by Kristi Gold
“That was adrenaline working,” Justin said. “She might have some swelling that could say otherwise. If so, we’ll need to take her to the hospital.”
Ben felt as though invisible hands prevented him from moving forward. “I shall summon my housekeeper to assist you.”
Justin looked back with a frown. “Come on, Ben. I know you’ve seen half-naked women before. And I know you were guilty of getting them that way.”
Ben was without a response. His friend did not realize that, under different circumstances, undressing Jamie Morris would give him much pleasure. But he must resist the tempting thoughts. Now and in the future. If he desired to keep her safe, he could not allow the distraction.
While Justin slipped the denim down her narrow hips, Ben forced himself forward to remove her running shoes and tugged the jeans away from her slim legs. Immediately he averted his gaze from the thin scrap of white lace covering her womanly secrets. He cursed the carnal urges trying to surface. Cursed his sudden weakness where this woman was concerned.
Stepping away from the bed, Ben busied himself with folding the jeans in order not to stare at Jamie’s lush body. After what she had unknowingly done to him in the car, the last thing he needed was to view Jamie Morris naked as a babe.
“No broken bones, as far as I can tell,” Justin said. “She doesn’t appear to be in any pain when I touch her. She does have an ugly bruise starting to surface above her hip.”
“My fault, I imagine,” Ben said, keeping his eyes focused on a painting across the room as he laid the jeans on a nearby chair. “I pushed her harder than I’d intended.”
“You saved her life, Ben. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Ben finally turned his attention back to the bed, grateful the physician had covered Jamie’s lower body with the spread.
Justin rummaged through the black bag he had brought with him and removed a stethoscope. He slipped it beneath the woman’s blouse to listen to her heart. He then returned to the bag and drew out a small light, opening one of Jamie’s eyelids, then the other, and shone the thin ray into each eye.
“Hey, are you in there, kiddo?” he asked.
Jamie opened her eyes, recognition dawning in their green depths. “Dr. Webb?”
“Yeah. The one and only. Can you tell me where you hurt?”
“My head hurts like a son of a gun,” she muttered.
Justin raised her head up and examined her skull. “A nasty knot you got there.”
“I’m just so sleepy.” Jamie yawned and closed her eyes again.
Justin rose from the bed and faced Ben. “Her pupils are reactive, so she probably just has a slight concussion. You can let her sleep, but be sure to wake her periodically. Call me if she has any other symptoms, more pain, severe vomiting, or if you can’t get her to wake up. I’m going to see what I can find out about Klimt.”
Ben fought down the sudden panic. “You wish me to remain with her? Alone?”
Justin gave him a good-natured slap on the back. “Yeah. You can do it. I’m only a call away. If you even suspect her condition has worsened, then dial 911. The paramedics will be here in no time. But I’d bet she’ll just sleep it off.”
Ben respected his fellow Texas Cattleman’s Club member and would prefer not to insult him. However, he still had questions. “Do you know this for certain? Forgive me, but you are a doctor who fixes imperfections.”
“Believe me, Ben, before I took up plastic surgery and went into private practice, I saw my share of all kinds of trauma overseas. You have to learn to assess injuries on a moment’s notice. Jamie will be fine. She’s a tough kid. She’s been through a lot lately. Probably exhausted on top of everything else.”
Ben felt somewhat reassured. “Yes, I believe you are right. She stays up very late into the night, I have noticed.”
Justin sent him a lecherous grin. “You’ve been taking this protection stuff pretty seriously, haven’t you?”
Stiffening, Ben raised his chin, hoping to hide his guilt. “I was charged with protecting Miss Morris. I have been watching her, as you and the club members agreed I should.” He would not admit that it had been his pleasure.
“Well, just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll check back now and then throughout the evening.”
As soon as Ben and Justin said their goodbyes, Ben quickly made his way into the kitchen to summon Alima. The housekeeper stood at the stove wearing stereo headphones, a habit she had recently adopted during most of her domestic activities. He doubted she even realized they had a guest.
