AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His gaze shifted to hers, the intensity in his eyes ripping through her hard-won composure to the girl beneath who had always refused to bow to any man—even her father most of the time.
And she respected and loved her dad.
Prince Kamal, not so much.
He stood, lifting off his haunches to his full height. He wore an open shirt and a pair of loose-fitting riding trousers, but his feet and head were bare and his hair was wet.
‘You must eat,’ he said, in that commanding voice which made it clear this wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.
Part of her—a very large part of her—wanted to tell him to get lost. But she was starving, the stew smelled delicious and there seemed no point in starting another argument until she was at least well-nourished enough to withstand the shudder of awareness playing havoc with her heart rate.
What is that even about?
So she strolled to the fireside, sat on one of the rocks and sent him a level look that she hoped conveyed how furious she was with him—as well as the fact that, just because she needed to eat before her stomach turned inside out, she had not forgiven him in any way, shape or form.
To her astonishment, he seemed to get the message, because he served up a generous helping of the stew and handed it to her without another word.
Their fingers touched as she took the bowl. She jerked her hand back, shocked by the visceral sensation that flared through her system.
Her gaze rose to his to find him watching her with the same dark intensity she remembered from their first night. He didn’t smile, didn’t really react at all. Though somehow she knew, in that patient, unreadable expression, he had felt the brutal awareness too but he was just better at controlling his reaction to it.
Great.
The vulnerability she had tried so hard to hide seeped into every corner of her being alongside the unwanted and uncontrollable reaction to the simple touch.
She tried not to bolt down the stew but, apart from the fact she was starving and it was delicious, she was suddenly desperate to get back to the relative safety of her tent. To regroup and start figuring out a strategy—not just to get him to take her back to her family, but how to handle the traitorous arousal.
After everything he’d done, how could she still desire him? Was this Stockholm Syndrome? A result of the stress of the last two days, ever since she’d sneaked out of his bed in the middle of the night?
But, as she sat beside him in the firelight, her body continued to yearn for his touch. And it occurred to her getting out of this mess was going to be much harder than she had assumed. Because he still seemed to have a strange command over her body, which she had no control over whatsoever, despite the appalling way he’d behaved.
And that could be bad. In fact, it could be very, very bad. Because it was that same visceral reaction that had helped get her into this enormous mess in the first place. And she suspected he knew how to use it against her. So getting to know him better was fraught with all sorts of risks she hadn’t even considered.
What if her curiosity about him—that odd feeling of connection, of sympathy for the battles she suspected he had fought for so much of his life—brought an intimacy she also couldn’t control?
Oh, boy, I’m so screwed—and not in a good way.
Leaving the last few bites of the stew, because her appetite had suddenly deserted her, Liah dumped the bowl and spoon in a water vat he had placed beside the fire then got up and marched to her tent without another word.
He didn’t stop her.
Perhaps he was expecting her to thank him, maybe even to offer to wash up. Well, he could forget both. She was here against her will, and she did not plan to have another conversation with him until he had apologised and offered to take her home.
Refusing to engage with him, and this enforced camp-out, was her least worst option. Or rather the only strategy she’d come up with so far.
As she tied up the tent flap to make it crystal-clear she did not want a visit from him tonight—or any night—her fingers shook. Because she had a bad feeling Prince Kamal might well be the most stubborn, intractable and taciturn person she had ever met. And that meant their stand-off could last a very long time.
Way to go, Liah. This is turning into your most epic screw-up ever.
CHAPTER SEVEN
YOU’REGONNANEEDa new strategy.
Waking up on the morning of day three of her enforced camp-out, Liah finally admitted the silent treatment was not working. She’d spent approximately forty-eight hours giving Kamal the cold shoulder and he didn’t even seem to have noticed, let alone tried to communicate.
She’d assumed he’d eventually come to her, if only to demand she do her fair share around the camp. She’d had a whole speech ready and waiting for that moment, which she had edited and re-edited in her head about five thousand times—explaining in words of one syllable exactly why what he had done was wrong and what the consequences of his actions would be if he didn’t return her to Narabia pronto.
But he’d outsmarted her, because they’d barely exchanged three words in the last three days, and she was about to burst with frustration.
