The Sheikh's Baby. Penny Jordan

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      She had never imagined that there could be anyone who could make her feel so threatened, so appalled by her own feelings, and so afraid of them. Flushed and sticky, she surveyed her uncharacteristically chaotic packing.

      She would put their things in the four-wheel drive first, and then pop Fleur in and then she would drive back to the hotel and not stop until she got there.

      Mariella took a deep breath. Once she was there she would no doubt come to her senses and think of Xavier only as the man who had betrayed her sister, the man who was Fleur’s father!

      The wind was beginning to bend the palms as Mariella hurried out to the vehicle with their things, but she was oblivious to it as she wrestled with the heavy door and started to load the car.

      Xavier saw her as he turned to swim another length. Treading water, he watched in furious disbelief as she struggled with the vehicle’s door and then started to push the bulky container she had brought with her inside it.

      * * *

      THERE! NOW ALL she had to do was go back for Fleur and then they could leave, hopefully whilst Xavier was too busy swimming to notice! And anyway, if he had wanted a swim that badly why couldn’t he have worn…well, something? Why had he had to—to flaunt his undeniably supremely male and very, very sexy body in the way he had?

      Engrossed in her thoughts, she failed to see Xavier wade out of the water and pull on his tee shirt and jeans without wasting time on anything else, before starting to run towards the pavilion into which she had already disappeared.

      ‘Come on, my beautiful baby,’ Mariella crooned lovingly to Fleur as she wrapped her up. ‘You and I are going—’

      ‘Nowhere!’

      Turning round, white-faced and clutching Fleur protectively to her, Mariella glared at him. The fine cotton tee shirt was plastered to his very obviously still damp body and her skittering gaze slid helplessly downward to rest indiscreetly on the groin of his jeans at the same time as her heart came to rest against her chest wall in a massive breathtaking thud.

      He was standing in the exit blocking her way, but infuriatingly, instead of registering this vitally important fact first, her senses seemed to be far too preoccupied with taking a personal inventory of the way he looked clothed and the way he had looked…before!

      Reminding herself that she was an adult, mature businesswoman, well used to running her own life and making her own decisions, and not the sad female with her hormones running riot that she was currently doing a good impression of, she drew herself up to her full height and told him determinedly, ‘I am taking Fleur back to the city and there is no way you are going to stop me. And anyway, I can’t imagine why you would want us to stay after the way you have behaved! The things you have said!’

      ‘Want you to stay? No, I don’t!’ Xavier confirmed harshly. ‘But unfortunately you are going to have to, unless, of course, you want to condemn yourself and the baby to almost certain death.’

      Mariella stared at him. What did he mean? Was he trying to threaten her? ‘We’re leaving,’ she repeated, making for the exit, and trying to ignore both the furious thud of her heart and the fact that he was standing in the way.

      ‘Are you mad? You’d be lucky to get above half a dozen miles before being buried in a sand drift. If you thought the wind coming here was bad, well, let me tell you that was nothing compared with what’s blowing up out there now!’

      Mariella took a deep breath.

      ‘I’ve just been outside. There is no wind,’ she told him patiently, slowly spacing each word with immense care. ‘The storm is over.’

      ‘And you would know, of course, being an expert on desert weather conditions, no doubt. For your information, the reason that there was no wind, as you put it, is because we are, or rather we were in the eye of the storm. And anyone who knows anything about the desert would know that. Couldn’t you feel the stillness? Didn’t you notice the sand haze in the sky?’ The look he shot her could have lit tinder at fifty paces, Mariella recognised shakily.

      ‘You’re lying,’ she told him stubbornly, determined not to let him get the better of her. ‘You just want to keep us here because—’

      When she stopped he looked derisively at her.

      ‘Yes. I want to keep you here because what?’

      Because you know how dangerously much I want you, a treacherous little voice whispered insidiously inside Mariella’s head, and you feel the same way.

      Shuddering, she pushed her thoughts back into the realms of reality—and safety.

      ‘You’re lying,’ she repeated doggedly, eyeing the exit rebelliously.

      ‘Am I?’ Moving to one side, he swept back the tent flap so that she could see outside.

      The palms were bending so much beneath the strength of the wind that their fronds were brushing the sand.

      As she stared in disbelief Mariella could hear the strength of the wind increasing until it whistled eerily around the oasis, physically hurting her ears.

      Out of nowhere it whipped up huge spirals of sand, making them dance in front of her. She could hardly see the sun or differentiate any longer between sand and sky.

      Disbelievingly she took a step outside and cried out in shock as she was almost lifted off her feet when the wind punched into her. In her arms, Fleur screamed and was immediately removed to the protection of a much stronger and safer pair as Xavier snatched Fleur from her.

      The thought of what would have happened to them if they had been caught in the open desert in such conditions drove the colour from Mariella’s face.

      ‘Now do you believe me?’ Xavier demanded grimly when they were both back inside and he had secured the tent flap.

      Reaching out to take Fleur from him, Mariella, whose fingers had inadvertently come into contact with the damp heat of his tee-shirt-clad chest, withdrew her hand so fast she almost lost her balance.

      Immediately Xavier gripped her arm to steady her, supporting whilst he did so, so that it looked almost as though he were embracing them both, holding them both safe.

      Against all rationality, given what she knew about him, Mariella discovered that her eyes were burning with emotional tears. She should be crying, she acknowledged grimly, for her own stupidity in allowing her emotions to be aroused so much for so little real reason! Pulling back from him, she demanded, ‘Just how long is this storm going to last?’

      ‘At least twenty-four hours, perhaps longer. Since the storm is making it impossible to receive any kind of communication signal, it is impossible to know. Such storms are rare at this time of year, but when they do occur they are both unpredictable and fierce.’

      As was Xavier himself, Mariella decided as she took Fleur from him.

       CHAPTER FIVE

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