Читать книгу Bound To Her Desert Captor - Michelle Conder - Страница 11
ОглавлениеJAG STOOD OUTSIDE the door to Regan James’s hotel room and questioned the validity of his actions. He’d been doing that the whole drive over.
After meeting her in the bar it was clear that she knew nothing about her brother’s whereabouts. She also seemed to know nothing about his sister being with him. But then she had grown cagey when he’d probed her about the last time her brother had contacted her, and he didn’t know if that was because her sense of self-preservation had kicked in, or whether she had something to hide.
Regardless, she was his only link to Chad James and she would undoubtedly have a wealth of significant information about her brother that could lead him to find his sister.
A predatory stillness entered his body as he raised his hand to knock at the door. Regan James had been a revelation at the bar. He’d been right when he’d first seen her photo. Her eyes were not brown, they were cinnamon, and her hair was a russet gold that reminded him of the desert sands lit by the setting sun. Her voice had also been a revelation; a husky mixture of warmth and pure sex.
She had evidently reminded some of the other men in the bar of the same thing because Jag had noticed the sensual speculation in more than one male gaze as she had moved through the bar. She had a slender grace that drew the eye and her smile was nothing short of stunning. Even his own breathing had quickened at that first sight of her, and when she’d stood in front of his table, her doe eyes wide and uncertain, he’d had the shocking impulse to reach across the table and drag her into his lap.
It had been a long time since he’d responded to a woman with such unchecked desire and the only reason he was even here was because he’d realised that he couldn’t interrogate her in the bar. As it was, some of his people had started to recognise him despite the fact that he’d shaved off his customary neat beard and moustache. He rubbed his hand across his clean-shaven jaw, quite liking the sensation of bare skin. Instantly the thought of rubbing his cheek along Regan James’s creamy décolletage entered his head and altered his breathing.
He scowled at the unruly thought. It had been a long time since he’d been influenced by his emotions rather than his intellect as well; some might have said never. Milena often accused him of having ice running through his veins, of being inhuman. He wasn’t. He was as human as the next man, as his physical reaction to Regan James earlier had proven.
The fact was, Jag had learned to control his emotions at an early age and he didn’t see anything wrong with that. As a leader it was essential that he keep a cool head when everyone else was losing theirs. He had certainly never let a pretty face or a sexy body influence his decision-making process and he never would.
Irritated that he was even pondering emotions and sex, he raised his fist to bang on the door.
He heard the sound of water being shut off and a feminine, ‘Just a minute.’
He let out a rough breath. Excellent; she was just out of the shower.
The door opened wide and he found himself staring into Regan James’s gorgeous eyes. Seconds seemed to lengthen into minutes as his eyes automatically travelled down her slender form.
‘You!’
‘Me,’ Jaeger growled, his voice roughened by the swift rise of his body at the sight of her in a cotton dressing gown and towel around her head. He pushed past her into the room before she had a chance to collect herself and slam the door in his face.
‘Hold on. You can’t come barging in here.’
Jag didn’t bother to point out the obvious. That he already had. Instead he scanned the small room, looking for any signs that might clue him in as to where her brother might be.
‘Did you hear me?’ She yanked on his arm to turn him towards her and the move was so unexpected, so shocking that he did indeed turn towards her, a frown on his face. Nobody touched him without first being given permission to do so. Ever.
His eyes narrowed as she clutched the lapels of her robe closed, making him acutely aware that she was naked beneath the thin cloth. He wanted nothing more than to wrench the garment from her body and sink into her feminine softness until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be burdened by duty. Until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be alone. But no one could escape destiny and one night in this woman’s arms wouldn’t change anything. Duty and loneliness went hand in hand. He’d learned that from watching his father.
Savagely tamping down on needs that had materialised from who knew where, he scowled at her.
‘I heard you.’
‘Then...’ She lifted her chin in response to his brusqueness. ‘What are you doing here?’
Jag glanced at the photo of her brother in his hand before flicking it onto the coffee table. ‘You left this behind.’
Her gaze landed on the photo. ‘Well...thanks for returning it, but you could have left it with the front desk downstairs.’
Ignoring her, Jag raised the flap of her suitcase and peered at the contents. ‘Is this all the luggage you have?’
