Master of the Desert

He pulled away from the mast, shaking his head like an angry wolf, as if that could dislodge her from his thoughts. He had already decided she was too young for him.

But she was intriguing.

The trill of the satellite phone provided a welcome distraction, until he learned the purpose of the call. He had ordered that all his late father’s palaces be aired and cleaned before being redecorated and opened to the public, and it appeared they had found a locked room today. When his comptroller of palaces went on to advise him that they hadn’t been able to locate a key to the room, a thought occurred to him. Was it possible the room had belonged to his father’s mistress? There were so many secrets where that woman was concerned.

He commanded that they remove the door from its hinges—or break it down if they had to. Once they had gained access, if it proved to have been her lair, everything she had owned must be taken out and destroyed.

She must have cat-napped; when she woke there was no sign of the man. She guessed he was up on deck and, though sleeping under the stars sounded idyllic to her, she was beginning to feel guilty at the thought that she was taking up his one and only bunk. Sitting up and stretching, she realised it was still relatively early, and that he was unlikely to be asleep.

She wanted to see him again. She wanted to make a fresh start. She wanted him to see her differently. She had been so shocked at their first encounter she had acted foolishly, and hadn’t seen anything from his point of view, but now she had slept and felt refreshed she could understand his brusque manner. She was the trespasser, and yet he’d fed her and bathed her wounds. What had she done for him? She must earn her passage back to the mainland as cook, crew, anything he wanted—within reason, of course. The least she could do now was to take him a cooling drink.

The very least, Antonia concluded, her heart hammering with anticipation as she padded silently across the deck with a cooling lemonade she had decorated with a slice of lemon, an ice cube and even a sprig of mint she had found in the man’s supplies.

The dark shape loomed out of nowhere. She screamed and the drink went flying. The man yanked her in front of him and, dipping his head, demanded, ‘Do you never learn?’

She was trembling so much it took her a moment to speak, and then fury and shock turned her intended apology on its head. ‘“Are you all right?” might be nice,’ she raged back at him.

The man was already blazing with affront, which only increased at her outburst. Bringing his face close to hers in the most intimidating way imaginable, he snarled, ‘Do yourself a favour and learn how dangerous it is to creep up on me.’

‘Well, I’m sorry if I frightened you.’

‘Frightened me?’ He seemed surprised for a moment, and then, throwing back his head, he laughed, strong white teeth flashing in the moonlight.

She couldn’t even bring him a drink without making a mess of things, Antonia seethed inwardly. She could cope in her brother’s sophisticated circles in Rome without any trouble at all, but she couldn’t seem to get a single thing right where this man was concerned. And now she was in danger of ruining everything and losing her lift to the mainland. ‘Look, I’m sorry.’

‘Cloth,’ he snapped without sparing her a glance.

She bit back an angry retort, accepting he was right on this occasion. She shouldn’t have shouted at him or spilled lemonade on his deck. She should have remembered this wasn’t some pleasure cruiser and that she was here under sufferance. ‘I’ll get you a cloth.’

‘You bet you will. You made the mess, you clear it up!’

So much for her kind gesture! She should have saved some of the lemonade to toss over him. ‘I thought you might want a drink. Was it my fault you leapt out at me? And now you expect me to follow orders like a dog. You’ll be whistling for me next.’

‘Have you finished?’

His quiet way of speaking drew her attention to his lips. Taking herself out of danger range, she headed below deck at speed. She was going to stick with her original plan, which was to be useful to him so he would be more likely to give her a lift to the mainland.

She returned moments later with a fresh drink, a clean cloth and a new sense of purpose in her step. ‘Here,’ she said, hanging on to the cloth as she offered him the freshly prepared drink. She was bowed, but not defeated. If she had a hope of reaching Sinnebar, pride was not an option.

‘Where are you going?’ the man demanded as she carried on walking.

She waved the cloth at him. ‘To clean up.’

‘Sit down over there,’ he ordered, indicating a bulkhead well out of his way. ‘And please try not to fall overboard while I make a proper job of clearing up the mess you made.’