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Abby took a breath, feeling tears press against her eyelids, and tried to flatten out her emotional response. Facts, she could do facts.
‘We were meant to be much closer to the city, but nobody had factored in the wedding. Did you know? Sorry, it doesn’t matter.’ All her efforts focused on not sounding weepy, she avoided his eyes. That bright, glittering stare made it hard for her to concentrate. ‘But it did complicate things—there was a no-fly zone, diversions and a lot of restrictions.’ They had sat in an airport lounge drinking coffee while emails between the firm paying for the jaunt and the director decided their fate. ‘I even wondered at first when I was...’ Catching herself up short, she gave a self-conscious little nod. She swallowed, her hand pressed to her throat as she relived those awful moments when the men had grabbed her. ‘I wondered, actually hoped it was a set-up for publicity...’ She swallowed again and rubbed her hands over her forearms, remembering the sensations of total, overwhelming helplessness. ‘I feel grubby.’ She wasn’t talking just about the sand clinging to her skin and hair or the assorted smears of dirt on her inadequate clothing.
‘Then come.’ He tipped his head towards the trees. ‘Bathe.’
She blinked at the unexpected response.
‘A horse needs water.’ He took hold of the horse’s reins and approached the scrubby undergrowth.
The incline had not been apparent from where they had stood but it explained why she hadn’t been able to see the taller trees or the palms. An oasis meant water and soon they reached it, a bubbling trickle that rose up from the ground and ran in a thin silver ribbon through the trees. Neither horse nor rider paused; instead they carried on, the reason becoming clear a few moments later when the stream fed into a pool of turquoise water framed by palms.
Her exposure to life’s ugliness had given her a new appreciation of life’s beauty, and emotion deepened her voice as she stared at the shimmering, postcard-perfect image and gasped. ‘It’s beautiful!’
The stranger watched her battle to subdue the tears, blinking and sniffing but stubbornly determined not to add any new tear tracks to her face as she pressed a hand to her soft, trembling lips. Standing there, bedraggled, her face filthy and scratched, she knew she looked ridiculously fragile. Stubborn pride was the only thing holding her up.
‘We need to do something about your arm.’
The first hint of gentleness in his voice released the floodgates and the tears began to overflow, sliding down her cheeks as first one sob escaped her lips then another. They just kept coming...deep, subterranean sobs that shook her entire body.
* * *
Without thinking, Zain reacted to her distress. He moved in closer, took her by the arms and stood there, bodies close but not touching, his chin on her head while she wailed like a banshee. One look at her tear-filled eyes and the fear warring with pride there had touched him in a corner of his heart he hadn’t known existed.
The sobs and tremors shaking her body subsided and finally she pulled away, looking embarrassed rather than grateful.
‘I must look terrible,’ she sniffed, not quite meeting his eyes.
‘Yes,’ he agreed, too distracted by the scene playing in his head to display any tact.
She was under him, her warmth pushing up into him, her body arching as he slid deep inside her.
He’d known her barely a few hours and already it was becoming a recurrent theme that his imagination was intermittently adding erotic details to. More a man for action, Zain had never thought fantasies were any substitute for reality. What he hadn’t realised until this moment was just how frustrating they were!
His distracted response made her forget her determination not to look at him. As she did, the startled indignation on her face melted into amusement and she broke the silence with a gurgle of laughter. ‘Well, at least I know you’re honest now. Which means... I’m safe.’ She paused, as if giving it time to sink in. ‘I didn’t think that...’
She had a very expressive face and he could virtually see the nightmare scenes playing through her head.
‘Then don’t think,’ he recommended, guilt at his lustful thoughts making him sound abrupt. She had just escaped hell and his empathy amounted to fixating on the lush promise of her incredible mouth—and for that matter the lush promise of the rest of her. Hell, but you’re a sensitive guy, he told himself sardonically.
‘I’m just relieved that I’m safe.’ And with relief came a deep exhaustion and she made no protest when he urged her down onto the grass beside the pool.
Leaving her there, Zain walked over to where the stallion was grazing and pulled out a thermos that was tucked into one of the saddlebags. Dropping down into a squat beside her, he unscrewed the top and handed it to her.
She drank greedily, wiping her lips when she’d finished then handing it back.
He couldn’t keep calling her ‘the redhead’ and he’d forgotten what the men had called her. ‘Do you have a name?’
‘Abby. And you are?’
‘Zain.’
‘Let me see your arm, Abby.’
He inspected it gently before nodding, then looking around. ‘Stay put.’
* * *
Abby doubted of she could have moved even if she’d wanted to. Still, she followed him with her eyes—he was easy to watch and the way he moved...the combination of power, grace and perfect co-ordination...her stomach gave a lazy flip before she snatched her glance guiltily away.
