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Lucy and the Sheikh(4)

By:Diana Fraser


“Truly. Legend says that whoever sees the djullinar will be forced to confront that which he, or she, most dreads.”

A shiver ran down her spine. She didn’t know if it was a result of his words or his warm breath against her cheek. “What happens if there’s nothing you dread?”

“No one is totally unafraid.”

“I am. Nothing can hurt me.”

“That sounds like you’ve been hurt too much already.”

The silence continued for too long but Lucy didn’t know how to break it. No one had said anything like that to her for a long time. She went out of her way to appear invulnerable and most of the time succeeded. But, for some reason, this man saw through the resilient façade she’d created. She swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the tension that had sprung to her temples. She forced herself to open her lips to speak but her throat was dry and she dared not trust her voice.

“I’m sorry, Lucy, I’ve no wish to pry. It was just an observation. No doubt an inaccurate one. Why don’t you try out the water. You’re shivering and the water will warm you.”

Despite the warm air, she did suddenly feel cold and, glad of the diversion he’d given her, she slipped into the pool. Easing her legs into the hot water, she leaned back against the black rocks until her feet found a ledge. Then she sat on the submerged rock and relaxed as the warm water lapped around her shoulders.

“Oh my,” she sighed. “This is worth the risk of a taniwha.”

“Perhaps it’s a trick of the taniwha to lure you closer to him. Lull you into a false sense of security before striking.”

Despite the heat she shivered again. “I don’t believe in monsters. Your monster is just something the owner invented to keep people out.’

“So cynical. And so brave. What would warn you off I wonder?”

“Everyone has their own taniwha. Something that makes them run. And mine is not a many-legged monster.”

“No, I should imagine not. A young woman who would dive into a strange sea in the middle of the night and swim to a strange country, would not be frightened of such monsters. We do have sharks here, you know.”

“Small ones. But not inside the reef—Alex told me. I’m not frightened of them anyway. When I was young, before my mother died, I used to go diving. I came across a small shark once, it came too close so I hit it on the nose and it went away.”

He laughed and the sound swam into her body, warming and teasing her at the same time.

“You’re a fearsome woman, Lucy. I hope you don’t decide I’m your enemy and hit me on the nose.”

Without thinking she turned in the water and reached up and touched his nose. His breath stilled at her touch and she didn’t move.

She shook her head. “No, it’s too nice a nose.”

His hand caught hers and brought it to his lips. Then he kissed the palm of her hand and her breath caught in her throat.

“That’s good to hear. I’m very fond of my nose.”

She glanced at his nose and then back to his eyes. Somehow she’d moved closer to him until her body pressed lightly against his legs. It seemed entirely natural when his other hand curled around her cheek.

“Where on earth did you come from, Miss Gee?” His breath was warm on her face, heating her skin and seeping down inside her body.

“From the sea, like your own taniwha.”

“But one should run from one’s monsters, not embrace them.”

“One doesn’t always do what one should.”

“Indeed.” He held her hand tight against his chest and she could feel his heart beat as rapidly as hers. Then his hand slid through her wet hair and brought her face to his. She closed her eyes as her body relaxed against his. When his lips touched hers it came as no surprise, no shock, simply a spreading warmth of familiarity, as if her body had been needing, wanting, looking, for this man’s touch her whole life.

His lips were more powerful, more possessive upon hers, than she’d imagined. He was so proper and courteous, despite the sensuality that she sensed in him, that she hadn’t imagined that he’d so expertly capture her mouth. But he did. His lips held hers, moving against and opening hers until the slow burn low in her body caught and ignited. She gasped against his mouth and felt his breathing quicken.

Slowly he slid into the water and pulled her tight against his body, drawing her close until their bodies were molded one against the other. The buttons on his shirt dug into her breasts and stomach, the silky material slid against her bare skin. The heat of his body against hers was hotter than the thermal waters. He was like fire—fire playing with fire.