by Sarah Morgan
This was why she wanted his marriage to go ahead, she thought savagely. Because only then would he be out of her head and out of her heart. She wasn’t the sort of woman who could hold onto feelings for a married man. That would be it. She could get back to a normal life.
After what felt like hours of silence, he finally spoke. ‘We’ll camp by those rocks up ahead.’ His tone was neutral. Devoid of emotion. ‘They should offer some protection from the elements.’
She didn’t need protecting from the elements. She needed protection from him. Or was it herself? She was no longer sure.
Confused and jittery, Avery parked and sprang from the vehicle. ‘You can camp by that rock and I’ll camp by the other.’ Distance, she thought. She needed distance. They needn’t even see each other until morning. She’d zip her tent up and she’d keep it zipped.
‘There is just one tent, Avery.’
‘What?’ His words blew out the foundations of her fledgling plan and answered any remaining questions she had about her feelings for him. ‘Just one? Why?’
‘Why does that matter?’ He seemed unusually interested in her reaction and she pushed away disturbing images of his muscle-packed length stretched next to hers.
‘Well, for a start, it isn’t exactly the done thing for a man to sleep with one woman when he is engaged to marry another. And then there’s always the chance that I’ll kill you in my sleep.’ If she slept. Which seemed unlikely.
‘I don’t intend to sleep with you.’ He leaned in and pulled a bag from the vehicle. ‘Just share a tent with you. It isn’t as if we haven’t done it before.’
But the last time they’d been lovers. Intimate in every way. They were both hot-tempered and stubborn and those traits had simply intensified the sexual connection between them.
Avery watched as he hauled the tent and the gear from the vehicle. ‘Why didn’t you bring two tents?’
‘I wasn’t expecting company. If you recall, you were the one who insisted on coming. Having already spread the word that I wanted a couple of nights in the desert alone, I could hardly articulate the need for a second tent.’ He focused his attention on creating their camp and she forced herself to help, even though doing so brought her into close proximity with him. She tried to subdue the choking, panicky feeling in her chest at the thought of sharing that confined space with him.
He’d be sleeping with his head next to hers. His body within touching distance.
She looked at his shoulders and immediately looked away again.
What if she had one of her nightmares? What if she reached for him in her sleep?
Making a mental note to lie on her hands and stay awake until he was asleep, she helped secure the tent, working without speaking. And it was exasperating to discover that he was as competent at this as he was at everything else.
Avery gritted her teeth. She wasn’t looking for things to admire about him. She didn’t want to admire him. Not when they were about to spend a night crammed into a relatively small space.
At least it wasn’t cold. She’d stay outside until the last possible moment before going into the tent. With luck, he’d be asleep by the time she joined him.
‘Nice to know you can function without staff.’ She watched as he lit a fire and proceeded to cook their supper. He’d thrown a rug on the ground and she knelt on it, watching as the flames flickered to life. ‘So we should reach the oasis tomorrow? What if she isn’t there?’
‘I think she will be.’
‘You could have just asked your security team to check it out.’
‘If I’d done that it would have been impossible to keep this situation contained. I want to keep this as quiet as possible.’
‘To protect your ego.’
‘To protect my bride, at least until I’ve decided how best to sort this out.’ He cooked without fuss, lamb with spices chargrilled over the open flame and served with rice. And because she was trying hard to make the whole experience less intimate she insisted on cooking her own, even though she did nowhere near as good a job as he did.
She burned the edges but still it tasted good and Avery ate hungrily until she caught him looking at her. Immediately her appetite vanished, as if someone had flicked a switch.
‘What? It’s delicious.’
‘It’s hardly gourmet. You eat in five star restaurants all the time and fly in celebrity chefs to cater for your parties.’
‘Yes, but that’s my work. This is different. There’s something about food eaten outdoors in the desert. I’ve always loved it here.’ Immediately she regretted saying it out loud because everything she’d loved about the desert was entwined with everything she loved about him. Not love. She corrected herself quickly. Felt. Everything she loved about the desert was entwined with everything she felt about him.
Because she knew he was looking at her, she kept her eyes on the view and that was no hardship because she could have stared for hours at the desert landscape that altered minute by minute under the fading light. The area he’d picked for camping was rocky, but they were still on the border with Zubran and dunes rose ahead of her, dark gold under the setting sun, the beauty of it holding her captivated until the sun dipped behind a mound and darkness quickly spread over the desert.
Grateful for that darkness, she lifted her eyes to the sky and picked a neutral topic. ‘Why do the stars always seem so much brighter out here?’
‘Less pollution.’ His tone short, he rose to his feet, doused the fire and gestured to the tent. ‘We need to get some rest. I’d like to leave at dawn.’
So he didn’t want to linger any more than she did. Didn’t want to prolong the time they spent together. The knowledge should have brought a feeling of relief but instead she just felt hollow and numb.
‘Dawn is fine with me.’ Anything that meant less time in the tent with him had to be good.
