by Annie West
What sort of man was he, so self-important that he’d accepted without question that any woman would want him?
He looked at her wry smile, her proud chin and shadowed eyes and knew she was strong in ways he’d never had to be. He felt pride, pleasure and gratitude that she was his...for now.
‘You couldn’t get away?’
Her mouth pursed. ‘I tried. Several times. But I didn’t get far. The law was on his side and I had no money, nothing but the clothes I stood up in. I couldn’t go to my friends for help. Those would be the first places he’d look. He even brought the police in to search—saying I’d been kidnapped!’
‘So he kept you in the house.’ No wonder she’d called herself a prisoner. He’d seen the house. It was old and rambling, with several courtyards, but he couldn’t imagine being locked up there. ‘How long?’
She shrugged. ‘Two years, more or less.’
‘Two years?’ Shock reverberated in his voice. ‘Surely...’ He shook his head, trying to process that it was possible in this day and age.
‘I know.’ Her voice grew husky and her gaze slid away. ‘I should have found a way to escape for good, even with his guards and the police on his side. But each time it got harder, the punishments harsher.’
‘I thought you said he didn’t hurt you?’ Joss’s hand clenched on the back of the seat but he resisted the urge to embrace her. She sat rigidly as if there were a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign emblazoned across her.
‘Not physical violence. But one by one he removed what he called my privileges. There was no phone or Net. I couldn’t go out and there were no visitors, not even my few distant family members. Finally he cancelled the newspapers and removed the books.’ Her eyes lifted to his. ‘We had a library of books, some hundreds of years old, collected by my family. They vanished overnight.’
Her hollow tone tore at Joss. He thought he’d known dysfunctional relationships, but Gamil could have taught even his parents.
‘All the servants changed, even the cook who’d been with us for years. No mirrors—’
‘No mirrors?’
‘They encourage vanity and licentiousness.’ Leila gave him a straight look. ‘I told you he was unhinged. My mother’s jewels disappeared. He only gave me back the pearls so I could impress you and he kept the money that should have been mine.’
Joss swallowed hard. He remembered how she wore that pendant again and again. She’d clutched the pearl bracelet the day he’d threatened to return her to Bakhara if she reneged on their agreement. Ice slid down his spine as he recalled the pearls scattering across the floor as shock froze her face.
Why hadn’t she told him?
Even as he thought it the answer came. After years of abuse why should she trust a stranger? A male stranger. One who had done business with her dreaded stepfather. Joss reviewed his actions from Leila’s perspective and his pride shrivelled. Had she thought him as odious as Gamil?
He felt physically ill, rejecting the comparison with every cell in his body.
Whatever her first impressions, Leila trusted him now. She’d trusted him with herself, with her virginity. It struck him that she opened herself to him now with an honesty beyond anything he’d experienced with anyone.
Her trust and strength humbled him.
‘After my last escape I was confined with bread and water in a storage room. That was what scared me most.’
‘That’s why you were so thin at the wedding?’ The truth hit him with a crippling blow. ‘You’d been starved?’
‘Shh.’ Leila looked around the restaurant but it was late and they were seated far from the rest of the diners. The staff kept their distance, respecting Joss’s earlier request for privacy.
‘Leila—tell me.’ He grabbed her hand, feeling the supple warmth of her grip, assuring himself she was recovered.
‘Not quite starved.’ Her tone was bitter. ‘I had to be well enough to marry. Gamil is ambitious and wants to leverage his position at court using your status.’
‘I played into his hands.’ It didn’t matter that the deal they’d struck gave Joss everything he’d wanted. He felt dirty, knowing he’d aided Gamil’s schemes.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Her fingers threaded his. ‘Because of you I got away. I escaped.’
At what price? Married to a man she’d never wanted. Terrified to go out.
‘Don’t look like that,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll scare the waiters.’
He looked into her bright eyes and wondered how she’d endured without giving up. ‘Tell me about the room where you were kept.’ He had to know it all.
She blinked but didn’t look away. ‘It was small. Just large enough to lie down. It had a high window that let light in but had no view.’ She paused. ‘It was a little bigger than the lift to your apartment.’
Joss’s breath hissed from his lungs. He’d been right about her terror. But he’d never imagined anything like this.
‘No wonder you didn’t want to go out.’
Her taut smile tugged at his heart.
‘Pathetic, isn’t it? The day I left home in Bakhara it suddenly struck me how big and dangerous the outside world was. How safe I was inside. Safe!’ She shook her head. ‘If it wasn’t funny it would be heartbreaking.’
Joss saw the self-disgust in her face and knew it was heartbreaking. That Leila had had to endure this. That even now she seemed to blame herself in some way.
He’d never felt such a connection, an awareness of another’s vulnerability, since Joanna. Yet this was different. It was more than pity and fear. There was admiration and much more—emotions he couldn’t name. They churned inside like a curling wave smashing down on the shore.
‘You’re a remarkable woman, Leila.’
Startled, her eyes rounded. ‘A freak, you mean?’
Joss wasn’t having any of that. He wrapped his arm round her and dragged her up against him, where she belonged.
