge to do this right.

The only trouble was, in his experience, such hands-on treatment usually led to other, utterly sensual pleasures.

Cassie caught her lip between her teeth as she waited, every sense achingly aware, for him to touch her.

Was she a fool, trusting him like this?

Yes, he’d been her protector, her saviour. Even now her heart tumbled over itself as she remembered the way he’d faced that mob, putting himself between them and her.

But to place herself in a position of weakness before any man was anathema to her.

She remembered Curtis Bevan’s hand thrusting into her school shirt, only minutes after he’d left her mother, and bile rose. She recalled the last slimy proposition she’d received from a director eager for her to have a ‘private audition’. The salacious expressions on Mustafa’s men just yesterday as she’d stood before them, more than half naked.

No matter how much those new injuries ached, she was a fool! No way could she put her faith in any man to—

Her instinctive movement stilled as something warm and wet was slapped onto her bare skin.

‘I’ve changed my mind. I don’t—’

‘Just relax.’ His voice was a low rumble from above, but it was his hand at her waist that stopped her moving. Large, gentle, almost tentative, it shaped the curve of her lower back, smoothing ointment from side to side.

Each muscle tensed. She was too aware of his hip against her thigh, separated only by the bedcover, the fact that beneath the cotton of his shirt she was naked.

‘Stop tensing your muscles or this will hurt.’

‘I don’t know how.’

Was that a sigh she heard? ‘Never mind. Just try to clear your head. Think of something pleasant.’

Pleasant? Desperately she tried to relax and conjure the memory of her last encore at a live performance.

Two hands caressed her back now, moving in tandem, thumbs pressing and palms pushing in a rhythmic movement that suddenly had her thinking instead of chocolate. Lush, soft truffles that melted on your tongue. Liquid dark chocolate that swished lusciously when stirred.

His touch gentled at the place where the pain was worst,
then smoothed in again where she’d felt the strain of muscle spasm on one side.

Cassie’s eyes flickered shut as the steady swirl of his fingers deepened and a puff of breath escaped her.

‘Oh.’

Instantly he stilled. ‘I hurt you?’

‘No.’ Cassie stretched, her body weighted yet limber from his ministrations. ‘It’s … good.’

Liar. It was fantastic. So fantastic that when she felt his hands on her again Cassie was hard put to ignore the delicious swirling sensation in her belly, the trembling effervescence in her blood, the way she wanted to arch into his touch and purr her delight.

‘Which hip?’ He sounded different. Curiously strained. ‘Right.’

A moment later he slid the sheet down a fraction on one side, but not enough to reveal her buttocks. A hiss of air made her stiffen.

‘What is it?’

‘You’ll be sore for a while. That’s a nasty bruise.’ This time there was no massage, just a whisper-soft caress as he stroked ointment over her injury.

‘Where else?’

For a moment Cassie debated, then gave in. It was clear Amir had no ulterior motives. To him this was a chore. Not by a centimetre had his touch strayed.

‘If you wouldn’t mind … a little higher up my back?’

Wordlessly he lifted the shirt over her shoulderblades. Instinctively Cassie pressed her breasts further down into the bed.

Then his hands were on her, working magic into muscles tense with days of strain. There was a little pain as he worked the stiffness free, but above all there was lovely, drugging pleasure. She could lie here all night if only he’d keep doing this.

‘You’re very good with your hands.’

‘Thank you.’ He sounded terse. Obviously he’d had enough of playing the masseur.

‘You can stop now.’ Yet even as she said it Cassie found herself arching her spine and pressing her forehead into the pillow in response to the lush waves of pleasure radiating from his capable hands.

‘In a minute.’ Slowly he worked his way down, past the chain encircling her waist to her lower back.

A strange hollow ache began deep in her abdomen, an edginess that made her shift her hips and legs restlessly. She sought for distraction.

‘Why did that man take the chain from the tent tonight?’

‘Faruq?’ Once more Amir’s hand barely skimmed her sore hip, gently smoothing in ointment before returning to massage her back. ‘He’s here with me. He came to fetch the chain for the guard who attacked you.’

‘Why? What’s happened to him?’

‘Nothing yet. Though it seems he’s still in a lot of pain.’

No mistaking the satisfaction in Amir’s voice. She was human enough to feel it too, knowing the man who’d tormented and hurt her suffered for what he’d done.

‘And later?’

‘He’ll come with us. Mustafa has handed him to me for punishment.’

‘Mustafa wouldn’t have liked that.’ Cassie recalled the raw fury on his face as he’d seen his henchman writhing at her feet.

‘What Mustafa likes is of no consequence. The man attacked my woman. He must pay.’

Strangely this time Cassie didn’t feel the same blistering anger at being labelled Amir’s woman. Probably because she was melting in a puddle of sheer pleasure.

‘What will happen to him?’ She shivered, thinking of the barbarous world she’d entered. ‘Will he be beaten?’

‘Nothing so simple or quick.’ Amir’s voice was like honed steel. ‘There’s a huge construction project on the outskirts of
my capital. It’s all high-tech building processes, but there’s scope for old-fashioned hard labour under strict supervision. Your friend will be up before dawn every day, digging, carrying, cutting stone. He’ll stop only after the sun goes down. He will learn the hard way that violence against women is not to be tolerated.’

Cassie swung her head round to look into the dark face above her.

Amir’s eyes glowed with a heat she hadn’t seen before. Anger at the guard, she told herself.

Yet something in his scrutiny made her gaze slide away, warmth rising in her cheeks. She stared at the throb of Amir’s pulse strong and fast at the base of his throat. She watched, fascinated, as the grimness left his mouth, his lips relaxing into sculpted sexiness.

Her breath snagged as the idea hit that his focus wasn’t on the guard. It was on her.

A trembling started deep inside.

She licked dry lips. ‘You’re going to a lot of trouble with him.’

Amir shrugged. ‘He harmed you. Deliberately. He did far more than just stop you escaping.’ Amir’s fingers splayed at her waist, insinuating themselves under the chain, a tangible reminder that as far as the rest of the camp was concerned she was here to please Amir.

Startled, she looked up again.

A flash of something lit his eyes. A flash that reverberated through her, drawing her nipples into tight buds and shooting a wire of tension through her abdomen, right down to the juncture of her thighs.

‘What will he be building?’ Her voice sounded thready, as if coming from a long distance away.

‘A hospital for women and children.’ Amir’s mouth tilted up into a smile that suddenly dispersed the tension clogging the air between them. ‘Fitting, don’t you think?’

She shouldn’t feel so relaxed and content. Her overwrought brain tried to remind her danger was all around, not least in the man prowling across the room to the far side of the vast bed.

But it was no good. Amir’s touch, his massage, his words of reassurance and above all his presence, made her feel … safe.

Her gaze followed him. She assured herself it was natural to be curious. As for the way she followed each sleek line of that bare, powerful torso, the play of light over shifting muscles, the contrast between broad, straight shoulders and the bunch of tight buttocks beneath those loose trousers … Cassie swallowed. There was nothing wrong with acknowledging a rare example of prime masculinity, was there?