Page 37 of Kismet

Refusing to let her apprehension control her reaction, she didn’t avert her gaze from his furious glare. Instead, she arched an eyebrow at him in a mocking manner. It had been an enormous risk insulting him like this. And it was an insult to suggest she’d staged her response to his advances. Men didn’t like being made fools of when it came to bedroom sport. The bitter twist of his lips wasn’t nearly as harsh as the way his gaze slid over her with utter contempt.

“My money’s worth? I think I paid too much.” Shaheen’s voice was a blast of frigid air over her skin. “Your skills are exceptional, chérie, but like any other whoring slut, your duplicity in bed is more than transparent.”

Unable to stop herself, she flinched beneath his dark rage. Once again, she’d made a mistake in her estimation of this man. Not even Charles in his anger had ever referred to her in such coarse terms. Whatever had made her think she could handle his wrath? He looked ready to kill her.

The thought sent fear skidding through her. This wasn’t the reaction of a man who’d just had his prowess in the bedroom called into question. She should have known he was far too confident to ever believe he might be lacking expertise. The black fury on Shaheen’s features sharpened the contours of his face until he resembled an avenging angel. His expression made it clear to her she’d released something horrible and bleak from deep inside him.

With a powerful, lithe movement, he got to his feet and reached for his clothing. The strand of moonlight fluttering down into the tent lit up his entire body. Soft and translucent, the light was a sharp contrast to the hardness of his sinewy frame. It was the body of a lover she knew would please her in ways no other man had before. She turned her head away from him as he dressed. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? She’d barely managed to avoid an entanglement with the man. Even if she appeased his anger, the last thing she needed to do was invite more trouble on herself.

Completely dressed, Shaheen strode toward the flap of the tent. One hand parting the wool door to one side, he stopped and stared out into the dark night. Even in the dim light, his fury was all too visible in his taut, tension-filled posture. She swallowed hard.

“Be forewarned, ma chérie,” he said in a velvety tone that belied the inflexible steel beneath. “If you try to leave camp again, I’ll not be as merciful with you as I have been tonight.”

“Merciful?” she snapped in frustration. “Showing mercy would be to let me go. You don’t have the right to keep me here.” She sat upright and grabbed her gambaz, clutching it to her chest as he slowly turned his head to look at her.

“As Sheikh of this tribe, my word is law. You’ll remain here as my guest until I say you’re free to leave.”

The icy words made the temperature in the tent drop even lower, and she shivered at the contempt glittering in his dark eyes. Shaheen didn’t wait for her reply before he simply vanished in a flash of furious movement. The thick flap of wool serving as a door smacked angrily against the side of the tent as he left her alone. Closing her eyes, she sank back down into the pillows that covered the pallet.

The stillness of the night was almost absolute, and a tremor sped through her, followed by another and then another. The relief of having survived Shaheen’s icy rage was second only to the fact that she’d earned a reprieve from his attempts to win her surrender. She inhaled a deep breath.

Remain here as his guest. More like a nightingale in a gold cage is what he meant, and all because he didn’t want Charles finding him. Something had transpired in Shaheen’s past that had hardened his heart against his family. So much so, that he’d discarded his English name and lifestyle to live in obscurity as one of the Bedouins. Whatever had happened, it had to have involved a woman. His reaction to her insult had been that of a man scorned.

But not just any woman—a mistress, possibly even a courtesan like herself. He’d not tried to defend his abilities as a lover like she’d expected. Instead, he’d accused her of being a lying whore. She stared up at the moonlight filtering its way through the seam in the tent. Her words had stirred something in him much deeper than offended pride.

Whatever old memories her words had brought to the surface, they had only reinforced his decision to keep her here, at least until Charles was no longer in Marrakech. But even if his past had remained buried, she was certain he would have kept her here just the same. She was a challenge.

His stubborn nature would make it difficult to accept defeat where she was concerned. Her resistance only made him that much more determined to bend her to his will—to seduce her into choosing him. He’d almost succeeded. The thought terrified her. She’d never met a man who’d come so close to breaking through all of her defenses like this man could and had. She shivered again. If only she could go to sleep and wake up from this nightmare.

Exhausted, her eyes fluttered shut. The one thing she’d learned after Arthur had died was that things always looked better in the morning light. Tomorrow would be a better day. She was free of Nassar’s vicious captivity, and while Shaheen’s anger had alarmed her, she knew there had to be a valid reason for his fury. She forced her eyes open and she saw the moonlight dancing its way through the tent seam. Once more, her eyes drifted shut and when she opened them again, sunlight was streaming into the tent and outside the camp was bustling with activity.

