Free Never Seduce a Sheikh (International Bad Boys Book 2) by Jackie Ashenden

“ . . . western females.” More amusement glinted in the depths of his astonishing eyes, an invitation for her to share it.
    And she wanted to. For some insane reason, she wanted to.
    At that moment an explosion of noise and color erupted from one end of the tent as a group of people entered. The assembled chiefs began to smile, clapping as a group of men with traditional instruments arranged themselves in one corner while two women, swathed in black robes, dropped their coverings to reveal brightly embellished costumes glittering with beads and coins, and trailing scarves.
    Belly dancers.
    The women took up their positions and then, as the music began, they danced, stamping their feet, hips moving to the beat, their armsa graceful curve above their head. The dancers were beautiful, scarves whirling around their lush bodies, the undulation of their hips an inherently sensual movement. The assembled tribesmen began to respond, smiling and laughing, clapping and cheering.
    Lily felt her whole body tense, a sense of threat closing in on her. The men were watching the women and she could see the lust in their faces. She knew what they wanted. What men always wanted from women—sex. And these men, men in positions of power, they would take it. Because that’s what those kind of men always did.
    Words of warning flooded her mouth, because the dancers didn’t seem to be afraid. They didn’t see the threat. They were smiling, teeth white against golden skin, dark eyes flashing with sensual promise. Almost as if they were enjoying themselves.
    One of them pulled up one of the older chiefs to dance, everyone in their vicinity cheering, and Lily wanted to get up and stop her. Ask her if she knew what she was doing. Ask her if she understood that men such as these could not be trusted.
    “What is wrong?” Isma’il’s voice close to her ear.
    A shiver went through her, intensifying the sense of threat, paralyzing her. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t find her voice to speak. The dancers were beautiful. Sensual.
    Sexual.
    “Don’t blame me for this, Lil.” Dan’s voice heavy with drunken anger. “It’s your own damn fault, wandering around in a wet swimsuit half the time. Everything on show. I’m not bloody made of stone you know.”
    “Lily?” Isma’il asked, softer this time.
    The dancer stopped next to her, holding out a hand. The woman was smiling, obviously enjoying herself. Utterly comfortable with her sensuality. As if there was nothing wrong with being nearly naked in a tent full of men.
    “She wants you to dance,” Isma’il prompted.
    Panic flooded through Lily, a primitive fight or flight reflex triggering. She couldn’t get up there before all these men. She couldn’t put herself on show like that. The dancers may not know what men were capable of but she was. She knew exactly.
    Lily surged to her feet. But not to take the hand the woman held out.
    “I’m sorry, I can’t,” she said hoarsely. “Please excuse me.”
    Then she turned and walked out of the tent.
    *     *     *
    Isma’il only just stopped himself from calling out after her as Lily fled. To do so would make him appear weak, not to mention indicate the fact that something was amiss and he could not do either in front of the chiefs. But he could see the frowns registering on the men’s faces at Lily’s abrupt exit. To leave in the middle of a banquet without even an excuse or a request for permission was disrespectful. They would see it as disrespect for their ruler too.
    The dancer looked confused. To have her invitation refused was rude and the girl clearly didn’t expect it.
    Allowing no trace of his anger to show, Isma’il smoothly handled the situation, reassuring the dancer and excusing Lily’s behaviour to the chiefs. The heat, gentlemen. Westerners are unused to it, ladies in particular. This seemed to be acceptable and the dancing continued, discussion resuming. No harm done for the moment.
    He rose to his feet,