Awakened by Her Desert Captor(14)

 The music seemed to be pounding in time with Arkim's blood. And then  it changed and became a little faster, with a different beat.

 Sylvie straightened up and bent forward with impressive flexibility,  bringing the sword back in front of her to place it on the ground and  push it away. And then, still bending forward, she lifted the veil and  head covering off her head. She undid the tie on her black top and  removed that too.

 Now her hair tumbled down, free and wild, and the ornately decorated  gold bra was revealed. He could see the faint sheen of perspiration on  her pale skin and his insides tightened with pure, unadulterated lust.  Would her skin be sheened like that when he joined their bodies for the  first time?

 She came onto her knees, facing Arkim again, and started undulating  her body in a series of movements-hips, arms, chest-disconnected but  connected. He'd seen belly dancers before, but never like this. Bright  red hair trailed over her shoulders and down to her breasts. He wanted  to reach out and curl a tendril around his hand, pull her towards him.

 She was looking at him now, but blankly. A sizzle of irritation ran through his blood. When women looked at him, they looked.

 She moved lithely to her feet and brought her whole body into the  dance. This should be boring him to tears. But it wasn't. He hated to  realise that he was most likely in the kind of thrall that had  mesmerised men for hundreds of years when a woman danced like this for  him.

 And then he realised it was her. There was something profoundly  captivating about Sylvie and the way she moved. It was knowing, and yet  there was something Arkim couldn't put his finger on...something  slightly off. As if a piece of the jigsaw was missing.

 She'd stopped dancing now, her chest moving rapidly with her breath,  her hair tangled in waves and falling down her back as she stood with  one hand on her hip and the other stretched out towards him, as if she  were offering him something.

 She hadn't even stripped. But arousal sat heavy in Arkim's body and  bloodstream. He felt like a fool. Sylvie had told him that she didn't do  lap dances, but somehow that was exactly what he had expected.  Something tawdry and fitting for the picture he'd built up of her in his  head.         

     



 

 But this whole performance had been sweetly titillating-like a  throwback to a more innocent time. A time that Arkim had never had the  pleasure of knowing. He'd never really experienced innocence. His own  had been corrupted when he had been so young.

 Anger rushed through him and he stood up. He did a slow hand-clap and  then said, as equably as he could,'Who exactly are you trying to fool  with a routine suited to the top of a table in a restaurant?'

 Sylvie's arm dropped and she looked at him, cheeks flushed. Arkim's  body throbbed all over. But he held on to what tiny bit of control he  had-rigidly.

 Her gaze narrowed on him.'I take it that you didn't care for it, then? Too bad you can't get your money back.'

 Her voice was breathy, and there was something defiant in those  flashing blue-green eyes. It sent his churning cauldron of emotions into  overdrive. She was taunting him. He thought of all the people she'd  bared herself to, and yet she wouldn't for him. The thought that she  might have an inkling of just how badly he wanted her scored him deep  inside.

 He didn't want to go near Sylvie for fear of what might happen if he  did. As if some beast inside him might be unleashed and she'd see just  how close to the edge of his control he was. He felt feral. As if he  needed desperately to prove to himself that she was who he believed she  was.

'You'll dance again, Sylvie. And this time you'll perform exactly as  you do for the thousands of people who have seen all of you. I won't  accept anything less. Be back here in half an hour.'





  CHAPTER FIVE

 SYLVIE WATCHED ARKIM stalk out of the huge space, adrenalin still  fizzing in her blood. Vulnerability and frustration vied with her anger  at his high-handedness. And a need to wipe the disdainful look off his  face.

 More anger coursed through her when she thought of what Arkim had been  expecting and what he clearly still expected: You'll perform exactly as  you do for the thousands of people who have seen all of you.

 She was surprised he hadn't had a pole installed so she could shimmy  up and down it. Clearly she'd done such a good job of doing absolutely  nothing to amend Arkim's bad opinion of her, she'd merely raised his  expectations.

 It had taken more nerve than she'd thought she possessed to come in  here and dance for him. It had taken all her strength to look at him and  through him-even though he'd sat there like some kind of lord and  master, surveying her as if she was some morsel for his delectation.

