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‘Indeed it does,’ he agreed gravely. ‘I imagine it’s probably just as comfortable as the bed. One would be certain to get a good night’s sleep on it, anyway.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Lara, relieved, and yet annoyingly just a bit infuriated, too. She hadn’t expected him to agree quite so gracefully! And didn’t you want him to try and make you put up a bit of a fight? taunted a rogue voice inside her head. Weren’t you looking forward to at least one impassioned kiss before you finally pushed him away?
Darian saw her face and gave a small smile as he walked towards the bathroom. For someone who made her living from acting she could be remarkably transparent at times!
He undressed and showered, glad of the heavy beat of the cool water to subdue unwanted appetites and bring him back to some degree of normality. For it would be all too easy to get carried away—to be seduced by life out here in this strange, magical land, where men really did seem to live as they were born to.
He thought of the traffic crushes and the noise and pollution of the city, and his mouth twisted as he turned off the shower jets. Did places like this always inject you with a kind of wistfulness? he wondered. He couldn’t even blame the wine at dinner, since he hadn’t had any! He shook his head slightly, dispersing droplets of water and reflecting that he was badly in need of a reality check.
When he returned to the bedroom Lara was lying in bed, the covers right up to her neck, her eyes tightly closed.
‘Asleep already?’ he mocked softly.
She didn’t reply, taking care to make her breathing as slow and as steady and as deep as if she really was asleep.
It was torture, just lying there, hearing the unhurried removal of his clothes. She wanted to tell him to turn the wretched light off, but if she did that then he would know she wasn’t asleep, and would probably start to engage her in conversation.
Or worse…
She wanted to squirm, too. Her pyjamas felt hot and constricting, burning against her skin where the material touched. And her pulse was hammering so loudly that she was amazed he hadn’t heard it and made some hateful remark about it. Her breasts were all tingling and tight, and…
He heard the almost inaudible change in the pace of her breathing. Now it sounded shallow, and rapid. Darian smiled as he snapped the light off and climbed into bed.
As the bed dipped beneath his weight Lara sat up as if she’d been electrocuted—and with the nearness and warmth of his naked body she might as well have been. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
He yawned. ‘Going to sleep. Why—did you have something else in mind?’
She snapped the light on with shaking fingers, still shocked and yet excited beyond belief to see him arrogantly sprawled out next to her, not even having bothered to cover up the bare tawny chest.
‘You’re not sleeping here!’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘But…but you said…you said you’d sleep on the divan!’ she spluttered.
Darian shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t, Lara. You commented on how comfortable it looked. I agreed, and you mistakenly took that to mean that I would be sleeping on it. Well, you were wrong. This bed is big enough for both of us, and I am not, repeat not sleeping on the divan!’
‘You don’t think that as a gentleman, you might offer to take it?’
‘But I never claimed to be a gentleman.’ The golden eyes glittered. ‘Just as you never claimed to be a lady.’
‘I’m not going to react to that.’
‘Suits me.’
Now he was punching the pillow around with his fist, rearranging it, and Lara stared at him in disbelief. ‘And that’s your last word on the subject?’
‘I think we’ve said just about everything there is to say on the subject of beds and divans, don’t you?’ he questioned, his voice bored.
‘Well, if you won’t sleep there—I will!’
‘Fine.’
He turned over and shut his eyes, and Lara stared at him with mounting frustration and indignation. He meant it! He actually meant it!
Well, so did she! She grabbed her pillow and one of the covers, hastily turning her head rather than be confronted by the sight of the remaining covers clinging so lovingly to his long, lean frame.
And she had been wrong—the divan was not comfortable at all. It had probably been designed for a woman to lie on alluringly, showing off her body for her sheikh, not for a tall, tired woman to try and get eight hours’ sleep on.