Ben allowed her this concession, knowing it was futile to argue that she might miss the doorbell or phone if she could not hear due to the country-and-western music blaring through the portable CD player. At times he cursed buying her the gift for her sixtieth birthday. But he would do anything for her. She had been with him since his birth, and she was his only connection in America to his culture. He could not function without her care. Not unless he chose to have dinner at Claire’s Bistro every day, or live in squalor.
Perhaps that was why he hadn’t concerned himself with finding a wife. Alima provided for all his needs—except one. His thoughts turned to Jamie Morris and how she had reminded him that those needs had been neglected in recent months.
Wanting to get back to Jamie, Ben tapped his housekeeper’s plump shoulder. “Alima.”
She slipped the headphones away from her ears and released an impatient sigh. “Yes, Hasim. Lunch will be ready soon.”
“That is not what I need at the moment. I need you to come to the guest room with me.”
She favored him with a bright smile. “Is someone coming to visit?”
Alima enjoyed visitors, and lately there had been none, something she had mentioned often to Ben. He considered that as long as Jamie Morris was in his care, she could provide company for the older woman. “Someone is already here. Come.” He gestured her forward and followed her to the room.
Alima’s mouth dropped open once she saw the young woman lying in the bed in a tangle of sheets. The feminine attributes Ben had tried to avoid viewing were again exposed.
Ire turned Alima’s eyes darker than moonless midnight. “Hasim! What have you been doing with this bint?”
“She is not a girl. She is a grown woman.” Even to his own ears, Ben sounded defensive, as if he had engaged in disreputable acts with Jamie Morris. Admittedly, he had imagined a few in the car.
With a sigh, he turned his attention to Alima. “It is not what you think. She’s been injured. Dr. Webb has examined her, and I am to make sure she is all right until she wakes. I believe she will be more comfortable if you undress her.”
“It appears, Hasim, that you have already done that.”
Ben clenched his jaw and spoke through his teeth, his patience now a slender thread on the verge of severing. “I did not undress her. Dr. Webb saw to that for the examination. Find something for her to wear, then put it on her.” He pointed to the door. “ruuHi! Now.”
Alima left the room, muttering a litany of Arabic curses followed by a prayer for Hasim bin Abbas kadir Jamal Rassad’s wicked soul.
Jamie flailed about, twisting, turning, trying to escape the terrifying images.
The plane crash. The fire. Debris. Lady Helena’s cries.
No. Not the plane.
A car coming at her. Flying through the air. Falling. Falling.
A stranger’s arms around her.
She tried to sit up but couldn’t. Someone held her down.
Fighting for her life, she balled her fist and struck out at the unknown assailant. An iron grip caught her wrist.
“Shhh, little one. You are safe now.”
The voice wasn’t threatening. More like soothing. A lover’s voice.
Jamie blinked several times to focus and stared into a face that would make Adonis hang his head in shame. A white cloth of some sort, secured by a thin gold band circling his forehead, covered his hair but framed a strong jaw shadowed by whiskers. Myster
ious eyes regarded her, the color somewhere between rich earth and molten steel. She saw concern and compassion there, and something familiar. But she’d never met him before. She’d definitely remember that, even though at the moment her memories were nothing more than fragments.
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice weak.
He loosened the grip on her wrist but didn’t completely let her go. “You are safe.”
Jamie tore her gaze away and did a frantic visual search of her surroundings. The room was a kaleidoscope of color and texture, from the rich aqua bedspread covering her to the ornate vases on the nearby black-lacquer end table. Tapestries hung from the bright yellow walls and pillows of every conceivable color rested on a white chair to her right. Sheer mosquito netting flowed beside her from the top of the bed. Practical, she thought, considering the size of the pests in Texas. Was she still in Texas?
No way. This was an exotic place. Beautiful. Foreign.
“Miss Morris, there is no need to be afraid.”
