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He thought of Sophie Lewis now and his conscience twinged. He hadn’t thought of her very often. In truth, he’d had his doubts—their relationship had been very...platonic. But Arkim had convinced himself that it suited him like that. Her father had been the one to suggest the match, and the more Arkim had thought about it the more the idea had grown on him.

In contrast to her flame-haired provocative sister, Sophie had been like a gentle balm. Shy and innocent. Arousing no hormone-fuelled lapses of character. He’d courted her. Taken her for dinner. To the theatre. Each outing had soothed another piece of his wounded soul, making him believe that marriage to her would indeed offer him everything he’d ever wanted—which was the antithesis of life with his father.

He would be one of those parents who was respectable—respected—who came to school to pick up his son with his beautiful wife by his side. A united front. There would be no scandals. No children born out of wedlock. No mistresses. No sordid rumours and sniggering behind his back. No child of his would have to deal with bullying and fist fights when another kid taunted him about the whores his father took to his bed.

But the gods had laughed in his face at his ambitions and shown him that he was a fool to believe he could ever remove the stain of his father’s legacy from his life.

He looked at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand and opened it out again to read.

Thank you for the kind ‘invitation’ to dinner, but I must decline. I’ve already made plans for this evening.

Sincerely, Sylvie Devereux.

Arkim had to battle both irritation and the lust that had held his body in an uncomfortable grip since he’d seen Sylvie earlier that day. He fought the urge to go straight to her room to confront her. No doubt that was exactly what she wanted.

He’d annoyed her by bringing her here and she was toying with him to get her own back. His mouth tipped up in a hard smile. No matter. He didn’t mind being toyed with as long as she ended up where he wanted her— underneath him, naked and pliant and begging for mercy. Begging forgiveness.

* * *

When Sylvie woke it was dawn outside. She felt as if she’d slept for a week, not just the ten or so hours she had slept. Strangely, there was no disorientation—she knew exactly where she was.

She was still in the robe and she sat up, looking around warily, as if she might find Arkim lurking in a corner, glaring at her. She wondered how he’d reacted when she hadn’t shown for dinner. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know...

She got up and opened the French doors, the early morning’s cool breeze a balm compared to the stifling heat which would no doubt come once the sun was up. She walked to the boundary wall again and sucked in a deep breath. The intense silence wrapped around her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced this level of stillness—if ever. It seemed to quiet something inside her...some sense of restlessness. It was disconcerting—as if she was betraying herself by finding an affinity with any part of this situation.

She went back inside and dressed in jeans and a clean T-shirt, loath to make any kind of effort with clothes or to leave her rooms in case it showed acquiescence to Arkim. But she was also feeling somewhat trapped, and she didn’t like it.

In the end Halima appeared, fresh-faced and smiling, with a tray of breakfast, bringing it into the dining room.

Sylvie’s stomach rumbled loudly and she realised that because she’d turned down dinner the previous evening she’d not eaten since she’d been on the plane the day before. She was starving, and when Halima pulled back a cloth napkin to reveal a plate of fragrant flat breads Sylvie had to bite back of a groan of appreciation. It was a mezze-style feast, with little bowls of olives and different cheeses, hard and soft. And a choice of fragrant coffee or sweet tea.

Before she left, Halima said, ‘Sheikh Al-Sahid sends his apologies. He’s been detained by a business call otherwise he would have joined you. He said he will meet you for lunch.’

Sylvie forced a smile. She couldn’t shoot the messenger. ‘Thank you.’

After Halima left and Sylvie had eaten her fill, she wandered around her rooms for a bit, feeling increasingly claustrophobic. She knew she should really do some exercises to keep herself flexible, especially after travelling, but she was feeling too antsy to focus. She left her rooms and walked down long stone corridors that gave glimpses into intriguing courtyards and other open spaces.

Through one open courtyard she saw a terrace with tall ornate stone columns and a vast pool that stretched around the side of the castle. It was breathtaking. Idyllic.

Sylvie backed away from the seductive scene and explored further. Some doors were closed, and she refrained from opening them in case she stumbled into Arkim.

Eventually she found herself at the main door, which led out to the central courtyard. Adrenalin flooded her system when she saw the golf buggy that Arkim had used to bring them into the castle the previous day. The key was in the ignition. And from here she could see that the main doors to the castle complex were open.

She had a sudden vision of Arkim wearing down her defences, slowly but surely. If he kissed her again she was very much afraid that she’d melt—just as she had before, when she’d lost all control of her rational functions.

The truth was that she didn’t have an arsenal of experience to fend off someone like Arkim, and the thought of him ever discovering how flimsy her façade was made her go cold with terror.

She didn’t think. She reacted. She got into the golf buggy and turned the key, setting it in motion. Her heart was clamouring as she sped out o

f the castle complex.

* * *

Less than an hour later Sylvie’s feet sank into the sand. She was on top of a dune, with the now dead golf buggy in front of her. Futile anger made her kick ineffectually at the inanimate object. It had started sputtering and slowing down about ten minutes before, eventually conking out.

The sun beat down mercilessly and there was nothing as far as the eye could see except sand, sand and more sand. Heat waves shimmered in the distance.

Of course it was only now that Sylvie realised just how stupid she’d been to react to her own imagination like that and set off in a panic. She had no water. No food. No idea where she was. Even if she’d had the means she wasn’t sure which way she’d come!

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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