Reclaimed by the Powerful Sheikh
‘Yes. Actually, it is,’ he replied with sincerity.
She fought the urge to hit him.
‘Look, I’m not saying no, I’m saying I can’t.’ She couldn’t quite bring herself to admit that she couldn’t afford to leave the farm right now. But aside from the financials...aside from the practicality of it all... Just being near him was threatening to undo her.
She could smell him, that particular, unique all-male scent that was at once familiar and yet so very raw and new. She wanted to push him away. Push away the memories, the hurt...the pain. Threatening to break her heart all over again.
* * *
Danyl let that lie for a moment. There were a few twinkling red embers that were stubbornly clinging on to life in the remains of the fire between them. He watched them flare out in a dying breath as if they, like his options, were losing the battle.
‘What are you doing out here?’ he asked, realising then that he’d not even queried Joe McAulty, when they’d met back at the ranch-style home.
He could almost see her consider her words, picking and discarding ones that would get rid of him sooner.
‘A couple of weeks ago a storm blew out some of the fencing, and I’ve come to replace a couple of the posts.’
‘You brought the posts up here on your horse?’ he demanded as if she were mad.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she dismissed. ‘One of the hands brought them out here in the ute a couple of days ago and left them up by the fencing. I just need to put them in.’
He knew that there was more to this trip than what she was saying, but he wasn’t about to push her. Not now.
‘It’s a beautiful place. Just as you described it.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, that small smile playing with the edges of her mouth. ‘You should see it during the day.’
‘You should see the desert.’
Her eyes cut him with accusation and hurt and he had to look away.
‘It’s late,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘I’ve got to be up early to get the posts in and get back.’ She looked over to the horse he’d ridden in on and frowned as she took in the sight. ‘If you’re staying, then I’d suggest you put up a tent now, rather than later.’
He gave her a look that he figured had the power to fell at least ten men.
‘What?’ she asked, innocence or mock-innocence, he couldn’t quite decipher.
His silence was enough.
‘Ah,’ she replied, and for the first time the small paltry smiles she had met him with evolved into something broad, something beautiful, and it stole his breath. ‘I’m going to assume that Pops tried to give you a tent and you refused it because you believed that I’d just pack up and come with you.’
Danyl’s jaw clenched, clearly enough of a response to answer her question. ‘Well, there’s a horse blanket at least, which I suppose is a good thing.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because you’re going to need something soft to land on when you fall off that high horse of yours. There’s wood and kindling if you want to start a fire. But I’m going to bed. In my tent. Alone.’
Danyl watched her duck through the unzipped opening of the one-person tent, a thread of concern winding its way through his body. Not because he had to sleep outside under the stars. He’d done that more times than he could count back in Ter’harn. It was December, almost the height of summer here in Australia, so it was certainly no hardship. No, he was disturbed as much by what she did say as didn’t. As he untied the bags from the saddle and saw to the horse, he calculated the time difference between Australia and Ter’harn, and then realised it didn’t matter.
She had asked why the gala was so important. But
she didn’t get it. It wasn’t just the gala. It was everything. It had to be perfect. He couldn’t afford to mess up again. Because the last time he’d messed up, he’d almost lost hold of everything that he held dear.
As he unpacked his satellite phone, he knew what had to be done. He’d get his men to look into everything they could find out about her, because he wanted to know what Mason McAulty needed. Because everyone needed something. Sometimes, though, it just wasn’t what was wanted.
* * *
Sweat dribbled down between Mason’s shoulder blades, the muscles around them burning up to fever pitch. Hot, soaked and aching, she felt like a guilty schoolgirl for slipping out of the camp and down to the fencing before Danyl could wake up.