Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child

Bad enough that his brain wasn’t functioning. The more he tried to remember the more the ache in his skull intensified, matching the searing pain in his ribs. He let his thoughts skitter from the possibility the damage was permanent. He wouldn’t accept that option.

It made him even more determined to conquer his physical weakness.

Then there was the memory of Annalisa’s soft brown eyes, brimming with distress as she avoided his gaze.

Despite her brisk capability he sensed pain, a deep vulnerability. Looking into her shadowed eyes, Tahir had felt an overwhelming need to wipe her hurt away.

Enough to brave getting to his feet.

Fool! He’d almost collapsed. Only her support had kept him upright the few metres to the water. Now he sat waist-deep, naked but for the silk boxers he’d kept on in deference to her presence, wondering how he’d summon the strength to return to the tent.

Wondering how long he could keep his eyes off the woman who sat watchfully beside the stream.

It had been torture of a different sort, allowing her to undress him. Her soft hands fumbling at his trousers had been a torment that had made him forget for a brief moment the pain bombarding him. The sight of her kneeling before him, drawing his trousers off as he leaned on her shoulder, had evoked sensations no invalid should feel.

Then she’d waded into the water, supporting him. She’d been heedless of the way their unsteady progress had sent up sprays of water that soaked large patches of her trousers and shirt.

But Tahir hadn’t.

When he shut his eyes he still saw her lace bra outlined against transparent cotton, cupping voluptuous breasts that strained forward as she steadied him. He remembered the neat curve of her hip, the narrow elastic ridge of bikini underwear where her trousers plastered her skin, then the long supple line of her thigh.

Tahir’s mouth dried and it had nothing to do with the arid air.

He should be frantically trying to remember who he was. Trying to piece together the fragments of memory, like snippets of disjointed film, swirling in his head.

Instead his thoughts circled back to Annalisa. Who was she? Why was she here?

Despite the cool water, his groin throbbed as he watched her patting a spindly-legged goat.

Was he like this with other women? So easily aroused?

He remembered the woman at the casino. The one in beads and diamonds and little else, who’d been so amorous. The memory didn’t spark anything. No heat. No desire.

Tahir frowned. He had an unsettling presentiment he should be very worried by his reactions to Annalisa Hansen.

Bathing in the wadi had been a huge mistake. Annalisa bit her lip as Tahir mumbled in his sleep, his dark brows arrowing fiercely in a scowl. These last hours he’d grown unsettled and she’d feared for him, giving up her position by the telescope to sit at his side.

He rolled, one arm outflung, dislodging the blanket and baring his chest to the rapidly cooling night air.

She strove not to think about the fact that he was naked beneath the bedding. He’d barely made it back from bathing when he’d collapsed on the makeshift bed, shucking off his wet boxers with complete disregard for her presence. She doubted he’d even realised she was there.

But to her chagrin she had perfect recall. Detailed recall. A blush warmed her throat at the memory of his tightly curved buttocks, heavily muscled thighs and—

‘Father!’ The hoarse groan yanked her into the present.

Tahir’s head thrashed and Annalisa winced, thinking of the lump on his skull.

‘Shh. It’s all right, Tahir. You’re safe.’ Whatever nightmares his injuries conjured, they rode him like demons. He sounded desperate.

She leaned across, touching his forehead. His temperature was normal, thank God, but—

A hand snapped around her wrist and dragged it to his side. The movement caught her off balance. She tugged, but the harder she fought, the more implacable his hold, till she leant right across him. His frown deepened, and his firmly sculpted lips moved silently, the muscles of his jaw clenching beneath dark stubble.

He pulled. With an oof of escaping air she landed on him. Frantically she tried to find purchase without digging her elbows into his ribs, but his other arm came round her. There was no escape.

‘He sent you, didn’t he?’ The words were a low growl.

‘No one sent me.’ She tried to slip down out of his grip but he simply lashed his arm tighter round her back, dragging her till she lay over him, her legs sinking between his when he moved.

Heat radiated up from tense muscles and she stiffened. With each breath she was aware of his chest, his hipbones, his thighs like hot steel around her.

‘He knew what he was doing, damn him.’ Tahir’s voice was rough and deep, resonating up from his chest and right through her.