Master of the Desert(4)

'Of course they do,' he said sarcastically. 'So your family allows you to wander the world without their protection?'

This time she couldn't hold back. 'They trust me.' She was not defending  herself now, but Rigo, the older brother who had cared for her since  her mother had died six months after giving birth to her, her father  having passed away shortly after that.

But the man pursued her relentlessly. 'And breaking the law is how you repay your family for their care?'

'I've already apologised to you for coming on board,' she fired back. 'I explained I had no option but to board your yacht.'

His hands signalled calm as her voice rose. 'Lucky for you I was moored up here.'

She balled her hands into fists as a last-ditch attempt to keep her  temper under control, but all it gained her was another mocking stare.  But what a stare … She couldn't help wondering how it would feel to have  that stare fire with interest, or darken with desire.

'I hope you've learned your lesson,' he snapped, shattering that particular illusion.

'Oh, I have,' she assured him meekly. It was time to stop dreaming and  accept the facts. She was far too young and inexperienced to interest a  man like this. He thought her fragile and foolish, and couldn't know her  determination. She wasn't fragile, and this trip was her chance to  prove she wasn't foolish. To prove to the brother she adored-who  protected her, perhaps a little too much-that she could survive without  his supervision. Not that she'd made the best of starts, Antonia  conceded as the man held her gaze.

'Tell me more about your family,' he prompted.

Being the object of such an intense stare was both alarming and  seductive, but she wouldn't tell him anything that might risk her  mission. She hadn't come to Sinnebar on her own behalf, or as part of  some ill-thought-out adventure, but to persuade the authorities in the  country to open a branch of her brother's children's charity. Rigo's  work had already helped so many sick and disadvantaged children, and she  had pledged to help him expand the reach of his charity across the  world.

And there was a second reason, Antonia conceded silently. Coming to  Sinnebar would give her the opportunity to track down information about  the mother it broke her heart to think she couldn't remember-not her  voice, her touch, what she looked like or even the scent of her hair.  She knew nothing at all about the woman who had given birth to her,  beyond the fact that her mother had been very young when she'd died, and  that before marrying Antonia's father and moving to Rome she had  apparently spent some time at the royal court in Sinnebar.

'I'm waiting to hear about your family,' the man said, slicing through her thoughts.                       
       
           



       

Antonia composed herself before replying, knowing it was important not  to let anything slip. Rigo had drummed it into her from an early age  that the truth was non-nego-tiable, though she might have to get used to  twisting it where this man was concerned. 'My family don't know I'm  here,' she admitted, which was true in part, at least.

'Your family don't know you're here?' The man picked up the radio phone  and held it out to her. 'Don't you think you'd better call them?'

No. Men like this, men like her brother Rigo, shared a common  understanding. They would demand she return home immediately. Rigo might  even insist on coming to fetch her, so once again she would be no more  effective than a balloon, weightless and directionless as they batted  her between them.

'I'll ring them if you don't,' he threatened.

'No, please don't.' She reached out and then withdrew her hand, thinking  better of touching him. 'I don't want to worry them.' She mustered a  steady stare. 'Better to call them when I'm safely in Sinnebar and  settled in a hotel, don't you think?'

Worry them? Rigo would be down on her like a ton of bricks. Her brother  only had to file a flight plan and he'd be over here. And what would  that prove-that she was as headstrong and reckless as Rigo believed her  to be? Her brother would never let her work for his charity then. And  she had begged him for this chance to do a real job instead of accepting  her brother's generous allowance. It was a chance to do something for  others instead of for herself. 'The moment I'm safe on the mainland,  I'll ring them-I promise.' She was taking a lot for granted by assuming  the man would take her anywhere, but she had no option when there was  everything to play for.

His eyes remained narrowed with suspicion, and then to her relief he shrugged. 'You know your family better than I do.'

Yes, she knew Rigo. He could be a pain sometimes, but it was thanks to  her brother she had enjoyed such a privileged childhood, which in Rigo's  language meant she could ride, ski, sail, fence and swim. More  importantly, living with him had taught her how to survive a man like  this.

As she watched him clear up the debris from the recent triage session,  she offered to help. He ignored her. Closing the cupboard on his  supplies, he turned to face her. 'So all you wanted when you came on  board was my food?'

'What else?' she said in bewilderment.

'You weren't thinking of stealing my yacht, for instance?'

Antonia's cheeks flushed red. She had considered it.

He made a contemptuous sound, as if he already knew this, and then  barked, 'We'll continue this conversation when you have no more excuses  left.'

'But, I-'

'Not now,' he snarled.

His tone only confirmed what she already knew-this was not a man to bend to her will, or to anyone's will.

'You will rest now,' he said as if anything he commanded would happen  immediately. 'I'm prepared to give you time to get over the shock-but  not much time. And don't play me,' he warned.

A shiver of awareness rippled down her spine. When he turned away, it  was another opportunity to watch him again. Resting her chin on her  knees, she realised that against all the odds she had grown calmer  around him. Calmer and yet more unsettled, Antonia concluded, realising  her libido had received an unusual boost. The man moved around the  confined space with the confidence of someone who knew every inch of his  territory intimately, and some of the openings were so small he had to  raise his arms and coax his body through. He looked amazing at full  stretch, like an athlete in the peak of condition. His air of command  went with being super-fit, she supposed, though she found trying to  pigeon-hole him in the outside world impossible. His frayed and faded  shorts looked as if he'd hacked the legs off an old pair of jeans with  the lethallooking knife hanging from his belt, and his top had  definitely seen better days.

She gave up trying to work him out. He could be crew or he could own the  boat-either way, she had to build bridges and hope they stretched to  the mainland. She waited until the next time he squeezed past to attempt  to make her peace. 'I apologise for trespassing on your yacht and for  stealing your food and the knife. Please believe me when I say I would  never have used the knife. And please don't report me to the Sheikh.'                       
       
           



       

'I thought I told you to rest,' he said, showing no sign of having accepted her apology.

There was no chance of 'playing him', as he seemed to think, Antonia  concluded, and he'd done nothing more than care for her as he would care  for a stray dog, so she could forget the fantasies. Using her so-called  womanly wiles had got her nowhere. And there was something more,  something that made her shudder to think about it. While he was helping  her, she was safe, but should he ever turn against her …

'What happens next is up to you,' he snapped as if he had read these  troubled thoughts. 'All you have to do is answer my questions promptly  and honestly.'

And that was all? Did he know how intimidating and fierce he looked? 'I  will,' she promised on a dry throat. If all your questions are connected  to the attack, she hedged silently.

CHAPTER THREE

THE man might terrify her, but she was determined to hold her nerve; so  much depended on getting to the mainland. If only she knew who he was it  might be easier to talk to him, but she had searched for clues to his  identity and found none on the yacht. There was plenty of food and drink  in the tiny galley and all sorts of fancy technical equipment-and, now  she put her shopping head on, she realised the blanket around her  shoulder was cashmere. But the man remained a mystery. Apart from his  working clothes, he wore a strap around his wrist formed of black twine,  and the gold hoop in his ear which she found sexy, but neither item was  unique.

It wasn't much to go on. She should have noticed the name of his yacht,  but she had been so traumatised when she'd clambered on board her  thoughts had been solely concerned with survival. She hadn't even paused  to think who the yacht might belong to. Food, drink and a fast ticket  back to the mainland had been her only concern. And if she had to steal a  sleek, sexy racing yacht to get there, so be it.