Defying her Desert Duty by Annie West

and his wet shirt clinging to his powerful torso. He’d been solicitous of
her
, as if she’d been the one injured.
    Zahir was quietly competent, caring, strong when she was weak.
    And he … appealed to her.
    He appealed too much for a woman who wasn’t interested in men. Who’d seen the pitfalls of romance and decided early not to go there. That had been one of the reasons she’d agreed to her royal betrothal—the belief that an arranged marriage to an honourable man was safer than a so-called love match.
    She’d never been romantically interested in any man. Given her background, maybe she’d even worked a little too hard to avoid such temptation.
    Why then did Zahir fascinate her so? Why did she need to understand him?
    Because she wasn’t as self-sufficient as she’d thought?
    Because, perhaps, she was susceptible to the charm of a strong, handsome man? A man who hid surprising gentleness and a mile-wide streak of heroism behind a cool façade?

CHAPTER SEVEN
    T WO DAYS later Soraya and Zahir returned to the hotel to find a familiar family group in the car park.
    ‘Mademoiselle Karim!’ a teenage girl called out. Soraya remembered her; she’d been pale and distraught, blaming herself for her little brother’s accident.
    ‘Lucie, how are you? How is your brother?’ Soraya smiled as she neared the group, pleasure filling her as she saw the little boy safe in his mother’s arms.
    ‘Recovered fully, as you see.’ The older woman smiled tentatively before glancing at her husband, clearly uncomfortable beside her. ‘We came to thank you both.’ Her gaze rested on Zahir. ‘Without you … ‘
    ‘Without them he would have died,’ her husband said, his voice harsh. ‘Because you couldn’t watch him.’
    Soraya stiffened, stunned at the venom in his tone.
    ‘In my experience,’ said a firm baritone beside her, ‘a man casts blame when he holds himself responsible but hasn’t the guts to acknowledge it.’ Zahir stood so close she felt the fury emanating from him. ‘It’s a father’s duty to protect his family.’
    The bristling man before them seemed to deflate. Enough to reveal the hollowed eyes and pallor of a man still working through shock.
    ‘It’s very hot out here,’ Soraya said quickly. ‘Why don’t we go inside for a cool drink?’ She smiled at the children. ‘Or ice-cream? They have terrific ice-cream here.’
    It was a relief to escape outside again with the children. Despite Soraya’s calming presence and his own tight control, Zahir could barely stomach being with a man who refused to accept responsibility for his son’s safety and blamed his womenfolk for his shortcomings.
    ‘Well done!’ Zahir congratulated one of the girls on her archery skills. ‘You hit the target this time. Now, try it again, but don’t forget to hold the bow this way.’ He leaned in to demonstrate.
    He glanced at the window where Soraya sat with their older guests, her smile warm. The mother had relaxed enough to relinquish the toddler into Soraya’s arms and she bounced him on her knees. Even the woman’s husband had unwound enough to nod at something she said.
    Zahir’s dislike for the man would have stifled the atmosphere. The child’s father had struck his personal sore spot: neglectful fathers topped his list of dislikes.
    He shook his head as he helped one of the children aim her bow.
    Soraya had marshalled the group before he’d even got a grip on his anger. She’d charmed them all, reassured them and acted as hostess as if born to it. He remembered how she’d organised the crowd at the accident. Without her it would have been mayhem.
    Her skills would make her perfect in the role of Hussein’s queen. She was gracious, charming and able to put people at ease in difficult circumstances.
    Hussein had chosen his bride well. Socially accomplished, quick thinking and feisty enough to hint at a passionate nature. She would make a fine wife: an asset in public and the sort of spouse a man