Girl in the Bedouin Tent (4 page)

A whoosh of air was expelled from her lungs as he dropped her onto the bed. Cassie barely touched the mattress before she was scrabbling to escape, but he sat beside her, his hip hard against her own, his hold firm as he captured her flailing hands in one of his.

‘Enough!’ The single word broke through her panicked struggles. ‘Enough. You are quite safe.’

Safe? Cassie stared up at a broad, muscled torso dusted with dark hair, to a dangerously angled jaw accentuated by the shadow of stubble. Her heart gave a single lurch. Of fear or something else?

‘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.

T
HE
moon rose as Amir rode with Mustafa and his followers through the winding gully back to the encampment.

They’d been out since dawn, occupied by a full day of hawking and riding events designed to entertain and display the prowess of the tough mountain men who gave Mustafa their allegiance. A day designed to exhaust anyone not born to the gritty life of a fighter.

It had been a ploy to give Mustafa the upper hand in the negotiations to come.

He’d miscalculated.

Mustafa knew, of course, about the scandals that had dogged Amir. Who his parents were, his early years of luxury in foreign lands where men weren’t men but had grown soft and lazy. Unpromising beginnings for a prince in a land where uncompromising grit and honour were prized.

But his host, like so many before him, hadn’t done his homework thoroughly. He’d assumed that old story summed up the Sheikh of Tarakhar.

He hadn’t bothered to discover that although Amir’s past had shaped him into the man he was today it had made him tougher, stronger, more determined, more focused than any of the so-called warriors surrounding them.

It was Mustafa who sat swaying in his seat, surreptitiously wiping his forehead and growing ill-tempered while Amir rode easily, shoulders straight and mind keen. He could have
ridden through the night, still alert and more than capable of dealing with an overblown bully like Mustafa.

He had little respect for the man as anything more than a power broker in an unstable territory. After last night’s revelations it had taken all Amir’s control not to reveal his fury. The time for that would come. Though Mustafa had received a taste today of the cool hauteur that was a royal sheikh’s prerogative.

An image of huge violet eyes flashed into Amir’s head.

She’d been asleep when he left. Dead to the world and looking far too pale. In the dawn light, her face free of make-up, she’d looked young and lovely. Even, if that could be believed, innocent.

Till Amir noticed the way her fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger even in sleep.

Emotion surged through him. Something fierce that rippled like a predator on the hunt. Something that craved blood for what had been done to her.

Yet there was also a disturbing sense of frustration. Of helplessness. Feelings he hadn’t experienced since boyhood. For, though he wished it otherwise, he couldn’t save Cassie Denison yet from the terror that haunted her.

He had obligations to fulfil here. To move precipitately would risk the peace talks and her safety.

Amir’s hands tightened on the reins and his horse broke into a canter. Mustafa slowly followed suit, lumbering along like a sack of potatoes instead of the valiant leader of men he styled himself.

Effervescence fizzed in Amir’s blood as they rounded a mountain spur and the camp came into view. Soon he’d be able to rid himself, for a while at least, of this unpalatable company.

He assured himself it wasn’t eagerness he felt at the prospect of seeing Cassandra.

How many hours had he lain awake watching her? Sifting her words for truth? Letting his gaze trail over skin that he
knew was soft as rose petals, hair like rays of sunlight, a delicate jaw that also spoke of obstinacy, and the most passionate mouth he’d ever seen?

Amir stopped his thoughts in an instant, recognising them as weakness.

He did not cultivate weakness. From the age of eleven he’d had to be better, stronger, tougher than his peers. It hadn’t been good enough to succeed—he’d had to excel. That had required absolute commitment and focus.

The women in his life, pleasing through they were, fulfilled a very specific role. He couldn’t remember ever being kept awake by the need simply to watch one sleep.

He’d opened his mouth to suggest to Mustafa that they commence discussions after dinner when a shout rent the air. There was a flurry of movement. Figures converged in the direction of his guest quarters, set away from the rest of the camp.

Instantly Amir was galloping out of the darkness towards the compound, his sixth sense urging speed.

Streaking ahead of the rest of the party, he thundered down, drawing his horse to an impossible shuddering stop metres from his tent, where cloaked figures surged and writhed.

