The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ strength forged from years of hard, physical work in the stable—she pushed the sheikh away from her, surprising a series of conflicting emotions on his face as she did so.

      She saw frustration and a dark smouldering kind of anger, but more than any of these things she saw astonishment.

      ‘What in the falcon’s name do you think you are doing?’ he questioned, with silky menace.

      Eleni’s breathing was so erratic that it took a moment before she could speak, and even then, she felt odd—as if she were sickening for something. Dizzy. Disorientated. Her blood boiling in her veins and her head spinning.

      ‘I am guarding my honour!’ she cried out, not caring now about protocol.

      Kaliq’s mouth twisted. ‘Your honour?’ he questioned acidly, as if she had just invented a new word. ‘What are you talking about?’

      Eleni couldn’t really move—and in truth she did not think she would be able to. But she knew that things needed to calm down and that somehow she must help the sheikh lose that look of pure fury on his face. Because surely once he understood the truth of her predicament—then he would understand?

      ‘You do not think that I have a reputation that I guard fiercely?’ she demanded hotly. ‘That my honour is not worth preserving?’

      ‘Your honour?’ he echoed again as he tried to ignore the fierce throb of hunger which pulsed through his body.

      ‘I may be a simple country girl—but even I know that such an act between two people who barely know one another would be wrong.’

      Frustration made him want to ask her whether she was holding out for dinner first—but he suspected that irony would be lost on her, quite apart from the fact that he bet she’d never been taken out for dinner in her life.

      ‘But I, as your sheikh, want it,’ he argued, quite reasonably. ‘So how can it be wrong?’

      Eleni took the opportunity to wriggle back a little on the bank of silk cushions, trying to steady her still-ragged breathing and wishing that her heart would slow down. But that fractional increase in the distance between them made all the difference.

      ‘I would lose respect,’ she said.

      ‘Whose? Mine? I can assure you that your surrender will make me respect you more,’ he murmured, lifting his hand to brush away a lock of silken hair which had escaped.

      Eleni looked at him, trying to ignore the instinctive thrill she felt when he touched her. She didn’t believe him, not for a moment. He reminded her of her favourite stable cat—a sleek and beautiful creature, but one who would happily trail after anyone who happened to feed her. But of course she would not do anything as stupid as calling the sheikh a liar.

      ‘It would be unsuitable, Highness,’ she continued implacably. ‘And ultimately it might distract your attention from Nabat.’

      For a moment he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, until he realised that she meant her wretched horse. For a moment he wanted to exclaim that the horse could go to hell for all he cared—that her sweet young body excited him far more—but even he recognised that this would not do his case any good.

      Did she not realise that there wasn’t a woman alive who had ever turned down the opportunity of such sensual pleasure with Prince Kaliq Al’Farisi? Did she not realise that there could be dire consequences from incurring his royal displeasure? Dropping his hand from the pure oval of her face, he gave a click of irritated frustration.

      ‘I’m not interested in the damned horse!’ he snapped, unable to stop himself.

      Eleni’s expression exhibited nothing but interested enquiry, even though her heart was racing like a piston beneath the expensive robe she wore. ‘But I thought that was your reason for bringing me here, Highness.’

      He met her innocent gaze with a frown. Was it simply his imagination—or was there a teasing challenge in the depths of those green eyes? If he told her that her courage and youth and arresting eyes had played their part in bringing her here—then would that not put him at a disadvantage? Did she not realise that he could have any woman he wanted and that she was lucky that he had deigned to pick her? Well, she would discover it soon enough!

      ‘Then we will discuss the horses,’ he drawled, stifling a yawn—as if he had grown bored with the conversation.

      For a moment, Eleni wondered whether she had gone too far—but what choice did she have? She would have acted in the same way no matter who had attempted such a casual and quick seduction. And just because Kaliq was a sheikh did not mean that he should be treated any differently from any other man, did it?

      It was true that no one else had ever made her feel like that—as if she had just discovered what a woman’s body had been designed for—but surely that itself was dangerous? Imagine if she got used to a sheikh’s caresses and began comparing everyone else to him. That, of course, presumed that there was ever going to be anyone else, which was looking increasingly unlikely as she headed unmarried towards thirty—as the sheikh himself had rather cruelly pointed out.

      She gave him a bright smile. ‘Does the sheikh not drink mint tea after dinner?’ she questioned softly. ‘I always find it very relaxing.’

      For a moment Kaliq did not know whether to laugh or explode or whether to send the impudent minx packing back to her hovel of a home and her drunk of a father. But the challenge of her defiance was proving almost irresistible and he conceded that she did have a point and so he lifted his hands and clapped them to order tea.

      But as he did so the silken sleeves of his robe fell back to reveal his arms and Eleni’s eyes widened as she bit back a gasp. For there, just at his wrists, were deep, ugly and livid scars.

      ‘Oh, Highness!’ she exclaimed softly—all thwarted passion forgotten at the shocking sight of his injuries. ‘Who has dared hurt you?’

       CHAPTER SIX

      WITHOUT thinking Eleni leaned forwards and brushed her fingertips over one of the angry red ridges which scarred both the sheikh’s wrists and Kaliq’s mouth tightened.

      Truly, her impulsive gesture was an imposition—for how dared a commoner touch a prince in such a way? Yet considering he had been touching her only moments before—he was disinclined to stop her. Even if the feel of her breast was infinitely more pleasurable than the feel of her fingers. Although…

      He frowned. Her touch was oddly distracting. It was soothing—almost healing. Was that why she was so wonderful with horses, he wondered—because she had the gift of softness about her? And if he allowed her this touch then wouldn’t it lead them down the path of sensual pleasure? Only this time—with her sympathy engaged—she would be less likely to stop him. He gave a cynical half-smile. Women were very predictable.

      ‘What happened?’ she asked quietly, her fingertip automatically questing over one of the hardened and raised red ridges as she saw his black brows crease into a hard line.

      ‘You are very impertinent, lizard,’ he drawled. But he didn’t move his hand away from the comforting caress. ‘To ask your sheikh such a question.’

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