Climax of Passion

He paused and looked up, the black eyes burning from the shadow of his cowl. ‘That which is precious must be pampered. I would not allow any other man to touch you.’

Heat raced through Amanda’s veins. It was virtually a claim of possession in this country. His woman. Was that why he had sat between her and Mocca in the truck yesterday, isolated her in the tent last night? As sternly as he was standing back from her this morning, she was most certainly under his personal protection.

He took the black burnoose from the serving woman and handed it up to Amanda. ‘Put this on,’ he commanded, ‘so that idle eyes will not note our progress once we leave.’

He didn’t explain why idle eyes could be a problem. Amanda wondered if it was to hide her from other men’s vision. On second thoughts, she realised the burnoose was purely practical if Mr Complimentary Upgrade was going against Xa Shiraq’s will.

Amanda watched him swing himself into the saddle on the white stallion. He was so lithe, supple, strong, graceful. A little quiver of anticipation fluttered through her stomach. He was a man worth having. It might be incredibly primitive, but she secretly revelled in the idea of being claimed by him. Claimed and possessed.

He nudged his horse forward with his knees. Amanda’s black mare needed no urging. The moment the white stallion moved, the mare followed, ready to fall into place beside it.

That was natural, Amanda thought. It had always been so.

The Berber horsemen formed a cavalcade, some riding ahead of them, most behind, both groups far enough away to allow private conversation between herself and the man beside her.

They did not stay on the road to the village. They struck out on a trail through the cedar forest, bypassing the village altogether. She heard the drone of the convoy’s engines fall further and further behind them. At a signal from her companion, the Berber troops departed. The white stallion was reined in to a prancing halt. The black mare simply stopped.

‘What happens now?’ Amanda asked.

‘We strike off into the mountains on our own. We will ride hard and fast. I will not spare you.’

He paused to reflect a moment. ‘You asked for my trust. I give it.’ He looked at her with hard unyielding eyes. ‘I hope you are worthy of it. The price of betrayal is death.’

It sent a quiver of fear down Amanda’s spine. Was he speaking of his betrayal in not following the sheikh’s orders, or the vengeance he would wreak on her if she betrayed his trust?

Amanda quickly gave him her assurance. ‘I will not betray you.’

‘And the cock crowed three times,’ he said sardonically.

It was a wretched feeling, being torn two ways, Amanda reflected. She wondered if she would end up betraying the promise she’d made to her father. ‘I’m sorry you feel that,’ she said quietly.

The soft words seemed to spur him on. ‘We are now set on the path that leads to either heaven or hell. There is no in-between. There is no going back. Unless you do so now. You can say goodbye and we will never meet again. You can link up with the convoy as it passes through the village of Tirham. Make your choice.’

His inner tension reached across to her, squeezing her heart. She knew intuitively he was playing the biggest gamble of his life. What that gamble was she could only guess at. She had no doubt he wanted her with him, wanted her to prove her mettle, yet there was this hesitation within him, perhaps because she was a woman and he considered any woman softer, weaker than himself.

She remembered the way he had withdrawn from her in the tent, observing that she was a woman. And this morning he had remained aloof, pressing nothing except organisational commands. Had he deliberately refrained from applying any emotional influence so that she could freely make the decision he now offered her?

It affronted Amanda.

‘How could any woman resist your entreaties when they are put in such endearing terms?’ she mocked at him. ‘Of course my decision must be to go with you.’

Once again there was a flash of compelling respect in his eyes. It was a look Amanda would have gone to the grave for. All her miserable existence as the butt of jokes dissolved into a nonentity of the past. To earn the respect of such a man as this squashed every cruel malicious word spoken by Charles Arnold and others of that ilk.

She looked at the strong ageless face, saw the loneliness behind it, and knew she was not alone. The yearning for a true companion was sufficient to take any risk.

‘I’ll go on with you,’ she repeated simply.

‘So be it,’ he answered.

She caught a brief raw blaze of desire before he turned his head forward. Amanda’s heart began a wild pumping. She had taken the plunge. It should be fear she was feeling, she thought, but it wasn’t. It was excitement.

She wondered what manner of man she was dealing with, who could offer her heaven or hell—whatever one or the other or both would be like—then ride on towards it with a bold hand on the rein of her horse.

If she wanted to let her mare gallop, she had to loosen the bridle. That was the thought uppermost in her mind.

Then she wondered about herself. That she could make the choice so easily...and ride with him... wherever he cared to take her.

CHAPTER TEN