Climax of Passion

‘Yourself. Open yourself to me—your mind, your heart—in ways you never have before.’

‘And you?’ she whispered, spreading her fingers over the firmly delineated muscles of his chest, feeling them tighten under her touch. The primitive urge to claw, to hold the beat of his heart in her hands was incredibly strong. ‘Would you do the same for me?’

‘Yes,’ he rasped.

But would he pay the price?

‘Even if it means being disloyal to Xa Shiraq?’

CHAPTER EIGHT

AMANDA felt the brief suspension of his heartbeat beneath her palm. It stopped completely then resumed at a slower rate. Shock, followed by a clamp of control that amazed her with its swift and steady application. A shutter came down on his eyes, as well.

Mentally regrouping himself, Amanda surmised, and doubted this man would ever entirely lose himself in passion, no matter how deep or urgent or compelling the physical desire.

‘Do I take a viper to my heart?’ he mused. His hold on her slackened.

‘You said you would open your mind to me,’ she pressed, sliding her hands up to his shoulders, moving closer in desperate supplication, her eyes begging his for a stay in judgement. ‘Have you never questioned Xa Shiraq’s decisions? Might they not sometimes be wrong? Wrong about my father?’

She saw his eyes harden.

‘You said you wanted to know my heart,’ she argued. ‘Well, I have loyalties, too, and they go as deeply as yours. How can I commit myself to you if you deny what I am?’

‘You are mistaken,’ he said flatly.

‘How do you know? Does the sheikh tell you everything? Or do you carry out his orders with blind faith in his judgement?’

He stiffened, his pride stung. His eyes flared a warning. ‘It is well that I had the musicians play to drown out all sound. You talk of disloyalty and treason...’

‘I need a few days of freedom. That’s all. You’ve let me come this far. Please...’ her hand moved instinctively to touch the pulse at the base of his throat ‘...it means so much to me.’

His head jerked back. He pulled her hand away from him and stepped out of her reach, his eyes slashing her with fresh contempt. ‘You seek to corrupt me with your body. I will not take it. Your price is too high.’

He swung on his heel and strode towards the bed, tall, straight-backed, bearing a supreme dignity in his incorruptibility. It struck a deep chord of respect in Amanda. How Xa Shiraq must value this man!

If only she could have him at her side...his strength of mind, his sense of integrity, the power of his spirit. Her heart clenched. She could not let him go, thinking so badly of her. It wasn’t true. She had to make him see it wasn’t true. Somehow that was far more important than proving her father right.

‘How can it be anything more than bodies...when you deny me understanding?’ she said quietly.

He stopped in the act of bending to retrieve the black burnoose. Slowly he straightened, his back still rigidly turned to her as he considered her words.

‘I loved my father,’ she pressed on, wanting him to realise it was a statement of fact, unshakable, enduring, an intrinsic part of her that he could not cut out.

‘He is at rest now. It is best that you leave him there,’ he said just as quietly, not without sympathy.

Relief poured through Amanda. She had touched him again. Encouraged, she asked, ‘Would you, if it was your father?’

She saw his shoulders lift and fall as he breathed deeply and released some of his tension. He swung around to face her, an implacable look in his eyes.

‘If there was good reason, yes,’ he said with steely resolution.

‘And I suppose Xa Shiraq gave you good reason for my father to be discredited,’ she said with an acid bite. ‘Making him out to be a liar when all the time he was a victim of your sheikh’s chicanery.’

He grimaced. ‘Xa Shiraq does not expect you to see the matter in the same way he does.’

‘For years I lived with the need to clear my father’s name. Do you expect me to forget it all in a minute on your word that it is best that I do?’

He made no reply.