His Defiant Desert Queen(8)

                And then wrapping herself in courage, and hanging on to that fragile cloak, she removed her boot, placing it on the floor next to its mate, and turned to her dressing table to begin removing her make-up.





                                      CHAPTER TWO

                MIKAEL SAW JEMMA’S lower lip quiver before she clamped her jaw, biting down in an effort to remain silent, as she turned back to her dressing table.

                He was surprised at how calm she was. He’d expected tears. Hysteria. Instead she was quiet. Thoughtful. Respectful.

                He’d planned on defiance. He’d come prepared for theatrics. She’d almost gone there. Almost, but then thought better of it.

                Perhaps she wasn’t as silly as he’d thought.

                Perhaps she might have a brain in her pretty head after all.

                He was glad she wasn’t going to dissolve into tears and hysteria. And glad she might be starting to understand the gravity of her situation.

                But even then, he was still deeply furious with her for knowingly, willfully flaunting every international law by entering a foreign country with a false identity, and then practically stripping in public.

                It wasn’t done.

                It wasn’t acceptable.

                It wouldn’t even be allowed in San Francisco or New York City.

                So how could she think it would be okay here?

                His brow lowered as his narrowed gaze swept over her. She looked so soft and contrite now as she removed her makeup. It was an act. He was certain she was playing him. Just as her father had played his mother...before bankrupting her, breaking her.

                His mother would be alive today if Daniel Copeland hadn’t lied to her and stolen from her, taking not just her financial security, but her self-respect.

                Thank goodness Mikael was not his mother.

                He knew better than to allow himself to be manipulated by yet another Copeland con artist.

                Mikael refused to pity Jemma. He didn’t care if she was sorry. Had Daniel Copeland shown his mother mercy? No. Had Daniel Copeland shown any of his clients concern...compassion? No. So why should his daughter receive preferential treatment?

                “Will I have a lawyer present?” she asked, breaking the silence.

                “No,” he said.

                “Will I have any legal representation?”

                “No.”

                She hesitated, brow furrowing, lips compressing, somehow even more lovely troubled than when posed on the desert sand in the fur and thigh high boots.

                Yes, she was beautiful. And yes, she’d inherited her mother’s famous bone structure, and yes, even in this dim, stifling tent she still glowed like a jewel—glossy dark hair, brilliant green eyes, luminous skin, pink lips—but that didn’t change the fact that she was a criminal.

                “Neither of us have lawyers,” he added, hating that he was even aware of her beauty. He shouldn’t notice, or care. He shouldn’t feel any attraction at all. “There is just the case itself, presented by me, and then the judge passes the sentence.”