She wiped her bowl clean, nibbled on one of the dates he’d left out on a plate and tried not to think about their first trip into the desert together. It had been at the beginning of their relationship, during those heady first months when they’d been consumed by their feelings for each other. He’d been so frustrated by the unrelenting demands on his time and privacy that he’d arranged a secret trip. They’d joked that he’d kidnapped her, but really they’d stolen time away, as normal couples did all the time. He’d dismissed his security team. She’d left her phone behind. It was the first time they’d really been on their own, away from the craziness of his existence and the craziness of hers.
It had been the happiest week of her life.
Thinking about it now brought a lump to her throat. The ache in her chest felt like a solid lump and she sneaked a glance towards him, only to find him watching her, that dark gaze fiercely intense.
‘Say it.’
‘Say what?’
‘Say what you are thinking.’
Avery swallowed. ‘What am I thinking?’
‘You are thinking of that week we spent together. Just the two of us.’ His voice was rough and suddenly she couldn’t breathe and the panic pressed down on her because that was exactly what she’d been thinking.
‘Actually I was thinking how bleak it is here.’
His expression told her that he didn’t believe her but he didn’t push her. Instead he turned away, leaving her feeling more vulnerable than she ever had before.
Now what?
Not speaking about her feelings didn’t change the fact they existed. And the thought of going into that tent—of being so close to him—kept her sitting outside long after she should have gone inside. She postponed the moment as long as possible. Postponed the moment when they’d be forced together in that cramped, confined space that was designed to force intimacy even between two people who were avoiding it.
Would she have insisted on joining him if she’d known about the sleeping arrangements? No, probably not. Self-preservation would have outweighed the guilt she felt towards Kalila.
Kalila. He was goin
g to marry Kalila.
She had no idea how long she sat there. Time blurred. Misery deepened. Fatigue, the mortal enemy of optimism, caught up with her.
‘Avery? You need to come inside the tent now. It’s dark.’ His voice was deep and sexy and she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to block out the images created by that voice.
‘I’m not afraid of the dark.’
‘No, you are afraid of intimacy, but intimacy is not on offer so you are perfectly safe in this tent with me.’
‘I’m not afraid of intimacy.’
‘Good. In that case, get in this tent before you become a tasty snack for a desert creature. Unless you’d rather I pick you up and put you here myself?’
That would be the worst of all options. She didn’t want him to touch her but she knew he would make good on his threat if she didn’t move, so she put her hand down on the rug to lever herself up and felt a sharp pain. ‘Ow.’ She snatched her hand away and there was a scuttling sound. ‘What—? Ugh, Mal, something just bit me. And it rattles.’
He was by her side in an instant. The torch flashed and a scorpion scuttled under the rug.
‘Not a rattlesnake—a scorpion. Good.’
‘Good? Why is it good? From where I’m sitting it’s seriously creepy. If we were playing “marry, kiss or push off a cliff”, the scorpion would be the one off the cliff, I can tell you that.’ Her voice rose and she hugged her hand to her chest. ‘Are there any more out here?’
‘Hundreds, probably. They come out at night.’
‘Hundreds?’ Horrified, she sprang at him, clinging like a monkey. ‘Don’t put me down.’
‘Avery—’
‘Whatever you do, don’t put me down. I’m never touching the floor again. Do you seriously mean hundreds? Please tell me you’re kidding.’
She’d forgotten how strong he was. His arms closed around her, strong, protective. She thought he might have been laughing but told herself he wouldn’t dare laugh at her.
‘I thought you were fine with desert wildlife.’
‘I’m fine with the theory. Not so good with the reality when it closes its jaws on me. And if you dare laugh I will kill you, Your Highness. Just a warning.’
‘I’m not laughing. But I’m not going to let you forget this in a hurry.’
‘I just bet you’re not.’ She buried her face in his neck, wondering why he had to smell so good.
‘It’s worth savouring. The moment Avery Scott became a damsel in distress.’
‘No one will ever believe you and I will deny it until my dying breath, which may be soon if there are truly hundreds of those things out there. I’m not distressed. More freaked out. I can tell you this is the first time in my life I’ve jumped on a man.’
‘I’m flattered you chose me,’ he drawled. ‘As a matter of interest, are you going to let go?’
‘Are they still out there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’m not letting go. You threatened to carry me to the tent. Go ahead.’ She tightened her grip and he gave a soft curse.
‘You’re choking me.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘If I die, you fall to the ground and they’ll swarm all over you.’
‘You have a sick sense of humour.’ But she loosened her grip. ‘Move, Mal! I want to be in the tent.’
‘Damsels in distress don’t usually give the orders. And I was in the tent. You were the one who chose scorpions over my company. Are you telling me that you’re rethinking that choice?’
‘Don’t be flattered. All it means is that you’re better than a scorpion. Don’t make me beg.’ She clung, her hands pressed to those solid shoulders. ‘Are you laughing?’
‘No.’
‘Good, because if you were laughing, I’d have to punch you with my good hand. My other hand hurts. Am I going to die?’
‘It is rare for scorpion bites to cause fatalities.’
‘Rare? So that means that sometimes people die, right?’
