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She gave an inward groan, wishing that Chad would return, wishing that this crazy situation was over so that she could go back to normal. If that was even possible after the way Jaeger had touched her, kissed her...
A kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight in her stomach as she absently watched his strong hands as he gestured with the person next to him. His wrists were thick, his forearms sinewy and dusted with dark hair. Everything about him was so potently male it made her feel breathless with need.
I’m falling for him, she realised with a jolt of dismay. I’m really falling for him.
She must have made a small sound of distress because he immediately turned towards her, his eyes scanning her face.
‘Habiba, what is it?’
Regan shrugged helplessly. ‘Nothing.’
His frown told her that he didn’t believe her but he was prevented from asking more when she joined in the energetic clapping as a troop of new dancers took to the floor. This time the group was made up entirely of women in brightly coloured outfits and carrying sheer scarves.
You’re not falling for him, she assured herself sternly. You’re suffering from a serious case of lust for a man who knows how to kiss a woman into a stupor. You’re not the first, and you certainly won’t be the last, to imagine themselves in love with the sheikh. Princess Alexa was a good case in point. She’d met the King twice and fallen for him. And maybe Jag was right in that the Princess only wanted to marry him for political reasons, but Regan had her doubts. She’d seen the woman’s heartfelt misery in thinking she had lost him.
Blindly she turned back to concentrate on the dancers. The women were undulating their hips with practised ease, gracefully weaving silken scarves around their bodies in a coordinated display of confidence and femininity. Combined with the lyrical music, it was both provocative and sensual. But all Regan could really concentrate on was the man seated so closely beside her.
Glancing at
him through her lashes, she noticed a fine line of tension bracketing his mouth. She wondered why he was having such a reaction to the beautiful display when the story behind the dance hit her on the head. This was no ordinary dance. The scarves, the hip bumps, the sensual spell that held the crowd captivated...this was a type of love dance.
One of the performers broke from the circle and Regan held her breath, only to release it again when she approached a young woman, encouraging her to join her on the floor.
The woman did, smiling shyly at the young man she had been seated next to.
The crowd cheered and clapped encouragingly.
‘Please tell me they’re not going to expect me to go up there?’ she whispered raggedly.
Jag’s blue eyes snagged with hers and she knew the answer before he even opened his mouth.
She shook her head. ‘I’m a hopeless dancer. I have no coordination at all.’
‘You forget I’ve seen you on horseback, so I know that’s blatantly untrue.’
‘Riding a horse is nothing like dancing. At least with horseback riding if something goes wrong I can blame the horse.’
Jag laughed. ‘Habiba, I—’
Before he could finish one of the dancers undulated in front of her, beckoning to her. By this time three other women had joined the dance, mimicking the sensual movements in a joyful display of passion and love.
Oh, God, she was seriously going to die of embarrassment.
Jag’s eyes were a deep blue as she slowly rose to her feet. His hand caught hers. ‘Regan, you don’t have to do this.’
It was kind of him to say so, but Regan knew she’d be disappointed in herself if she didn’t do it. Not only because she would be disappointing the people watching, but also because it was another chance to step outside her comfort zone and own it.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she murmured with more bravado than she felt, throwing him one last beseeching look, and she followed the dancer out onto the floor, accepting the rose-coloured scarf that was offered to her.
At first she felt rigid and clumsy, conscious of everyone watching her, but slowly, and by some miracle, the sensual music started to flow through her, luring her to lower her inhibitions.
Telling herself to stop being a coward, she raised her arms and twined her hands together above her head, undulating her hips slowly. The crowd clapped and the music throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Laughingly, she tried to emulate the movements of the other dancers. And then she just let go, closing her eyes and giving herself up to the moment.
Unbidden, Jag’s tender kiss against the stable wall invaded her head. Her breasts rose and fell at the memory of his hard body pressed to hers, his mouth devouring her, tasting her, arousing her. A sweet lethargy spread through her limbs and she made the mistake of opening her eyes and staring directly into his.
It was like being torched by an open flame. The heat and hunger in his gaze was so intimate it took her breath away. His whole body transmitted unmistakable masculine desire and it seared her to her core.
The scarf floated teasingly in the air between them as she mimicked the earlier movements of the women, the delicate fabric wafting in front of him. With lightning-quick reflexes he grabbed hold of the end, bringing her to a standstill.
