Undressed by the Boss. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.
which she didn’t like, but his eyes—those she did like. They might have been amused as he stared at, or then again not. She could decide. Her throat dried as she watched him stride towards the horses, and then she saw the men bring out a mule loaded with provisions and her mouth dried a little more. This was going to be some expedition.
Excited as she was, she felt a tremble of alarm. What did it mean, this trek into the desert? She was prepared in the practical sense, but in another, far more personal sense, was she ready for this? Was she ready for the untamed desert with an untamed man? What did she really think was going to happen when she was out there with Raffa, miles away from anyone, and from convention and civilisation?
She was terrified, but excited too. She was ready to face most challenges, and Raffa was the biggest challenge of all. He was so much more complex than his forward publicity had suggested. He was also the most rampantly masculine man she had ever encountered, and yet he was so strongly principled she felt safe with him; safer than she had ever felt with a man before. He was a protector and would keep her safe. Virginally safe? She pressed her lips together and sighed; that was an unknown.
‘Are you coming?’ he called, before she could get herself worked up about it.
Raffa was holding her mount and looking her way. She had no idea what he was thinking.
That element of the uncertain, the unknown, that she had always been groping towards, was hers for the taking—if she had the courage. And actually, right at this moment, she was more frightened of the sweet-looking little pony Raffa was patting than Raffa. The last time she had been on a saddle was on a donkey at the beach when she had been a very little girl.
‘Come on, he won’t bite,’ Raffa encouraged.
She had to admit the dapple grey did look kind. The gelding was decked out with a fancy harness and a colourful saddle cloth to protect its sturdy back from her. And at least she didn’t have to ride Raffa’s horse—a jet-black, impatient looking stallion, with a fierce stare like its master. The monster mount was currently tossing its head and chomping at its bit in impatience.
‘Ready?’ Raffa encouraged. ‘How else do you think we’re going to get to our destination?’
She’d rather walk.
‘If you don’t hurry I’ll put you on the mule and tie your backpack to the horse.’
Okay. Deep breath. So she’d ride the horse. How hard could it be?
Very hard.
She fell stiff-legged off her mount the moment they stopped, after what felt like hours of bone-jouncing trekking. They had reached an oasis around which a tented city had formed.
Casey remained where she fell, hugging her knees and silently yowling at the pain in her limbs. At least it gave her chance to admire the scenery, she reasoned as Raffa shook his head, slowly unwinding his howlis as he looked down at her.
She needed some immediate distraction from that sort of wow. Well, there was plenty of distraction around. They were on top of a sand dune, from where they could look down at the rolling desert painted in shades of ochre and umber. The plateau was punctuated by a limpid lilac lake fringed by shades of green. The oasis not only provided a lifeline to the wandering people who used it, but to the local wildlife, Casey saw, spotting desert gazelles grown brave enough to come and drink in the failing light.
Rolling over onto her stomach, she exclaimed softly as she watched them, forgetting her own discomfort. It was just such a magical sight—timid creatures finding courage as she had in the desert, beneath a sky that was slowly turning from palest aqua to midnight-blue, while at the horizon it was shot through with dazzling scarlet.
‘Get up,’ Raffa rapped, putting an end to her idyll. ‘There are scorpions in this area.’
With a shriek, she leapt up, slapping her sides energetically.
‘Remember to check your boots each time you put them on,’ he told her sternly—one instruction she was unlikely to forget.
‘Is this the end of our journey?’ she asked, still shuddering as she hurried after him.
‘It could be—for you.’
‘For me?’
‘If you find a scorpion in your clothes.’
That did it. With a shriek that startled the gazelles, she whacked herself all over while Raffa held the back of his neck, viewing her contortions with a puzzled frown. ‘With all that stuff in your backpack,’ he said, ‘didn’t you remember to bring some bug spray?’
‘I could be dead by the time I find it.’
‘Okay, relax. Even the biggest scorpions you’ll find round here would only sting you like a wasp.’
‘Nice,’ she accused him.
‘Would you like me to search you?’
‘Absolutely not,’ she exclaimed, springing away. ‘So why are we here?’ she demanded, all fired up now.
‘I thought you might like to see how the money you raised will be spent.’
As he walked away she chased after him. ‘Raffa, wait … thank you.’
Out of breath, she rested, hands on knees, at the foot of the next dune.
‘Why are you thanking me?’ His cheek creased attractively as he smiled.
She straightened up. ‘You haven’t even allowed me to apologise to you yet.’
‘For success?’
‘Raffa, wait.’ She gazed up with frustration as his panther stride increased the distance between them. How was it she slipped two steps back for every step she tried to take up the dune?
Thankfully, Raffa had paused on the brow of the hill to stare down at her.
‘I’ll be right there,’ she called up. In maybe a year, the rate she was going.
‘Here, let me help you,’ he said, leaning down. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her up by sheer brute force. ‘Turn your feet out a little,’ he advised. ‘Think of the sand as snow. You can even side-step if you find that easier.’
‘You ski?’
‘Of course.’
Of course.
And, actually, she rather liked being helpless for once, and having him drag her up.
Close to, the tented city was a revelation. It was laid out neatly around the oasis, which flamed crimson where the grey water had harnessed the last solar gasp of the day. Camels and ponies and mules were gathered in a shady corral, and the voices of children carried shrilly towards them on the night breeze.
‘Come on,’ Raffa said, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. ‘I want to introduce you.’
Casey stared at his outstretched hand. Was there a difference in taking hold of Raffa’s hand because she wanted to and taking hold of it because she had to, because without his help she was stranded on the sand?
This was not a time to get philosophical, Casey concluded as he looked at her impatiently.
She made a grab for it, and screamed as Raffa dragged her with him in a pell-mell race down the sand dune. He swung her into his arms at the bottom of it so she wouldn’t fall over.
‘You brute,’ she exclaimed, laughing as she tried to catch her breath. ‘You really scared me.’
‘Did I?’
He was wholly unrepentant, and the children were laughing, forming a circle around them. Impulsively, Casey reached for one small hand and Raffa reached for another, and before they knew it there was one big circle and they were dancing round and round beneath a rising crescent moon—for no other reason than they were all so happy.
The children led them deeper into the encampment,