Bound to Her Desert Captor

‘She’s magnificent. I found her as a chick at the base of a cliff when I was out riding years ago. She had fallen from her nest and wasn’t ready to fly. The mother could do nothing for her and there was no way I could scale the side of the cliff to return her to her nest so I took her home with me. We’ve been firm friends ever since but I hardly get time to take her out any more. She wanted to hunt today but I didn’t think you would want to see that.’

‘What does she hunt?’

‘Mice, hares, smaller birds.’

‘Spiders?’

Jag laughed. ‘Don’t sound so hopeful, habiba.’

At the memory of the giant eight-legged monster in her wardrobe, Regan scoured the ground around them. ‘You’re safe. From creepy crawlies.’

His amused eyes grinned into hers and Regan felt the intimacy of the moment even though they hadn’t even touched. For a split second she wondered if he was about to bend down and kiss her. And she wanted him to.

‘We need to leave. It is getting late.’

‘Of course. I can see the sun already dipping down towards the horizon and it gets cold in the desert at night. Or so I’ve heard.’

She was babbling, she knew it, and, by the way his lips tilted up at one side, he knew it too. ‘It does. The desert is very unforgiving. It is not a place you want to get caught in during the day or the night.’

‘Okay, well...’

‘Sire, your horse.’

Thankful for the interruption, Regan turned blindly to the man who had brought their horses. Or, rather, Jag’s stallion.

‘What happened to my mare?’

‘She grew tired from the ride out. She will be stabled here for the night and one of the men will return for her tomorrow.’ Jaeger collected the reins from the man.

Placing a sure foot in the stirrup, he swung himself up onto the enormous horse, reaching his hand down to her, palm facing up. ‘You will ride with me.’

Ride with him? No way. She was trying to lower her awareness of him, not elevate it into the stratosphere. ‘That’s okay.’ She gave him a wan smile. ‘I can...’ She looked around, hoping to see some other mode of transport at her disposal.

‘I’m afraid the A train uptown has left for the day.’

Regan laughed. ‘Was that a New York joke, Your Majesty?’

‘A pretty lame one,’ he admitted unselfconsciously. ‘Come. Give me your hand.’

Regan stared up at him. Everything inside of her said that she should not do this. That she should insist that he find another way for her to make it back to the stables. Maybe with one of his trusted guards, but she knew she’d be wasting her breath and really...just the thought of riding with him atop that massive horse gave her goosebumps.

She moistened her lips and placed her hand in his. Right now, out here in the desert, where it was wild and free, she felt very unlike her usually cautious self.

Jaeger’s hand closed around hers and seconds later he had her seated on the horse behind him. He twisted around to face her, adjusting her shemagh once more so that it covered most of her face. Regan’s heart beat fast as she stared back at him, so close she could smell the combined scent of horse and man. It was quite the aphrodisiac. She couldn’t see his expression because his sunglasses were back in place, his own shemagh drawn across his face. He looked like the dangerous outlaw she had imagined him to be when they met and a thrill went through her. Back then her instincts had screamed at her to run. Now they were begging her to draw closer.

‘You’ll have to hang on tight, habiba. Bariq likes to have his head.’

Before she could respond Jag whirled the stallion on his hind legs and raced them out of the small village and across the sand, giving Regan no choice but to comply with his suggestion or fly off the back of the horse and land on her rear end.

Determined to remain steadfastly immune to his proximity, she lasted about five seconds before she became aware of the lean, hard layer of muscle at his abdomen as her fingers flattened across his middle. Remembering what those muscles looked like without his shirt led to thoughts of sex, and the harder she tried to banish the word from her mind the more it stuck until it was all she could think about.

Between that and the smooth, powerful motion of the horse, she was decidedly rubber-legged when they arrived back at the stables.

Jag dismounted, his blue eyes hot and stormy as he looked up at her with his arms outstretched. Regan automatically swung her leg over the saddle, holding herself still in the circle of his arms as she waited for her legs to be firm enough to hold her upright.

Not wanting to meet his eyes in case he read every single hot thought she had ever had about him, she focused on the front of his shirt, glad when one of his bodyguards strode over and handed him a phone.

Thankful for the reprieve, she stroked the sweaty sides of the stallion’s neck, telling him how big and strong he was.