Lord of Desire

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"That I won't take advantage of you? I give you my word."

"I don't belive you!"

"What you believe is immaterial." The hard edge was

back in his voice. "Come now, I am waiting, Miss Vick-

ery. "

She couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to undress in front of him, even if he had promised not to assault her. It might be cowardly, but she couldn't. Her gaze fell again on the rifle. Reaching it might be impossible, but she had to try.

It was impossible. No sooner had she darted after the weapon than her astute captor swiftly blocked her way. Alysson found herself confronted with the hard wall of his chest.

Her panic rising, she went on the attack, flailing and kicking at him with fury. When her fist managed to connect with his wound, she made him grunt in pain, but when she struck his shin with her bare foot, the blow hurt her far more than it could ever hurt him. With his superior strength, it was not long before he subdued her struggles. Swinging her up in his arms then, he carried her writhing body over to his burnous and laid her down.

When he knelt beside her, Alysson tried again to break free, nearly sobbing in frustration and fear. But her efforts were in vain. He merely pinned her arms at her sides until she finally went still.

"It will go easier for you when you accept that it is useless to defy me."

Determinedly, he bent over her and attended to the small buttons that ran down the front of her shirt, brushing her flailing hands away when she tried to resist his efforts. Alysson squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears of fear and humiliation.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you," he murmured, his low, controlled voice penetrating her daze. "Not as long as you obey me."

That was the rub. If she obeyed his wishes, if she meekly surrendered, if she allowed him to have his way with her, then he would refrain from beating her or worse. Well, she wouldn't give in to his threats! She would never calmly accept her captivity. She would fight him every step of the way. She would resist him with every ounce of strength she possessed.

For the moment, though, she had to accept defeat.

She remained rigid and unmoving as he lifted her slightly in order to draw off her shirt, clenching her teeth as he bared her upper body to the chill evening air. Beneath her linen chemisette, her nipples puckered against the cold.

Alysson shivered in response, but her captor suddenly went still. When she fearfully glanced up at him, she realized he was staring down at her breasts with hot golden eyes.

Never more aware of herself as a woman, Alysson flushed painfully. Frantically, awkwardly, she wrapped her arms around herself to cover her near-nakedness. "I despise you," she said with all the loathing she could muster.

Wadding up her shirt, he tossed it aside. With a casual shrug, he glanced down the length of her body. "Be glad that I am letting you keep your breeches."

There was a note in his voice that sounded suspiciously like amusement, but when she glared up at him, she could read nothing in his expression. The gathering twilight shrouded his thoughts.

"A woman should not hide her femininity," he remarked casually. "You could learn much from my countrywomen. They would tell you a mere female must yield to the whims of a man."

It was amusement she heard in his voice. He was deliberately trying to provoke her. It made her long to do him an injury.

Just then, however, he stretched himself out beside her on the burnous, slowly, like a cat, looking every bit as alert as one. He held himself up on one elbow, his chest almost brushing her left arm, his shadowed face very near hers. Alysson tensed. She was totally at his mercy. If he chose to break his word, she would have little chance of stopping him from ravishing her.

To hide her fear, she took refuge behind a show of contempt. "I have no intention of yielding to your whims," she retorted. "And I am not a mere female!"

"No, you are a young lady, a wealthy Englishwoman . . . spoiled and pampered and petted from birth. I doubt if you have ever performed a day's work in your life."

She had no reply for his cool accusation, for it was true. She was accustomed to having her every wish gratified by her servants, her commands obeyed. And she usually managed to get her way with everyone else. The men of her acquaintance especially leapt to do her bidding. She knew instinctively, though, this was one man she could not bend to her will. Dropping her gaze, Alysson helplessly hugged her body with her arms, rubbing her chilled, bare flesh. Never in her life had she been so shaken by a man.

When she shivered, he reached all the way over her, his fingers grasping the far edge of his burnous. Alysson flinched in alarm as his chest pressed against her. "Don't touch me!"

He paused for a moment, looking down at her, his expression enigmatic. Then he continued with his task, drawing the burnous over her bare shoulders, tucking the edge beneath her arm.

He had only been trying to cover her, Alysson realized numbly.

"I know," he said in a soft voice, but this time the scorn was unmistakable, "you don't want your lily-pure skin to be contaminated by a 'savage Arab.' "