Defying her Desert Duty Read Online Free PDF

allowed should have pleased her. Instead it struck her as insulting. He didn’t have to make such a conspicuous issue of keeping his distance, so grimly silent.
    What she’d done to annoy him, she had no idea.
He
was theone whose behaviour was questionable, following her every move in the nightclub. What was that about?
    Fifteen minutes later they stood on the pavement before her building. He’d overridden her assurance that he needn’t see her to the entrance, just as he’d paid the taxi fare as she fumbled for cash. Polite gestures no doubt but he insidiously invaded her space, encroaching on her claim to be an independent woman.
    Never before had that claim seemed so precious.
    Her heart plunged as she thought of what lay ahead.
    A promise to keep.
    A duty to perform.
    A
lifetime
of it.
    So much for the tantalising sense of freedom she’d only just found. The dreams she’d dared to harbour. She’d been mad to let herself imagine a future of her own making.
    ‘Here. Thank you.’ She tugged his jacket off her shoulders. Instantly she missed its heavy, comforting warmth and, she realised with horror, its subtle spicy scent. The scent of
him
.
    She looked into his shadowed face, unable to read his expression. But there was no mistaking the care he took not to touch her as he took the jacket from her hands. As if she might contaminate him!
    Why had she, even for a moment, worried what he thought of her? She’d long ago learned to rise above what others thought, what they expected. Only by being true to herself and those she cared for had she found strength.
    ‘Goodbye. Thank you for seeing me home.’ What did it matter if her voice was stilted with indignation? She inclined her head stiffly and turned, unlocking the door.
    ‘It’s no trouble.’ His deep voice rumbled, low and soft as a zephyr of hot desert wind, across her nape. Too late she realised she
felt
his warm breath, a caress on her bare skin as she stepped into the foyer and he followed.
    Soraya slammed to a halt and felt the heat of his big frame behind her. Static electricity sparked and rippled across her flesh. It dismayed her. She’d never known anything like it.
    But, she rationalised, till tonight she’d never been so close to a man other than her father.
    Would she feel this strange surge of power in the air and across her skin when she went to the Emir?
    Despite the heat of Zahir’s body Soraya shivered.
    ‘I’ll see you to your apartment.’
    Flattening her lips at his assumption she couldn’t look after herself in her own building, she strode across the foyer. No point arguing. She had as much chance of budging him as of moving the Eiffel Tower.
    But she refused to share the miniscule lift. The thought of being cocooned with him in that cramped space sent a spasm of horror through her. She’d rather take the five flights of stairs, even if her new shoes
were
pinching.
    Soraya was ridiculously breathless when she reached her floor. She shoved her key in the door and turned to face him.
    He wasn’t even breathing quickly after their rapid ascent. Nor did he feel that strange under-the-skin restlessness that so unnerved her. That was clear from his impassive face. He looked solid and immoveable. Nothing pierced his control.
    ‘Here.’ He held out a thick cream card. On one side was a mobile-phone number. No name, nothing else. On the other he’d scrawled in bold, slashing strokes the name of a hotel she knew by reputation only. ‘Call me if you need anything. I’ll make all the necessary arrangements.’
    No point in assuring him again she’d do her own organizing; it would be a waste of breath. He had the look of a man who heard what he chose to hear. She’d sort out the details later when she wasn’t so weary.
    ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, resolutely hauling her gaze from his clear-eyed stare. ‘Good night.’
    Behind her she pushed open the door to the apartment.
    ‘Is that you, Soraya?’ From inside, Lisle’s husky