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Instead of demanding she help out, or even bringing up the question of their first night and his demand they marry, he had been stoic and uncommunicative. All the while he’d taken care of the horses, cooked their meals, cleaned up and then disappeared for most of the day on his stallion.
She’d taken Ashreen out for an exploratory ride the day before while he’d been away—hoping against hope that maybe she wasn’t as far from Narabia as she’d thought. But, after an hour-long ride to the end of the gorge, she’d scanned the desert plane beyond that they must have traversed during the long ride to get here with a pair of binoculars she had found in the camp’s supply tent. The terrain was rugged and inhospitable, and she hadn’t been able to locate a single familiar landmark or rock formation.
Forced to return to the camp, she had expected Kamal at least to say something about her decision to venture out without his permission. She’d almost hoped he would be mad at her so she could finally force him to confront the seething atmosphere simmering between them—and deliver her damn speech. But he had simply stared at her. For a split second she had thought she saw relief in his eyes, but she was sure she must have imagined it when, saying nothing, he had handed her a plate of the fried meat and rice he had been eating, and then returned his attention to his own meal.
She glared at the open hole in her tent roof, the morning sun sprinkling the bedchamber’s lavish furnishings with a golden glow, as her anger built at his apparent indifference to her whereabouts yesterday.
Who was giving whom the silent treatment here? Because it seemed that, after two long days and nights, he was winning the damned sulk-off she had started, which just infuriated her even more.
How on earth was she supposed to deal with a man who was so flipping contrary? What exactly did he even want from her? Why had he brought her here, if not to try and coerce her into marriage?
Throwing off the fine linen sheets, she marched to the wash basin to cool down. As she sluiced the water over her face and chest, she ignored the low-grade hum that had been pulsing over her skin ever since Kamal had discovered her bathing at Aleaza four days before. The low-grade hum that flared every time she spotted him in the camp, or woke up hot, sweaty and unbearably aroused every night troubled by erotic dreams...
Curtailing her wash so as not to encourage the hum, she strode to her pack and pulled out the last of her clean clothing.Terrific.She didn’t even have clean panties for tomorrow, when she had no doubt at all they would probably still be here, busy avoiding each other like a couple of grumpy teenagers.
Her father would surely be looking for her by now. She needed to inform him where she was. And for that she would have to speak to Kamal.
First things first—you need clean panties before you figure out a whole new strategy to get Prince Hard Head to see the error of his ways.
She knew there was a water source nearby—she was pretty sure Kamal used it to bathe. She’d avoided it herself. She did not want to give him another chance to find her in a compromising position.
The hot spot between her thighs throbbed on cue at the memory of the last time he’d caught her bathing.
After dressing in her jeans and T-shirt, she strode out of the tent to find the camp empty and no sign of Asad or Kamal anywhere. He must have gone on his daily ride.
As she grabbed the pile of dirty clothing, her temper simmered at the thought of all the freedom he enjoyed that she did not. She could wash the clothes through, while coming up with a new strategy to finally deliver her speech without compromising her autonomy or giving him any hints about the stupid hum!
After checking on Ashreen, who she discovered had already been fed, watered and exercised by Kamal that morning, she headed through the ferns and palms that surrounded the camp, following the thin trickle of water in the nearby riverbed until she caught the sound of running water—and the scent of jasmine and desert sorrel.
As the trail took her deeper into the gorge, its red walls towering over her, the rocks turned to sand and the stream widened.
The splashing sound became louder as she finally passed through the last of the trees and found a sandy cove that surrounded a wide, deep pool of iridescent blue.
The splashing noise came from an impressive thirty-foot waterfall that tumbled into a pool at the far end of the gorge. She took a moment to take in the stunning beauty of the natural pond, the urge to strip off and dive into the cool blue all but unbearable.
This pool was much larger and more dramatic than the pond at Aleaza, lapping against the inland beach on one side and the base of the red rock-cliffs on the other.
But, just as she debated stripping off for a quick dip, she heard a nicker. Kamal’s horse walked through the trees at the other end of the beach. The magnificent stallion wasn’t wearing a saddle or bridle as it dipped its head and drank thirstily at the water’s edge. The sheen of sweat on its rump and flanks suggested the horse had been ridden hard—and apparently bareback—not long before.
Is Kamal here too?
She should go back to the camp. But somehow she couldn’t seem to turn and retreat, her thundering heartbeat sinking deep into her abdomen.
Then Kamal’s dark head surged out of the water ten feet away. She eased back into the shelter of the trees, spellbound as she watched him swim in fast, efficient strokes towards the waterfall. The glimpse of tight buns had her heart jamming into her throat and sinking down to throb painfully between her thighs.
He’s naked.
Her gaze remained glued to him as he ploughed through the water towards a rocky outcrop beneath the falls.
Go back now, before he spots you and the hum becomes completely unbearable.
But she couldn’t move, couldn’t even detach her gaze, as he planted strong hands onto the lichen-covered rocks and levered his strong body out of the water.
Her avid gaze trailed up long hair-dusted legs roped with muscle and over the smooth, paler rounded orbs of his exceptional gluts. But then her eyes widened and her heart slammed into her chest wall as her gaze reached his back.
The breath she hadn’t realised she’d had trapped in her lungs gushed out on a shocked gasp, then the pulsing ache charged up from her core and wrapped around her ribs in a vice. The copper-brown skin, so muscular and strong, was marred by a criss-cross of scars, so many scars.
‘Oh, no,’ she whispered as the backs of her eyelids burned.
