The Sheikh's Sinful Seduction(26)
Two days ago, she’d snuck his towel into the latrine and left it on a hook. For someone who didn’t know how to be deceptive, she was becoming very duplicitous.
The full impact of what she’d just done with Zafir began to hit her. Before this it had been a kiss and a conversation. Now...
She wouldn’t let herself savor how it had felt. He’d had his hands on her in places she felt guilty touching herself!
She was entering the territory her mother had always warned her about. Behavior that was dangerous and had no future. She could hide the evidence, but she couldn’t deny that clothing had been moot and inhibition nonexistent. He’d held her in the palm of his hand, literally. He’d driven her to a point of supreme vulnerability and helplessness and she hadn’t fought him because nothing in her had wanted to.
Her mother had names for women who acted this way. Fern burned with humiliation at the thought of Zafir labeling her the same way. Where was her self-respect?
How would she ever face him again?
* * *
Zafir was suffering like a man staked on an anthill in the desert. His skin prickled, his core was on fire, he couldn’t fight his way free of the situation he was in and regret sat like dust in the back of his throat because all of this was his own fault. He should have left Fern alone.
His control had been holding up well, even though he was aware of her every move in the camp. Even though her voice sometimes carried to him and he felt so drawn he shook with the effort to ignore her. When she’d looked to him as his son had invited her to spend the day in the desert with them, hunting the falcons, he had willed her to refuse.
She had, and his inner being had screamed like a hawk, angry that she had denied herself to him.
It made no sense. He barely knew her and was making every effort to remain estranged, but he’d thought of her the entire time they were hunting. He had easily imagined her inquisitive, engaging manner and pictured her freckled face turned to the sky in anticipation. He’d wanted her to see his desert and this ancient practice and be a part of his world in this elemental way.
Why?
Aside from his wife, he’d never attached himself to any woman and even that had been...
He ducked thoughts of his marriage as he always did, instead comparing Fern to some of his much more pleasant, lengthier affairs. Pretty, sensuous women who purred under his touch. But he’d never felt more than mild inconvenience when those relationships ended. If a new female in his sphere caught his eye, but turned out to be married or otherwise unavailable, he easily transferred his interest elsewhere.
So why couldn’t he dismiss Fern? Was it because no other choices were open to him, as she’d accused him?
His marriage had lasted nearly five years and he’d gone without sex that long. A fortnight without a woman ought to be well within his endurance level.
But Fern’s hold on him was unprecedented. When they’d returned to the oasis and looked down on the camp, Tariq had said Miss Davenport looked a skeleton on the sand. Ra’id had chuckled and Zafir had had to bite back a sharp remark, managing to remind his son in a measured tone that he should be more respectful.
Yes, she had been pale and leggy, but like a piece of carved ivory. Her hair had been a rope of red-gold, hanging in a plait against her back. All he’d thought about the rest of the descent was wrapping it around his fist and holding her for his kiss.