He knew her name.
She stared at the stranger once again. Was this Payune? Had he had a change of heart and decided to marry her after all?
Not likely, and she certainly hoped not.
Payune was reportedly nearing fifty. This man was in his mid thirties at best. And his clothes would indicate that he wasn’t from a small European country. They didn’t wear robes and cover their heads in Asterland, did they? Of course not.
This dark, handsome stranger was Aladdin in his prime. Valentino reincarnate. A desert knight.
Oh, Lordy. She’d been sold into slavery.
A ridiculous concept, Jamie realized. But not as ridiculous as being sold like prime livestock into a marriage to a man she’d never met, arranged by her father for the sake of his failing farm. Had she been kidnapped by this stranger? Did he expect her to do his bidding, too?
Why not? He was practically lying on top of her, all hard, muscled male. Every inch of him, from his solid chest pressing into her breasts to his muscular thigh braced between her legs. Not to mention all points in between, some that were way too obvious not to notice.
Whoever he was, she intended to let him know up front that she didn’t like being manhandled by strangers who had designs on her body.
Still pinned beneath his substantial frame, his face only inches from hers, Jamie struggled to squirm out from under him. The more she squirmed, the tighter his grasp on her wrists, the more aware she became of his strength…and his undeniable maleness.
“Be still, Miss Morris,” he said, his warm breath drifting across her face, his low voice strained. “You will hurt yourself.”
At the moment, she wanted to hurt him. Sort of.
Clenching her jaw tight, she spoke through her teeth. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, buddy, but if you expect me to be your love slave, then think again.”
He looked altogether confused. “I am here to protect you. I need your promise you will not attempt to run away. Only then will I let you go and explain.”
Whether or not she tried to run away would depend on his explanation. Still, she thought it best to agree. Considering how her luck had gone lately, she was prepared for anything. “Okay. You can get up now. I’ll stay put like a good girl.”
With a guarded expression, he unclasped her wrists and sat up but remained seated on the edge of the bed, leaving little distance between them. “I am Sheikh Hasim bin Abbas kadir Jamal Rassad, Prince of Amythra, currently residing in the city of Royal, in the state of Texas. You may call me Ben.”
Thank heavens. No way could she remember all those names in her current state of mind. But now she remembered him. Or at least remembered hearing about him. The gossip mill claimed he was filthy rich. A mystery man relatively new to Royal, who kept to himself. A member of the exclusive Texas Cattleman’s Club. But no one had bothered to mention his good looks. If you went for the tall, dark, exotic type.
“So tell me, Prince Ben, where am I?” she asked.
“You are in my house.”
“And how, pray tell, did I get here?”
He rubbed his chin. “You do not remember the car?”
She searched her brain, an effort in pain thanks to her throbbing head. “I remember I’d just picked up the dress.” Her mother’s dress. She tried not to panic. “Where is the dress now? I have to know.”
He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s hanging in the closet over there.” He indicated two double doors across the room. “It is safe.”
She felt somewhat better. At least the dress had survived. And so had she, for now. “I remember someone pushing me. Then falling.”
“I’m afraid I was the one who pushed you to the ground. That is how you struck your head.”
That explained her mother of all headaches. “Why?”
“To avoid the car coming at you.” His face turned suddenly serious. “You are in grave danger, Miss Morris.”
As if she couldn’t figure that one out herself. “And what, exactly, does this have to do with you?”
“It was decided by the Cattleman’s Club members that I should protect you. Your connection with Albert Payune has put you in a precarious position.”
How much more bizarre could her life get? “Connection? We didn’t have a connection! I’ve never even met the man.”
“Once you are feeling better, I will explain further.”
“I feel fine!” Jamie sat up in a rush only to encounter a pounding pain in her skull and a wave of dizziness. She lowered her head back onto the pillow. “Okay, maybe not that fine.”