‘I’d have gone crazy within weeks, locked up as you were.’ It was the truth. He revelled in open spaces and pitting himself against the elements. It was one of the reasons he’d taken to geology. That and the need to prove himself to his father. ‘I’d have been a gibbering wreck.’
He lifted his hand to her mouth, tracing the sultry shape of her natural pout, revelling this time in the tiny dart of electricity sparking from that touch.
‘You’re a survivor, Leila. You should be proud.’
What courage had it taken to survive? To walk away and embrace a new life with a man she didn’t know?
Joss wanted to wrap her close and not release her. Assure himself he had her safe where he wanted her—with him. But he forced himself to ease his hold. She’d had coercion enough.
‘What now, Leila? What do you want now you’re away from all that?’
He waited for her to say she’d take up her studies again or pursue the money Gamil had stolen from her. Obviously she’d want revenge on her stepfather. Who wouldn’t?
Yet the tension swarming in his belly had nothing to do with those things. It struck him that, now the truth was out, Leila might demand a release from their marriage.
He wasn’t ready to let her go. His whole body stiffened in rejection.
She tilted her head, her sudden smile stealing his breath.
‘Since you ask...’ she paused and his heart plunged to his toes ‘...I want to learn to drive.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘CLUTCH.’ THE INSTRUCTION was automatic but unnecessary. Already Leila had her foot on the clutch, changing gears with only a mild grate of the gearbox and a tiny judder of the powerful engine.
Joss watched her tongue slick her bottom lip, her brow crinkle in concentration, and felt an urge to stop the car and pull her into his embrace. To make love to her here despite the bucket se
ats, gear stick and restricted space in the sports car.
He had it bad when teaching a woman to drive aroused him. Once he’d have scorned the idea of teaching a lover to drive. His connection to the women who passed through his life was fleeting and based solely on pleasure.
Yet this was pleasure too.
Being with Leila, watching her grow in confidence with every turn of the wheel on the deserted estate road. Sharing her excitement at what must be a dazzling taste of freedom after the horrors she’d endured.
Joss wouldn’t have missed it for anything.
The idea of another man sharing this moment gouged a hole through his belly. He didn’t want to think of her with anyone else. He wanted her with him. Not just for sex, nor her social skills and connections.
He rubbed his chin, puzzling over that.
She’d thanked him profusely when he offered to teach her on a friend’s country estate. As if he bestowed an impossibly precious favour.
He felt a fraud. It was nothing to bring her here. He was the one who basked in the warmth of her radiant smile. Who had the pleasure of watching her excitement and confidence grow. Who’d reap the rewards of that excitement later.
‘Sorry.’ She grimaced as she changed down for a bend and grated the gearbox again. ‘I shouldn’t be driving anything so expensive.’
‘It’s a car, Leila. That’s all. It can be repaired or replaced like any other.’ His ego had never been caught up in owning status-symbol vehicles. He used four-wheel drives chosen for reliability on his site visits. This top-of-the-range sports model was purely to indulge his love of speed out of the city.
‘I suppose I should have waited and organised something more sedate for you.’ Had he been selfishly eager to treat her?
Leila shook her head, flyaway strands of mahogany hair catching his shirt as she manoeuvred around a curve and the breeze caught her hair. The scent of it, rich with sunshine and exotic flowers, tingled in his nostrils.
‘No! I love it. I love the way it responds to my touch with such power.’ Her husky laugh set anticipation bubbling in his bloodstream. Joss thought of the way Leila responded to his touch—with eager passion and an innocent generosity that belied the trauma she’d been through.
She was indomitable and resilient.
He’d never known a woman like her.
It struck him that his need to look after her was far removed from the brotherly concern he’d felt for Joanna. Poor Joanna hadn’t had the resources to fight the pressures she’d faced. But Leila, despite the panic attacks she seemed to be outgrowing, had an inner strength that shone through. He did no more than give her the chance to be herself.
Her resilience meant she’d be okay when the time came to part. She didn’t need him. She wouldn’t cling, as so many had before.
Joss frowned, disconcerted that that knowledge brought no satisfaction.
* * *
Leila stared up at the canopy of the willow. Sunlight filtered in translucent beams of soft green, giving this shady bower an otherworldly quality. Trailing branches stirred gently in the breeze, brushing the emerald turf. Water chuckled by in a narrow brook at the boundary of their secret picnic spot.
She watched Joss unpacking a hamper and knew he’d chosen this spot especially. Not just for its beauty but because it blended the outdoors with a sense of enclosure—perfect for a woman who until recently had suffered panic attacks leaving the apartment.
Joss’s was a practical sympathy—he just got on and did things for her without fuss. Wonderful things, like kissing away her anxiety in a lift, even yesterday in an unfamiliar building with strangers present. Her toes curled thinking of that kiss. It felt as if he’d welcomed her home when he’d opened his arms and drawn her close.
Afterwards she’d felt dazed and disoriented from what had been only a gentle caress. Yet it had twined ropes of longing round her, binding her to him.
She gulped down a clot of emotion.
