felt his hand slide down to her bottom and then round, over her hip, smoothing a tantalising path up to her ribcage, where it came to rest just below her breast. Heat flooded through her veins and she felt her breasts swell, felt her nipples tighten in anticipation beneath her tee shirt. He only had to move his hand a little further… In an agony of excitement she pressed closer to him, her body trembling with desire.
Nothing existed but the firm pressure of his mouth on hers, the sensual sweep of his tongue and the warm weight of his hand resting so close to where she wanted him to touch her. Lost in this new world of sensory pleasure, she shifted closer still, rubbed her pelvis against his—and then suddenly, shockingly, he wrenched his mouth from hers, his fingers biting into her flesh as he thrust her from him.
The ensuing silence throbbed with a sexual tension that was almost tangible, and for a few mad seconds Erin wished he would draw her back into his arms and kiss her again and again, until they were both mindless with wanting. But then he spoke and she wished instead that she could curl up and die of humiliation.
‘I see that my assessment of your nature was spot-on,’ he drawled in a hatefully sardonic tone. ‘My brother has been in his grave barely three weeks and yet you’re already clearly sexually frustrated. How long, I wonder, will it be before you invite a steady stream of boyfriends into the house? And what sort of care will Kazim receive then, when you are too busy for him?’
‘I want you to leave,’ Erin said tightly, her chest heaving as she fought to drag oxygen into her lungs.
She could not bring herself to look at him. It was pointless trying to defend herself—pointless to explain that she’d never had a proper boyfriend in all her twenty-two years. Zahir clearly believed she was the Mata Hari of the Yorkshire Moors, and after the shameful way she had responded to him she couldn’t really blame him.
Shaking with reaction, she yanked open the library door and stood aside for Zahir to pass—then gasped when he caught hold of her arm and slammed the door shut again, the blaze of anger in his eyes filling her with trepidation.
‘I came here to collect my brother’s child, and I’m not going anywhere without him,’ he warned her savagely.
‘So what are you going to do? Kidnap him? Take him from me by force?’ Erin demanded shakily.
Ingledean was eight miles from the nearest village, and she had always loved its remoteness, but Zahir was strong and powerful and she and Alice would be no match for him if he chose to snatch Kazim.
‘If you don’t leave now I’ll call the police,’ she told him with a bravado she did not feel, aware even as she spoke of the emptiness of her threat. He could carry Kazim out to his car, parked on the driveway, and disappear into the dusk before the local constable even had cycled out from the village. ‘You say you want what is best for Kazim, but how can scaring him out of his wits be good for him?’
‘Of course I do not mean to scare him,’ Zahir snapped impatiently. But her words had hit a chord, and he stared at her, his conscience prickling when he glimpsed the fear in her eyes.
He had not meant to lose his temper, and he was furious with himself for his loss of control. He shouldn’t have kissed her like that—but she had made him angrier than he could ever remember, and she had responded to him, damn it. He could still taste her, could remember that moment of scalding sweetness when she had stopped fighting him and parted her lips beneath his while her body relaxed into him so that her soft breasts had pressed against his chest.
With a muttered curse he swung away from her and raked his hand through his hair. She was his brother’s widow, he reminded himself grimly, and out of respect for Faisal she was off-limits.
‘I have no intention of taking my nephew away from you,’ he growled. He’d witnessed how the little boy had clung to Erin when he had injured himself, and in all honesty he knew he could not separate Kazim from the woman he regarded as his mother.
‘You don’t?’ Erin murmured dazedly, a little of her tension draining away. A moment ago he’d told her that he would not leave without Kazim.
‘No.’ Zahir’s jaw tightened. The last thing he wanted was to take this woman who was playing havoc with his hormones back to his homeland, but he had no choice. ‘I appreciate that he needs you, and for that reason it’s clear that you will have to come to Qubbah too.’
He was deadly serious, Erin realised when she stared at him and recognised the determined gleam in his eyes. ‘I don’t think you understand,’ she began. ‘I’m not going to Qubbah or anywhere else with you, and neither is Kazim…’
‘It is you who does not understand,’ Zahir snapped coldly. ‘My father is desperate to see his grandson.’
‘I told you—your father is welcome to visit Kazim whenever he likes,’ Erin said defensively, flushing beneath Zahir’s hard stare.
‘The journey would kill him.’ He ignored her faint gasp. ‘Two months ago my father contracted a virus that attacked his heart. He has been prescribed medication to control the condition and hopefully prevent full heart failure, but he has to rest as much as possible, and his doctors give him oxygen to reduce any strain on his heart. A long flight is out of the question,’ Zahir said harshly. ‘The only solution is for you to accompany Kazim to Qubbah. And, to be frank, I don’t have much time to waste arguing with you,’ he added in a warning tone when she opened her mouth to protest. ‘My father longed to be reconciled with Faisal, and he was devastated by the news of his death. He is an old man, and his life is in the balance,’ he added gruffly. ‘All he wants is to see his grandson—Faisal’s son. And you want to deny him that one simple joy.’
Erin bit her lip, startled by the raw emotion in Zahir’s voice. Guilt tugged at her conscience. She more than most people understood the importance of family ties. All her life she had longed to be part of a family, and even though her mother had been sadly lacking in any parenting skills, she had still been devastated by the death of her only blood relative.
Supposing the elderly Sheikh died without ever seeing Kazim? From the sound of it Zahir’s father had loved Faisal, had hoped to be reconciled with him, and according to Zahir he was desperate to meet his little grandson. And what about Kazim? she thought fretfully. Would a court battle with Zahir for custody really be in the little boy’s best interests? And how would Kazim feel if he one day discovered that she had prevented him from meeting his grandfather?
The truth was she had a duty to give Kazim the opportunity to meet his family in Qubbah, she acknowledged reluctantly. She could not possibly allow Zahir to take Kazim—she would have to go too. But the prospect of travelling halfway around the world with Faisal’s disturbingly sexy brother filled her with unease.
What if he tried to kiss her again? She would not respond, of course. He had taken her by surprise earlier, that was all. But she had a feeling that Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir was used to women jumping whenever he clicked his fingers, and she would have to make it clear that she was neither available nor interested in him. Her eyes strayed to his mouth and her stomach lurched as she recalled the sensual pleasure of his kiss, the way his warm, firm lips had parted hers with a masterful intent that had demolished her resistance. Definitely not interested, she told herself sharply, her heart jerking unevenly when their eyes met and held and a bolt of white-hot awareness flashed between them.
Faisal had been a kind, gentle man, but she detected neither quality in his brother. Common sense warned her that Zahir, with his stunning looks and brooding sensuality, was out of her league, but for some reason her body hadn’t