Frowning at him, she crossed the room and slammed it closed. ‘That’s none of your business.’
Deciding that he’d wasted enough time humouring this woman, Jag gave her a look that usually sent grown men into hiding. ‘I asked you a question.’
This close, he dwarfed her in height and form, but her instincts for survival must have been truly lost because she still didn’t move back from him.
‘And I asked you to leave,’ she shot back.
Jag’s lip curled. He would have thought her much braver than she looked if not for that pulse point throbbing like a battering ram at the base of her neck.
‘I’m not leaving.’ His voice held a dark warning. ‘Not before you’ve told me everything you know about your brother.’
‘You do know my brother, don’t you?’ Finally she took a quick step backwards. ‘Do you also know where he is? Did you lie about that?’
‘I ask the questions. You answer them,’ he stated coldly.
She shook her head. ‘Who are you?’
‘That is not important.’
‘Do you have my brother?’ Her voice held a fine tremor of panic. ‘You do, don’t you?’
Jag’s lip curled into a snarl. ‘If I had your brother, why would I be here?’
‘I don’t know.’ Those cinnamon-brown eyes were riveted to his. ‘I don’t know what you want or why you’re here.’ She swallowed heavily and Jag felt his chest constrict at her obvious fear. The need to soothe it—the need to soothe her—took him completely by surprise.
Knowing this would go a lot easier if she were relaxed he tried for a conciliatory tone. ‘There’s no need to be afraid, Miss James. I merely want to ask you some questions.’
His saying her name seemed to jolt something loose inside of her. He saw the rise of panic in the way her eyes darted to the side, clearly searching out an avenue of escape. Before he could think of how to placate her, to put her at ease, she darted, quick as a whippet, towards the hotel room phone.
If he’d wanted to alert hotel security to his presence he’d have called them himself and he had no choice but to stop her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and lifting her bodily off the ground.
She fought him like a little cat with its tail caught in a door, her nails digging into his forearms, the towel around her head whipping him in the face before falling to the ground.
‘Keep still,’ Jag growled, wincing as her heel connected with his shin. For a little thing she had a lot of spunk in her and if he wasn’t so irritated he’d be impressed. ‘Dammit, I’m not—’ Jag grunted out an expletive as her elbow came perilously close to connecting with his groin.
Deciding to put an end to her thrashing, he spun her around to face him and gripped her hands behind her back, bringing her body into full contact with his. Her flimsy robe had become dislodged during the struggle and this new position put her barely constrained breasts flat up against the wall of his chest. His traitorous body registered the impact and responded as if it belonged to a fifteen-year-old youth rather than a thirty-year-old man who was also a king.
She panted as she glared up at him, her wet hair wild around her flushed face. Jag’s breath stalled. Like this, with her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her breathing ragged, she looked absolutely magnificent. And that was absolutely irrelevant.
‘I’m going to put you down,’ he said carefully. ‘If you run again, or go for the weapon in your handbag, I’ll restrain you. If you stay put this will be a lot easier.’
For him at least.
Her fulminating glare told him she didn’t believe him, but at least she’d stopped struggling.
He shook his head when she remained stubbornly silent and released her anyway. He was twice her size; if she ran again he’d stop her again. Only he’d prefer not to. It was most likely due to the stress of his sister’s disappearance, but being this close to Regan James was playing havoc with his senses.
‘Where is your phone?’
He’d check to see if she’d received any calls during the day and move on from there. He glanced into her angry face when she didn’t immediately answer. By the set of her jaw she had no intention of doing so.
‘Miss James, do not infuriate me again by making this more difficult than it has to be.’
‘Infuriate you! That’s rich! You follow me to my hotel, barge into my room and then attack me. And you’re the one who’s infuriated?’
‘I did not attack you,’ Jag said with all the patience of a saint. ‘I restrained you and I will do so again if you run again. Be warned.’
She folded her arms across her chest, a shiver racing down her body. ‘What do you want?’ She lifted her chin at a haughty angle.
‘Not you,’ he grated, ‘so you can rest easy about that.’
She looked at him as if she didn’t believe him and he could hardly blame her after the way he’d handled her. Still, it was true. He preferred his lovers sophisticated, compliant and willing. She was none of those three. So why was he so affected by her?
