The Sheikh Who Blackmailed Her. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ meal will be here presently. I will make sure that there is tea, miss. You will have time to bathe, if you wish, and there are fresh clothes in the bedroom.’

      Gabby smiled in acknowledgement of the offer, even as she thought no thanks.

      Once alone, she explored. She bounced on the enormous bed and pulled back the counterpane to admire the finest Egyptian cotton linen, then pressed a selection of buttons on a panel she discovered. One of them caused curtains to silently swish across the windows, and another filled the room with the sound of a blues tune that had always been one of her favourites.

      She didn’t have a clue how to switch it off, so she let it play. The background sound was soothing, and it actually made her feel a bit less lost. She turned up the volume, thinking she needed all the help she could get. She was so totally out of her depth. The question was, how long could she carry on treading water before she sank like a stone?

      The entire suite of rooms was sumptuously furnished, but it was the bathroom that really made her eyes pop. The sight of an utterly decadent sunken bath that could have fitted an entire soccer team brought a wistful gleam to her eyes …

      The girl had said there was time. What could be the harm?

      She turned on the taps and struggled to recall the title of the song now playing as she began to strip off her soiled clothes.

      She took a little while to select a bath oil she liked from the vast selection on offer, before tipping in the contents of a blue crystal flagon. The room was immediately filled with the aroma of roses as the water foamed.

      Gabby inhaled and smiled in anticipation as she walked down the flight of shallow steps that led into the foaming water. In the middle of all this craziness, taking a bath seemed so marvellously normal.

      She actually giggled as the water begin to lap around her ankles, then waded deeper, dropping to her knees and scooping the water in both hands. She threw it over her back and shoulders, wincing a little as it touched her bruises and grazed skin.

      Then with a sigh she switched off the gushing water and stretched out, resting her head on a conveniently situated padded headrest. The effect on her body was almost instant. She could actually feel the tension begin to ease from her body as if by magic. Smiling, she ducked her head under, and emerged moments later, with water streaming down her wet face. Pushing her saturated hair from her face, Gabby lay back again.

      As she floated in the warm scented water a self-protective instinct kicked in, and her overtaxed brain went numb. Staring up at the elaborate gold-embellished carvings on the ceiling, Gabby didn’t feel concerned when they began slipping in and out of focus. Her eyelids felt as though they had lead weights attached—so heavy that finally she had to close them.

      Just for a minute …

      The combination of warm water and music had the obvious effect. Her mind emptied and she slept.

      Rafiq consulted his watch as he knocked on the door of the guest suite to announce his presence. It had been an hour since he’d left Gabriella Barton, and he had not wasted that time.

      Considering the time factor, the file that now lay on his desk was actually quite comprehensive. What he had read about her brother suggested, rather to his surprise, that the young man might actually be innocent. Skimming the pages, he had seen that Paul Barton was a perfect example of arrested development.

      Innocent, perhaps, but Rafiq had little sympathy. He saw nothing to admire in the hedonistic existence of those who drifted aimlessly through life, avoiding responsibility and leaving chaos in their wake, expecting other people to pick up the pieces.

      He knew all the essential facts about Paul Barton. But the information on his sister—the information that actually interested him—was less complete. It was frustrating, but he could fill in the gaps later. As nothing he had read negated his plan or made it unworkable, he was pushing on regardless.

      When there was no reply to his knock he stepped inside. The music system was playing some moody jazz piece he was vaguely familiar with, but the salon was empty. The food attractively laid out on a low table was untouched and cold.

      ‘Miss Barton! Gabby!’ He flicked the ‘off’ switch on the music system and repeated his call. When this elicited no response either, he moved to the bedroom door and knocked loudly.

      When this too yielded no result, he went inside. The canopied bed was not disturbed. The only sign that the room had been entered was the neat pile of fresh clothes he had left instructions for the maid to provide, which still lay folded on a chair.

      He called out again. She had to have heard him. The novelty of being ignored did not amuse him—rudeness never amused him—and her not responding was irritatingly childish.

      He laid his hand palm flat on the bathroom door, and it swung inwards.

      There was no indignant screech when, after the slightest of hesitations, he stepped inside. The room was filled with steam that misted the reflective surfaces, and it took Rafiq’s eyes a few moments to adjust and see the woman in the bath.

      He turned his head abruptly—though perhaps not as quickly as he might have. The heightened colour along the crests of his cheekbones was hidden by the fog of steam.

      He stared fixedly at the wall, still seeing the image of pale limbs and a slim body that had imprinted itself on his retina. He reaction had been that of a green schoolboy catching his first sight of the naked female form. She had made no attempt to cover herself.

      ‘Sorry, but I did call out. When you are ready I will be in the salon.’

      He was approaching the door when a soft gurgling sigh from the direction of the bath made him frown. ‘Miss Barton?’ He turned his head, and in a flash realised that the reason she had not replied was because she was either sound asleep or unconscious.

      With a curse he crossed the room and strode straight into the water. She was lying so still that for a split second he thought she wasn’t breathing. When he saw the lift of her ribcage and small breasts he felt a rush of relief that was quickly replaced by anger—furious, molten anger.

      Even as he called out her name he saw the ripple of water wash over her face. Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, he bent and placed his hand under her head, lifting her face clear of the water. She stirred sleepily and muttered something unintelligible as he picked her up. It took two attempts. She weighed nothing, but even nothing, when it was wet and slippery and uncooperative, was hard to get a grip on.

      As he heaved her bodily into his arms she opened her eyes and looked at him, her gaze big and blue as a summer sky. If he hadn’t come in when he had those eyes might have been permanently closed—sheer carelessness could have resulted in tragedy.

      It was incandescent fury that Gabby saw on his face when she opened her eyes. She instinctively recoiled from the blaze of rage, but for several seconds there was no recognition in her eyes. Her sleep-fuddled mind was a total blank. Then events of the past two days came rushing back, and all the condensed misery and emotional turmoil hit her with the force of a brick wall.

      She blinked up at the dark, lean features of Rafiq Al Kamil … He was going to help Paul, but she still didn’t know whether to put him in her friend or foe file … He was actually a bit big to fit in any file.

      He was carrying her as though she weighed nothing, and there was no СКАЧАТЬ