He realised that the Sheikh was speaking to him and forced himself to listen.
‘You must be weary after your travels, Makarov?’
‘A little,’ Dimitri agreed.
‘Then we will retire for the night, since negotiations are better conducted by the light of day, following a good night’s sleep and a little exercise.’ The Sheikh smiled. ‘I believe you ride?’
‘Of course,’ said Dimitri.
‘Then perhaps you would care to join me in the morning?’ The Sheikh’s eyes gleamed. ‘I have two fine new stallions I am keen to show you and to put through their paces.’
Dimitri gave a little click of irritation. ‘I would like nothing better but have brought no riding clothes with me.’
‘This is of no matter.’ The Sheikh gave an impatient wave of his hand. ‘I can provide you with something. We are men of similar size, I think. Meet me at eight—before the sun is too high and the desert heat becomes merciless. And in the meantime I shall bid you and your secretary a good night.’ The Sheikh rose to his feet and everyone fell silent as he swept from the room, followed by a retinue of servants.
As the chatter recommenced Dimitri stood up and walked round the other side of the table, where Erin was giggling at something the Qurhahian official was saying. Was that what made Dimitri clamp a possessive hand over her arm, or simply that the desire to touch her had become too strong to resist?
‘Zvezda moya, you have spent many hours travelling today,’ he said, seeing the faint clouding of her eyes which she couldn’t quite disguise. As if it was hypocritical of him to use the Russian term of endearment, or to whisper his fingertips over her slamming pulse like that. Unseen, he circled his thumb over the delicate skin and he felt her heart pick up even more speed. ‘Let us follow the Sheikh’s good example and retire for the night.’
Erin nodded as she stood up and said goodnight to the interesting ambassador from Qurhah, who had told her so many interesting things about living in the desert. She would never have guessed in a million years that the way to stop yourself feeling thirsty was to suck on a pebble, or that cacti had so many medicinal uses. In a way she was reluctant to leave the table, but she could hardly sit there all night just because she was terrified about the thought of being alone with Dimitri. Especially after the way he had been ogling her during dinner.
And the way her body had instinctively responded to him. That was what was worrying her more than anything. She’d tried to rationalise it as best she could, but in the end she’d been forced to face the truth. That she still wanted him. She swallowed. But that didn’t mean she was going to follow through. Because even though she’d ring-fenced her heart, Dimitri could still mess with her head. He could make her want things she knew were bad for her.
Mainly him.
Walking rigidly alongside him, she attempted to concentrate on her surroundings as they left the banqueting hall, trying to steer her thoughts away from his power and strength. But it wasn’t easy. There was a definite edge to him tonight. An edge which was all about sex—she guessed that, despite her relative innocence. The hunger in his eyes had been unmistakable as he’d stared at her across the dinner table—and she couldn’t deny that the feeling had been mutual. She had been overcome with a breathless need to feel him close to her again. To have him crush his lips down on hers. To let him pin her down onto the mattress and...and...
Erin swallowed.
And it wasn’t going to happen.
It couldn’t happen.
Because sex with Dimitri would weaken her. It would tear down her defences and make her helpless. And she couldn’t afford to be helpless. For Leo’s sake, she had to stay strong.
He might have changed in many ways. He might no longer be gambling, or drinking or embracing danger with a reckless hunger—but there was no guarantee that his attitude towards women was any different. Remember the way he treated you. She certainly hadn’t been expecting violins and commitment from him, but after that single night of sex he had been barely able to look her in the eyes. He’d acted as if the whole extraordinary night had never happened.
Her sandals made little sound as they made their way along the marbled corridors. But the magnificent architecture and scented courtyards were wasted on her—just like the wrought-iron lamps which flickered delicate patterns onto the walls. Her mind started picturing her little apartment back home, where everything she held dear was centred. She thought about a little boy sitting at a table, crayoning. She thought about his warm milk and bedtime story and those innocent eyes, which were so like those of his manipulative father, and her heart clenched.