‘Take a seat,’ he growled, ‘so we can get down to what it is that I do want. Which is information about your brother.’
When she remained stubbornly standing Jag sighed and sat himself.
‘A week ago your brother wrote to you. Have you spoken to him since?’
‘How do you know he wrote to me?’
‘I ask the questions, Miss James,’ he reminded her with forced patience. ‘You answer them.’
‘I’m not telling you anything.’
‘I would seriously advise you to reconsider that approach.’ His voice was steely soft. She might not know it but there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to find his sister, and the reminder that this woman’s brother had her reignited his anger. She looked at him as if she wanted to bite him and he felt another unbidden surge of lust hit him hard.
‘No, I haven’t heard from him,’ she finally bit out.
‘What made you come to Santara?’
Her lips compressed and for a moment he thought she might defy him again. ‘Because he lives here. And I was worried when he didn’t answer his cell phone.’
‘He did live here.’ He wasn’t going to for much longer.
She shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t move without telling me.’
‘I take it you’re close.’
‘Very.’
The soft conviction in her voice jolted something loose inside his chest. He had once been that close to his own siblings. Then his father had died in a light-aircraft crash that had made him King. There hadn’t been time for closeness after that. There hadn’t been room for it.
‘What do you know about what your brother has been up to lately?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Really?’ He watched the flush of guilt rise along her neck with satisfaction.
‘I don’t,’ she said, shifting from one foot to the other, her eyes flashing fire and brimstone at him as she fought her desire to defy him. He would have been amused if he didn’t find her audacity so invigorating. So arousing.
‘I mean, I know that he was enjoying work, that he liked to explore the countryside on weekends, that he had just bought a new toaster oven he was particularly proud of, and that he had a new assistant.’
‘A new assistant?’
‘Yes. Look, I’m not answering any more of your questions until you answer mine.’ She planted her hands on her hips, inadvertently widening the neck of her robe. ‘Why are you so interested in my brother?’
Dragging his gaze up from her shadowy cleavage, he savagely tamped down on his persistent libido. ‘He has something of mine.’ His jaw clenched as he wondered how Milena was. Whether she was okay, or if she was in trouble. If she needed him.
‘He stole from you?’
The shock in her voice pulled his mouth into a grim slash. ‘You could say that.’
* * *
Regan noted the subtle shift in his muscles when he answered her, the coiled tension that clenched his jaw and his fists at the same time. Again she thought of a mountain lion ready to spring. Whatever her brother had taken it was important to this man. And that, at least, explained his interest in Chad. But, while her brother had gone through a couple of rough years after their parents died, he wasn’t a bad person. He was smart, much smarter than her, which was why she had worked so hard to make sure he finished high school, finally fulfilling his potential with a university degree in AI at the top of his class. An achievement that had brought him to this country that was, from the little she had seen, both untamed and beautiful.
Much like the stranger in front of her who left her breathless whenever he trained his blue gaze on her as if he was trying to see inside her. Possibly she hated that most of all; the way her body responded to his with just a look.
He was watching her now and it took all her concentration to ignore the sensations spiralling through her. If he hadn’t touched her before, grabbed her and held her hard against him it might have been easier.
Regan’s nipples tightened at the memory of his arm brushing over her. He was built like a rock, all hard dips and plains that had been a perfect foil for her own curves. And she was in a hotel room alone with him. A man who outweighed her by about a hundred pounds.
‘It wasn’t Chad,’ she said fiercely, forcing her mind back on track.
‘It was.’
‘My brother isn’t a thief,’ she said with conviction. ‘You’ve made a mistake.’
‘I don’t have the luxury of making mistakes in my line of work. Which I have to get back to. Where’s your phone?’
‘Why do you want my phone?’
Thick black lashes narrowed so that the blue of his eyes was almost completely concealed. ‘I’ve humoured you enough, Miss James. Where is it?’
He uncoiled from the sofa, all latent, angry male energy, and she instinctively stepped back. He noticed, causing her temper to override her anxiety. ‘First tell me who you are. You owe me at least that for scaring the life out of me before.’
