do to keep her feet on the ground, her hands limpet-like on the door.
‘Leila!’ This time she heard Joss. There was concern in his brusque tone. ‘What is it?’
She dragged in a deep breath and with furious effort straightened her shoulders. She lifted her chin, swallowing with difficulty, her throat as dry as the great inland desert.
Joss’s dark gaze held hers, reminding her she was strong. She’d survived years with her dangerously controlling stepfather. She’d got through a farce of a wedding that was all about business, not love. Surely she could walk to the plane.
The thought of being taken back to the capital, perhaps to her old home and her stepfather’s tender mercies, was a douche of ice water on overheated flesh.
‘Sorry,’ she said in an unfamiliar voice. ‘My legs are stiff from sitting so long.’ She tried to smile but it was more of a grimace. ‘I’ll be okay in a minute.’ At least her voice was merely hoarse now, not wobbly.
For answer Joss turned and said something to his staff, who dispersed out of sight.
Leila drew another breath. Whatever this unnamed fear, it wasn’t rational. It could be overcome. She took a tentative step, still holding the car door. Her legs were made of concrete, so heavy, yet shaking and weak as water.
She took a second step towards the jet. Only twenty paces to the stairs. She could manage that.
With a shuddering breath Leila forced her cramped fingers to release the door. Willing herself on, she paced towards the plane.
Out of nowhere strong arms wrapped round her, scooping her up. They hefted her against a solid body that smelled of soap and citrus and what could only be the spicy scent of male flesh. A thread of heat eddied through her, warming her frozen body.
The arms tightened and she felt the reassuring thud of Joss’s heart against her: steady, calm. Reassuring.
In that moment her instinctive protest faded away.
It didn’t matter that she hated the idea of needing help. Or that Joss acted simply because he couldn’t leave his bride collapsing on the tarmac.
For the first time since her mother’s death Leila knew the comfort of being held. The shock of it helped clear her pounding head.
‘Relax,’ Joss said in an even tone as if dealing with a half-fainting female didn’t faze him. Perhaps he was used to women swooning at his feet! ‘I’ll have you somewhere quiet in a moment.’
‘I can walk. I want to board the plane!’ She jerked her head up and found herself with a close-up view of his solid jaw and a full lower lip, incongruous in such a harshly defined face yet somehow right. Midnight-blue eyes bored into her, alight with speculation. Straight eyebrows tilted high towards his hairline as if he registered her desperation.
Anxiety still jangled like a drug in her bloodstream but she met his scrutiny with all the dignity she could muster.
‘Please, Joss.’ It was the first time she’d said his name and it slipped out with an ease that surprised her. ‘I’ll be fine once I’m aboard.’
He hesitated and Leila’s nerves stretched to breaking point. She watched his brow furrow as he scrutinised her minutely. ‘Very well. The jet it is.’
Leila dragged in the breath to fill her empty lungs. ‘Thank you.’
She shut her eyes and tried to regulate her ragged breathing, willing her pulse to slow. She sensed him move but didn’t open her eyes. It was enough to feel those hard muscles holding her, the sense of safety seeping slowly into her taut body.
She didn’t let herself question why she felt safe in the arms of a stranger.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not usually given to…’ What? What was wrong with her? ‘Usually I can even walk and make conversation at the same time.’
A huff of laughter riffled the hair on her forehead. ‘No doubt. Don’t forget I’ve seen you play hostess, deal with an unfamiliar husband in front of hundreds of guests at a never-ending wedding and maintain your poise without batting an eyelid.’
Leila’s eyes popped open at the note of wry humour in that deep suede voice. It…appealed to her.
She’d thought Joss Carmody too dour for humour. Too focused for sympathy, especially for a wife he didn’t want. She’d been sure when he looked at her all he saw was a vast tract of land awaiting development.
‘That was a short wedding celebration by Bakhari standards,’ she murmured, concentrating on his face and not the vast sky beyond his shoulder as he ascended the stairs to the plane. ‘We got off lightly.’
Gamil had been furious, wanting to display his wealth and important son-in-law to the cream of society. He’d surpassed himself in ostentatious displays of riches that would have made her parents cringe. No wonder she’d felt ill. It must have been the heavy food.
Leila felt a solid shoulder shrug against her as Joss stepped sideways through the door. Strange how she didn’t mind in the least the alien sensation of being clasped so close to him.
‘I had places to be. I couldn’t stay feasting for day upon day.’
‘Of course not. Very few people insist on such traditions any more.’
She took a deep breath of cool air and surveyed the luxurious private jet. Already she felt better. Maybe after years locked away she’d simply lost her ability to deal with the Bakhari heat. The explanation buoyed her.
‘I can stand now. Thank you. I feel all right.’
Joss tilted a look from his superior height, scouring her face as if penetrating her secrets. His expression gave no hint of his thoughts. But then he was a self-made multibillionaire. He’d perfected the art of keeping his thoughts to himself.
A flicker of unease trembled under her skin. What did he see as he watched her? A business asset or something else?
Leila pushed her palm against his collarbone, trying to lever some distance between them. It didn’t work, only making her aware of his unyielding strength. Held in his arms, she suddenly felt not so much protected as vulnerable. Puny against his formidable masculinity.
It made her uneasy.
His gaze dipped to her mouth and her lips tingled as if she’d eaten chilli.
‘Joss! I said I can stand.’ Suddenly it was imperative he release her. She’d felt light-headed before but this was different. Something she didn’t want to explore. Something to do with him.
Smoothly he put her down, watching her intently.
Fortunately the strength had returned to her legs. She was herself again, able to walk, spine straight and legs steady, to the lounge chair the stewardess indicated.
Sitting straight despite its encompassing luxury, Leila turned to the hovering stewardess.
‘I’d like some water, please. And do you have anything for travel sickness?’
‘Of
