Hot-Blooded Husbands Bundle

His half-brother took the initiative by coming to his feet. ‘Leona, you will understand if I beg to leave you now,’ he petitioned as smooth as silk, while Hassan, who knew him better than anyone, could see him almost pulsing with rage.

Leona’s head came up as, with a flickering blink of her lashes, she made the mammoth effort to pull herself together. ‘Oh, yes, of course, Rafiq,’ she replied, having absolutely no idea, Hassan was sure, why Rafiq was excusing himself halfway through dinner, and at this precise moment she didn’t care. It was a diversion. She needed the diversion. It should have been himself who provided it.

‘I need a word before you leave,’ he said to Rafiq, and got to his feet. ‘Samir, do the honours and replenish my wife’s glass with wine.’

The poor young man almost leapt at the wine bottle, relieved to have something to do. As Rafiq walked past Hassan, with a face like fury, Hassan saw Leona reach out and gently touch Samir’s hand, as if to assure him that everything was all right.

‘What did I miss in there?’ he rapped out at Rafiq as soon as they were out of earshot.

‘If I did not like Samir I would strangle him,’ Rafiq responded harshly. ‘Leona asked him how his mother was. He went into a long and humorous story about her sitting in wait for his sister to give birth. Leona dealt with that. She even laughed in all the right places. But then the fool had to suggest it was time that she produced your son and heir.’

‘He cannot have known what he was saying,’ Hassan said angrily.

‘It was not the question which threw Leona, it was the resounding silence that followed it and the bleak expression upon your face! Where were you, man?’ Rafiq wanted to kn

ow. It was so rare that he used that tone with Hassan, that the censure in it carried twice the weight.

‘My mind had drifted for a few seconds,’ he answered tensely.

‘And the expression?’

‘Part of the drift,’ he admitted heavily.

‘You were supposed to be on the alert at all times for attacks of this kind.’ Rafiq was not impressed. ‘It was risk enough to bring onto this boat the man who wishes her ill, without you allowing your mind to drift.’

‘Stop spitting words at my neck and go to your dancer,’ Hassan snapped back impatiently. ‘You know as well as I do that neither Abdul or Jibril would dare to try anything when they are here for the specific purpose of talking me round!’

It’s okay, Leona was telling herself. I can deal with it. I’ve always known that deep inside he cared more than he ever let me see. So, he had been caught by surprise and showed the truth to everyone. I was caught by surprise and showed it myself.

‘Samir,’ she murmured gently. ‘If you pour me any more wine I will be sozzled and fall over when I have to stand up.’

‘Hassan wants your glass kept full.’ He grimly kept on pouring.

‘Hassan was attempting to fill an empty gap in the conversation, not put me under the table,’ she dryly pointed out.

Samir sat back with a sigh. ‘I want to die a thousands deaths,’ he heavily confessed.

Hassan arrived back at the table. Leona felt his glance sear a pointed message at her down the table’s length. She refused to catch his eye, and smiled and smiled until her jaw ached.

After that, the rest of the dinner passed off without further incident. But by the time the ladies left the men alone and removed to the adjoining salon Leona was in no mood for a knife-stabbing session. So she was actually relieved that Medina and Zafina chose to stab at her indirectly by discussing Zafina’s daughter, Nadira, whose beauty, it seemed, had multiplied during the last year. And as for her grace and quiet gentle ways—she was going to make some lucky man the perfect wife one day.

At least they didn’t prose on about how wonderful she was with children, Leona thought dryly, as the conversation was halted when Hassan brought the men through within minutes of the ladies leaving them.

The evening dragged on. She thought about the other days and nights still to come and wondered if she was going to get through them all in one piece. Eventually the other two women decided they were ready to retire. A maid was called and within minutes of them leaving Leona was happy to follow suit. As she stepped outside, Hassan joined her. It was the first time he had managed to get her alone since the incident at the dinner table.

‘I am at your feet,’ he murmured contritely. ‘I was miles away and had no idea what had taken place until Rafiq explained it to me.’

She didn’t believe him, but it was nice of him to try the cover-up, she supposed. ‘Samir wins hands down on apologies,’ she came back. ‘He wants to die a thousands deaths.’

With that she walked away, shaking inside and not really sure why she was. She got ready for bed and crawled between the cool cotton sheets, sighed, punched the pillow, then attempted to fall asleep. She must have managed it, because the next thing she knew a warm body was curling itself in behind her.

‘I don’t recall our new deal involving having to share a bed,’ she said coldly.

‘I don’t recall offering to sleep elsewhere,’ Hassan coolly returned. ‘So go back to sleep.’ The arm he folded around her aimed to trap. ‘And, since I am as exhausted as you are, you did not need the silk pyjamas to keep my lecherous desires at bay…’

‘I really hate you sometimes.’ She wanted the last word.

‘Whereas I will love you with my dying breath. And when they lay us in our final resting place in our crypt of gold it will be like this, with the scent of your beautiful hair against my face and my hand covering your lying little heart. There,’ he concluded, ‘is that flowery enough to beat Samir’s one thousand deaths?’