No. That was ridiculous. Even he had to admit that. How could she have known that the seemingly innocent shrub could conceal a venomous insect? It was obvious she hadn’t been trying to run away, even though he knew she could hardly wait to see the last of him.
His teeth ground together. Then why was his temper so close to boiling point? He glared down at her. He knew she prided herself on maintaining self-control but in this moment she was as transparent as glass. Looking into her green eyes, he could see her indignation and anger giving way to something else. To fear—and to the bone-deep determination not to let him see that fear.
Instantly, he realised how his sharply spoken words must have sounded. His glare deepened. Did the woman really think him such a savage that he would take her in violence, in some barbaric, retaliatory rage? His nostrils flared with distaste. He would tell her that she was a fool, that he had never in his life forced a woman into his bed and that she was not a woman he would choose to have in his bed, even if she came willingly…
…But then he looked at the glossy auburn hair that lay tumbled over her shoulders, at the rapid rise and fall of her breasts beneath the ridiculously oversized T-shirt she’d insisted on wearing, and it was as if a fist knotted suddenly in his gut. His gaze fell to her mouth, soft as a flower and slightly parted, as if a breeze had disturbed its petals. Desire raged through him, as hot as the fire that sometimes followed a strike of summer lightning in the mountain forests, hardening his groin with a swiftness that stunned him.
What nonsense was this? He was not a boy, given to uncontrollable bursts of adolescent desire. And she was not a woman he would ever want. She was clever and beautiful, yes, but she was soft and spoiled, selfish and stubborn and altogether unyielding.
And yet, she had yielded to him, when he’d kissed her. Each time he had taken her in his arms to humble her, she had instead kindled a fire in his blood, then matched it with a scorching heat of her own.
His breathing quickened. What would happen if he came down on the bed beside her? It was what she expected, he knew, that he would take her now. What would she do if he did? Would she fight him? Or would she ignite with a quicksilver flame under his touch?
‘Joanna,’ he said, his voice a little thick, and instantly she rose up on her knees and bared her small, white teeth.
‘Go on,’ she taunted, ‘do whatever you’re going to do. It’s all the excuse I need to claw out your eyes!’
So much for her igniting under his touch! Khalil burst out laughing.
‘If you claw out my eyes,’ he said reasonably, ‘how will I attend to you properly?’
‘You couldn’t,’ she said. ‘I mean, you can’t. There’s nothing you could do that would make me…’
‘Relax, Joanna.’ The look he gave her was cool, almost disinterested. ‘I assure you, I’ve no designs on your body.’
Her face coloured. ‘Then why—?’ Her voice rose as he strode into the adjoining bathroom. She could hear water running, cabinet doors opening and closing, and then he reappeared, bearing a small tray arrayed with a small basin, a bottle, cotton pads, and adhesive tape. Joanna’s eyes lit with suspicion. ‘What’s all that for?’ she demanded.
He sighed dramatically as he put the tray on the bedside table and rolled back his sleeves.
‘I hate to disappoint you,’ he said. ‘I know you’re convinced I’m about to subject you to some ancient and terrible ritual.’ He dipped a cotton pad into the basin. ‘But I’m not planning anything more exotic than cleaning your hand.’
She jerked her hand back as he reached for it but his fingers curled around her wrist like a vice.
‘Come on, Khalil, give me a break! Surely, we’re too old to play Doctor.’ Her breath hissed through her teeth as he dabbed the pad against her skin. ‘Hey! That hurts.’
‘Not as much as it will if the bite isn’t tended. Hold your arm to the light, please.’
‘It’s nothing,’ she said impatiently. ‘No one dies from—’
‘You may be an expert on many things, Joanna, but you are hardly one on the flora and fauna of my country. The spider that bit you might well be poisonous.’
‘Poisonous?’ she said stupidly. ‘Hey! Hey, what are you doing?’
‘Drawing out the venom.’ The breath caught in her throat as he lifted her hand to his mouth. A shudder went through her as she felt the tug of his lips, the light press of his teeth, and then he dropped her hand into her lap and strode into the bathroom. She heard water running in the sink and she closed her eyes, fighting for control, but she could still feel the imprint of his mouth, the heat of it…
‘Joanna? Are you feeling faint?’
Her eyes flew open. ‘I told you, it’s just a bite. I’m not…’ She frowned as he uncapped a bottle and dampened a cotton pad with its contents. Her breath hissed as he applied it to her skin. ‘Ouch. That stings! What is it?’
‘An ancient medication known only to shamans and holy men.’ He looked up, and she could see laughter in his eyes. ‘It is peroxide, Joanna. What did you think it was?’
