A Summer Smile

by Iris Johansen

  high, hollowed cheekbones and a well-shaped mouth that held a hint of leashed sexuality. Leashed. Yes, everything about him fit that word. His tall, slim frame, garbed in casual blue jeans and a black sweatshirt, gave the impression of tremendous strength, rigidly restrained. His expression was a smooth, guarded mask of charm. Those striking blue-green eyes were cool and slightly cynical beneath slashing dark brows.

  "I should be the one to apologize for intruding into your household, Sheikh El Kabbar," she said. "You've been very kind. I promise I won't abuse your hospitality any longer than I have to."

  He shrugged. "Daniel wishes you to remain here. My home has many rooms and the servants have little to do. You are welcome to stay as long as Daniel enjoys your presence."

  Well, that certainly put her firmly in her place, she thought wryly. It appeared that the sheikh's charming facade was just that. Beneath that mask was an almost brutal honesty and a touch of ruthless-ness. "It's not a question of my entertainment value, Sheikh El Kabbar," she said dryly. "When my health is improved, I'll leave with or without Daniel. I'm not a harem girl or khadim waiting on any man's pleas­ure. In case you haven't heard, Sedikhan has out­lawed slavery in any form."

  "But the laws of Sedikhan don't necessarily apply to my province," he said with a slight smile. "I believe you'll find that out shortly. I run my lands to suit myself." His gaze raked slowly over her. "You're a very lovely woman. I can see how Daniel would be intrigued by you. If you are generous with your body, he will treat you well. He is kind to his women." His lips twisted. "Far kinder than I. You would be wise to be less defiant and more accommodating. It is, after all, what a woman is most proficient at doing."

  She shook her head incredulously. "I can't believe this. You're speaking as if women have no wills or minds of their own."

  "Am I?" The slashing black brows lifted mock­ingly. "I have no desire to give that impression. I know women can have extraordinarily strong wills. As for their mental powers"—he lifted one shoulder in a half shrug—"they can be very cunning as well."

  "Cunning?" Zilah echoed distastefully. "What a horribly denigrating word. I regard myself as intelli­gent, but I am nor cunning." She frowned. "Do you always speak to women so insultingly?"

  "No, usually I'm quite flowery and utterly charm­ing," he drawled outrageously. "I'm only honest with them when they might offer a threat to me or mine." Her eyes widened. "You think I'm some kind of a threat?"

  "It's a possibility." His eyes were cool, shimmer­ing ice floes. "As I said, Daniel is intrigued. It is not like Daniel to regard women in a serious light. He was very emotional yesterday when you were so ill. Emo­tion has a way of weakening a man's defenses. I will not have him hurt. Miss Dabala. You must ply your woman's wiles on someone else. Do you under­stand?"

  "Perfectly," she said calmly. "I'm to fall meekly into Daniel's bed, but on no account am I to venture to think or regard myself as anything but a vassal." She lifted a brow. "Have I got it right?"

  He nodded. "Perhaps you are more intelligent than cunning after all, Miss Dabala. You're quite correct."

  "I just wanted to make sure I understood." She met his eyes and said clearly, "Go to hell, Sheikh El Kabbar."

  There was a flicker of surprise in his face, fol­lowed by a touch of amusement. "I've found some women capable of sending men there, but not by sug­gestion alone. I'm afraid you're going to have to do better than that."

  "I have no desire to try to influence your destiny in any way, Sheikh El Kabbar," she said wearily. "Or Daniel's either. All I want to do is to get well enough to go to Zalandan. The minute the doctor releases me, I won't bother you again."

  "Ah, but the doctor is a very cautious man where certain patients are concerned. You may be with us for some time. That's why I thought we should have this chat." His smile was brilliant in his bronzed face. "Enjoy your stay with us, Miss Dabala. I promise that on the next occasion we meet I'll be as meticulously polite and diplomatic as anyone could wish."

  "I'd rather you'd be rude but honest," she said bluntly. "I haven't any use for polite deception."

