Bedded By The Desert King. Susan Stephens

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СКАЧАТЬ out of control.

      ‘Are you all right in there?’

      Zara hurtled upright at the sound of the deep male voice. The chance she was taking seemed a whole lot bigger suddenly. ‘Yes, thank you, I’m fine…’ Her voice sounded strained. And where were the clothes he’d promised? What was she supposed to do now? How long could she reasonably remain submerged in rapidly cooling bathwater? Was this Abbas’s idea of a joke? Or was he preparing her for—? She gasped as a hand appeared around the curtain.

      ‘Here are a couple of towels for you…’

      ‘Thank you…’ She could hear another voice now…Zara tensed, listening. It was an older man! What on earth had she got herself into?

      Springing out of the bath, she seized the towels and flung them around her, securing them firmly. Once she was decent, she put her ear to the curtain, which was all that divided her from the two men. They were talking in the husky Zaddaran dialect and she could tell little from their tone of voice.

      ‘Here…’

      She started back as Abbas’s bronzed hand appeared around the curtain holding some sort of flimsy robe.

      ‘Well, take it…’ he instructed impatiently.

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘Something for you to wear?’ he suggested bitingly.

      Zara watched in fascination as the hand stretched out a little more, revealing a wrist shaded with dark hair. Having located the wooden stand, he let the robe fall over it.

      ‘And here’s a veil to go with it…’

      Having disappeared again behind the curtain, the hand came back and this time she got a good look at the powerful forearm attached to it…A robe and a veil? What did Abbas think this was—his harem?

      ‘You’ll need some fresh clothes,’ he pointed out, anticipating her concern. ‘Unless you’re going to come out of there wrapped in towels, of course.’

      ‘Thank you…’ The robe was lovely…pure silk, Zara found on closer inspection. In the softest shade of sky-blue, it was heavily embroidered with the tiniest silver cross-stitch she had ever seen. The matching veil was as light as air, the merest wisp of silk chiffon in the same delicate shade…

      ‘Get dressed quickly,’ Abbas instructed. ‘I have allowed a man to shelter inside Aban’s tent until the storm has passed. I don’t want you scaring him half to death—’

      ‘Me?’

      ‘Yes, you…The man’s a silk trader, hence your new robe, but the sight of you wearing it would alarm him. Women in the desert usually have more discretion and never appear in public dressed in such a manner.’

      But it was all right for Abbas to see her dressed like this? Even as her hackles rose, Zara felt a twinge of guilt. Perhaps it was the only robe the trader had that was suitable and Abbas needn’t have troubled to buy it for her. Glancing at her travel-worn clothes lying crumpled on the floor, she realised how grateful she was to have something clean to wear, especially something new and so undeniably feminine…But her doubts returned the moment she slipped her feet into the dainty jewelled mules Abbas had just pushed under the curtain. She had taken a bath in a man’s tent in the middle of a desert—a powerful hunk of a man she didn’t even know, and now she was wearing a seductive outfit of his choice.

      ‘Do the mules fit? I took a guess at the size of your feet.’

      ‘It was a very good guess.’ And if he knew her shoe size, what else had come under his close scrutiny? Zara wondered.

      ‘Are you ever coming out of there?’

      Abbas’s impatience sent a little shiver of awareness rushing through her. Pressing the robe to her body, she was just checking to see if it was transparent when he spoke again.

      ‘May I?’

      Making a last pass with her hands down the front of the robe to make sure she was decent, she straightened up. ‘Of course…’

      He flung the curtain back.

      ‘Our fashions suit you…’

      ‘It’s very kind of you to say so…’

      ‘Not kind at all—a simple fact,’ Abbas assured her.

      Closing her eyes, Zara inhaled the faint scent of sandalwood and tried not to imagine what could happen in these sumptuous surroundings with her authoritative, seductive host. She thought about the easy command he had over his words, his actions, his body…

      What would it be like when they were making love?

      Zara banished that thought immediately, conscious that Abbas was still waiting for her. ‘I’ll just sponge these clothes down and then I’ll be right with you,’ she assured him briskly. She might be dressed for seduction, but the practical side of her nature always won through. She was keen for him to be aware of that. Pushing the silk chiffon up her arms, she got to work.

      She would have to keep a tight rein on her thoughts, Zara reflected, hanging her clothes carefully over the stand to dry out. All these fantasies about harems and seduction were dangerous. Combing through her hair with her fingers, she adjusted the robe so that it hung properly and tried the veil. With the veil on it felt like dressing up—different, fun, glamorous…‘What shall I do about the water in the bath?’

      Did he think she was going to leave that for Aban to deal with too? Zara wondered as she came to join Abbas in the tent. Hunkered down by the brazier, he was putting fresh coffee grounds into the pot. As he stared up in frank admiration their gazes clashed, which brought fresh streams of sensation rushing through her veins. She had to let the veil slip in order to clutch the robe a little closer. Shouldn’t he look away now? Zara wondered, feeling her cheeks flame. To distract from her discomfort she attacked him on another front. ‘I’m surprised you’d allow Aban to carry up water from the wadi just so you could bathe.’

      ‘I brought every drop of water up from the wadi. Aban is my man, not my slave.’

      She couldn’t help but feel a small glow of appreciation at his words. Or maybe the glow had started when she stared at his lips—they were such sensuous lips.

      ‘You have beautiful hair,’ Abbas observed softly.

      Zara was suddenly conscious of the weight of her waist-length hair and its silky lustre. It felt soft to her touch and the brush of it against her cheek had never felt so sensuous. Even the way it fell into natural waves when it had been washed, which had always annoyed her in the past, seemed suddenly an advantage. She had never thought of herself as beautiful before.

      Abbas made her feel beautiful, Zara realised, wrinkling her brow in confusion. She was relieved when he turned away at last. It gave her a chance to study him covertly. But now the glow she had felt moments before raged into an inferno. Heavily shaded with dark stubble, his face was the hardest face she had ever seen…and she just knew that his body, concealed beneath the flowing folds of his robe, would be the body of a fighting man, hard and beautiful.

      ‘I’m going to shave,’ he said, picking up a knife. ‘Why don’t you sit by the brazier and dry your СКАЧАТЬ