‘Actually I don’t owe you anything, America.’ His gaze travelled over her with blatant male appraisal. ‘I am the King of Santara, Sheikh Jaeger Salim al-Hadrid.’
‘The King?’ Regan clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. The man might have an expensive-looking haircut, now that she could see it without the headdress he’d worn earlier, but with his dark clothing and scuffed boots he looked more like a mercenary than a king. And then another thought struck. Had he been hired to kill Chad? Did he think she would inadvertently lead him to her brother? ‘I doubt that. Who are you really?’
She saw instantly that laughing at this man was the wrong thing to do. His blue gaze pinned her to the spot, his body going hunting-still. ‘I am the King,’ he said coldly, taking a step towards her.
‘Okay, okay.’ Regan held her hand out to ward him off. ‘I believe you.’ She didn’t but he didn’t need to know that. As long as he left—and soon—that was all she needed him to do.
She forced her brain to forget about the perfect symmetry of his face and start thinking more about surviving. He was clearly a madman—or a potential killer—and she was alone with him in her room.
Fresh fear spiked along her spine. She tried to remember that everyone said she had a gift for communicating but this was no recalcitrant seven-year-old with a smartphone hidden beneath his desk.
‘You think I’m lying?’ he said softly.
‘No, no.’ Regan rushed to assure him, only to have him bark out a harsh sound that was possibly laughter.
‘Unbelievable.’
He shook his head and Regan briefly measured the distance from her to the door.
‘Too far,’ he murmured, as if reading her mind. Probably not difficult, since she was staring at the door as if she was willing it to open by itself. Which she was.
‘Look—’
He moved so quickly she barely got one word out before he was in front of her. ‘No more questions. No more games. Give me your phone or I’ll tear everything apart until I find it.’
‘Bathroom.’
His eyes narrowed.
‘I was taking a shower when you turned up,’ she said. ‘I like to play music while I’m in there.’
‘Get it.’
Nearly demanding that he say ‘please’, Regan decided that the best thing she could do was to stay quiet. The sooner he got what he was looking for, the sooner he would leave.
Moving on wooden legs, she walked towards the bathroom, coming up short when he followed her. Staring back at him in the bathroom mirror, she saw just how big he was, his wide shoulders filling the doorway and completely blocking out the view of the room behind him.
Their eyes connected and for a brief moment awareness charged the air between them, turning her hot. Flustered, she dropped her eyes and picked up her phone. She handed it to him, crossing her arms over her chest in a purely protective gesture.
‘Password?’
Heat radiated from his body, surrounding her, and she wished he’d move back. ‘Trudyjack,’ she said grudgingly.
‘Your parents’ names?’ He gave her a bemused look. ‘You might as well have used ABC.’
Regan’s eyes flashed to his. How did he know they were her parents’ names? How did he know so much about her?
‘Who are you?’ she whispered, frightened all over again.
‘I told you. I am the King of Santara. I knew everything about you less than an hour after your plane landed in my country.’
Regan swallowed hard and pressed herself against the basin behind her. Could he really be who he said he was? It didn’t seem possible, and yet he did have an unmistakable aura of power and authority about him. But then so did killers, she imagined.
She watched him scroll through her contact list and emails, his scowl darkening in the lengthening silence.
‘Chad’s phone is switched off,’ she said, unable to keep her vow of silence from moments ago. She couldn’t help it. She’d never been good with silences and when she was nervous that only became worse. ‘I know because I’ve tried to call him daily.’
‘He doesn’t have his phone with him.’
‘Then what are you searching for on my phone?’
‘A burner number. An email from an unknown source.’
‘How do you know he doesn’t have it with him?’
Ignoring her question, he asked another one of his own. ‘Does he have a second phone?’
Regan frowned. Why would Chad not take his phone with him? His phone was his lifeline. ‘No. But I wouldn’t tell you even if he did.’
His blue eyes melded with hers, a zing of heat landing low in her belly.
‘You like to provoke me, don’t you, Miss James?’
Regan’s heart skipped a beat at his warning tone. No, she didn’t like to provoke him. She really didn’t.
With a look of disgust he pocketed her phone. She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t keep it because her phone was her lifeline too, but at this point she’d do almost anything to placate him and make him go away.
