The Lord’s Inconvenient Vow. Lara Temple

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СКАЧАТЬ and—’ He broke off at her glare. ‘Anyway. It is no concern of mine, but...perhaps when Dora comes here, if you are here with your uncle next year, she can go with you to Cairo. She has impeccable taste and would probably be glad of a friend here. You will like her; she is very dashing.’

       I shall hate her. She had best not climb any statues with me because I shall be tempted to push her off. I hate you.

      She stood, shaking out her cotton skirts, suddenly all too aware of her dusty, crumpled state, the hair clinging to her sweaty cheeks and forehead, the scuffs on her hands and the ink stains on her fingers.

      Idiot. She hadn’t known she liked Edge this morning and she was damned if she would like him by evening. She would climb the Howling Cliffs and rid herself of this stupid, pointless liking for this stupid, tedious boy. He might think he was a man, but he was only a boy and Dashing Dora was more than welcome to him. She would find someone dashing of her own to like. She would go to Venice and find the handsomest and most charming man of them all and fall desperately in love with him and he would give her a home and a family and they would live happily ever after and...

      ‘I’m going back,’ she announced, walking across the roof. She heard the scratching of his boots following her and wished he would leave her be.

      ‘Wait, I shall help you down. That is quite a drop. Careful.’ He shifted past her on to the statue and leapt nimbly down on to the sand.

      ‘I don’t need your help.’

      ‘Nonsense. Here, give me your hand.’

      If she had not been so upset, she probably would have complied, but she didn’t want him touching her so she began descending as she always did—she jumped. Unfortunately, he reached up to take her arm and her agile leap became a stumble, her bare feet sliding on the sandy surface, and she fell headlong on to him, flattening him on to the sand, her chin hitting his ribs and his chin cracking her forehead.

      ‘Damnation!’

      ‘Yina’al abuk!’ Her own curse was muffled as she struggled to untangle herself, but the skirts of her cotton robe were snagged under his leg and all she could manage was to raise herself on to one elbow, her hair falling in a tangle over her face. She shoved it away and glared at him and the annoyance and surprise on his face transformed into a grin.

      ‘I told you you would fall off one day. Did it have to be on to me?’

      ‘I would not have fallen if you hadn’t got in my way so it is only proper that you cushioned my fall. Now move your leg so I can...’

      She gave her skirt a tug, shifting a little on to her side and nudging his leg aside with her knee. She heard his breath drag in and stopped, glancing up in concern.

      ‘Are you hurt? Edge? Oh, no, did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to. Where are you hurt?’ She planted her hand by his side, raising herself as best she could to see where he might be wounded, but his arms were still around her and they tightened.

      ‘Stop moving,’ he growled in a voice utterly unlike any she had heard him use so she froze, worried and unsure.

      This was her fault. In her stubbornness and pique she’d ignored his gentlemanly gesture and now he might be seriously injured. Perhaps she had even broken his back. She had seen what happened to a worker who fell from a cliff and broke his back—he’d died in agony a day later. She hardly dared breath, staring at the handsome face beneath her, all her energy focused on willing him to be unhurt.

      His eyes narrowed into slits of water green, his lips a little parted. His breath was warm and swift against her neck and she wanted to sink against him and feel her chest pressed to his once more. Underneath her shock her body was avidly mapping the feel of his legs clamped tightly about hers, the muscular force of his thigh pressed against an area between her legs she’d never even thought as a source of pleasure...

      ‘What are you wearing under that kamisa?’ His question was so unconnected she was certain she misheard. As her mind arranged the words into order, she wondered if perhaps his head had sustained the injury. Certainly he looked strange—his high cheekbones were hot with colour, his nostrils finely drawn.

      ‘What?’

      ‘You’re not wearing anything under it.’ This time he spoke through his teeth.

      ‘Of course not, it is hot and I...’

      He closed his eyes and growled again.

      ‘Definitely grown up,’ he muttered. ‘Get off me.’

      ‘But where are you hurt?’

      ‘I am not hurt. Get off me.’

      ‘I’m trying. You must move your leg for me to...’ She reached between his legs to grasp as much of her skirt as possible and gave it a tug.

      This time he groaned, his arms tightening even further, and her supporting arm buckled. She managed to turn her head in time not to slam her chin into his chest once again, but this was worse. Her mouth was just an inch from his neck, she could smell his warmth, a musky scent that made her think of an oasis, green and lush, cool water pouring from a spring. She wanted to taste his skin the way a woman dying of thirst might want to fling herself into that cool water.

      Her fantasy shattered as he heaved, rolling her off him, but his leg was still caught in the skirt of her robe and it remained between her legs, a hard, warm, welcome presence. She clung to his shirt as if she was being dangled over an abyss. He was again a dark shape over her, just his narrowed eyes touched with shards of light.

      ‘I always knew you were trouble.’ The words barely made their way out between his gritted teeth. ‘I just didn’t know how m...’

      The word was stifled as she raised herself on her elbow and pressed her mouth to his. She hadn’t meant to do it, it just happened.

      It wasn’t what she expected. His mouth was smooth and warm like a polished marble statue out in the sun. But it was pliant, it pulsed with life, and she couldn’t help shifting her lips against it, tucking her lower lip into the parting, drawn by the warmth of his breath until she reached the moist inner curve.

      It felt so...perfect.

      She could stay just like that while dynasties rose and fell, her lips defined by the contours of his, his breath replacing hers. She sighed and without thinking her tongue came to explore the parting of his, sending a shock of tingling heat through her body and utterly destroying the lethargic beauty of the moment.

      The whole embrace could not have lasted more than several breaths but it felt like an eternity, until with a sharp tug he all but ripped her skirt from about his leg, shoved himself to his feet and was striding swiftly down the path.

      Sam stood on the veranda that connected Bab el-Nur’s breakfast room to the gardens. The scent of honeysuckle and the first wisps of orange blossom were wrapped around her by the evening breeze that came down from the hills. Beneath it she could smell the Nile, murky and mysterious; could almost feel the dark rush of its waters just a few dozen yards away, night prowlers moving among the reeds.

      She СКАЧАТЬ