скачать книгу бесплатно
He turned away to refill his cup, desperately gathering his control about him.
Fury, that was what it was.
His frown turned to a scowl as he recognised the emotion, hard as a knot, inside him. Anger. And jealousy.
The idea that she’d carried another man’s child, had belonged so intimately to another, burned deep, eating like acid.
The intensity of sensation shocked him. Shook him out of his complacent belief in himself as an easygoing man. There was nothing easygoing about the churning turmoil in the pit of his stomach. It was a surge of pure old-fashioned covetousness. Envy that some other man had enjoyed what he so wanted.
Arik couldn’t believe it. He’d never been jealous in his life!
‘My congratulations,’ he murmured, trying to concentrate on pouring the coffee. ‘Does she look like you or like her father?’
So absorbed was he in mastering the roiling mass of his jealousy that he almost missed her hesitation.
‘Everyone says she looks like me.’
He turned back and offered her the flask of coffee, but she shook her head.
‘She must be a very pretty little girl, then.’ Even that was enough to heighten the glow in Rosalie’s cheeks. As if she wasn’t used to receiving such compliments.
Were Australian men so clumsy, then? Or, the thought suddenly emerged, had she been avoiding them? Had she been burned by the relationship with her daughter’s father so that she shied away from men?
That was a definite possibility, given her skittishness. Arik filed away the thought for later consideration. ‘Your daughter isn’t with you?’
Rosalie shook her head. ‘My mother’s looking after her this week. I’m by myself for now.’
Arik worked hard to keep the satisfaction from his face. Alone for the week. And perhaps a little lonely? Perfect.
Rosalie watched as he unpacked their lunch from the cool-box. It was a relief when he’d ceased his questions and begun to explain the dishes his cook had prepared. Not that he’d probed. Yet with him she felt defensive, as if she didn’t trust him not to use the information against her.
Ridiculous! How could he? She hadn’t said anything particularly personal. Just the bare bones of her life. And yet…she’d sensed a purpose behind his questions, as if he weren’t just making small talk.
Arik Ben Hassan was too unsettling for her peace of mind.
Was that why she hadn’t come clean about exactly who she was? The sister-in-law of the sovereign prince of Q’aroum. She’d automatically shied away from the fact, eager to preserve her anonymity. Everywhere she and her mother went in Q’aroum, they’d been treated with such formal courtesy once people discovered their connection to the ruling family. It was nice to be just plain Rosalie Winters again.
Even now it seemed bizarre, her sister marrying into royalty. But it had taken just an hour spent with Rafiq, on his first visit to Australia, for her to understand why Belle had fallen for him.
Strong, protective, handsome and, above all, completely besotted with his new wife. The sort of man Rosalie could have fallen in love with herself.
The sort of man who was as rare as gold at the end of the rainbow.
She shot a sideways glance at her host, cataloguing the noble profile, the lean strength and easy grace of his actions.
Another stunningly attractive man. Yet, she sensed, a completely different personality to her brother-in-law. She couldn’t imagine Arik settling down with just one woman. Those heavy-lidded eyes with their knowing, teasing gleam indicated he enjoyed the good life too much. No doubt he had the money and free time to indulge any whim. Why should he take life seriously?
She watched him unpack the platters and bowls of tempting local dishes—salads, dips, sesame bread and cold meats. All perfect. All exquisitely presented. Even for a man with his own private chef, surely this was no ordinary picnic?
‘Arik?’ His name sounded too good on her lips. She wished she hadn’t used it. Especially when he turned round to her, that tempting half-smile tugging at his lips and changing his face from imposing to sexy.
‘What is all this?’ Her gesture encompassed the luxurious setting as well as the feast spread before her.
‘A picnic lunch?’ There was a twinkle in those dark eyes that almost made her smile, despite her wariness.
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s more than that.’ She hesitated, wondering how big a fool she was about to make of herself. But she had to know. ‘Please. I’m not into games. Exactly what is it you want from me?’
The humour faded from his eyes in an instant, replaced by a brooding severity she hadn’t seen before. It caught her by surprise.
