The Sheikh's Disobedient Bride

She swallowed, painfully aware of him and the press of their bodies. He rested his weight on his arms, tried to keep his body from crushing hers and yet even without him touching her, she could imagine how his hands would feel against her skin, could see his fingertips trail slowly down her spine.

Oh, it’d be hot.

It’d burn her up.

Tally felt desire curl in her belly and heat wash through every limb. Her body shook and she wondered if Tair could feel it.

Balling her hands into fists, she tried to intellectualize what she was feeling, dissect the attraction and rationalize it was fear, adrenaline. These things happened. Paolo had even said that many men and women fell in love with each other in the midst of dangerous situations, something about raised hormones and chemical surges.

It’s the danger, she told herself, feeling the tension between her and Tair. It’s the storm and the noise, the pelting sand and the intense heat inside the cave making everything extreme. I’m not attracted to him. Can’t be.

“How did you sleep last night?” Tair asked, raising his voice to be heard over the howling sand devil.

She stiffened beneath him. “Like hell, and you know it.”

His mouth curved and with one hand he lazily pushed her thick hair back from her face. “You put on quite a show last night. Everyone could hear you. My men were most fascinated.”

Tally jumped at the brush of his fingers, so sensitive that just that fleeting touch made her tremble. “I’m glad I could provide them with some entertainment.”

His smile broadened. He’d shaven this morning and his jaw was clean, a hard polished bronze, which accented the height of his cheekbone and his strong aristocratic nose. “Your future husband will have his hands full with you.”

She averted her face, stared at the rough sandstone wall. “I’m not interested.”

The horse shifted, moved forward, nudging Tair and his body pressed against hers. Tally shivered at the press of his hips and chest.

“I am sure we will find one man here who can manage you. Clearly it will take a special man—”

“I’m not amused,” she answered breathlessly, feeling trapped, panicked. He was so solid, and yet warm and it confused her. The same way her attraction confused her. She couldn’t want him. It was illogical. Everything about this was crazy. He was a man wedded to the desert while she craved freedom, freedom and adventure.

Freedom. And this, she thought, stricken as his body touched hers in every place it shouldn’t, wasn’t freedom.

She couldn’t live in his world here and to even be tempted by him, to even be tempted to want someone like him spoke of disaster.

With an unsteady hand she pressed her fingers to her brow and closed her eyes, willing herself to ignore him. Forget him. The cave might be small and his body might be torturing hers but she’d been in more dangerous situations than this. She could survive this. She just had to stay calm.

And then the horse shifted again and Tair’s right knee went forward, sliding between her own and she felt his warm hard thigh slide against her, felt the heat and sinewy strength against her where she was so sensitive, where every nerve ending screamed for increased sensation and it was shocking. Disturbing. Arousing.

She opened her mouth to gasp, her mind protesting the intimacy even as her body wanted more but the sound was swallowed by the wild roar outside.

Inwardly she cursed the desert and its oppressive heat as well as the wretched Berber tribesman who took her.

Wildly, she looked up, caught Tair’s eye.

The wretched man was smiling. “Perhaps with the right man you will grow to like it here with us,” he said, voice low, taunting. “Perhaps you will never want to go back to America.”

Tally couldn’t answer. Never return? Live here in his encampment? With a shake of her head, she turned her face away, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of other places, other people.

She wouldn’t remain here. Wouldn’t belong to a Berber. Never. Ever.

Ever.

Tally didn’t know how long they lay there, huddled in the crevice, the air so hot, stifling that sweat dribbled down her neck, between her breasts, her skin damp, the air stagnant and old.

But finally the noise outside faded and the stallion shook his head again, pulling at the reins and this time Tair loosened his grip allowing his horse to slowly back up. Tally got a glimpse of blue sky. The storm had passed.

They climbed from the cave, and Tally slowly straightened, limbs achy and tight. Tair tossed her onto the saddle and jumped behind her and with a shake of the bridle let the horse run, and they were off, cantering toward the encampment.