Mackenzie's Pleasure by Linda Howard Page A

created by the
    curve of his shoulder.
    The arm around her had loosened immediately when she shivered, but at her action she
    felt him hesitate a fraction of a second, then gather her snugly against him once more.
    The voices were closer, and added to them were some thuds and the sound of crumbling
    rock. She listened to the rapid, rolling syllables of Arabic, straining to concentrate on the
    voices. Were they the same voices she had heard through yesterday's long nightmare? It was
    difficult to tell.
    She didn't understand the language; hers had been a finishing-school education, suited
    to an ambassador's daughter. She spoke French and Italian fluently, Spanish a little less so. After
    her father's posting in Athens she had made it a point to study Greek, too, and had learned
    enough that she could carry on a simple conversation, though she understood more than she
    spoke.
    Fiercely she wished she had insisted on lessons in Arabic, too. She had hated every
    moment she'd spent in the kidnappers' hands, but not speaking the language had made her
    feel even more helpless, more isolated.
    She would rather die than let them get their hands on her again.
    She must have tensed, because Zane gave her a light squeeze of reassurance. Swiftly she
    glanced at his face. He wasn't looking at her; instead he was concentrating on the fragile, halfrotted door that protected the entrance to their sanctuary, and on the voices beyond. His
    expression was utterly calm and distant. Abruptly she realized that he did understand Arabic,
    and whatever was being said by the people picking through the ruins of the building, he
    wasn't alarmed by it. He was alert, because their hiding place could be compromised at any
    moment, but evidently he felt confident of being able to handle that problem.
    With reason, no doubt. From what she'd seen, she thought he was capable of handling
    just about any situation. She would trust him with her life—and had.
    The voices went on for a long time, sometimes coming so close to their hiding place
    that Zane palmed that big pistol and held it aimed unwaveringly at the door. Barrie stared at
    that hand, so lean and powerful and capable. There wasn't the slightest tremor visible; it was
    almost unreal, almost inhuman, for any man to be that calm and have such perfect control over
    his body.
    They sat silently in the warm, shadowy little room, their breathing for the most part
    their only movements. Barrie noticed that the blanket no longer covered her legs, but the shirt,
    thank God, kept her reasonably decent. It was too hot to lie under the blanket, anyway.
    Time crept by at a sloth's pace. The warmth and silence were hypnotic, lulling her into a
    half dream state of both awareness and distance. She was ferociously hungry, but unaffected
    by it, as if she was merely aware of someone else's hunger. After a while her muscles began to
    ache from being in one position for so long, but that didn't matter, either. Thirst, though, was
    different. In the increasing heat, her need for water began to gnaw at her. The kidnappers had
    given her some water a couple of times, but she'd had nothing to drink in hours—since she
    had learned they expected her to relieve herself in their presence, in fact. She had chosen to
    do without water rather than provide them with such amusement again.
    Sweat streaked down Zane's face and dampened his shirt. She was perfectly content to
    remain where she was, nestled against his side. The arm around her made her feel safer than if
    their hiding place had been constructed of steel, rather than crumbling stone and plaster, and
    rotting wood.
    She had never been exposed to a man like him before. Her only contact with the military
    had been with the senior officers who attended functions at the embassy, colonels and
    generals, admirals, the upper brass; there were also the Marine guards at the embassy, with
    their perfect uniforms and perfect manners. Though she supposed the Marine guards had