Ruling Sheikh, Unruly Mistress

She would never have believed she could enjoy herself so much on stage—even the crowd had silenced in appreciation. They’d gathered round her and many of them were arm in arm as they stared up at her, listening. Discovering she could lose herself in music was a magical experience…Thinking about Mac made it perfect.

Chapter Five

WHAT the hell?

As they entered the bar Razi’s gaze was immediately drawn to the stage where Lucy was singing.

Lucy was singing?

He couldn’t believe his eyes, though he’d have known her anywhere. But this was a very different Lucy. Her hair was a shimmering curtain of gold, hanging to her waist, and she was wearing make-up that enhanced her features without being too heavy. Her top was something blue and soft that framed her face and set off the lustre of her hair, but it was her singing voice that really captivated him—as it had every other man in the room.

His expression darkened as he took in all the other male onlookers lusting after Lucy. Her singing and the sincerity of her interpretation had them gripped. Her voice was richly seductive and as beautiful as if it came from her very soul. It was also the husky tone he had imagined hearing in bed…

There was a solid mass of bodies at front of the stage between him and Lucy, but it parted for him like the Red Sea. He didn’t even have to elbow his way through. His motors were running and everyone knew it. No one cared to get in his way. She had finished her song and the audience was demanding an encore. Men were cheering and wolf-whistling as he reached the front, by which time she was singing again. The fact that that they found her pleasing was irrelevant to him—or maybe even made it worse. His warrior ancestry pressed down on him. The fact that he adored women demanded action. For however short a time Lucy Tennant was his to protect and defend—

And make love to, he added silently as she stared at him in alarm.

Her voice faltered. The audience fell silent. The tension mounted. He sensed a tipping moment when the crowd would either che

er her to the rafters or boo her off the stage. Her eyes locked with his in silent appeal.

For one fire-burst moment she was so high on adrenalin she exulted in the fact that Mac was staring at her. She had been persuaded to sing an encore, but she wanted to sing for Mac—so he could see who she could be and hear what she could never hope to express in words. This was Lucy Tennant flying high and wide, allowing the music to speak for her. Singing made anything possible…

Or would have done, had not Mac’s eyes been narrowed. With disapproval? It was hard to tell. He was looking at her—the audience was looking at him—and then at her. And back to Mac. Their little drama was proving far more interesting than the karaoke competition and she could hardly ignore him. Slowly but surely all her confidenceinspiring adrenalin seeped away, and then everything spiralled in. What was she doing singing on a stage—other than looking ridiculous?

But then the incredible happened. Mac’s face changed, relaxed. His eyes darkened as he stared at her and his mouth slowly curved in a sexy smile. Was that a nod of approval? Was it? Mac wanted her to sing for him and that was what she was going to do.

The moment she started singing again everyone began to cheer. They were on their feet applauding her—a noisy frame to the stillness that had developed between her and Mac. By the time she had finished the song, she was oblivious to the cheers. She was trembling all over, her brain in a whirl of confusion. How amazing that moment of connection between them had felt! Mac’s power…His reaction to her singing…Her reaction to him…Arousal…Frustration…Overwhelming relief…

Mostly relief, Lucy realised now she was coming back down to earth. A few more seconds on stage without Mac willing her on and she might have turned into her usual bashful self—and for a crowd fuelled up on drink and excitement that wouldn’t have worked.

Now she’d won. Incredibly, she’d won. She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief as her friends crowded to the front of the stage. Mac stood at the side at the foot of the steps, quietly waiting for her. That was perhaps the sexiest, the most telling moment of all. They had to call her name twice she was so distracted by him, and on the second time of calling her Mac looked up, his face creasing in the familiar bad-boy smile as he slowly began to applaud without ever once losing eye contact with her. ‘Go on,’ he mouthed. ‘You won…’

Still shaking her head, she walked forward to accept her prize.

‘I don’t know why you find it so surprising,’ Mac said, offering her his hand to help her down the steps at the side of the stage. ‘You have a great voice, Lucy—and a great way of putting a song across.’ He shrugged, muscles easing across the wide spread of his shoulders as he stared down at her with humour in his eyes.

‘You’re still here,’ she said foolishly, all her shyness returning in a rush. Being on stage was one thing—being here in front of Mac with no spotlights between them was something else.

‘Of course I’m still here,’ he said as if she’d said something very puzzling indeed. ‘Why would I go?’

Breathing was hard suddenly. She could think of a million reasons why he would go, but she wasn’t going to give him any hints. Instead she forced a laugh, knowing he had to be joking. Mac was a guest and she was a chalet girl. He didn’t want her—not in that way.

‘Drink?’ he suggested. ‘Or back to the chalet?’

She blinked, refocusing in a rush. There was no mistaking his meaning. Even she wasn’t naïve enough for that. It was all there in his eyes and in Mac’s body language. It didn’t come much more direct. His eyes spoke of sensual promise. There could be no misunderstanding. And, of course, she should rebuff, rebel, refuse—and to hell with the fact that Mac was a guest and she mustn’t offend him—

But there was a small problem with that. She wanted him.

She was violently aroused.

Mac’s compelling gaze didn’t waver from her face for a single moment, and suddenly the thought that he might want her back at the chalet to clear out the cinders or coddle him an egg seemed far more ridiculous than the realisation that he wanted her in bed. Mac, in casual clothes that moulded his powerful frame with formidable attention to detail, wanted her.

Mac, who looked as fresh and ready for action as if he hadn’t been thrashing the slopes for the past few hours, wanted her?

He looked lush. Mac was the quintessential forbidden fruit. She would miss out on her taste if she didn’t find the courage to seize the moment—and when better than now? She would never get another chance like this one. ‘I’d better get my coat.’

‘You better had,’ he said.