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He groaned inwardly. The spike of heat to his groin was not welcome.
‘Could I drive to the location instead?’ she asked.
‘The Kholadi live in the desert. It is not possible to drive all the way to the oasis.’
Her face fell. ‘I suppose I can’t go, then,’ she said.
He clicked his fingers and one of the young stable lads rushed forward to serve him. ‘Fit Pegasus with the larger saddle,’ he said in Narabi to the boy. ‘And tell Ravi to arrange for a car to transport Dr Smith to Allani.’
He turned back to Catherine. ‘I have arranged for an SUV to take you from here to the end of the desert road in Allani. We will rendezvous there and then you will have to ride with me the rest of the way to the oasis.’
Her eyes popped open, wary and concerned, the flush of awareness riding high on her cheeks. ‘Won’t that be too much for the horse?’ she said.
‘Pegasus is a big horse.’ He let his gaze glide down her frame. ‘You are a small woman. And we will only be sharing the mount for an hour. The stallion will be fine,’ he said, although he wasn’t sure why he was so determined not to leave her behind.
He decided not to examine the decision too closely.
Three hours later though, as the lush curves of her breasts settled against his forearm, her bottom tensed between his thighs and her agonising scent filled his nostrils, it occurred to him he might have made another serious error in judgement—as all the blood in his brain surged south.
* * *
The shimmer of impossibly blue water in the valley below, shaded by a grove of palm trees and edged by an encampment of at least a hundred tents, looked like an optical illusion to Cat as Pegasus trotted over the crest of the dunes. Or something created by a particularly cruel CGI artist. She sucked in a breath, the cloying cloth of her veil sticking to her dry lips. Zane’s arms tightened under her breasts, as he shouted something in Narabi to his men.
The order was followed by a series of whooping shouts and suddenly she was forced back into Zane’s embrace as he spurred Pegasus into a full gallop down the side of the dunes. The horses’ hooves made dull thuds in the solid sand, and her body jumped and jiggled, the soreness in her thighs and bottom nothing compared to the riot of sensation that had been driving her wild for what felt like days now.
The ride had been arduous. Within ten seconds of mounting the stallion in front of Zane, his big body surrounding her, Catherine had questioned the wisdom of agreeing to ride with him.
She should have made her excuses. And stayed at the palace.
This promised to be a fascinating trip—she’d been able to find out next to nothing on the Kholadi and their chief, other than that Kasim was the youngest chief the Kholadi had ever had, and he’d spent his early years living at the palace. Interviewing him would add considerable weight to her study of Narabian society. But she was so tired and sore now, and overstimulated, she had lost the ability to care about anything but getting off the horse.
Far more arduous than the ride had been the enforced proximity to Zane. And she was certain he’d found it just as arduous. Because she’d felt him tense whenever her bottom had shifted in the saddle or his forearm had tightened around her midriff.
And even worse than the physical proximity had been the thoughts and feelings that had spun through her tired mind without warning, as the stark beauty of the desert landscape had brought her emotions far too close to the surface.
She should have spent the journey thinking of her research protocol, what she wanted to learn from this visit. Instead of which she’d been fixated on every minute movement of his body behind hers, and the devastating erotic memories of what they’d shared and would never share again.
As the oasis spread out before them, the inviting water the same translucent blue as Zane’s eyes, a group of heavily armed Kholadi tribesmen appeared from the main tent in the enclosure to greet them. One man stood out, a head taller than the other tribesmen—at least as tall as Zane. Cat guessed he must be the chief from the sabres he wore and the gold braiding on his dark robes, which glittered in the sunlight.
Shots were fired into the air by the other tribesmen—the deafening pops of gunfire combin
ed with the deep guttural whoops of Zane’s men.
Cat clung to the saddle as Zane dismounted. Unlike the rest of Narabia’s citizens, the Kholadi tribesmen showed none of the same deference to Zane, several of them patting him on the back. Zane made his way towards the man she assumed must be Kasim. They clasped hands and then drew together in a hug. The chief clapped Zane’s shoulder and said something in a dialect Cat didn’t understand.
As the bodyguards led the other horses away, she was left sitting on Pegasus, not sure whether to attempt to dismount on her own, as Zane and the Kholadi chief appeared to be deep in conversation. When suddenly all eyes, including Zane’s and the chief’s, were directed her way.
Hot and sweaty and sore under the cloying fabric of the riding robe, she had never felt more self-conscious in her life. Then the chief said something in the same incomprehensible Kholadi dialect and a round of loud laughs and guffaws ensued.
Zane stiffened and she could see his displeasure at the comment as he strode towards her. ‘Come, I will introduce you to Kasim.’
‘What did he say?’ she asked.
She stifled the blush that wanted to heat her skin. If she got any hotter she’d pass out. And fainting would only make her humiliation and misery complete.
‘Nothing important,’ Zane said, but she could hear the snap of irritation in his tone as he gripped her waist. Grasping his shoulders, she let him lift her off Pegasus’s back. But as her feet touched the sand, her knees buckled.
Zane banded an arm around her waist, keeping her upright. ‘Are you okay?’ he demanded, his voice thick with concern. ‘Do you need me to carry you?’
