Hidden In The Sheikh's Harem. Michelle ConderЧитать онлайн книгу.
prince but that would involve speaking to him and she’d much rather pretend he wasn’t there. She’d much rather pretend she was in her own bed than on the cold, hard ground wrapped in the strong arms of her father’s number one enemy.
* * *
Finally she fell asleep. Thank Allah. Once her trembling had subsided, she’d squirmed around trying to get comfortable to the point that Zach had needed to place a staying hand on her hip to stop her from rubbing her bottom against his burning erection one more time. It was bad enough he even had one let alone her knowing about it.
Realising that his hand was still gripping her hip, he eased it away. He knew his reaction to her was based on his recent bout of celibacy and little else. Maybe the way danger heightened the senses, as well. Whatever it was, he had no intention of acting on it. He wasn’t the type to lose his head over anything and one slender spitfire wouldn’t change that.
Sighing, he shifted to get comfortable. The little spitfire whimpered in her sleep like a small kitten having a bad dream. He didn’t doubt she was and he wondered if it featured a jail cell and the span of twenty years. That brought a small smile to his lips, one that was quickly supplanted by a scowl when she burrowed closer to his warmth. He briefly thought about putting his arm beneath her head to offer his biceps as a pillow but then dismissed the idea. What did he care about her comfort? She might have offered him food earlier and... Damn. Just the thought of her crouching over him and bringing the food to his lips was enough to have his mind spiralling back to what she would look like naked. He’d noticed the telltale flush of arousal on her face when he’d drawn her fingers into his mouth and laved them with his tongue, the way her eyes had glazed with desire. She’d been turned on and, damn it, so was he. Again.
Absently he wondered if she was intimate with the arrogant soldier who had argued with her. He clearly wanted her. Not that Zach cared, but there was definite tension between the two of them. The man was clearly a moron, though, to have left her alone with him. If she had been his woman there was no way he’d have let her have her own way in a dangerous situation. She would be his to take care of. His to protect. And thank Allah she wasn’t.
He felt her shiver and curl into a tighter ball. She must still be cold; he damned well was. Cold, hungry, angry and his arms and torso felt like they were covered in a thousand tiny pinpricks from where the sand and rain had pelted him in the storm.
He let out an aggrieved sigh. Farah Hajjar better not give him any trouble in the morning because he was very far from his cool, controlled self.
‘WAKE UP, ZENOBIA. Time to hustle.’
Hustle?
Groggily Farah came awake and realised the prod in her bottom had been the Prince of Bakaan’s foot. Her teeth ground together at the way he mockingly referred to her as a warrior queen from the Roman era. Some warrior she was, allowing him to get the better of her. ‘Only if you’ll give me back my dagger so I can do to you what she did to Probus.’
She sat up and rubbed the grit from her eyes but still caught the look of surprise on his face. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she simpered. ‘Am I supposed to play the part of the village idiot who isn’t anywhere near as learned as the high and mighty prince with his first-class degree?’
He didn’t move but she felt his eyes on her like a hot brand. ‘Two degrees, actually.’
‘Oh, well, excuse me.’ She glanced at Moonbeam so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
‘So you’re educated?’
‘Self-educated, no thanks to your family’s reign.’ She flicked him a scathing look. ‘But, as much as your father tried to keep us all in the dark, we’re a little more resourceful than you might think. Especially when—’
She stopped, suddenly realising she was about to tell him that there was someone on his staff who was supplying the outer tribes with contraband medical and educational goods.
Great going, Farah, she admonished herself. What a way to get a man fired—or, worse, killed.
His eyes narrowed. ‘When what?’
She brushed sand off her legs. ‘Never mind. Why did you kick me?’
‘I didn’t kick you. I nudged you.’ His deep voice made her insides feel unsteady. ‘And I wouldn’t be Probus in your little fantasy. I’d be Aurelian.’
Aurelian, who had captured Zenobia and ended her reign as queen. She made a rude noise at his arrogance. ‘You wish,’ she muttered, half under her breath.
He stopped in front of her and she stared at his dusty boots and the way his jeans—so foreign in her part of the world and yet so sexy in the way they moulded to his legs—hung over the top. ‘I captured you, didn’t I?’
Instant annoyance hit her at his words and she threw her head back to glare at him—only something black and alive dropped to the ground beside her and she let out a blood-curdling scream. The scorpion took off into a nearby crevice and Farah went from paralysed inertia to violently brushing at her clothing in seconds.
Suddenly large hands grasped her upper arms and lifted her to her feet. ‘Keep still.’ The prince scoured the ground for the offending visitor and released her. ‘It’s gone.’
Something crawled across her shoulder and she nearly hit the cave roof. ‘More! There’s more.’
‘No, there’s not.’ The prince’s voice seemed to come from far off before he gripped her arms again and shook her gently. ‘It’s your imagination.’
‘My hair,’ she gasped. ‘They’re in my hair.’ It was one of those irrational fears she’d struggled to master since her mother’s death all those years ago.
With an exaggerated sigh, the prince gently knocked her hands away from her head and turned her around.
* * *
Zach’s eyes swept over dark chestnut tresses that a bird would think twice about before nesting in. It was long, thick and matted with sand, half of it still in the braid that hung down her back.
Carefully he scanned it for anything moving. ‘There is nothing.’
‘There is. I can feel...’ She shivered and turned towards him. Her eyes were huge in her face and moist from where she held tears at bay. She was afraid he realised; truly petrified. Something inside his chest pulled tight and before he could question the move he dug his fingers into her hair. She stood stock-still but he caught the small tremors of fear racing through her and the need to comfort her overwhelmed everything else.
Smoothing her hair back from her face, he moved behind her to unwind her plait. The dark waves parted beneath his fingers and he found himself studying the lightly tanned skin of her neck. It looked smooth and supple, not unlike the body he had curved around the night before.
Reminding himself that she was as bloodthirsty as her father, he ignored the underlying silky texture of her hair as he combed his fingers through it. Again his body responded to the fact that he was touching her, which only elevated his already soaring stress levels. He should be focused on getting home, not on saving a woman he couldn’t care less about from desert insects.
Roughly he turned her back to face him. ‘You’re clear.’
She stared up at him with those guileless chocolate-brown eyes and he felt a jolt go right through him. Bedroom eyes, he decided, his gaze automatically dropping to her slightly parted lips. Bedroom eyes and soft, kissable lips...
Time seemed to stop as he imagined doing all sorts of unholy things to those lips, starting with his mouth and ending with... The hair on his forearms stood on end and it wasn’t the only thing that did.
Hell.
He stepped