  For an instant there was a trace of admiration in those guarded eyes. "I can see how you would appeal to Daniel. He has a great respect for honesty as well. That was why I was a bit alarmed when—" He broke off. His gaze narrowed thoughtfully on her face. Respect and admiration are far more dangerous than lust. I'll have to keep a close eye on you. Miss Dabala." His gaze once more traveled over her, linger­ing on her naked shoulders above the sheet. There was suddenly a fugitive twinkle in his eyes. "A task I'm going to take a good deal of aesthetic pleasure in performing." Before she could reply he had turned away and was strolling toward the door. "You have such superb skin that it's really a shame to cover even an inch of it, but Daniel's being very stuffy about not keeping you totally naked for the duration of your stay here. As your own clothing was blown up with :he plane, I've taken the liberty of ordering you a com­plete wardrobe from the stores in Marasef." He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming

  with mischief. "Don't worry, Daniel also insisted on paying for everything, so you're not beholden to me for a single handkerchief. What a pity. I enjoy having beautiful women in my debt. Good day, Miss Dabala." Zilah found herself staring at the closed door with a mixture of indignation and amusement. Philip El Kabbar was utterly impossible, obviously a complete male chauvinist and more arrogant than even a ruling sheikh had any right to be. She should be ready to roast him over open flames after that little conversation. Yet there had been a thread of warmth and humor beneath the mask of glittering hardness that for some inexplicable reason had kept her from feeling too much animosity.

  There was a perfunctory knock on the door, and it swung open. Daniel entered, balancing a covered rattan tray in one hand and a large box in the other. He was dressed even more casually than El Kabbar had been, in cutoff jeans and an army-green tank top. However, nothing about Daniel's vitality was leashed. It was almost an explosive force as he strode into the room. "I ran into Philip in the hall," he said grimly as he kicked the door shut with his sandaled foot and strode toward the bed. "Was he decent to you?"

  "Isn't he usually decent to his guests?" she asked evasively.

  "Don't play word games with me, Zilah." He tossed the box he was carrying on the bed and settled the tray on her lap. "I want an answer from you." He sat down on the bed beside her and plucked the nap­kin from the covered tray to reveal eggs and fingers of buttered toast. "Eat your breakfast."

  A little smile tugged at her lips. "Which do you want me to do first?"

  "Both." He scowled. "Hell, I wanted to be here to run interference for you. I only stopped for a minute to pick up that box from the helicopter. I should have known Philip would do something to upset you."

  "He didn't upset me," she said as she took a bite of toast. "I had no trouble holding my own with your friend, the sheikh. Though I think he was doing his best to intimidate me. He appears to have very little respect for the gentler sex."

  "That's because he's never found them to be par­ticularly gentle." He too picked up a piece of toast from her plate and began to nibble it absentmind-edly. "That, along with having a father who believed all women belonged in a seraglio, wasn't conducive to developing warm and tender feelings toward woman­kind. He doesn't trust them worth a damn and acts accordingly."

  "Is that why he doesn't have any women servants?"

  "Probably. I never asked him," he said. "Look, I know he said something that wasn't exactly hospita­ble. When I told him you were staying for a bit, he had that thoughtful look that usually means trouble. I'd appreciate it if you'd ignore it. Philip is a good friend to me. I'll see that it doesn't happen again."

  "He is a good friend to you. That was why he was trying to save you from my vampish ways. I got the distinct impression he believed I was about to clip all your locks off as Delilah did Samson's." She tilted her head to look at him with mock objectivity. "I could have told him that with your beard
it would be entirely too much trouble."

  Daniel's hand rose quickly to his jaw. "You don't like my beard?"

  She had a fleeting memory of the soft virile brush of that beard rubbing against her naked breasts and she felt a sudden thrust of aching heat go through her. She dropped her eyes to her plate. "I like it. I just don't have any desire to wear it on my belt as a trophy." She smiled. "That particular shade of red doesn't go well with my coloring."

  "Oh, I don't know," he said blandly. "I think you could get used to wearing me on your person in no time at all." He took another bite of toast before adding softly, "Or in your person."

