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He’d been appalled to discover she was so vulnerable, and had dealt with it in the only way available to him: by getting angry. Of course it was none of his concern, but somehow the moment he’d hauled Lily on that plane she’d become his...his...
His.
No, damn it, not that. Never that.
What he meant was hisresponsibility.
That moment in the hall yesterday had meant nothing. The sight of her tear-filled eyes had moved him—that was all.
The ache in his groin almost made a liar of him, but he knew that for what it was: abstinence. He’d been celibate since beginning negotiations for his marriage. It had nothing to do with the specific female now on the other side of the dressing room curtain.
So what if she’d been interestingly flustered earlier, which had made him wonder, despite her claims, if any man had touched her? His blood had leapt at the thought, but he’d quickly mastered that. All that should concern him was ramping up the rumour mill. If his plans worked there’d be a rash of photos across the media in the next few hours. The sole purpose of his presence here.
In the meantime, he resigned himself to a dull hour or two of shopping. Provided he made some appreciative noises here and there, his contribution would barely be needed.
He picked up a newspaper from the pile laid out for him and applied himself to the first article of interest.
Ten minutes later the curtains swished back.
He politely lifted his head.
And all the air left his body in one breath.
An actual physical punch to the gut couldn’t have had more impact.
The sea-green silk dress was simple enough: cowl-necked, cap-sleeved, cut to the knee. But it flowed in sinuous, loving lines over breast, hip, thigh. Despite the plaster and healing grazes to her shin, Lily looked...
With a flourish, Eleanor gathered up all that glorious auburn hair and caught it with a clasp at the nape of Lily’s long pale neck.
Beautiful.
The assistant produced matching heels, urging Lily to slip them on. Now there was also the arch of an instep and taut, shapely calves to contend with.
Eleanor twirled her fingers in the air, encouraging Lily to execute a spin.
‘Charming. Absolutely charming.’ She turned to Khaled. ‘Don’t you agree, darling?’
Where, he thought, slightly panicked, had those enticing curves come from? She’d felt almost girl-like when he’d lifted her aboard the plane.
‘Indeed,’ he muttered, mourning the loss of the linen tunic and Stella’s flat sandals.
Lily was studying her reflection in the mirrors, as if she couldn’t quite believe the transformation a simple dress had achieved.
She wasn’t the only one.
He was still staring when the curtain closed again.
Then a clothes rail was wheeled into the room and left beside him.
Khaled exhaled slowly.
Lingerie. Lots of it. In a heart-stopping selection of silk and lace, and in every colour from virginal white to sex siren’s scarlet.
Somewhere a door opened, and a gust of air dislodged a pink lace thong from its hanger. Downwards it went, to land close to his left foot. It lay there, delicate, distracting, an utterly feminine contrast to the robust dark tan leather of his shoe.
He slid his foot away, resumed his reading.
But the pale pink lace refused to be ignored.