‘How should I know?’ she said stiffly.
Khalil worked in silence for a moment, and then he looked at her again.
‘My men think you were trying to escape.’
‘I told you, I’d be delighted to escape,’ she said with a quick, cool smile. ‘But I’m not stupid enough to escape into your garden.’
He laughed softly. ‘No. I did not think so.’
She watched as he bent his head and began dabbing at the tiny bite mark again.
‘What were you doing, then?’
Joanna shrugged her shoulders. ‘The little girl lost her ball. I saw where the ball landed but she didn’t, and when she started to cry—’
‘Her crying annoyed you?’
‘Annoyed me? Of course not. I felt sorry for her. One minute she’d been laughing and the next—’ She caught her breath as he ran a finger lightly over her skin.
‘The bite will itch, for a day or two,’ he said, ‘but it will be fine after that.’
‘Fine.’ Her voice shook a little and he looked up, frowning.
‘What is it, Joanna? Does it hurt when I touch you there?’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’
What it did, she thought wildly, was send a wave of sensation along her nerve-endings. The feeling was—it was…
‘That’s great,’ she said, snatching her hand away. ‘Thank you. I’m sure I won’t—’
Khalil clasped her hand in his again. ‘I am not done,’ he said. ‘I want to put some ointment on your hand and then bandage it.’
‘It’s—it’s not necessary. Really.’
‘Just hold still, please. I’ll try and be more gentle.’ His hands moved on her lightly, without pressure. ‘It will only take another minute.’
Joanna sat beside him, her spine rigid, as he smoothed a healing cream over her slightly reddened flesh. He would try and be more gentle, he’d said—but he was already being more gentle than she could ever have imagined. She had no doubt that those large, competent hands could tame the wildest desert horse; that they could also stroke her as if his fingers were satin and her skin silk came as a surprise. He was touching her with such care, as if she were too delicate for anything but the most careful caress.
Her breathing quickened. Khalil’s head was bowed over her hand. She could see the way his dark hair curled lightly over the nape of his neck, as if it were kissing his tanned skin. The fingers of her free hand tightened against her palm. What would his hair feel like, if she were to touch it? And what would he do, if she reached out and lightly stroked that ebony silk?
Some time between the last time she’d seen him and now, he’d changed his clothes. Gone was the white jellaba; in its place was a very American blue denim shirt and jeans. It was amazing, she thought, how little he looked like a fierce mountain bandit and how much he looked like a man who could walk down a New York street without drawing attention to himse
lf—except that he would always draw attention, wherever he went. He was too self-assured, too ruggedly handsome not to be noticed.
Joanna bit down lightly on her lip. Moments ago, he’d dumped her on this bed and stood over her, fury gleaming in his eyes, and she’d thought he was going to force her to submit to him. The thought had terrified her—and yet, if she were brutally honest, she’d had some other far, darker reaction deep within herself as she’d looked up at him.
What if she’d opened her arms to him? Would the fire of anger have left his eyes and been replaced, instead, by the shine of desire? Her lashes fell to her cheeks and she imagined the feel of his body against hers, the excitement of his possession…
Dear God! Joanna’s eyes flew open. She really was going over the edge! She wasn’t a woman who wanted to be taken against her will any more than he was a man who would take a woman in that fashion. Why would he, when surely any woman he wanted would come to him willingly, when any woman in her right mind would turn to flame in his arms…?
‘There,’ he said briskly. He capped the bottle, put it on the tray, and rose to his feet. ‘That should do it. The next time you want to do something heroic—’
Joanna blew out her breath. ‘I wasn’t being heroic. I told you, Lilia was crying, and I—’
There was a light knock on the door. ‘My lord?’ a little voice whispered, and Lilia stepped carefully into the room. She looked from Joanna to Khalil, who folded his arms over his chest in that arrogant posture Joanna had come to recognise. ‘I am sorry, my lord,’ the child said.
He nodded, his face stern. ‘As well you should be.’
Joanna stood up. ‘Khalil!’
‘Will the lady be all right, my lord?’
‘I’m fine,’ Joanna said quickly.
Lilia nodded, but her attention was centred on Khalil. ‘I really am sorry.’ She sniffed, then wiped her hand under her nose. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘What you mean is, you didn’t think.’
‘Khalil,’ Joanna said, ‘for goodness’ sake, tell the child that—’
‘You have a place to play, Lilia. A safe place, with swings and toys—and with a nursemaid to watch over you.’ Khalil’s brows drew together. ‘You ran away from Amara again, didn’t you?’