‘Enough!’ The command cut the night air, clearing the space before him. Startled faces peered up and were quickly averted as the men of the camp bowed their way backwards.

Yet the tussle before him continued. Two figures, unevenly matched, grappled right up against his tent. The smaller one fought like a demon, aiming vicious kicks and cleverly leveraging the other’s vast weight against him in a sudden move that almost felled the bigger man. But the hulking guard saved himself at the last moment. There was a gasp of pain and a hoarse chuckle as the smaller of the figures bowed back as if stretched taut.

‘Release her.
Now!’
Amir was off the horse and striding forward as the larger of the pair raised a whip in one beefy arm. Fury boiled in Amir’s veins. He came in hard, bringing the
big guard down with a sharp punch to the jaw and another to the solar plexus.

Quick. Contained. Lethally effective. Though Amir retained enough control to do no more than stop the aggressor in his tracks. It was more difficult than he’d expected to stifle the urge for violent retaliation. The need to avenge Cassie was a roaring tide in his blood.

The man was easily recognisable as the one who’d led Cassie into the feasting tent last night. The gaoler she’d flinched from. The man who’d left his mark on her skin.

Anger scythed through Amir’s belly.

He gathered Cassie to him. Despite the enveloping cloak it could be no other. Her size and proximity to his tent made it inevitable. Who else would have the temerity to keep fighting so desperately against the biggest, most brutal guard in Mustafa’s retinue?

As he drew her in, close within the curve of his arm, every sense confirmed her identity.

How could a woman he barely knew feel so familiar? It wasn’t merely that she fitted perfectly, tucked under his chin, her arms snaking around his waist as if for support. It was something indefinable that stirred unaccustomed sensations.

A need to protect. A desire to comfort.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was a hoarse gasp that tore at his control. He felt the heat of her heavy breathing through the fine cotton of his clothes and pulled her in tighter.

Nevertheless she stood stiffly, as if poised to repel further attack, every straining muscle tense.

This woman was brave to the point of being foolhardy.

‘What possessed you to leave the tent?’ She
knew
there were guards. That she’d be stopped if they saw her.

‘It was so late I thought you weren’t coming back.’

Guilt punched his gut as he thought of the desperation that must have driven her from the tent.

Because of him.
Had she believed he’d gone and left her for Mustafa?

By now the rest of the riders had poured out of the darkness around them.

A low groan sounded from the figure sprawled before them, drawing all eyes as Mustafa dismounted.

‘Your guard is overzealous, Mustafa.’ Amir projected his voice to carry. It resonated with the weight of his authority. ‘He raised his hand to the woman who is mine.’

Cassie peered beneath the hood of her cloak at the throng of riders around them. The smells of sweat, dust and horses filled her nostrils, and in an instant she was back on the deserted road, when raiders had swarmed around the broken-down bus, their eyes hard and their hands rough as they’d yanked her off her feet and away with them.

Fear warred with anger. These were the scum who’d abducted her days ago. Who’d treated her as a possession to be bartered for royal favour!

Despite knowing defeat was inevitable in her tussle with the guard, there’d been a sliver of satisfaction in proving she wasn’t quite as defenceless as they’d assumed. One on one it hadn’t been the easy victory her captor had thought. She’d seen the surprise and pain in his eyes as he realised his mistake.

But now the defiant surge of adrenalin ebbed and she faced the dangerous consequences of her attempt to escape.

Her arms tightened around Amir. He seemed the one solid point of safety in this dangerous, violent world. His warmth and the muscled solidity of his body anchored her.

Yet she guessed nothing could save her from this mob.

At their head was the man Amir called Mustafa. A tough-built man whose cold eyes had fed her fear last night. He took in the fallen guard, moaning at Amir’s feet, then flicked a contemptuous stare in her direction.

Cassie stiffened, refusing to shrink away, though she sensed the rage roaring in him, perilously close to the surface. Retreating from a bully was asking for trouble.

Amir’s hand squeezed hers, then he pried her fingers loose and stepped forward. Before she knew what was happening he’d shoved her behind him.

Cassie stared, dumbfounded, at his broad back, his shoulders shielding her from the crowd.

Automatically she moved. She needed to see what was happening, to be ready to put up what fight she could. Her hackles rose at being pushed out of the way.

Yet his hold tightened, forcibly restraining her.

