Dec leaned over her until they were a breath apart.
“It’s me. Declan. You got that?”
She hesitated. Then she gave a quick nod.
“I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth. If you yell, if you do anything at all except stay quiet, we’re gonna have a problem. Understand?”
Another quick nod.
Okay. She got it. She knew who he was…
Dammit.
She was crying. Well, so what? He didn’t give a crap. It was just that he needed her trusting him, having no doubts about him.
He stroked his hand over her face, relearning the once-familiar feel of her. The high cheekbones, straight nose, softly curved lips.
She shrank back.
Meaning, he thought grimly, she still wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Hell,” he murmured, and in that horrible place that stunk of fear and despair, he knew there was one fast way to convince the woman beneath him that he was real.
“Annie,” he said, and he lowered his head and captured her mouth with his.
She tasted exactly as she always had. Sweet. Delicate. Perfect.
But how could he remember her taste? He’d put all that aside…
Liar.
Everything in him remembered.
Not just her taste. More than that. The feel of her mouth under his. The softness of her body. The scent of her skin.
“Declan,” she whispered. She pressed her hands against his chest. “Declan,” she whispered again, and the way she said his name made him groan, draw her closer, closer…
What the fuck was he doing?
This woman wasn’t his Annie. She was Qarami royalty, and he was here to get her out of the hands of the bandits who’d stolen her from her bridegroom.
Disgust for her, for himself, flooded his veins. He clasped her shoulders and pulled back.
“Convinced?” he said, amazed at how calm he sounded. “It’s me. In the flesh. And if we don’t get out of here fast, we might not get out at all. Can you stand?”
It took her a few seconds, but finally she nodded.
“Yes. But I’m handcuffed to this post.”
Dec dug into his pocket. “Not a problem. I saw the cuffs when they brought you out a couple of hours ago.”
“You mean, you’ve been watching?”
“Yeah. Just waiting for the right time. Hold your hand steady. Like that.”
She leaned forward as he worked. Her hair brushed his face. There were burrs caught in it but the strands that swung free were silky and soft.
“Is that a hairpin?”