If he left this place without having her she would haunt him for the rest of his life.
When Sylvie woke the next morning everything was dark and quiet. She got up and padded to the shutters over her windows, not sure what to expect. Maybe the castle would be completely buried in sand? But when she opened them she squinted as beautiful bright blue skies were revealed. What looked like just a thin layer of sand lay over the terrace—the only clue to the formidable weather of the previous evening.
Her mind skittered away from thinking of what else had happened. She wanted to cringe every time she thought of how she must have made such a complete fool of herself—prancing around in those stupid clothes. Even more cringeworthy was recalling how for a few moments she’d got really into it, and had seriously thought she might be turning Arkim on.
But he’d been disgusted. Yet not disgusted enough not to kiss her. And she’d responded—which said dire things about her own sense of self-worth.
Thank God she’d managed to pull back. To show some small measure of dignity. If she hadn’t, she could well imagine that Arkim might have laid her down on that stone floor and had her there and then—and discovered for himself just how innocent she was. Sylvie balked at that prospect.
The sunlight streaming into the room reminded her of the fact that Arkim had said they’d be leaving. She sank back on the bed. She’d done it. She’d managed to resist him and disgust him so completely that he was prepared to take her home. In spite of the mutual physical lust that sparked between them like crackling fire whenever they got close.
She hated to admit it, but that sense of deflation hadn’t lifted. Had she enjoyed sparring with Arkim so much? Had she wanted him to take her in spite of what he thought of her? In spite of her brave words last night?
Yes, said a small voice, deep inside.Because he’s connected with you on a level that no other man ever has.
Sylvie felt disgusted with herself. Was she so wounded inside after her father’s rejection of her that this was the only way she could feel desire? For a man who rejected her on every level but the physical?
Someone knocked on the door and she reached for her robe, pulling it on. Halima appeared, smiling, with breakfast on a tray. She set it up on a table near the French doors and opened them wide.
‘The storm has passed! It will be good weather for your trip with the Sheikh.’
‘My trip...?’ Sylvie said quietly, assuming Halima meant her trip home.
The other girl chattered on. ‘Yes, the oasis is so beautiful this time of year...and the way it emerges from the desert—it’s like a lush paradise.’
Sylvie frowned, confused. ‘Wait—the oasis? Arkim—I mean, the Sheikh isn’t leaving to go home today?’
Now Halima looked confused. ‘No, he is preparing for his trip and you are going with him. I am to pack enough things for a few days.’
Sylvie’s heart-rate picked up pace, along with her pulse. What was Arkim up to now?
She rushed through her breakfast and got washed, and when she re-emerged into the suite Halima was waiting with her bag packed.
Sylvie had dressed in simple cargo pants and a T-shirt. Halima took one look and tutted, saying something about more suitable clothing. Sylvie followed the girl into the dressing room, which Sylvie hadn’t explored fully yet, having been intent on using her own clothes. But now Halima was opening the wardrobe doors, and Sylvie gasped when she saw what looked like acres of beautiful fabric: dresses, trousers... All with designer labels.
‘Whose are these?’ she breathed, letting the silk of one particularly beautiful crimson dress move through her fingers. The thought of them belonging to another woman—or women—was stinging Sylvie in a place that was not welcome.
‘They’re yours, of course. The Sheikh had them delivered especially for you before your arrival.’
Shock made Sylvie speechless for a moment, and then she said carefully, ‘Are you sure they aren’t left over from the last woman he had here?’
Halima turned and looked at her, incomprehension clear on her pretty face. ‘Another woman? But he’s never brought anyone else here.’
Sylvie knew she wasn’t lying—she was too sweet...innocent. Her heart started beating even harder. She’d assumed this exotic remote bolthole was one of Arkim’s preferred places to decamp with a mistress. She would never have guessed she was the first woman he’d brought here.
‘Here—you should change into this.’
Sylvie blinked and saw Halima holding out a long cream tunic with beautiful gold embroidery. Like a more elaborate version of the tunic Arkim had put on her when he’d found her in the desert.‘You’re burning.’His reprimand came back.
‘Is this a cultural thing?’ Sylvie asked Halima as she slipped out of her trousers.
‘Well, yes. Where you’re goingismore rural, and conservative. But it’s also practical. It protects you from the heat and sun.’
‘Where you’re going.’Sylvie was very aware that she had given no indication to the girl that she wasnotgoing on this trip. Was she going to just...go? Acquiesce? Her pulse tripped again at the thought, and a wave of heat seemed to infuse her skin from toe to head.
The tunic was matched with close-fitting trousers in a beautiful soft cotton material. They too were embroidered with gold. And then Halima was placing a gossamer-light matching shawl around her shoulders. Soft flat shoes completed the outfit.
Sylvie caught sight of herself in a mirror and sucked in a breath. Her hair stood out vibrantly against the light colours of the clothes. She looked...not like herself—but perverselymorelike herself in a way she’d never seen before.