‘Leila?’ Sharp as ever, he noticed. ‘Are you okay?’
‘How can you ask?’ She smiled. Her hands still trembled from the effort of controlling that growling, gorgeously sexy beast of a car. ‘I felt like I was flying.’
He shook his head, his one-sided smile plucking at something deep in her chest. ‘You weren’t going fast enough to get out of fourth gear.’
Leila shrugged. She’d spent so much time behind high walls. Controlling that powerful vehicle, steering it where she chose, was stunningly liberating. As was the fact Joss trusted her to manage it.
‘But I drove it. I did it myself.’
His smile faded. He nodded, his gaze holding hers so she felt its intensity.
‘That you did, Leila.’ He turned to the hamper. ‘We’d better organise proper lessons so you’re not dependent on me finding time to teach you.’
Leila bit back an instant protest. She wanted Joss to teach her. Not because she felt safe with him—that went without saying—but because today had been special, so special she wanted to do it again and again.
The thought stopped her voicing her protest. It was unreasonable to expect him to do this regularly. He ran a multinational corporation! He had back-to-back meetings scheduled for months.
Yet Joss had made it seem natural he should teach her to drive his designer sports car then picnic on a private estate. Just as he made it seem normal they spent so much time together, not just at charity galas and business dinners. They spent quiet evenings reading or watching films and lunched at superb restaurants that somehow stayed off the paparazzi radar.
Leila had got used to being with Joss, relaxing with him, enjoying his company.
Was she too dependent on him?
Surely not. If she’d learned one thing it was independence. She relied on no one but herself.
‘What is it?’ Joss looked up to see her watching. ‘I can’t have food on my face—we haven’t eaten.’
He drew his hand across his gold-tanned jaw and Leila was sucked into memory. Of her kissing that jaw in the dawn light. Of his bristles teasing her lips. Of the earthy, clean scent of aroused male in her nostrils and the texture of hot silk skin over hard muscles. Pungent pleasure swamped her and desire eddied, a familiar swirl, dragging at her abdomen.
‘Nothing.’ Why did she have to sound breathless? ‘I was just thinking.’ Leila blinked and saw his look change from curiosity to heavy-lidded awareness.
Instantly she plunged back into that heady place where nothing mattered except being with Joss. Why did he affect her this way? He’d assured her they’d go their separate ways when they’d sated this need for each other. But it grew stronger, not weaker.
Weeks it had been and she was no closer to pursuing her goals. She hadn’t even chosen a course to enrol in. As long as she could remember she’d wanted to be a diplomat, but now the urgency for that career had faded. She drifted, happy to share Joss’s life, interested in the snippets he revealed about his business. She’d even wondered about taking a role in managing the land she’d inherited, despite her lack of experience.
Was she in danger of giving up her goals just for the pleasure of being with Joss?
Or had her goals changed? Had her plans been out of loyalty to her father? It struck her that Gamil’s disapproval had cemented them because she knew he hated the notion.
What was it she really wanted?
Her heart thudded a tattoo as Joss stood, his eyes on hers as he stretched to his full, imposing height.
His expression told her he’d lost interest in food.
He watched her as if seeking a sign.
Leila drank in the sight of him, solidly muscled and uncompromisingly male. She read desire in those sin-dark eyes and strength in those massive hands. She remembered his tenderness as he kissed her, his generosity as he’d given her free rein with his rui
nously expensive car. His teasing as he’d distracted her from fear and supported her growing confidence.
Anticipation welled as Joss strode to her.
He dropped to his knees where she sat, his hand anchoring her hair from her face. She loved the feel of him massaging her scalp. Pleasure speared every erogenous zone.
‘We’ll eat later,’ he murmured, his mouth a kiss away.
Leila looked into his eyes and her soul shivered at the depth of what she felt. He was...he was...
She couldn’t put it into words. Instead she cupped his jaw, felt a tremor of response and pressed her lips to his. Sweet pleasure unfurled.
She’d live for the moment and worry about the future later.
* * *
‘You’ll be fine,’ Joss murmured. ‘These are your people.’
It wasn’t what he said but the way his voice feathered the bare skin of her neck that sent a tide of delight rippling through her.
‘And you look stunning.’ He touched her wrist, brushing the opal-and-diamond bracelet he’d given her. Between her breasts hung a matching pendant of green opal shot with scarlet fire. It was magnificent, worthy of a queen, and Joss had given it to her, saying it reminded him of the fire in her eyes when they argued. And when they made love. He made her feel precious.
Her hand slid down the heavy peacock silk of her designer gown. ‘I know what you’re doing, Joss. You’re trying to distract me.’
Though the Bakhari Embassy in London had been home territory once, a lifetime had passed since then. The imposing mosaic-and-marble reception hall with its crystal chandeliers and glittering throng was a far cry from her memories. She was as nervous as a child playing dress up, summoned to a reception to meet the new sheikh and his bride.
Last time she’d been on Bakhari territory it had been her wedding day. Before that she’d spent years under the tyranny of a man who by Bakhari law had had ultimate power over her. Her love of her homeland was soured by bad memories.
