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‘No, no, please. I’m fine, I’m just a bit stiff.’ She’d die of embarrassment if he carried her.
‘I should never have expected you to ride so long without a break,’ Zane said, the concern in his voice making the sensation in her stomach dip.
Don’t read anything into it.
She forced herself to walk, stifling the groan of pain as her thigh muscles protested.
As they approached the chief together, the young man smiled, startling her a little. He had the same striking bone structure as Zane, even though his skin was several shades darker and his eyes so brown they were almost black.
‘Kasim, this is Dr Catherine Smith. She is a Middle Eastern scholar from the UK. And she is going to write a book about our country,’ Zane introduced her, placing a possessive hand on her back. ‘Treat her with the proper respect.’
The Kholadi chief laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. A silent communication passed between him and Zane—which made Zane tense and Kasim’s grin widen. Whatever Kasim had said about her a moment ago, she would hazard a guess it had nothing to do with her academic qualifications. She should have been insulted, but she was charmed instead when Kasim gathered her fingers and made an extravagant production of kissing her knuckles.
‘The Kholadi are honoured to have His Divine Majesty’s woman in our humble camp,’ he said.
His woman? Is it that obvious?
‘Oh, I’m not... I’m just an academic,’ she sputtered, struggling to come up with a convincing denial while her exhausted body replayed the wonder of being Zane’s woman for one night.
‘There is no just, when a woman is as beautiful as you,’ the Kholadi chief declared.
Don’t blush. Please don’t blush.
Heat exploded in her cheeks, and Kasim’s lips quirked with a wealth of knowledge.
Oh, for goodness’ sake, why don’t you just wear a sign saying Zane’s Woman Here?
‘Behave yourself, Kasim,’ Zane said—the warning tone as tense as she now felt. ‘Dr Smith needs to freshen up and then she would like to talk to you about her research. Do you have a tent she can use?’
‘Of course, brother,’ Kasim said, but the mocking light turning his eyes a rich chocolate brown suggested he wasn’t chastened in the least.
The two men exchanged a few more words in the Kholadi dialect before Kasim ordered a young woman to escort them both to a large tent situated on a small hill at the top of the encampment. Cat had no idea what the men had said to each other, but as Zane cupped her elbow and directed her through the camp she could tell his temper was being held at bay with an effort.
‘Kasim seems like a nice man,’ she said in a desperate attempt to break the tension.
‘The one thing Kasim is not is nice,’ he snapped, the temper now vibrating through his voice. ‘Don’t be fooled by that thin veneer of charm. The man is a goddamn...’ He stopped talking, and Cat glanced at him, disturbed by the stormy expression.
‘The man is a what?’
‘Nothing,’ he said as he lifted the tent flap and held it open for her to walk inside. Whatever he had been going to say, he’d obviously thought better of it.
But still Cat wondered. Was there bad blood between Zane and the Kholadi chieftain? Kasim had seemed relaxed and friendly, but Zane looked murderous.
‘Why did he call you brother?’ she asked, intrigued by the casual form of address.
Everyone else treated Zane with such deference, but Kasim treated him very much like an equal.
Zane scowled down at her. But didn’t reply.
Then two women appeared, bareheaded and with a number of piercings in their brows and noses, their flowing robes made of fine silks. They fell to their knees in front of Zane. He spoke to them in rapid Kholadi. And then directed Cat into the main area of the tent.
Cat gasped. It was like walking into a cave of wonders, the bold colours and luxurious furnishings in stark contrast to the austere outer appearance of the dwelling.
A carved wooden bed on a platform stood in one corner covered in richly embroidered pillows. Thick, elaborately embroidered rugs covered the floor and velvet curtains had been drawn back to reveal a gleaming copper tub in the opposite corner surrounded by low tables piled high with linen clothes and an assortment of small glass bottles. The scent of perfumes and incense filled the surprisingly cool and refreshing air inside the tent.
Zane led her to a large divan draped in luxurious silk and directed her to sit down. Cat winced as her abused buttocks made contact with the pillows.
‘How bad is it?’ Zane asked.