‘Satisfied?’ she asked, the word husky on her lips.
‘Hardly.’ His gaze raked down over her again and she became acutely aware of her nudity beneath her robe. The small room seemed to shrink even more and the air grew heavy between them, making it nearly impossible for her to breathe. The man had a dire effect on her system, there was no question about that.
‘Why were you so keen to jump on a plane and fly here after that one email?’
‘I...’ Regan swallowed. ‘I was worried. It’s not like Chad to be out of contact.’
‘So you rushed over here because you thought he might be in trouble? Do you always put your brother first, or is it that you like to feel indispensable?’
Regan’s pride jolted at his words because there was some truth to them. Becoming Chad’s guardian and throwing herself into the role had helped to fill a void in her life and move on from her grief.
Hot colour flamed in her face. ‘You don’t know me.’
‘Nor do I want to. Get dressed,’ he ordered before turning and walking back into the main room.
Regan exhaled, willing herself to be calm. She moved to the doorway to find him going through the photos on her camera. Instantly she went into panic mode. ‘Hey, don’t touch that. It’s old and I can’t afford to replace it.’
She lunged to retrieve her precious camera and he held it aloft. ‘I’m not going to break it,’ he snapped. ‘Not unless you keep trying to grab it.’
Snatching her hand back from where it had landed on the hard ball of his shoulder, she slapped her hands on her hips. ‘I don’t care who you are, you have no right to go through my things.’
He gave her a dismissive glance to say that he had every right and even if he didn’t there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it. ‘There isn’t anything I won’t do to get my sister back, Miss James. You’d better get used to that idea.’
His sister?
Regan frowned. ‘What has your sister got to do with anything?’
Slowly his gaze returned to hers, the blue so clear and so cold she could have been staring into a glacier. ‘Your brother has my sister. And now I have his.’
‘That’s insane.’
‘For once we agree on something.’
‘No, I mean you’re insane. My brother isn’t with your sister. He would have told me.’
‘Really?’
Maybe. Maybe not. ‘Are they in a relationship or something?’ If they were she was a bit hurt that he hadn’t told her. They had always shared everything in the past.
‘You’d better hope not. Now move. My patience is at an end. I need to return to the palace.’
Wait? Was he really the King of Santara?
‘I’m... I’m not going anywhere with you.’
‘If you insist on going as you are I won’t stop you. But you’ll get far more looks than you did earlier, parading around in tight jeans and a flimsy shirt.’
‘My clothes were perfectly respectable, thank you very much.’
‘You have five minutes.’
‘I’m not going with you.’
‘That’s your choice, of course, but the alternative is that you remain in this room until your brother returns.’
Regan frowned. ‘You mean as in locked in here?’
‘I can’t afford to have my sister’s disappearance become public knowledge. With you asking questions and wandering around on your own you’ll only draw attention to yourself. And, no doubt, get yourself into trouble in the process.’
‘I won’t say anything. I promise!’
Regan knew she sounded desperate and she was. The thought of being locked in a hotel room for who knew how long was not acceptable. If what this man said was true she wanted freedom to find Chad and figure out what was going on. Preferably before this man found him.
He shook his head. ‘Make your decision. I don’t have all night.’
‘I’m not staying here!’
‘Then get dressed.’
Regan’s mind was spinning out of control. Her head, already fuzzy from lack of sleep, was struggling to keep pace with the rate at which things were moving. ‘I need more time to think about this.’
‘I gave you five minutes. You now have four.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a more arrogant person than you. Actually, strike that: I know I haven’t.’
He folded his hands across his chest, his muscular legs braced wide, his expression hard. Like this he looked as if he could take on fifty men blindfolded and win.
‘Your telephone service will be disconnected and I will have guards posted outside your door. I do not advise you to try to leave.’
‘But how do I know you are who you say you are?’ she said on a rush. ‘You could be an imposter for all I know. A murderer. I’d be crazy to go with you.’
‘I am not a murderer.’
‘I don’t know that!’
‘Get dressed and I’ll prove it to you.’
‘How?’
He heaved an impatient sigh. ‘You can ask any member of the hotel staff downstairs. They will know who I am.’
