Girl in the Bedouin Tent Read Online Free PDF

will do what Mustafa tells them to.’
    ‘And you?’
    She went too far this time.
    ‘Ms Denison.’ His voice rang with hauteur. ‘I give my word you have nothing to fear from me. The first I knew of your presence was when you were brought to me at the feasting tent.’
    ‘I …’ She faltered and her gaze dipped. ‘I see. Thank you.’
    Like a balloon pricked by a pin, she seemed to deflate before his eyes. Instantly, regret lashed him. Where was his control? Strive as he might to reassure, his reactions to Cassandra Denison were too raw and unpredictable.
    How to gentle her and win her trust?
    He had a lifetime’s experience in pleasuring women. His lovers were well satisfied. But since adolescence females had pursued him. All he’d had to do was reach out and select the one he wanted. He treated them well, but he’d never had to exert himself to win a woman’s trust.
    How was he to deal with this woman who defied yet intrigued him? A woman so reluctantly dependent on him?

CHAPTER THREE
    ‘W HY isn’t it so simple?’
    ‘Pardon?’
    Cassie struggled to sound calm. ‘Getting me away from here. You said it’s not that simple.’
    ‘That’s right.’ He poured himself a drink, then raised a golden goblet to his lips.
    Frowning, Cassie looked away to the table between them. There was something disturbingly intimate about watching the strong muscles of his burnished throat as he tipped his head back to drink.
    Was it the stress of her situation that made her so hyperalert? Or the intimacy of this quiet lamplit haven, so peaceful after her recent trauma?
    Slowly he lowered the goblet, and she had the unnerving feeling he was preparing to break bad news.
    ‘I’ve just arrived and I won’t be leaving for a week.’
    Cassie nodded. ‘And.?’
    ‘And you will have to remain here till then.’
    ‘No way!’ On surging outrage she rose, only to subside again when he held out an arm to bar her way. He didn’t touch. His hand stopped centimetres from hers. But his expression had its effect. ‘If you expect me to wait around here a whole week—’
    ‘That’s exactly what I expect, Ms Denison. When my negotiations are over I’ll escort you to safety. In the meantime, solong as you remain in this tent, you are under my protection. No one will touch you while you are mine.’
    Cassie’s eyes rounded.
His.
    A bolt of electricity zapped her.
    It wasn’t news. That scene in the other tent had been brutally clear, despite the language barrier. Yet to hear him spell it out was too much.
    ‘I’m not yours.’ Her voice rose. ‘I’m not
any
man’s.’
    He shook his head. ‘As far as Mustafa and everyone else in this camp are concerned you belong to me.’
    ‘That’s barbaric!’
    What century did he think this was?
    He shrugged. ‘Of course it is. Mustafa thinks to shore up his position by acts of bravado and posturing.’ Dark eyes dropped for a moment to her voluminous cloak, but she suspected it wasn’t coarse wool he pictured in his head. A tremor ran through her as she remembered his gaze on her bare skin. ‘The man has no subtlety.’
    Out of nowhere heat washed her. She only just stopped herself wondering what sort of subtleties the Sheikh of Tarakhar preferred.
    ‘But you can’t expect me to stay here!’
    ‘I cannot cut this visit short.’
    ‘Not even to rescue a woman in distress?’ Cassie never thought she’d play the helpless female, but her situation was dire.
    He spread his hands, drawing her gaze to long, capable fingers and strong wrists.
    ‘I’m here to put an end to the sort of border raid to which you fell victim. If diplomacy fails force will be needed. I’m sure you’ll understand my preference not to risk the lives of my citizens unless absolutely necessary.’
    At his words she raised her head and found her gaze captured.
    ‘I cannot risk what’s happened to you happening to anyone else.’
    Cassie sat back on her heels. She applauded his purpose. Yet she had to fight to