Free Girl in the Bedouin Tent by Annie West

it was no good. Amir’s touch, his massage, his words of reassurance and above all his presence, made her feel … safe.
    Her gaze followed him. She assured herself it was natural to be curious. As for the way she followed each sleek line of that bare, powerful torso, the play of light over shifting muscles, the contrast between broad, straight shoulders and the bunch of tight buttocks beneath those loose trousers … Cassie swallowed. There was nothing wrong with acknowledging a rare example of prime masculinity, was there?
    Yet a niggle of disquiet stirred.
    She’d never been one to ogle a good-looking man. Not just because in her experience most of them were utterly self-absorbed.
    What was it about Amir that awakened dormant feminine responses? That made her pulse quicken watching his loose-limbed stride, seeing the smattering of black hair across his broad chest as he turned?
    Dark eyes snared hers across the width of the bed and her heart stuttered.
    ‘Do you want the lamp left on again tonight? Would you feel safer?’
    The jitter of response in her belly eased at his prosaic words.
    She’d been mistaken. There was nothing in his look but concern. Cassie strove to smother a twinge of illicit disappointment.
    She didn’t
want
his interest! She was
grateful
he saw her merely as a responsibility!
    ‘I’m OK. You can turn the light off.’ She hadn’t even realised he’d slept last night with the light burning. Again, his consideration for her struck home.
    ‘If you’re sure.’ He turned away and a moment later the room was plunged into blackness.
    Cassie blinked, as if that would let her see, but there was nothing—only the sound of Amir putting something on the small table beside the bed. She heard the whisper of the covers being drawn back, then the rustle of sheets as he slipped into bed.
    Her heart hammered as reality hit her anew. She was sharing a bed with a stranger. A virile, powerful man. Surreptitiously her fingers slid under the pillow till they touched hardness, the golden hilt of that magnificent dagger.
    Strangely that didn’t ease Cassie’s agitation. She couldn’t imagine needing a weapon to protect her from Amir. What concerned her was her unwanted awareness of him. The fact that she was torn between a desire to curl up on the far side of the tent, as far away as possible, and to snuggle into him, letting his strong arms encircle her and keep her safe.
    ‘Are you sure this is necessary?’ She kept her tone prosaic. ‘There were no servants here today. No one will know if we don’t spend the night together in the same bed.’ Cassie drew a shallow breath. ‘I could sleep over—’
    ‘No.’ The single word silenced her. ‘From now on you will be served as an honoured guest. I’ve made that clear to Mustafa. Besides …’ He paused. ‘You might as well be comfortable. After your ordeal you need rest.’
    Silence engulfed them. Cassie focused on slowing her breathing, trying to relax. But meditation was impossible when even in the darkness she could picture with perfect mouth-watering clarity the honed power of Amir’s form.
    ‘Cassandra?’ His voice came out of the darkness, low and soft, a burr that brought every sense alert.
    ‘Yes?’ She frowned, wondering at Amir’s use of her full name.
    ‘I
will
punish that man for beating you.’ Amir paused long enough for Cassie to wonder if he sought the right words. ‘Ifthere is anything else he needs to be brought to account for you must tell me.’
    Cassie frowned. How was she to know what other crimes the guard had committed? She’d be surprised if he hadn’t assaulted others. The man was a bully.
    ‘Cassie?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Or the others who brought you here. If they have harmed you in any other way they will be made to pay.’ The lethal softness of his tone finally penetrated. It was a voice that, for all its control, spoke of barely contained fury.
    Cassie was grateful for the enveloping darkness that hid