Girl in the Bedouin Tent by Annie West

hurriedly, as if guilty at enjoying the compliment.
    The light flickered in a caress over her lovely features. Cassie grew more vibrant, more engaging, with each hour. It was as if a fire had been lit within her, giving her a glow that drew him like a moth to raw flame.
    How was a man to resist?
    It should be easy. Though he’d spelled out his desire for her she hadn’t reciprocated, hadn’t encouraged.
    That
guaranteed she stayed off-limits. No matter the provocation of too many sleepless nights, his body taut with the need for restraint.
    The abduction had made her vulnerable. Was it any wonder she had no interest in pursuing what he guessed would be a combustible passion between them?
    He shouldn’t have revealed his feelings. Yet her revelations had thrown him off balance. He’d been stunned by the searing hurt he’d felt on her behalf, hearing about her neglectful family and reading the vulnerability behind her bravado.
    Amir had grown up distanced from everyone, especially his family. It was that isolation, that need to prove himself against doubts and scorn, that had made him successful and self-sufficient. He’d never had time for regrets. Emotion was something he eschewed.
    Yet hearing snippets of Cassie’s story something insidehim had cracked. He’d wanted to make someone pay for the distress she tried so valiantly to hide. Comfort her.
    As if
he
had experience in providing comfort! Pleasure, yes—that was easy. But he sensed Cassie needed far more.
    ‘I used to play chess a lot.’
    ‘So I can see.’
    She collected his rook in a daring move. ‘But I’m a bit rusty,’ she admitted as he captured her knight.
    ‘Check.’
    She nodded and bit her lip, her brow puckering in concentration. Amir wanted to stroke her soft lips, then press his mouth there, taste her sweetness on his tongue.
    His grip tightened on the captured knight. Three more days and they’d be out of here. Three more days and he could give Cassie space till she was ready to be persuaded.
    For the first time Amir discovered no other woman would do. It was
Cassie
he wanted. Not one of the many women so eager for his attention.
    Cassie alone tortured him every hour. Even when he closed his eyes she was there, waiting to tempt him. She was becoming a fixation.
    ‘Who taught you to play?’
    She raised her eyes and instantly he was lost in those wary violet depths.
    ‘A teacher at school. The same one who taught me debating and drama.’
    ‘You were busy.’
    Her luscious mouth pursed into a sultry bow and she lunged forward, moving a piece seemingly at random.
    ‘I was the poster girl for extracurricular activities.’ Her smile was perfunctory. ‘I did them all—from badminton to archery, baking, French conversation, a dozen crafts, and later even motor mechanics. I could play the piano and the saxophone before I got to high school, but I had to quit violin to save everyone’s ears.’
    ‘A high achiever.’ Amir could relate to that.
    Again and again they’d given him new tasks to master, new skills they’d been sure he’d fail. He’d forced himself to master them all, to excel, especially at the traditional skills of a Tarakhan warrior. His uncle and the rest had been so certain Amir could never take his place among them. Their contempt had driven him to prove them all wrong.
    Cassie shook her head. ‘I’d rather have been playing a game or reading a book, but I wasn’t given a choice. After-school lessons kept me away from home. Much more convenient than having me underfoot. Then when I was boarding it was easier to keep me occupied rather than pestering to come home.’
    Again that shaft of anger mixed with regret and pain speared him. She spoke so matter-of-factly, not lingering in search of sympathy, yet she had it.
    What was it about Cassie Denison that made him
feel
so much? Empathise, where in the past he’d had no difficulty retaining a discreet, unbreachable distance from those who, since his accession, wanted