Awakened by Her Desert Captor by Abby Green Page A

that kind of thing.’
    He moved close enough to reach out and trail a finger down over her cheek and jaw, and said softly, ‘I’m looking forward to seeing what you do do.’
    She slapped his hand down, terrified of the way his touch made her melt so easily. Terrified he’d kiss her again. ‘And why on earth should I do anything you ask me to?’
    Arkim’s jaw clenched, and then he said baldly, ‘Because you owe me, and I’m collecting.’
    * * *
    The following evening Halima held up one of Sylvie’s rhinestone-encrusted outfits and stroked it reverently. ‘This is so beautiful.’
    The thought of the robed young woman wearing it, baring her skin so comprehensively, made Sylvie feel a little uncomfortable, and she gently took the garment out of Halima’s hands to hang it up, along with the other costumes the girl had insisted on taking out of her suitcase.
    She hadn’t been able to eat since breakfast that morning, and her belly had been doing somersaults all day at the thought of dancing for Arkim. She’d realised that of course he’d be expecting her to rebel, refuse. And then maybe he’d initiate another cosy dinner and tell her more things about himself that would put her on uneven ground where her feelings towards him were concerned.
    As she’d lain in bed last night and gone over everything he’d told her she had found her antipathy hard to cling on to. So she’d decided to keep him at arm’s length and do the opposite of what he was expecting and dance for him. She realised with some level of dark irony that if he was reverse psychoanalysing her, then it was working.
    And if Sylvie was being completely honest with herself, a part of her still wanted to provoke Arkim—make him admit that he was just like everyone else.
    It was that damned icy façade of his that had sneaked under her skin and made her want to break it apart as soon as he’d looked at her for the first time with such disdain. And where had breaking that control apart got her? To one of the hottest places on earth. About to strip herself bare in front of a man who wanted her, yet despised her.
    Words trembled on Sylvie’s tongue. Words to instruct Halima to go and tell the Sheikh that she wasn’t available this evening after all. But she couldn’t back down now.
    She surveyed herself in the mirror as Halima clipped a veil behind her head, obscuring her mouth, so only her heavily kohled eyes were visible. Her hair was tucked and hidden under another veil.
    Sylvie wondered if Arkim would appreciate the fact that the act she’d decided to do was based on the story of Scheherazade . Somehow, she didn’t think he’d be amused.
    She took a deep breath and turned to Halima. ‘Now all I need is a sword...do you think you can find one here?’
    The young girl thought for a moment, then brightened. ‘Yes!’
    * * *
    Anticipation lay heavy and thick in Arkim’s bloodstream as he waited for Sylvie to appear. He’d given instructions for her to be brought to one of the ceremonial rooms, where traditionally the Sheikh would greet and entertain his important guests. The room was open to the elements behind Arkim. Lanterns lit the space with golden flickering shadows.
    Just then he noticed that a strong gust of wind whipping through the open space had almost put out one of the candles. The storm. It was coming. It made Arkim feel reckless. Wild. He’d gone out on Aziz earlier that day, tracking it, seeing the wind pick up. The stallion had moved skittishly, wanting to get back to cover.
    There was a raised marble dais in the centre of the room, where the Sheikh would usually sit to greet his guests, and it was also sometimes used for ceremonial performances and dances. Arkim didn’t doubt that he was about to bring this space into serious disrepute by having Sylvie dance here, but he couldn’t seem to care too