Inherited For The Royal Bed. Annie West

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ well.’ If it helped her to feel useful, he wouldn’t object. It would be tough getting her to speak if she were frozen into silence.

      So he leaned back against the padded chair and stretched out one leg towards her, watching as she scooted closer, cradling the boot in her hands then drawing it off as carefully as if it were something precious and fragile.

      Both boots, both socks were removed and set aside. Then she moved the bowl, lifted his legs one at a time and placed them in warm water.

      Instantly Sayid felt some of the tension locking his muscles release.

      ‘Thank you, Lina.’ Her startled gaze told him she wasn’t accustomed to thanks. ‘Now, tell me about yourself.’

      Again that flare of confusion in her stunning eyes. Whatever her story, she wasn’t used to being asked about herself. She hesitated then moistened her lips with her tongue in a way that sent tension flicking through him like a whip.

      ‘My name is Lina Rahman. My father was Headman of Narjif.’

      Sayid nodded. He knew the distant town and he’d met her father last year as he toured the provinces. A serious man and a traditionalist, set in his ways. But that didn’t explain why he’d send his daughter as a gift to Sayid’s uncle, a man notorious in his younger days for his womanising, and more lately, for his irascible temper.

      ‘You have siblings?’

      A dimple appeared in her cheek as if she bit it. ‘Sadly no. My parents weren’t blessed with sons, only me.’ Clearly she repeated something she’d heard many times. Yet Sayid was pleased to see she met his gaze, not so shy now.

      ‘He sent you to my uncle? To the old Emir?’

      ‘No!’ She shook her head and another long strand of dark hair slid over her shoulder to fall in a sinuous curve over her breast. ‘My father is dead. It was his brother who sent me. He and his wife.’

      Sayid frowned. ‘And your mother?’

      ‘She died years ago. If she’d been alive she would not have sent me away.’ Her voice grew stronger with an echo of what might have been indignation. Lina took a small towel from her shoulder and laid it neatly across her knees. Then she lifted his foot and placed it on the towel, her movements sure and deft.

      Sayid watched as she patted his foot dry then propped it, heel down on her thigh. With a firm, rhythmic movement she rubbed her thumbs over his sole, finding and working pressure points. Sayid felt warmth rise and spread, not only through his foot but his whole body. His tired eyes flickered and his aching muscles eased as pleasure rushed through him.

      ‘You’ve done this before.’

      ‘For my father.’ Her features softened a fraction.

      ‘Not your uncle?’

      Instantly she stiffened, her mouth turning down at the corners and her forehead crinkling. ‘No. It would not be appropriate. My aunt specifically forbade me to touch any of my male relatives.’

      ‘There is more than your uncle?’

      Her thumbs pressed so hard that the massage bordered on pain rather than pleasure. ‘My uncle and aunt have three sons.’

      ‘And you wanted to touch them?’ For some reason Sayid disliked the idea.

      ‘Ha! I’d rather touch a flea-ridden, spitting camel with diarrhoea than one of them.’

      Sayid bit down a smile, weariness abating as curiosity rose. His demure little gift wasn’t nearly as demure as she seemed.

      ‘I see. They wanted to touch you.’

      Lina nodded, her nostrils flaring in distaste. Her breasts rose high against his shirt as she breathed hard.

      ‘They accused me of leading them on! Of tempting and teasing, when I never even looked at them. I avoided them as much as I could. But that wasn’t enough. They said I wore perfume deliberately to entice them. That they could smell it when I left my room and it was an invitation for them to follow me.’

      In her indignation Lina had forgotten to be cowed or careful. Fire flashed in her fine eyes and her cheeks blushed a soft rose.

      Though he deplored their behaviour, Sayid understood too easily why her cousins found her such a temptation. Nervous and cowed she was lovely. Animated, she was glorious.

      Even he, bound by his obligation as her ruler, as her host, and by his own honour, felt the dangerous undertow of attraction.

      She was young, vulnerable and in his care. Unlike his dead uncle, Sayid didn’t believe people should be given as gifts or treated as expendable.

      No wonder her relatives had packed her off to the capital. To keep temptation away from the males of her family. He guessed there was little love lost between Lina and her aunt and uncle.

      ‘Were there no other relatives willing to take you in?’

      Her gaze dropped. She concentrated on drying his other foot and massaging it. Again Sayid felt the tug and release of taut muscles and tendons, and a glorious feeling of well-being. He’d never had a foot massage and was rapidly suspecting it might be addictive. Yet to his consternation the stirring in his loins indicated an inconvenient but growing arousal at odds with that wave of relaxation.

      ‘My uncle moved his family into my father’s house. And I have no other relatives. Even if there were, my mother...’

      She paused so long Sayid wondered if she’d continue.

      ‘My mother had been a dancer. Much younger than my father. She was not...approved of locally. No one else came forward to offer me a home when my father died.’

      Sayid stared at her downcast face, at bone-deep beauty that even tightly pursed lips and a scowl couldn’t mar.

      With a nation to rule, a government to revamp and peace to establish, Sayid didn’t have time for one lost girl.

      Yet nor could he dismiss her. An orphan, without a family who’d care for her and, by the sound of it, a town that didn’t want her, that was biased against her because of her mother, she’d been given away like a commodity. That easy disregard for people without the means to protect or support themselves was something he abhorred. He’d seen it too often under his uncle’s rule.

      He thrust aside the weary voice that protested responsibility for the nation was enough, without taking personal responsibility for a stray female too. A female who, given his powerful reaction, was surely trouble.

      Yet she had no options, no home.

      Who else would take responsibility if not her Emir?

      Sayid took his obligations seriously.

      ‘Thank you for the massage, Lina.’ He withdrew from her touch, ignoring the tingle along his skin and the urge to let her minister to him with those supple hands.

      Sayid sat straighter. He would not act on this burgeoning desire.

      ‘Now.’ СКАЧАТЬ