  Her startled gaze flew up to meet his. His eyes were soft and midnight-dark and his face was filled with sensuality. She was abruptly conscious of the warm hardness of his naked thigh pressing against her own through the thin satin barrier of the sheet. There was a sudden tingling clenching between her thighs that made her inhale sharply.

  Daniel muttered a curse beneath his breath and got to his feet. "Dammit, I told you I was a roughneck. Things just come out." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll try to watch it."

  Why was Daniel upset? The remark hadn't been obscene, merely suggestive. Yet Daniel was acting as if he'd just propositioned a nun. "It didn't offend me," she said, bewildered.

  "Good," he said briskly. He bent over the bed and opened the lid of a large box he'd brought into the room just before he'd gotten her breakfast tray. "These are for you. There are more boxes in the heli­copter. The servants will bring them in later. I went through this one and it seems to contain all you'll need for right now." He pulled out wisps of lacy underthings and a chocolate-colored robe that was only a sheer float of accordion pleats. "I suppose I should have expected something like this. Philip ordered the wardrobe from the same store his Khadims usually use."

  "Considering his attitude toward women, it doesn't really surprise me," Zilah said dryly. "He probably thinks that's our sole role in life and we

  should dress for it. I can't say I'm overly fond of your friend."

  "That bad, was he?" Daniel asked gloomily. "I was afraid he might be. Well, you may not be crazy about his manners, but he has one attribute that will win your approval."

  "And what is that?"

  "He's a damn fine rider and has one of the most famous stables in the Middle East. I'll take you to see it tomorrow if you're well enough."

  Zilah's face lit up. "Horses? I'd love to see them. Couldn't we go today? I feel fine."

  Daniel was shaking his head. "Not today. You may feel fit, but you're bound to have a reaction from the fever you had yesterday. The doctor said you were to take it easy for the next few days. That means today you stay in bed."

  Zilah's expression clouded mutinously. "But I feel fine. I'm very tough usually. I don't know why that scorpion sting affected me so violently."

  "You may think you're Annie Oakley and Calam­ity Jane rolled into one, but today you're definitely playing Camille." He turned to the door. "Finish your breakfast. I'll go to the study and see if I can find a few games to keep you occupied. Any preferences?"

  "I want to see the horses," she said stubbornly. "I Aouldn't try to ride them without the sheikh's per­mission, of course. I just want to see them."

  "Games," Daniel repeated firmly as he strode through the doorway. "I'll be back in a few minutes to pick up the tray. Eat."

  He was doing it again. Just because she'd been so helpless after she'd been stung by the scorpion, he Aas taking charge and giving orders as if she had no rill or mind of her own. She lifted the tray off her lap and set it on the bed beside her. She'd had enough to eat, blast it. She'd also had enough orders for one

  day. First, El Kabbar with his autocratic instruc­tions, and now Daniel. She wasn't about to lie in bed and be waited on by Daniel. He had already done too much for her. When he came back she would tell him that, but she had better look less like the Camille of Daniel's metaphor when she did it. The first thing she needed was a shower and then to brush her teeth and wash her hair. . . .

  She was already tossing the sheet aside and swinging her legs to the floor as she reached for the dark brown negligee. It was just as transparent as she had feared, and she made a face as she slipped into its sheer folds and buttoned the top button. She gathered up the bra and panties, her eyes on the intricately carved door across the room that must lead to the bathroom. Her legs were shaky and her right ankle throbbed in protest as she got slowly to her feet. She would be all right in a moment, she assured herself staunchly. Her head was swimming, but that was probably perfectly natural after being in bed almost twenty-four hours. She took a deep breath and some of the dizziness subsided.

  All she had to do was to take it slowly and she'd be fine. She took another step forward and then another. Unfortunately, the philosophy of mind over matter seemed not to be working in this case. Her knees were now shaking so badly that by the time she got halfway across the room she could scarcely con­trol them. It took only a slight stumble on the edge of the Persian carpet to send her tumbling in a heap on the floor.

