am a sheikh,’ he expanded proudly. ‘My name is Hassan, and I am a prince of the desert.’
‘Wow!’
Hassan’s eyes narrowed. Was that sarcasm he had heard tingeing her voice? Surely not. People were always impressed by his sheikhdom, indeed being ravished by a sheikh seemed to be the number-one sexual fantasy among most of the Western women he met. Yet the uncertainty of her response fired his blood into a slow, pulsing heat. The cat-like slant of her blue eyes was very appealing and he felt another kick of lust as he imagined those eyes growing opaque in time to the powerful thrust of his body. He swallowed, for his groin had grown exquisitely hard in conjunction with his thoughts.
‘And now I think we are supposed to dance,’ he said unevenly. Slowly, he allowed his gaze to travel all the way down her legs to where her feet were encased in a pair of toweringly high stilettos. ‘Before you run off as the clock strikes midnight, and leave one of those gravity-defying and very sexy shoes behind.’
Ella’s heart hammered. Of course she knew the shoes were sexy—you didn’t wear heels this high because they were comfortable. But it came as something of a shock to hear him come right out and say so like that. There was something very blatant about his remark. It made her feel … weird…. As if she was something she wasn’t. As if she’d worn them so that an arrogant sheikh might look at her legs with unashamed appraisal. And she had certainly not done that.
Every instinct she possessed was screaming out to her to get away from him. But even as the adrenalin pumped around her body, wasn’t there a contrary instinct urging her to do precisely the opposite? Didn’t she have some insane desire for him to take her into his arms and pull her against his powerful body to see whether he felt as good as he looked?
‘I’m not really that into dancing,’ she said truthfully.
‘Ah, but that’s because you’ve never danced with me,’ he drawled as he took her by the hand and led her onto the dance floor. ‘Once you have, you’ll change your mind. You’ll become an instant convert, believe me.’
Ella swallowed. What an arrogant boast to make! Now was the moment for her to wrench her hand away from the firm grip of his fingers and walk away from him and these confused emotions she was experiencing.
So why was she letting him lead her to a spot where the overhanging chandeliers spilled their fractured diamond spangles onto the glossy dance floor? Because she liked his touch, that was why. It was that simple and that complex and it was doing strange things to her. Making her feel light-headed and excited. Making her heart race as if she had just endured an hour’s hard workout at the gym.
She felt a brief flash of shame but still she didn’t move. And she knew she was about to betray her family by dancing with a man who despised them.
Without warning, Hassan took her into his arms and his presence enveloped her, just as his shadow had done earlier. His body felt as warm and as hard as she’d imagined and she moved closer to him, as his hands splayed possessively across her back.
Remember all those things he said about your family, she reminded herself dazedly. About Izzy sounding like a crow and them all being nothing but tramps.
And yet it was difficult to remember the insults when he was holding her in his arms like this. Difficult to do anything other than melt against him.
‘You smell beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘Of summer meadows in the sun.’
With an effort, Ella lifted her head to stare at the proud jut of his jaw. ‘What do sheikhs know of summer meadows?’
‘Plenty. When I was a boy, I used to come and visit Alex and sometimes we would go to England, to play the polo at which we both excelled. It was there that I learned that the smell of newly mown grass was one of the most seductive smells in the world.’ He smiled against her hair. Particularly if there was a nubile and willing female lying in it, with most of her clothes undone.
Ella could now feel the gentle caress of his fingertips on her bare skin and she knew she had to stop this before it went any further. Before his sexy voice and sure touch made her do anything else she regretted. Turning her face up, she flashed him a smile which was completely insincere. ‘You must have been amazed to find someone tolerably attractive to dance with among all these women here tonight,’ she observed. ‘Should I be flattered?’
Hassan frowned at the unexpected change of topic, some subtle emphasis in her words nudging at a faint memory. ‘Perhaps you should.’ He moved his hand to allow his fingers to tangle briefly in the spill of curls which danced around at the base of her waist. ‘Though I imagine that flattery is something you’re quite used to.’
The easy compliment slipped off his tongue and it helped fuel her indignation. Ella wriggled a little in his arms. ‘Are you always this predictable when you talk to women?’
‘Predictable? You want me to be a little more original, do you, Cinderella?’ he questioned, feeling the provocative thrust of her beaded breasts pressing into his chest. ‘But that would be exceedingly difficult with someone who looks like you. What can I tell you that countless men haven’t said before? You must be bored with hearing that your eyes are the blue of a summer sky. Or that your hair is so lustrous that if I moved a little closer, I’d swear I’d be able to see my face in its reflection.’
He positioned his head as if he intended to do just that, but instead he found that his eyes were closing and that he was breathing her in and pulling her against his body. And that suddenly he wanted her very much. It had been, he realised achingly, a long time since he’d held a woman in his arms. Particularly a woman who sent out messages as conflicting as this one …
Ella felt his arms tighten around her and was appalled at how much she wanted to sink further into that embrace. To feel the beat of his heart and to listen to those admiring comments which he probably said to every woman and which meant precisely nothing.
‘Hassan,’ she said, realising how thready her voice sounded. But why wouldn’t it sound like that when he had just splayed his hands so proprietarily over her back? She was wearing a dress which left a lot of skin on show. Skin to which he now had access. She felt the almost imperceptible caress of his fingers and she shivered with a strange kind longing. She had to stop this.
‘Or the most beautiful pair of lips I’ve ever seen. Tell me, does that lipstick come off when a man kisses you and does it taste of roses, or berries?’
‘Hassan,’ she said again, more weakly this time.
‘Mmm? I like it when you say my name. Say it again. Say it as if you want to ask me a big, big favour and let me see if I can guess what that favour might be.’
With an effort, she ignored the shockingly erotic command and pulled away from him so that she could see his reaction. ‘What do you think of the bride-to-be?’
A look of displeasure crossed his face as the sensual mood was broken by her unexpected question. For a moment back then, he’d almost forgotten where he was—and he did not care to be reminded. ‘I don’t think you want to know,’ he said, an unmistakable note of finality in his voice warning her that he did not wish to pursue the topic.
‘Oh, but I do,’ argued Ella. ‘I’m fascinated to hear your opinion. I’m sure it’ll be really enlightening.’
He drew back. She was enchanting in her own way, but he thought that she was in danger of overstepping the mark. Didn’t she
