Girl in the Bedouin Tent Read Online Free PDF Page B

suppress a demand that he take her away from here now—this instant!
    ‘But even if you’re staying here I could—’
    ‘What?’ His eyebrows arrowed down and his lips thinned. ‘Find your own way to safety?’
    Did he have to sound so dismissive? She wasn’t that naïve. ‘Perhaps some of your people could take me.’
    Already he was shaking his head. ‘I only have a small staff with me and all are required here.’ He paused. ‘I regret it, but your only option is to leave when I do.’
    Cassie clamped her mouth shut and looked away, lest he see the desperation in her eyes.
    ‘This isn’t as I’d wish it either.’ His voice dropped. ‘But it’s the only way. Look at me, Cassandra.’
    Startled by the sound of her name on his lips, she swung round. ‘Cassie.’
    ‘Cassie, then.’ Eyes as black as the midnight desert sky bored into hers. She had the unnerving sensation he looked deep into her soul. ‘You will forgive my need for absolute honesty?’
    ‘I’d prefer it.’ Knowledge was strength. She needed to know where she stood.
    He nodded. ‘It’s essential the camp believes I am content with this arrangement. And that you accept it.’
    Her eyes widened as his meaning sank in.
    ‘Should they believe otherwise, Mustafa will give you to someone else and find me a replacement companion. Or keep you for himself.’ Dark eyes pinioned hers. ‘Do you want to risk that?’
    Dread coursed through her veins and she shuddered, remembering the avid faces of the all-male crowd who’d watched as she was presented like some trophy to this man.
    Reluctantly she shook her head. She’d stay. For now.
    Half an hour later Cassie stood rigid, eyes fixed on a wall hanging of a courtyard garden with fountains and ornamental trees and beautiful ladies. One played a stringed instrument, one brushed the long, dark hair of another who lifted a cup daintily to her lips. Yet another picked a blossom with delicate fingers.
    ‘It’s a garden of pleasures,’ the voice, low and rich, murmured. His breath was a puff of warmth on her bare arm and her skin contracted as if brushed by soft suede.
    Cassie cleared her throat. ‘Really?’ She tried not to notice the way his body heat seemed to inflame her bare skin when he stood so close. Whenever his fingers brushed her bare torso she felt a curious trembling.
    ‘Absolutely. In countries like this a garden is a paradise, a place of bountiful water, of green growing things and beauty.’
    Cassie knew he only spoke to keep her mind off the fact that he was having trouble unlocking the long lead to the chain around her waist. Yet she found herself lulled by the tantalising burr of his low voice.
    Half an hour of kindness, of reassurance, and her terror had abated. Enough for the rigid tension to seep away and anxiety to drop to a barely there undercurrent.
    Now she registered other things. A growing awareness of the man beside her, and of her own body.
    Perhaps it was the aftermath of stress that made her so sensitive to his nearness. And to his touch.
    ‘And the women in the picture?’ She searched for a way to keep him talking. She told herself it was to keep her mind off the worry that the ancient padlock on the chain would never open. Not because she needed distraction from the feel of his large hands brushing her skin with a delicacy that sent whorls of sensation through her.
    ‘Steady, now. This lock is very stiff. You need to be still.’
    Cassie sucked in her breath as he insinuated his fingers beneath the chain at her waist and tried to ease the lock free.
    ‘The women represent the pleasures of the senses. Soothingmusic, the scent of blossom, the taste of sweet nectar, the pleasure of touch and the sight of beauty.’
    He tugged, then moved, adjusting his hold, and she hurried into speech. ‘That’s fascinating. I just thought it was a nice design.’
    ‘It’s far more than that. It can be read on several levels.’ She felt the soft brush of his hair on her