His hesitation was brief. ‘Yes, but it’s usually only in the very young or in people with health issues and you don’t fall into either category.’
‘That’s not very reassuring. You’re supposed to say, “No, Avery, of course you’re not going to die.” Why don’t men ever know the right thing to say at the right moment?’
‘If men said the right thing at the right moment, we’d be women.’ He ducked inside the tent, lowered her onto a sleeping roll he’d laid out for himself and gently detached himself from her grip. The movement brought their faces very close together. She could feel his breath on her cheek. All she had to do was turn her head and their mouths would meet. And she didn’t have to wonder how that would feel because she knew. And he knew, too.
Their eyes met and she saw the heat in his and knew he would see the same in hers because the chemistry was there, as powerful as ever. It sucked at her stomach and brushed over her skin, making her crave the impossible. She hadn’t kissed a man since him and she missed him terribly.
It was a dangerous moment and it felt as if it lasted for ever. In reality it was less than a couple of seconds and she was about to push him away when he turned away from her, suddenly brisk and efficient.
‘Do you normally react to bee stings or wasp stings?’
The only thing she reacted to was him.
Her mouth was so dry it felt as if she’d fallen face down in the desert. ‘I have no idea. I’ve never been stung by either before.’ The chemistry between them had shaken her almost as much as the scorpion bite. She felt vulnerable, and she hated feeling vulnerable. The last time she’d felt like this was when they’d split up.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘My hand throbs.’ She squinted down at it and he hesitated for a moment and then slid back the sleeve of her shirt and studied it under the light. His fingers were strong and firm and she had to concentrate on keeping still. On not responding.
He wasn’t hers any more. And she wasn’t his.
Avery stared at his bent head; at the glossy dark hair that flopped over his forehead. She knew exactly how it would feel if she sank her hands into it because she’d done that. She’d trailed her mouth over his skin and tasted him. Everywhere.
As if feeling her thoughts, he lifted his head and she jerked back slightly, feeling guilty even though all she’d done was look.
The man was marrying Kalila. The fact that they seemed to barely know each other wasn’t her business. The fact that Kalila had run away wasn’t her business.
Studying her hand, he muttered something under his breath. ‘I should have used the ultraviolet torch out there.’
‘And how would that have helped?’
‘There is a compound in the exoskeleton of the scorpion that causes it to glow in UV light.’ He adjusted the light to get a better look. ‘It means that we can see where they are. They show up as a ghostly green colour.’
Avery looked away so that she couldn’t see his hand touching hers. Bronze against creamy white. Male against female. ‘That is disgusting. How do you even know these things?’
‘This is my country. It is my business to know.’
‘Ghostly green scorpions.’ She shuddered. ‘I’m almost glad I couldn’t see them. Remind me why I came?’
‘Because you wanted to help Kalila. Tell me how badly it hurts.’
‘I don’t know—worse than a headache, better than the time I bounced off the trampoline and smashed my head on the floor of the school gym. Do you mind not frowning? Frowning means you’re worried or that there is something seriously wrong. By the way, my hand feels as if it’s on fire. Is that OK?’
Mal’s mouth tightened. ‘I should have made you come into the tent sooner.’
‘I didn’t want to do that.’
‘And we both know why.’
There it was again. The chemistry that neither of them wanted.
‘Let’s not go there.’
‘No.’ There was a ripple of exasperation in his vo
ice. ‘But from now on you are by my side the whole time, no matter how uncomfortable that makes you feel. Stay there a moment and don’t move. I’ll be back soon.’
‘You’re leaving?’ Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘Where are you going?’ Realising what she’d just done, she let her hand drop. God, what was the matter with her? She was having a complete character transformation.
‘To the car to get some ice.’ He watched her, his expression revealing that he was every bit as surprised as she was. Reaching down, he closed his hand over her shoulder. ‘You will be fine, habibti.’
Habibti.
Shock held her still because the last time he’d called her that, they’d been in bed together. Naked. Her legs tangled with his. His mouth hard on hers.
And he must have been experiencing the same memory because his eyes darkened and his gaze slid slowly to her mouth and then back to her eyes. Their whole past was in that one look.
This time she was the one to look away first.
‘You’re right. Of course I’ll be fine,’ she said quickly. ‘I was just—’ Clinging. Like a desperate female. She, who had never clung to anyone or anything before in her life, had clung. She didn’t even want to think about what that would do to his macho ego. And she certainly didn’t want to think about what it did for her reputation.
Horribly embarrassed, Avery shifted back as far as she could. ‘Go and get the ice. Make sure you bring a bottle of Bollinger with it. And tell the scorpions to dine elsewhere. I’m no longer on the menu.’
‘Are you sure you’ll be all right? Only a moment ago you were clinging to me.’
‘Clinging?’ Her attempt at light-hearted laughter was relatively convincing. ‘I was just trying to avoid being bitten by another scorpion. I’d rather they bit you than me.’
‘Thanks.’
‘If there had been a boulder handy, I would have stood on that. Anything to get above ground level. Don’t take it personally. Now go. I’m thirsty.’