Lord of the Desert Read Online Free PDF Page B

looking at him, too. She wondered how he’d gotten those scars on his face. There were others on the back of his left hand, the same side as those on his face.
    He saw her curiosity and touched his cheek lightly. “An accident, when I was much younger,” he said frankly. “There are other scars, better hidden,” he added in a harsh undertone.
    She smiled self-consciously. “Sorry,” she said at once. “I didn’t mean to stare. They’re not disfiguring, you know,” she added easily. “You look like a pirate.”
    His eyelids flickered. “Mademoiselle?”
    â€œYou need an eye-patch and a cutlass and a parrot, though,” she added. “And one of those sexy white ruffled shirts that leaves half your chest bare.”
    His delight was in the explosion of brilliance in his black eyes, in the hearty laugh that fell like music on her ears. She had a feeling that he laughed very rarely.
    â€œOh, and a ship,” she continued. “With black sails.”
    â€œOne of my ancestors was a Riffian Berber,” he told her. “Not quite a pirate, but very definitely a revolutionary.”
    â€œI just knew it,” she said with glee. She searched his dark eyes and felt a thrill in the pit of her stomach that had no counterpart in her memory. Her breath was catching in her throat. No man had ever made her feel so feminine. “Have you ever ridden a camel?” she asked.
    â€œWhat prompted that question?” he asked.
    She indicated a man standing with a small herd of camels at the front of a hotel on the coast, whose parking lot they were just entering. “I really do want to ride a camel before I go home.”
    â€œThere are no saddles, you know,” he said as the driver parked the car and got out to open the door for them.
    Gretchen looked at her gray slacks and sandals. “No stirrups, either?”
    â€œNo.”
    She looked longingly at the camels. “They’re so pretty. They’re like horses on stilts.”
    â€œTreachery!” he remonstrated. “To compare a mere beast of burden with something so elegant as our Arabian horses!”
    She arched her eyebrows and looked up at him. “Do you ride?”
    â€œOf course I ride.” He looked at the camels with distaste. “But not in a suit.” An Armani suit, but he wasn’t going to mention that.
    She caught his sleeve lightly. She didn’t touch people often, but she felt safe with him. He wasn’t a stranger, even though he should have been. “Please?” she asked. “I don’t even want to go far. I just want to know what it’s like.”
    It was like gossamer strands of silk brushing open nerves to have her soft green eyes look at him that way. Her fingers weren’t even touching his skin, but he felt their warmth right through the fabric, and his breath caught. Something unfamiliar tautened his tall, fit body.
    â€œVery well,” he said abruptly, moving away from that light touch.
    She dropped her hand as if he’d burned it. He didn’t like to be touched, she noticed. She wouldn’t forget again. She grinned at him as they approached the camel master. “Thanks!”
    â€œYou’ll fall off and break your neck, most likely,” he muttered darkly. He spoke to the camel driver in that same odd dialect she didn’t understand, smiling and gesturing with his hands as the other man did. They both looked at her, grinning from ear to ear.
    â€œCome along,” the tall man told Gretchen, nodding her toward a small wooden block that was standing beside one of the well-groomed tan camels. The single hump was covered by a blanket and there was a tiny braided rope to hold on to.
    â€œI’m not quite sure…ooh!”
    The tall man had lifted her right up in his arms. He smiled at her shock as he put her on the camel’s back and handed her the single small braided rein. “Wrap your legs