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CHAPTER FOUR
SHEGLANCEDAT his face, wondering what she had said to make him sound annoyed...or more annoyed.
‘You should get it checked out when you get back to civilisation. You need a course of antibiotics asap.’ He rose smoothly from his crouched position and stood over her, holding out a hand.
Abby took it. Standing beside him, she was again very conscious of his physical presence. She was used to looking down on men, or at least to looking most in the eye, and not so long ago had gone through life hunching her shoulders, embarrassed by her height and envying petite women.
‘How long will it take to get back?’ she asked, rubbing her hand against her thigh. The weird tingling impression remained.
‘Half an hour or so, now that he’s rested,’ Zain estimated. The stallion, as though sensing he was the subject of conversation, wandered over and nudged his master’s arm, demanding attention.
So, back to normal life... She frowned, wondering why she didn’t feel happier at the prospect. I’m lucky, she reminded herself; her life was something that many would have aspired to and it had fallen into her lap. More importantly, it was a means to an end, a way to give her grandparents back the life that had been stolen from them.
‘Were you serious about...? Are we really...married?’
She had hoped he’d laugh, because it was infinitely preferable to be mocked than married to a total stranger.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out.’
The acknowledgement that there was something to sort out tightened the tension curling in the pit of her stomach. ‘So, what, you just wave your magic wand and snap your fingers? Or do you have your own legal team on standby?’
‘I’ll sort it,’ he repeated calmly.
She couldn’t hide her scepticism but clung to the hope it would turn out there was nothing to sort. ‘I assume I should report what’s happened to someone.’ The thought of explaining to a foreign and not necessarily sympathetic police force what had happened was pretty daunting.
‘I’ll drop you off at the British Embassy. They’ll sort things out for you.’
‘Thank you.’ She extended a hand to shake his then was struck by the sheer ludicrousness of the formality and leaned in, the leaning coinciding with the exact moment the restless horse chose to butt her bottom quite firmly with his nose, literally pushing her into his master.
Zain’s arms opened to stop her falling—strangely the sensation in her head was also exactly like falling as she looked up into his lean, darkly beautiful face. Safe in his embrace, she wriggled her elbows, trying to free herself from the emotions the feelings of his arms around her unleashed. Her arms were squashed between their bodies but the urgency faded as her eyes drifted across the marvellous angles and planes of his face.
‘I...’ Her voice faded away as she felt a hard shudder run through his body and excitement sparked, kicking up the volume of her heartbeat. She could hear common sense issuing an irritating prissy whisper at the back of her mind and ignored it. Life was short—a fact that had been driven home today—and if you didn’t take a chance, what was the point?
She couldn’t take her eyes off the nerve she could see beating through the stubble on his lean cheek.
She expelled her breath on a long, gusty sigh. ‘I really...’
* * *
Zain swallowed; in his head his fingernails were hanging on to the last shreds of his vanishing self-control. He felt like a man walking a tightrope—he wanted to grab on to all that lovely softness and not let go. Her cushiony lips looked so soft and inviting...would they taste as good as they looked?
She slid her hands up from between their bodies, her fingertips shaking as she touched his face, her expression rapt as she trailed them down his stubble-dusted cheeks.
Every cell in his body froze. Digging into reserves of control he didn’t know he possessed, he took hold of her wrists and leaned back.
Zain had never had anything but contempt for men who took advantage of women. The boss who misused a position of power, the guy in the bar who honed in on the woman who couldn’t walk straight, the best ‘friend’ who moved in to offer comfort after a tough divorce. They were weak men who took advantage, men like his brother, who would and had shown contempt for anything resembling scruples.
The idea of being the man his brother was filled Zain with utter blood-chilling horror.
But God, he was tempted.
‘Abby.’
‘I really want to say thank you.’ She raised herself on tiptoe and closed her eyes, tilting her face up to his in silent invitation.
His head lowered and for a split second their glances connected and the deep, desperate need he felt was reflected in the drowning green of her eyes. Abby gave a tiny sigh as his mouth covered hers and his eyes squeezed closed as he surrendered himself totally to the sensation of the slow, sensuous brush of her lips.
* * *
