Never Seduce a Sheikh(21)

Better that than thinking about the man who sat on the other side of her in the traditional robes of a sheikh. A white tunic and loose white pants, a flowing black robe over the top, a white scarf wrapped around his head and held in place by a black rope that glittered with metallic thread.

She’d been shocked when he’d first appeared in her tent earlier that evening. Transformed from the urbane, charming man in the tuxedo, he’d become someone different. Exotic. Infinitely more powerful and far, far more dangerous. As if the suit had been a thin veneer of civilization, a mask hiding the true, dark heart of the man wearing it. A man with all the fierce, hard beauty of the desert itself in his face.

Lily’s mouth felt dry, her heart beating fast. Too fast.

Stop thinking about him. You have a job to do. A deal to close.

She forced Isma’il out of her head, trying to keep her attention on the job at hand.

He’d told her to use the fact she was a woman to her advantage. And, as galling as it was, he was right. Figuring out what your advantages were and using them was good business. It had been the same in the pool. If you had a weakness, you either made it your strength, or you excised from your life.

Excising her sex was naturally impossible, but she’d been trying her damnedest to negate it. In the past, in other business situations that had worked. But not here. Which made his suggestion of making it work in her favor, the only other option. She didn’t like it, but then again, she’d seen how well the men of Isma’il’s court had responded to her back in the palace. It did make sense to do the same thing here.

The chief beside her asked her something about her husband. Lily inwardly gritted her teeth and made some comment about waiting for the right man. The conversation she’d had back at the palace replayed itself with the chief offering her several potential husband candidates, while she smiled at him until her face ached.

He said something in Arabic and someone else said in her ear, “You have a conquest, Ms. Harkness.”

Lily went still, her heart racing. Isma’il’s breath felt warm, even through the thin silk of her headscarf. Insanity to be so conscious of him. It made no sense. She hadn’t ever met a man she’d wanted in a physical sense and why this sheikh should be different, she had no idea.

Not that she wanted him, because she didn’t. She didn’t.

“Do I?” Her voice sounded cool. Thank God.

“Indeed. He thinks you are graceful and beautiful.” A slight pause. “And well mannered.” Faint amusement warmed his tone, sending a frisson of something Lily couldn’t identify straight down her spine. Instinctively, she turned to look at him. The color of his eyes seemed almost shocking against bronze skin and black lashes. Framed by the white cotton of his headscarf, the intense blue-green stole her breath.

“In fact,” he went on, “everyone has been commenting on your grace and poise. They have been admiring you all evening. You are doing well.”

A ridiculous sliver of warmth went through her at the compliment. She tried to ignore it. “Thank you,” she said, trying not to sound stiff.

“My suggestion was a good one was it not?”

“Playing the female card you mean?”

“Yes. You have allayed quite a few fears regarding . . . ” he paused, tilting his head a little “ . . . western females.” More amusement glinted in the depths of his astonishing eyes, an invitation for her to share it.

And she wanted to. For some insane reason, she wanted to.

At that moment an explosion of noise and color erupted from one end of the tent as a group of people entered. The assembled chiefs began to smile, clapping as a group of men with traditional instruments arranged themselves in one corner while two women, swathed in black robes, dropped their coverings to reveal brightly embellished costumes glittering with beads and coins, and trailing scarves.

Belly dancers.

The women took up their positions and then, as the music began, they danced, stamping their feet, hips moving to the beat, their armsa graceful curve above their head. The dancers were beautiful, scarves whirling around their lush bodies, the undulation of their hips an inherently sensual movement. The assembled tribesmen began to respond, smiling and laughing, clapping and cheering.

Lily felt her whole body tense, a sense of threat closing in on her. The men were watching the women and she could see the lust in their faces. She knew what they wanted. What men always wanted from women—sex. And these men, men in positions of power, they would take it. Because that’s what those kind of men always did.

Words of warning flooded her mouth, because the dancers didn’t seem to be afraid. They didn’t see the threat. They were smiling, teeth white against golden skin, dark eyes flashing with sensual promise. Almost as if they were enjoying themselves.