 But she'd still been acutely aware of that powerful body, its inherent  strength barely leashed. He'd dressed in western style, in dark  trousers and an open-necked shirt. And somehow, after seeing him in  nothing but pristine three-piece suits and then the traditional Arabic  tunic, it was a little shocking-as if he was unravelling, somehow.

 Suddenly there was a flurry of movement as staff entered the cavernous space and rushed to close the huge open doors.

 Sylvie had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn't  noticed how the sky had darkened outside-dramatically. There was so much  electricity in the air she could swear it was sparking along her skin.

 And then Halima appeared, a look of excitement on her pretty face. 'The Sheikh has told me to help you. We must close all your doors and  windows-the storm is coming.'

 As Halima ushered her out of the room, eager to do her Sheikh's  bidding, Sylvie's rage spiked-as if in tandem with the escalating  weather outside. If Arkim wanted a damn lap dance so badly, then maybe  she should give him exactly what he wanted.

 They got back to Sylvie's rooms, and Halima was about to close the  French doors but turned around, eyes wide.'You can see the sandstorm  coming!'

'Really?' Curiosity distracted Sylvie momentarily and she went to the  doors to look outside. She sucked in a breath when a powerful gust of  wind made the curtains flap. She hadn't noticed how strong the winds had  become.         

     



 

'Look-see there? In the distance?'

 Sylvie followed Halima's finger and saw what looked like a vast cloud  against the darkening sky. It took her eyes several seconds to adjust to  the fact that it was a bank of sand, racing across the desert towards  them. It was like a special effect in a movie.

'My God...' she breathed, more in awe than in fear at the sight.'Will we be okay?'

 Halima shut the doors firmly and nodded.'Of course. This castle has  withstood much worse. We will be quite safe inside, and by morning it  will be gone. You'll see.'

 Sylvie shivered at the thought of all that energy racing across the  desert-the fury she'd seen in the cloud-like shape. Not unlike the fury  she'd seen in Arkim's eyes...

 Halima left Sylvie to get ready, telling her she must make sure all the other doors and windows were closed.

 Sylvie was grateful for that when she surveyed her outfit in the  mirror a short time later. She might have winced if she hadn't still  been so angry.

 She'd customised one of her short skirts and now it barely grazed the  tops of her thighs. The rest of her legs were covered in over-the-knee  black socks. She wore a simple white shirt, knotted just under her bust,  leaving her midriff bare. Underneath the skirt she wore a pair of black  dance shorts, embellished with costume gems sewn into the edges, and  under the shirt she wore a glittering black bra top.

 She tied her hair back now, in a high ponytail. Her eyes were still heavily kohled, lashes long and dark. Lips bright red.

 She felt like a total fraud, just aping what she'd seen in a million  images and movies as to what constituted a lap dance outfit. It was  ridiculously similar to something a famous pop-star had worn in one of  her videos.

 The fact was that the L'Amour revue prided itself on doing avant-garde  strip routines, burlesque in nature. They didn't do anything as hokey  as this. Sylvie's mouth firmed-Arkim clearly wasn't appreciative of the  more subtle side of her profession.

 Just then there was a knock at the door and Sylvie grabbed for her  robe, slipping it on over her clothes. She didn't want Halima to see her  like this. She felt tawdry.

 The girl appeared.'The Sheikh is ready for you, Miss Devereux.'

 Sylvie tightened the belt of her robe and took a deep breath.'Thank you.'

 But as she walked to the ceremonial room again, behind the young girl,  she felt the anger start to drain away. Doubts crept in. She was not  what Arkim thought she was, and yet here she was-letting him goad her  into pretending to be something she wasn't.

 Because he'd never believe you, inserted a small voice.

 She was at the door now, and her circling thoughts faded as Halima  gently nudged her over the threshold. The door closed behind her. The  interior was darker than it had been, with the encroaching storm turning  the world black outside. Too late to back out now. Girding her loins,  Sylvie straightened her shoulders and walked in.