He'd annoyed her by bringing her here and she was toying with him to get her own back. His mouth tipped up in a hard smile. No matter. He didn't mind being toyed with as long as she ended up where he wanted her- underneath him, naked and pliant and begging for mercy. Begging forgiveness.
* * *
When Sylvie woke it was dawn outside. She felt as if she'd slept for a week, not just the ten or so hours she had slept. Strangely, there was no disorientation-she knew exactly where she was.
She was still in the robe and she sat up, looking around warily, as if she might find Arkim lurking in a corner, glaring at her. She wondered how he'd reacted when she hadn't shown for dinner. She wasn't sure she wanted to know...
She got up and opened the French doors, the early morning's cool breeze a balm compared to the stifling heat which would no doubt come once the sun was up. She walked to the boundary wall again and sucked in a deep breath. The intense silence wrapped around her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd experienced this level of stillness-if ever. It seemed to quiet something inside her...some sense of restlessness. It was disconcerting-as if she was betraying herself by finding an affinity with any part of this situation.
She went back inside and dressed in jeans and a clean T-shirt, loath to make any kind of effort with clothes or to leave her rooms in case it showed acquiescence to Arkim. But she was also feeling somewhat trapped, and she didn't like it.
In the end Halima appeared, fresh-faced and smiling, with a tray of breakfast, bringing it into the dining room.
Sylvie's stomach rumbled loudly and she realised that because she'd turned down dinner the previous evening she'd not eaten since she'd been on the plane the day before. She was starving, and when Halima pulled back a cloth napkin to reveal a plate of fragrant flat breads Sylvie had to bite back of a groan of appreciation. It was a mezze-style feast, with little bowls of olives and different cheeses, hard and soft. And a choice of fragrant coffee or sweet tea.
Before she left, Halima said,'Sheikh Al-Sahid sends his apologies. He's been detained by a business call otherwise he would have joined you. He said he will meet you for lunch.'
Sylvie forced a smile. She couldn't shoot the messenger.'Thank you.'
After Halima left and Sylvie had eaten her fill, she wandered around her rooms for a bit, feeling increasingly claustrophobic. She knew she should really do some exercises to keep herself flexible, especially after travelling, but she was feeling too antsy to focus. She left her rooms and walked down long stone corridors that gave glimpses into intriguing courtyards and other open spaces.
Through one open courtyard she saw a terrace with tall ornate stone columns and a vast pool that stretched around the side of the castle. It was breathtaking. Idyllic.
Sylvie backed away from the seductive scene and explored further. Some doors were closed, and she refrained from opening them in case she stumbled into Arkim.
Eventually she found herself at the main door, which led out to the central courtyard. Adrenalin flooded her system when she saw the golf buggy that Arkim had used to bring them into the castle the previous day. The key was in the ignition. And from here she could see that the main doors to the castle complex were open.
She had a sudden vision of Arkim wearing down her defences, slowly but surely. If he kissed her again she was very much afraid that she'd melt-just as she had before, when she'd lost all control of her rational functions.
The truth was that she didn't have an arsenal of experience to fend off someone like Arkim, and the thought of him ever discovering how flimsy her façade was made her go cold with terror.
She didn't think. She reacted. She got into the golf buggy and turned the key, setting it in motion. Her heart was clamouring as she sped out of the castle complex.
* * *
Less than an hour later Sylvie's feet sank into the sand. She was on top of a dune, with the now dead golf buggy in front of her. Futile anger made her kick ineffectually at the inanimate object. It had started sputtering and slowing down about ten minutes before, eventually conking out.
The sun beat down mercilessly and there was nothing as far as the eye could see except sand, sand and more sand. Heat waves shimmered in the distance.
Of course it was only now that Sylvie realised just how stupid she'd been to react to her own imagination like that and set off in a panic. She had no water. No food. No idea where she was. Even if she'd had the means she wasn't sure which way she'd come!
Her T-shirt was stuck to her skin and her jeans felt red-hot and too tight. Right now she would have given anything for a cool white tunic and a head-covering. She could feel her skin prickling uncomfortably under the sun, and the roof of the buggy offered scant protection.
She gulped and, absurdly, tears pricked her eyes. Arkim Al-Sahid had driven her to this desperate measure. She wished she'd never laid eyes on the man. She wished he'd never kissed-
Something caught at her peripheral vision and she looked. For a second she wondered if she was seeing things, and then as the image became more distinct her eyes widened.
It was a man on top of a horse... Except this looked like no ordinary horse. It was a huge black stallion. And the man...
Sylvie felt as if she might have slipped back a few centuries. At first she thought it must be one of Arkim's staff, because he was dressed in white robes, with a keffiyeh around his head. His face was obscured by the material, leaving only his eyes and dark skin visible. And was that a jewelled dagger stuck into the roped belt around his waist?
He drew up alongside her, the horse rearing up, making Sylvie back away skittishly. Even now-even though her accelerated pulse told her otherwise-she was hoping she was mistaken.
But the man who jumped off the horse had such grace and innate athleticism that her mouth dried.
He tied the horse to the buggy and then stalked towards her, growing bigger and taller as he did so. Right up until the moment that he ripped aside the material covering his mouth and face Sylvie was still hoping it was anyone but...him. Of course he'd found her. This man seemed to have a heat-seeking radar, able to pin her to the spot no matter where she was.
'You damned little fool. What the hell did you hope to achieve by this stunt?'
She tried to ignore how Arkim's almost savage appearance made her feel as if she was losing it completely. He looked even more ridiculously handsome against this unforgiving backdrop.
She shouted back.'I was trying to get away from you, in case it wasn't completely obvious.'
Arkim's eyes glittered like obsidian.'In a golf buggy? With none of your things?' He was scathing.'Did you really think you could just bounce merrily across hundreds of miles of desert and roll into the nearest petrol station to refuel?'
Humiliated beyond measure, Sylvie launched herself at Arkim, hands balled into fists and beating against his chest.
He caught her arms easily and held her immobile. Tension crackled between them, and for a heart-stopping moment Sylvie thought he was going to kiss her-but then a piercing sound shattered the air and they both looked up to see two Jeeps coming towards them over the top of the dune, horns blasting.
Sylvie felt so jittery all she wanted was to escape back to the castle as quickly as possible and lock herself in her rooms. She was caught between a rock and a hard place. Literally. The thought didn't amuse her.
The Jeeps pulled up and concerned-looking staff spilled out. Sylvie immediately felt guilty for having precipitated this search.
Arkim wordlessly led her over to the nearest vehicle and said a few words to the driver. Then he opened up the back door for her. When she would have expected to get in, he handed her a bottle of water. She looked at him and he was grim.
'Drink, you'll be dehydrated.'
Sylvie couldn't argue with that, and she was thirsty, so she took several large gulps. Then Arkim reached into the back of the Jeep again and pulled out a long white robe. He thrust it at her.
'I'm supposed to put this on?' Sylvie said waspishly.
Arkim's expression darkened.'Yes. You're already burning.'
Her skin was still prickling, but Sylvie was afraid that it was more to do with his effect on her than the sun-even though when she looked her arms were ominously pink.
Mutinously she pulled on the long-sleeved robe, and was surprised at how much cooler she felt instantly-which was crazy when she was pulling on more clothes.
Then he was unwinding his keffiyeh from his head, and before she could stop him he'd placed it over her hair, like a shawl. He started to wind it around her head, tucking it in, until there was only one long piece left that he drew across her mouth and tucked in at the back.