Concern was reflected in his dark eyes. “Dr. Webb has examined you. He believes you suffer from a slight concussion. He ordered me to make sure you rest.”
So she hadn’t dreamed Dr. Webb’s appearance after all. “He was here?”
“Yes. He checked you thoroughly and said you need to ‘sleep it off.”’
Her eyes felt as heavy as two-by-fours. The same two-by-fours pounding her temples. “That’s a good idea. Think I’ll take another little nap.”
The sheikh stood in one graceful move and hovered above Jamie, straight and strong and gorgeous beyond the legal limit. “I will be nearby. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to call for me.”
Jamie felt a little woozy, but she didn’t know if it was from the bump on her head, or the man standing above her. “Sure.”
He studied her for another moment, sucking her in with those dark eyes, as if he were a human vacuum and she a tiny speck of dust. “I will make sure you are safe. As long as you are with me, no harm will come to you.”
With that, he left the room.
Jamie stared at the door long after it closed, wondering how the heck she’d gotten into this predicament. Her father, of course. If he hadn’t agreed to the blasted marriage arrangement, complete with a hefty reward, she would have lived the rest of her life never knowing anything about Albert Payune or Asterland. Or Sheikh Ben Rassad.
Okay, so maybe meeting the prince was a high point in all this mess. She had to admit he was definitely easy on the eye. A little too macho, maybe. But he had seemed genuinely concerned for her safety. Regardless, he still had lots of questions to answer, and soon.
Jamie yawned again. Too tired to think about anything but sleep at the moment, she closed her eyes and snuggled down into the soft bed, Prince Ben’s words echoing in her ears.
As long as you are with me, no harm will come to you.
Amazingly, she did feel safe. Secure. Protected.
After sleep again overtook her, Jamie dreamed pleasant dreams, not nightmarish images of doom. She had visions of desert sand, starlit nights…and her role as the love slave of a sexy sheikh named Ben.
Two
The soft moans thrust Ben to his feet. He had dozed on and off while keeping vigil at Jamie’s bedside but now found himself wide-awake, worried over her distressed state.
Lowering himself to the edge of the bed, he stroked her silky hair. “You ar
e safe,” he said softly. “I am here. No one will do you harm.”
She continued to thrash and muttered, “Please.”
A fierce surge of protectiveness streaked through Ben. Without thought, he slipped into the bed beside her and cradled her in his arms. She curled into him, her back to his front, fitting perfectly against his body. Although the room was dim, washed only in moonlight, he could see that the sheer muslin gown Alima had dressed her in rode high up her thighs. With one hand he drew it down, contacting smooth warm flesh. He quickly covered her with the satin sheet.
Torture, Ben thought. Or perhaps a test of his strength. Yet he was only a man, not superhuman, and his body reacted as any man’s would. But he would not let her go until she had calmed. He’d simply think of other things aside from her petite body, her round breasts, her bottom only inches from treacherous territory.
He tried to recall his impending appointments. His investments. His upcoming summer trip to Amythra to visit his mother.
His mother.
She would most surely be shamed by his reaction to the helpless woman in his arms. She would expect him to be strong. Maintain a steel reserve. She was stronger than any woman he had known, except, perhaps, Jamie Morris.
Yet at the moment, Jamie seemed vulnerable. Quite different from the hellion who had tried to deliver a blow to his face earlier. The woman who had serenaded the population of downtown Royal without caring who might hear.
She was most definitely strong. Determined. And she would never fit into his culture for that reason. He had witnessed his European mother’s struggles with his native customs on many occasions. But she had loved her husband dearly, and had adjusted as best she could. Now she was left alone in a place that still remained foreign to her, even after forty years. For that reason, Ben must visit her soon. After he was assured that Jamie Morris was safe.
Jamie stirred again, interrupting Ben’s thoughts and driving him to the brink of insanity. Her firm buttocks wiggled against his very overheated manhood. As soon as she settled, he would leave her and return to the cold, empty chair, although that thought held no appeal.