  "Damn!" She could feel the helpless tears mist her eyes and she blinked them back determinedly. So stupid to be upset over a little tumble. It must be because she was so wretchedly weak. She had strug­gled to her knees and was about to try to get to her feet again when the door swung open.

  "Good Lord in heaven!" Daniel exploded. He slammed the door behind him, strode across the room, and tossed the three boxes he was carrying on the bed. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I leave you alone for a few minutes and you're up run­ning around." He was standing before her now and his dark blue eyes were blazing. He grasped her shoulders and hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.

  "I just wanted to take a shower," she said defen­sively. "And brush my teeth."

  "And then see the horses," he added grimly. "I wish I had never mentioned them to you."

  "I planned that for later," she said with dignity. "I just wanted to be really clean again. I'm a total mess. Just look at me."

  "I am," he said huskily. He had been trying to keep from doing just that since the moment he'd walked into the room. She was beautifully, lushly naked beneath the sheer dark brown of the negligee. He could see the dark pink thrust of the nipples that crowned her full breasts, the slim silkiness of her waist and abdomen beneath the material that veiled instead of covered. His gaze was drawn irresistibly to the shadowy triangle at the apex of her thighs, and he felt an aching thrust of desire in his loins. Her sun-burnished hair was falling in shining clouds around her shoulders, and he wanted to reach out and tangle his hand in her locks. To press her close to him so that he could feel that dark, shadowy softness against his hardness.

  God, he could almost feel her rubbing against him, her nipples tautening for him as they had in the cave that night. They were peaking now as he looked at her, and he felt a jolt of need so intense it was pain­ful. The bed was so damned close and she would want it. She might be frightened at first, but she had

  been responsive before. Hell, she was responsive now. He could see the pulse pounding wildly in the hollow of her throat and he reached out a hand to half encircle it, pressing his thumb gently to that reveal­ing pulsing. He bent forward, his lips only a breath from hers. He could see the faint cut where Hassan had struck her and he felt a surge of primitive rage rush through him that somehow only intensified the desire he was experiencing. "Is your lip still sore?"

  "What?" She had forgotten about it. It was a moment before she could pull her attention from the spell Daniel was weaving about her with only the light touch of his hand and the smoky hotness of his eyes. "Oh, no." She nervously moistened her lips with her tongue. She felt his hand on her throat tighten com­pulsively. "It doesn't hurt at all anymore."

  "That's good," he said hoarsely. He could feel her warmth reaching out to him through the film of material separating them. It would take only a motion of his hand to brush aside the robe and close his fingers on her breast
. To lift that rosy nipple to his lips and nibble and suck until she gave that little breathless moan that excited him so. She would dig her fingers into his shoulders as she had in the dark­ness of the cave. He had noticed in the shower this morning that he still had the marks of her nails on his body. Such a little thing, but it had caused an instant arousal that had forced him to change the flow of water in the shower from warm to ice cold. Then he would run his hands slowly down her smooth warm back. He would cup her buttocks in his palms and lift her, press her against his aching arousal, make her take him into—-

  Make her take him! The shock of that subcon­scious thought sent an electrifying jolt through him. He had been within an inch of plunging into her like a rutting stag, not caring whether she wanted it or

  not. His only concern had been the need for release from the painful aching in his loins. He felt sick with disgust. Only yesterday he had told Clancy that he wasn't going to touch her, that he was going to teach her to trust him. He had been the one who was going to show her that all men weren't animals. His predic­ament would have been funny if it hadn't possessed the elements of tragedy. Even realizing how close he had come, he was still trembling like a hound who had just scented a bitch in heat. And the most mad­dening aspect of this entire situation was that he could tell Zilah didn't even realize it existed. It was all there in the clear wonder of the eyes gazing up at him. In spite of her experiences as a child, she still possessed an innocence that amazed him. She knew about violation but she obviously wasn't aware of the more subtle nuances of sexual arousal. The time she had spent in the House of the Yellow Door was a thing apart for her, not connected with their relationship. She was even accepting their lovemaking in the cave as a temporary aberration on his part. Perhaps he should be grateful she was looking at it like that.