So did his hand, reaching out and enfolding hers. His touch was light but firm, his flesh warm and enticing. She sucked in a breath.
‘Exactly?’ His thumb stroked over hers, sending a shiver of excitement straight to her secret feminine core. ‘I would like to know you better, Rosalie. Much better.’ Another stroke of his thumb made her tremble.
‘I want to become your lover.’
Chapter Four
ROSALIE wrenched her hand away. Dismay lit her face.
And something else. A dazzling instant of connection that told Arik he was right. She too felt the surge of desire between them. She wanted him and it scared her. He read vulnerability in her eyes, in the twist of her lips.
‘No!’ Her eyes boggled. ‘I mean—’
‘You’re not interested in a short romance?’
She shook her head and long strands of rose gilt swirled around her neck. ‘No. No, I’m not.’
His eyes narrowed as he took in her clenched fists, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, her stormy eyes.
If he were a sensitive soul his ego might have been bruised by her vehemence. Instead he saw beyond her rejection to the inner pain she couldn’t conceal. There was something there. Some deep-seated fear that made her deny him, and herself, the pleasure they would find together.
For an instant, impatience, pique at the unprecedented rejection, threatened to swamp him. Then sense reasserted itself. Much as she denied it, Rosalie was ripe for him. She couldn’t conceal her body’s eagerness. Or the way her eyes devoured him when she thought he wasn’t aware.
He’d need time to thaw her shell of ice. But then, didn’t he have time on his hands? She was a delectable challenge, yet with patience he’d triumph over her caution. He knew it. And victory would taste like paradise.
The certainty of her surrender added piquancy to the situation. Maybe he was jaded by easy conquests. The knowledge that he’d need his wits as well as charm to seduce her merely fired his determination to have her.
He would play a waiting game. For now.
‘I apologise for embarrassing you, Rosalie.’ Her eyes were huge in her face. ‘Forgive me.’
She swallowed down hard. He watched the convulsive movement of her throat and tried not to wonder how soft her skin would be there. How tender the spot under the corner of her jaw, and further up her neck, just below her ear.
‘That’s it?’ Her brow furrowed. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘I’d rather you took a different view. We would find much pleasure together.’ Pink bloomed in her cheeks, darkened and spread, as he held her gaze.
Her blushes delighted him. The illusion that she was virtually untouched, untutored in the realms of sexual passion, held a strange appeal. He wondered if the blush extended down across her breasts to her peaked nipples.
‘You asked what I wanted and I told you. But as you don’t want an affair, let us concentrate on our lunch.’
‘As simple as that?’ Disbelief echoed in her tone.
‘As simple as that.’ It was a good thing she didn’t know how badly he wanted her. How intense was his desire. How eagerly he anticipated her eventual capitulation.
‘But surely…’ Frowning, she shook her head again as if to clear it. ‘It would be better if I left.’
‘Not at all. I’m looking forward to your opinion on our local fare.’ He turned to reach for a plate.
‘Still, I should go.’ She made to rise and Arik fought the impulse to snare her hand.
‘And your painting? You wish to leave that too?’
That stopped her in mid-movement, her expression arrested. But only for a moment. ‘That’s all right. I wasn’t sure it would turn out well anyway.’
‘You’re a very bad liar, Rosalie. Has no one told you that before? Of course it’s good. It’s more than good.’ He knew enough to understand Rosalie Winters had real talent.
‘Nevertheless—’ the jut of her chin sharpened ‘—it’s only a painting. It’s not worth…’
‘You think I ask you to prostitute yourself for the sake of a painting?’ Okay, so he’d used her art to get close to her. But pride rebelled at her idea that he’d blackmail her into bed. The doubt in her eyes fuelled his anger, tightened the muscles across his neck and shoulders.
‘I am not quite as needy as that, Rosalie.’
‘I didn’t mean to insult you.’ Her voice was a muffled whisper, yet she met his eyes. ‘But I don’t know you.’
Curtly he nodded. Women needed to protect themselves.
‘Let me assure you, on my word as sheikh of my people, I would never force you into intimacy. If my own scruples aren’t enough, remember I’m a public figure. Any wrongdoing on my part would swiftly become widely known.’
