grabbed the gleaming hilt, half hidden beneath an edge of carpet.
Cassie froze, her pulse rocketing. The sense of being surrounded was suddenly too real and not at all reassuring.
But instead of pressing home his physical advantage Amir stood, then extended his hand to her. ‘Here.’
It was on the tip of Cassie’s tongue to refuse his help. But grappling with the guard had taken its toll. She felt as if she’d had a run-in with a herd of wild horses.
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky as his hand engulfed hers and he pulled her up. Strange how the touch of that callused hand seemed so much more real than the smooth handshakes of the men she met and worked with in Melbourne.
His was the touch of a hard-working man. A man of decision. Of strength.
Cassie blinked and withdrew her fingers, disturbed at the trend of her thoughts.
‘I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if anything had happened to it.’ She forced herself to turn and meet his enigmatic gaze. ‘It must be worth a fortune.’
‘Far more than a fortune. Its value is in the fact it’s been passed through my family for centuries.’
‘Yet you gave it to me?’ Cassie frowned, snapping her gaze from his arresting features to the weapon in his hand.
‘Your need was greater than mine.’
He made it sound so simple. Yet to trust a stranger, even for a short while, with such an heirloom seemed crazy.
‘Here.’ He extended his hand, palm open. Light reflected off the gem in the hilt and dazzled her. ‘Keep it till you’re free.’
For an instant Cassie knew an insane urge to push his hand away and say she felt utterly safe here, with him.
Until she remembered the guards surrounding the tent. Themalice in Mustafa’s eyes. She reached for the weapon, her fingers closing around its solidity.
She concentrated on its weight, the protection it represented, and tried to ignore the ripple of sensation that coursed through her when her hand touched Amir’s.
CHAPTER FIVE
A MIR was reading a report on a new gas pipeline when he sensed her enter. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet, and without the jingling coin belt there was no obvious sign of her presence.
Yet he sensed her.
Felt
her here, in his domain.
Deliberately Amir forced himself to read another long paragraph. The pipeline was far more important to him, to his plans for Tarakhar, than the woman who’d finally emerged from the bathroom.
Yet the words ran together, jumbling into incoherence as he pretended not to notice her. Finally he thrust aside the papers and looked up. His breath seared his lungs.
She stood defiantly, as if daring him to comment. Her chin was up, her eyes narrowed, and her feet planted a little apart.
In other circumstances Amir would have warned her that the spark of challenge in her eyes, far from dousing male interest, only heightened the delicious temptation of the picture she made.
Gone was the dancing girl outfit. Instead she wore a collarless white shirt of his.
Whatever misguided sympathy had possessed him to offer his clothes for her to wear after her bath?
But how could he have known that Cassie wearing his shirt would be one of the sexiest sights he’d ever encountered?
Heat coiled low as his eyes flicked over her.
The cotton covered her almost to the knees. She’d rolledthe sleeves up and the material hung loose around her. Yet the slit neck dived to her cleavage. The hint of a shadow there intrigued him as she moved restlessly.
Worse, the cotton clung to her breasts, firm and high even without the bustier. As he watched, her nipples peaked, thrusting against the fine material.
Amir swallowed, his mouth drier than the great interior desert, as he dragged his gaze down to shapely legs and dainty feet.
Less is more.
It was true. The dancing costume had been blatantly sexy, designed to appeal to the basest of male hungers.
Yet the simplicity of what she wore now was more erotic than anything he could recall. Or was that because he knew beneath
Cassie froze, her pulse rocketing. The sense of being surrounded was suddenly too real and not at all reassuring.
But instead of pressing home his physical advantage Amir stood, then extended his hand to her. ‘Here.’
It was on the tip of Cassie’s tongue to refuse his help. But grappling with the guard had taken its toll. She felt as if she’d had a run-in with a herd of wild horses.
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky as his hand engulfed hers and he pulled her up. Strange how the touch of that callused hand seemed so much more real than the smooth handshakes of the men she met and worked with in Melbourne.
His was the touch of a hard-working man. A man of decision. Of strength.
Cassie blinked and withdrew her fingers, disturbed at the trend of her thoughts.
‘I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if anything had happened to it.’ She forced herself to turn and meet his enigmatic gaze. ‘It must be worth a fortune.’
‘Far more than a fortune. Its value is in the fact it’s been passed through my family for centuries.’
‘Yet you gave it to me?’ Cassie frowned, snapping her gaze from his arresting features to the weapon in his hand.
‘Your need was greater than mine.’
He made it sound so simple. Yet to trust a stranger, even for a short while, with such an heirloom seemed crazy.
‘Here.’ He extended his hand, palm open. Light reflected off the gem in the hilt and dazzled her. ‘Keep it till you’re free.’
For an instant Cassie knew an insane urge to push his hand away and say she felt utterly safe here, with him.
Until she remembered the guards surrounding the tent. Themalice in Mustafa’s eyes. She reached for the weapon, her fingers closing around its solidity.
She concentrated on its weight, the protection it represented, and tried to ignore the ripple of sensation that coursed through her when her hand touched Amir’s.
CHAPTER FIVE
A MIR was reading a report on a new gas pipeline when he sensed her enter. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet, and without the jingling coin belt there was no obvious sign of her presence.
Yet he sensed her.
Felt
her here, in his domain.
Deliberately Amir forced himself to read another long paragraph. The pipeline was far more important to him, to his plans for Tarakhar, than the woman who’d finally emerged from the bathroom.
Yet the words ran together, jumbling into incoherence as he pretended not to notice her. Finally he thrust aside the papers and looked up. His breath seared his lungs.
She stood defiantly, as if daring him to comment. Her chin was up, her eyes narrowed, and her feet planted a little apart.
In other circumstances Amir would have warned her that the spark of challenge in her eyes, far from dousing male interest, only heightened the delicious temptation of the picture she made.
Gone was the dancing girl outfit. Instead she wore a collarless white shirt of his.
Whatever misguided sympathy had possessed him to offer his clothes for her to wear after her bath?
But how could he have known that Cassie wearing his shirt would be one of the sexiest sights he’d ever encountered?
Heat coiled low as his eyes flicked over her.
The cotton covered her almost to the knees. She’d rolledthe sleeves up and the material hung loose around her. Yet the slit neck dived to her cleavage. The hint of a shadow there intrigued him as she moved restlessly.
Worse, the cotton clung to her breasts, firm and high even without the bustier. As he watched, her nipples peaked, thrusting against the fine material.
Amir swallowed, his mouth drier than the great interior desert, as he dragged his gaze down to shapely legs and dainty feet.
Less is more.
It was true. The dancing costume had been blatantly sexy, designed to appeal to the basest of male hungers.
Yet the simplicity of what she wore now was more erotic than anything he could recall. Or was that because he knew beneath
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