She opened her mouth to object when logic finally reasserted itself. Where were her wits? She had no chance against this crowd. She couldn’t fight them all, and she couldn’t speak their language to reason or plead.

Cassie’s only option was to rely on Amir. He, at least, had their respect.

It was unprecedented to have a champion take charge for her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Lost, as if he’d snatched something away from her, yet at the same time touched by the gesture.

There was surprising comfort in Amir’s large, warm body shielding her as her heart hammered and her body stiffened from the blows that had rained down.

Staunchly she refused to think of the retribution to come. Because of her, Mustafa’s lackey lay writhing in agony.

For a moment she was almost grateful for Amir’s broad shoulders blocking the view. His wide-legged stance that spoke of strength and a readiness for action.

The idea of a man putting himself between her and danger seemed impossible. Yet there Amir was: solid and real, drawing all eyes to himself and away from her.

A strange sensation filled her chest—a spreading warmth that countered the chill of dread.

She heard the jingle of a harness and the restless snorts of the horses, but not a whisper from the crowd as Amir and Mustafa talked. Their voices weren’t raised. They could have
been discussing the weather for all the emotion she heard. But that didn’t stop a shiver tripping down her spine.

That look in Mustafa’s eyes … Cassie had no doubt he’d make her pay in spades for the damage done to his minion.

She tucked her hand into the sash Amir wore over his robe. To offer silent support or gain comfort?

Still they talked.

Eyes closed, head tilted forward, almost touching Amir’s back, Cassie was struck by the beauty of his voice as it flowed, deep and smooth through the night, turning the unfamiliar sounds and rhythms into something arrestingly beautiful.

Finally there was a lull in the discussion and Amir spoke quietly in English. ‘Go now. Walk directly to the tent and wait for me inside.’

Her brain numb after standing so long, lost in thought, Cassie opened her eyes and stared at his back. Had he really spoken or was that wishful thinking?

‘Cassie!’ It was a low hiss of sound. ‘Go now. Quietly. Don’t run. You’re quite safe.’

She swallowed a mirthless laugh at the idea of being safe
here.
Yet without further thought she slid her hand free of his belt and adjusted the cloak more tightly around her. Steeling her nerve, she turned and forced herself to walk slowly towards the tent’s entrance.

She’d just got inside when she met the man she’d seen last night at Amir’s side, coming the other way. In his hands he carried the long chain Amir had taken off her.

Cassie shrank against the wall of the tent, heart hammering at the sight of it.

The man paused. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Ms Denison,’ he said in fluent English. ‘You won’t have to worry about this again. His Highness will see to it.’ Then he sketched a rapid bow and left before she could find her voice.

Ms Denison.

The title in her own language seemed incongruously formal
after a fight in the dark with a guard and the threatening crowd outside.

It reminded her of the safety she’d left behind in Australia. The foreignness of this wild place.

And her total dependence on the Sheikh of Tarakhar.

Cassie grabbed a tent pole for support as she absorbed the stunning reality of what had just happened.

Amir had done what no man ever had. He’d stood on Cassie’s side. He’d done more, literally fighting her battle for her.

The memory of him putting her behind him and facing down that threatening mob made something twist inside.

The men she’d known hadn’t been models of virtue. They’d been self-absorbed and anything but honourable. As a result she’d learned self-reliance and distrust young. Cassie never let any man close enough to find out if he had an honourable streak. She no longer believed such a man existed.

It worried her to discover how much she wanted to believe Amir was such a man. He’d come back for her, protected her, putting himself in danger in the process. He’d won her gratitude and respect.

But the hard lessons of youth couldn’t be ignored. Would he expect recompense for his protection? Her mouth twisted at the thought, and she knew a twinge of unfamiliar regret that suspicion was so ingrained.

‘Cassie?’ Amir’s deep voice skimmed like hot velvet over her body. ‘What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’ An instant later strong arms enfolded her, sweeping her up against his tall frame.

Her eyes rounded in surprise. She opened her lips to demand he put her down. But she closed them as an unfamiliar sense of wellbeing filled her.

‘I’m perfectly fine. I was just thinking.’ She told herself she wanted to stand on her own feet despite feeling battered and bruised. Yet his embrace was insidiously comforting. Something she could get too accustomed to.