He watched her troubled face and, for a moment, wished he hadn’t told her what was on his mind. It was too soon.
‘I have never taken what was not freely offered.’ He paused, letting her weigh his words.
Her eyes, shadowed and doubting, held his. He was losing her. The sudden appalling notion crowded his brain and he felt as if someone had punched him hard in the gut.
The intensity of his reaction didn’t make sense. For all her intoxicating allure she was just a woman. There would be plenty of those when he returned to his normal life. Women eager and impatient for his attention.
Why did his heart thud harder as he waited for her to say goodbye?
‘I would rather finish.’ Her gaze slid from his as she half turned to watch the waves shushing in on the beach. ‘But it wouldn’t feel right, knowing you want more.’
He shrugged as relief hummed through him. ‘Men often look and want. But we don’t always get what we desire.’
His experience was different; he made it his business always to get what he wanted. No need to tell her that.
Her head swung round and their eyes met. He felt the impact in his tightening lungs. He wanted to thread a hand through the shimmering silk of her hair and pull her close. He wanted to taste her, not her hand this time, but her lips: lush, ripe, inviting. He wanted to explore her body, discover the places that triggered delight and ecstasy.
Slowly he exhaled. Patience. It would take time to breach the barrier of her distrust. She was as flighty as a newborn colt. Easily scared.
He summoned a smile and held out a plate. ‘Let’s enjoy lunch before it spoils. I will bring my horse to the beach each morning while you paint. In the afternoons we will view the local sights. Simple. No strings attached.’
Simple, he’d said.
Rosalie stared out the window of the four-wheel drive and knew this was anything but simple. All afternoon as they’d toured the old town, she’d struggled against the force of his personality, his magnetic attractiveness. Against desire and a burgeoning curiosity that undermined her determination to keep her distance.
She was losing the fight.
She should have left him at the beach. No matter that she wanted to feel it again, that rush of excitement when he looked at her with such searing intensity.
Perversely, it was his anger that had made her stay. The fury in his jet-dark eyes. Arik Ben Hassan had been genuinely outraged at the suggestion he might force his attentions. Pride had made his head jerk up, his eyes narrow in flashing denial and his hands curl into fists.
Rosalie wondered if the idea was outside his code of ethics. Or was it the hint that he might need to coerce any female to succumb to him? No doubt he cut a swathe through women with his looks and air of lazy sensuality.
Either way, she’d known with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t use force. He might tempt and persuade, but he’d respect her wishes. She was safe: while she wanted to be.
The thought sent a skitter of feral excitement down her spine. Did he guess how she felt?
‘I like the way the new buildings in the city blend in with the old,’ she said abruptly, conscious that the silence had lengthened between them as he drove.
‘I’m glad you approve. Planning sympathetic redevelopment has been a major issue for us.’ His smooth voice drew her skin tight and tingling.
‘You’re involved in the planning?’ She cut him a curious sideways glance.
He shrugged broad shoulders as he manoeuvred round a tight curve. ‘I am the Sheikh. It is expected.’
She’d seen that amazing house, the obvious wealth he commanded, but hadn’t considered the responsibilities of his position. Silly, considering what she knew of her brother-in-law’s punishing workload.
‘I suppose your official duties keep you busy.’
‘Busy enough. But my work often takes me away.’
He had a job too? She’d imagined him living the good life, flitting from city to city, and woman to woman.
His dark eyes danced as he turned to her. His lips curled up in a smile that made her insides liquefy. How did he do that with just one slow, sexy grin?
‘You’re surprised I work?’ He turned back to the road.
‘I…suppose I assumed that you didn’t need to.’
He nodded. ‘But inactivity does not suit me. I couldn’t loll about growing fat and idle.’
He’d never be fat. He had too much vigour. Even in repose his lean body was a study in power and leashed energy. She blinked and watched the road rather than let her gaze drift appreciatively over him.
‘What sort of work do you do?’
‘I manage a resources enterprise.’ His deep voice sent a trickle of warmth down her spine.
‘An oil company, you mean?’