A quiet sound drew her attention toward a young woman who entered with a small tray of food. Following close behind her, a child pushed past the wool flap carrying a pitcher, bowl, and cloths

“Manger, anasi.” The woman gestured toward the food, and Allegra found her friendly smile too engaging to resist. With a smile, she nodded her gratitude.

The boy eyed her with something that wavered between annoyance and dismissal. She remembered Cordelia had often worn a similar look as a child when ordered to do something she didn’t like. The memory made her smile at him with amusement. When he tipped his nose up in the air, she experienced a wrenching wave of homesickness. Despite the yearning, it was impossible to keep from laughing when the boy rolled his eyes at her and scurried from the tent. The woman said something in the Bedouin language, a look of regret on her face. Waving her hand at what was clearly an apology for the boy’s behavior, Allegra laughed.

“Les garçons seront des garçons.” Relief swept across the Bedouin woman’s face at the old adage that boys would be boys. With a slight bow of respect, she followed the child out of the tent.

The aroma of something hot and sweet pulled her over to the small tray sitting on a low pedestal. The smell wafted up from the bowl on the tray. She tested the gruel, savoring the honey sweet taste. Her stomach growled for more, and she quickly finished off the hot dish while enjoying the juicy pomegranate cut open on the tray. When she’d finished eating, she took a quick sponge bath, which left her feeling clean and refreshed. A short time later, she emerged from the tent with renewed hope that she would find a way to return to Marrakech.

Shaheen’s tent, unlike Nassar’s, didn’t stand apart from the rest of the dark brown and beige-colored tents that surrounded his. She walked through the camp, waiting for someone to stop her, but no one did. Instead, she was greeted with friendly smiles and polite nods as she continued her explorations.

She rounded the corner of a tent and entered a large circle that seemed to be a hub of activity. She saw Shaheen in the midst of an intense discussion, towering over most of the men around him. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. It wasn’t a sensation she wanted to feel, particularly when she saw the cold disdain in his eyes when he caught sight of her. He was still furious, and his dismissing look sent regret pulsing through her at having put a barrier between them.

The alarming emotion made her swallow hard. God, she was a fool. That barrier was all that protected her from complete surrender. She needed to find a way out of this golden cage or she would be lost in more ways than she cared to imagine. Quickly turning away from Shaheen’s stern profile, she retreated around another tent and walked around the outside of the encampment. She passed the horses, hobbled in the same spot as they had been last night. Sighing at her failure, she continued her walk.

As she rounded the last tent on the outer edges of the site, she drew in her breath at the sight of a large roan stallion grazing at what little he could find on the ground. The animal sensed her presence and threw his head up to turn and look at her. There was a wild, arrogant manner to the horse as if he knew he was king of his world. From where she stood, she saw him flick his ears back and forth.

When he seemed satisfied that she wasn’t a threat, the animal lowered his head again with a haughty dismissal. She studied the stallion for a long moment, noting the power in his movements as he moved from patch of grass to another. Here was an animal that could outrun even the horse Shaheen had ridden yesterday.

She ignored the small warning going off in her head. It didn’t matter whether the horse had been broken or not. She was an experienced rider, and if she gave the animal its head in the right direction she’d let him run himself out to the point where he’d be more manageable. She just had to stay seated. Confident she could do so, she glanced around for a bridle.

Not seeing one, she hurried back to where the other horses were tethered and retrieved the tack she needed. When she returned, the giant roan hadn’t wandered far in the limited space he’d been afforded. She experienced a sense of kinship with the animal.

Like her, he was hostage to the line that prevented him from running away. Slowly, she walked toward the animal, keeping her voice soft and steady like her grooms did with the high-strung horses in her stables. The horse snorted loudly as she closed in on him and she halted immediately. When he resumed eating, she moved forward again. As she reached him, he threw up his head with another loud breath of air puffing out of his nose.

Gently, she reached out to stroke his jowl. When he didn’t move, she stepped closer. She continued to rub his cheek while speaking softly to him. He tossed his head, but didn’t shy away from her as she ran the leather bridle across the side of his head and down his nose. With a shake of his head, he nipped at the bridle’s leather. Quickly, Allegra slid the steel bit into his mouth and past his teeth. He gnawed at the metal bar, but didn’t seem bothered by it.