For the first time since he had barged into her room Regan saw a way out. If he was really going to take her downstairs then she had a chance of alerting someone as to what was going on.
‘Okay, just...’ She grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt from her case. ‘Just give me a minute.’
Locking herself in the bathroom, she very nearly didn’t come back out but decided that he’d most likely break the door down if she aggravated him too much. He had the arms for it.
Concentrating more on his abundant negative qualities, she opened the door to find him propping up the opposite wall, looking at his watch. ‘One minute early. I’m impressed.’
Arrogant jerk.
Regan grabbed her handbag and walked ahead of him out the door. She waited as he stabbed the elevator button. ‘If you’re really a king, where are all your guards?’
‘I rarely take guards with me on unofficial business. I can take care of myself.’
Convenient, she thought.
‘And why was it that no one in the shisha bar knew your identity? If you’re really the King I would have expected some bowing and scraping.’
The slow smile he gave her told her he wouldn’t mind making her bow and scrape for him. ‘I’ve found that people rarely see what they’re least expecting.’
Regan raised a brow. She couldn’t argue with that. She might have thought he looked dangerous when she had first seen him, but she hadn’t expected him to turn up at her door making outrageous accusations about her brother. Nor had she expected him to tell her he was the King. Though whether or not that was true still remained to be seen.
‘How’s the headache?’ he asked, watching her in the mirrored wall. Regan slid her gaze to his. ‘Don’t bother denying it,’ he continued. ‘You’re so pale you look like you’re about to pass out.’
‘My head is fine.’ She wasn’t about to admit that he was right. She wasn’t sure what he would do with the information. She wouldn’t put it past him to try to make it worse.
When they arrived at the lobby Regan felt a surge of adrenaline race through her. Glancing around, she was disappointed to find that the large lobby was mostly empty. Before she could make a move in either direction her arm was gripped, vice-like, and she was towed along towards the reception desk.
The smile on the young man’s face faltered as he took them in. They probably looked quite a sight, she thought grimly. Her with her fast-drying hair no doubt resembling a wavy cloud around her head, and her unwanted companion with a scowl as dark as his clothing.
‘Ah, Your Majesty, it is an honour.’ The man bowed towards the desk, his expression one of eternal deference. Then he said something in Santarian that her companion answered. The younger man’s eyes went as big and as round as a harvest moon.
‘But...’ He gave her a panicked look. ‘Miss James, this is His Majesty the King of Santara.’ The words almost came out in a stutter, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was saying them.
Frankly, nor could Regan. ‘How do I know you haven’t just set this up?’ she said with disdain. ‘One man’s opinion is hardly folk law.’ Turning back to the concierge, Regan said, ‘Actually, I’d like to report—’
She didn’t get any further as the stranger beside her growled something low under his breath and then towed her further into the lobby, veering off towards the sound of a pianist playing a soulful song. Through French windows Regan saw a room full of people.
Stopping just inside the entrance, they stood waiting until finally most of the room grew silent, staring at the two of them. Then half of the occupants stood and bowed low towards the man still holding her arm.
Regan shook her head, her brain refusing to compute the evidence that he really was the King of Santara. Which meant that if he was right then maybe her brother was with his sister, Princess Milena, his new research assistant. She swallowed, swaying on her feet.
Clearly worried she was about to do something girly, like swoon in his presence, the King snaked a hand around her waist, pulling her up against him. Regan set her hand flat against his chest to stop their bodies colliding. Her head fell back on the stem of her neck as the heat from his body sapped the last of her strength. She could feel his heart pounding a steady rhythm to match her own but all she could focus on was the blue of his eyes, indigo in the soft light. Time seemed to disappear as he looked back at her with such heat Regan’s thoughts ceased to exist. It didn’t matter who she was or what he was. All that mattered was that he kiss her. Kiss her so that the ache building inside her subsided.
A soft growl left his throat, his eyes devouring her lips, and for a brief moment she thought he would kiss her.
But then his eyes turned as sharp as chipped jewels and his hand tightened on her hip. ‘Satisfied?’ he murmured, throwing her earlier question back at her.
Regan shook her head, her balance precarious despite his firm hold. She heard the word ‘no’ coming from a long, dark tunnel right before she did something she’d never done before. She fainted.
