Soft, firm lips remained still under the clumsy touch of her inexperienced kiss. The hands on her waist applied pressure, holding her where she stood as his lips began to move against hers, hard and fast. Suddenly the kiss was demanding and filled with a hunger that took her breath away. It was intoxicating and overwhelming and...utterly perfect.
Was this what everyone felt when they kissed a man for the first time? Was this what she had been missing out on all these years? It felt as
though she was waking up from a deep sleep and feeling her body come to life for the first time.
When he pulled his mouth from hers all too soon, she felt the loss keenly, as though going from the warmth of a fire to the bitter cold.
He uttered something harsh and guttural in a foreign language before she felt herself being unceremoniously hauled away from the dance floor towards the private area at the back of the club. Still dazed by the earth-shattering kiss, she didn’t think to protest, allowing herself to be steered into a semi-private booth shielded partially from view by a thick red velvet curtain.
‘I didn’t mean for that to happen.’ He spoke harshly, his breathing slightly laboured. ‘I didn’t intend to—’
‘Please, don’t apologise,’ she blurted, not wanting his regretful words to taint what had been such a wonderful moment for her. One half of her prayed silently that he would leave, while the other half wanted nothing more than for him to take her in his arms again. ‘I kissed you, after all.’ She forced a smile. ‘And I’m glad that I did.’
‘You might not feel that way if you knew who I was.’ He spoke evenly, but his expression held a trace of darkness that had not been there before.
‘Maybe it adds to the sense of mystery.’ She attempted a smile.
‘Is this what you were seeking tonight, coming here?’ His voice was a low rumble as he took a step closer. ‘Kissing strangers on a darkened dance floor?’
Something in his eyes brought gooseflesh to her exposed skin. She couldn’t put her finger on it but the atmosphere no longer felt warm and anonymous; she felt suddenly exposed and thoroughly out of her depth. The realisation of what she had just done came crashing upon her like a cold shower and she took a few slow backwards steps.
‘Thank you for the dance,’ she murmured, avoiding his eyes. ‘It was...wonderful.’
He raised one brow, leaning against the side panel on the wall. ‘Time to return to reality already?’
Cressida nodded once, feeling a strange pull between needing to get away and desperately wanting to stay. She wondered what his name was, where he came from. So many questions would be left unanswered once she left.
And still she walked away.
She left the club and its swaying music behind as she emerged into the night, the sharp wind making her wish she had brought a jacket. As she looked around to find where her chauffeur had got to, a trio of men in dark suits seemed to appear from nowhere.
‘Your Highness,’ the tallest one said in accented English, ‘do not be frightened. We are ordered here to assure your safety.’
‘My safety?’ she breathed, looking around the street wildly. ‘Where is my driver? How do you know who I am? Ordered by whom?’
‘Ordered by me,’ a familiarly accented voice rang out in the silent night from the nightclub doorway.
Cressida whirled, inhaling hard as she was met by the sight of the dark stranger from the dance floor walking towards her. Wordlessly, he draped a heavy woollen coat across her shoulders, guiding her a few steps away from the small army of what she presumed to be bodyguards.
His accented voice rang in her ears, intensifying the sensation of unease along her spine that warned her she had made a grave mistake tonight. She had overlooked something important. Her heart beat frantically in her chest as she met his dark gaze. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Sheikh Khalil Al Rhas, ruler of Zayyar.’ He held her pinned with his dark gaze. ‘And you, Princess, are in a world of trouble.’
CHAPTER TWO
CRESSIDA FELT THE weight of his words settle somewhere in her chest. His accent, the way he had looked at her when they’d first spoken—it all fell horribly into place. ‘You can’t be him,’ she breathed.
‘And yet I am,’ he said smoothly.
Disbelief held her body frozen for what felt like an eternity. Gone was the warmth from his eyes, replaced by a hardness that sent prickles along her skin.
She had sourced a few photographs online of the notoriously private Sheikh Khalil but the images she had seen had shown pictures of a man who seemed older, dressed in traditional white robes, his features obscured by a headdress and sunglasses. Not smooth shaven in a sleek open-collared suit, practically vibrating the air around him with a dark virility that made her knees weak.
This was her fiancé? The man her father had described as old-world and ruthless? She thought of all the anxiety that had plagued her, worrying what to say when they first met or how she should behave...
‘Was this a game to you?’ Her voice was suddenly ice-cold. ‘Was it some kind of test to see how I might...perform?’
‘No,’ he said simply, a strange look crossing his features. ‘This was most definitely not a part of my plan for our first meeting.’