‘Perfectly understandable, Princess. You have been through a testing time.’
She nodded and gave a matter-of-fact smile, relieved she hadn’t plunged their two countries into some kind of diplomatic crisis. After all, she was being offered protection here in a neighbouring country. Sanctuary. She should not abuse that courtesy. ‘Then I will not waste any more of your time, Sheikh Zoltan. I will wait in my suite until my father arrives.’
He took her hand and she felt a sizzle of recognition, of having held a hand like this one before—a hand that belonged to a man who ran with long, powerful strides …
Impossible!
‘Tell me one thing,’ she said, disturbed enough to remember another niggling question that had not been answered. ‘Why did my father send all of my belongings here when I will be in Al-Jirad such a short time? Surely he must have realised I could have made do with a suitcase full at the most? Why do you think he did that?’
He shrugged, her hand still wrapped securely in his. ‘Maybe he thought you would need them afterwards.’
‘Afterwards? After what?’
‘After we are married, of course.’
DESERT BROTHERS
Bound by duty, undone by passion!
These sheikhs may not be brothers by blood, but they are united by the code of the desert.
Their power and determination is legendary and unchallenged—until two beautiful Jemeyan princesses threaten their self-control …
In Trish Morey’s exciting duet searing passion and sizzling drama are about to be unleashed!
This month meet:
Zoltan and Aisha
Will this barbarian sheikh tame his defiant virgin princess and claim his crown?
Look out for Bahir and Marina’s story
Coming soon!
About the Author
TRISH MOREY is an Australian who’s also spent time living and working in New Zealand and England. Now she’s settled with her husband and four young daughters in a special part of South Australia, surrounded by orchards and bushland, and visited by the occasional koala and kangaroo. With a lifelong love of reading, she penned her first book at the age of eleven, after which life, career and a growing family kept her busy until once again she could indulge her desire to create characters and stories—this time in romance. Having her work published is a dream come true. Visit Trish at her website: www.trishmorey.com
Recent titles by the same author:
SECRETS OF CASTILLO DEL ARCO
FIANCÉE FOR ONE NIGHT
THE HEIR FROM NOWHERE
Did you know these are also available as eBooks?
Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Duty and
the Beast
Trish Morey
MILLS & BOON
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CHAPTER ONE
THEY came for her in the dead of night, while the camp was silent but for the rustle of palm leaves on the cool night air and the snort of camels dreaming of desert caravans long since travelled. She was not afraid when she heard the zip of the blade through the wall of the tent. She was not even afraid when a man dressed all in black, his face covered by a mask tied behind his head and with only slits for his eyes, stepped inside, even though his height and the width of his shoulders were enough to steal her breath away and cause her pulse to trip.
Instead it was relief that flooded her veins and brought her close to tears, relief that the rescue she had prayed and hoped so desperately for had finally arrived.
‘I knew you would come for me,’ she whispered as she slid fully dressed out of bed to meet him, almost tripping over her slippers in her rush to get away. She swallowed back a sob, knowing what she was escaping, knowing how close she had come. But at last she would be safe. There was no need to be afraid.
But when the hand clamped hard over her mouth to silence her, and she felt herself pulled roughly against his hard, muscular body, there was no denying her sudden jag of fear.
‘Do not utter another word, Princess,’ the man hissed into her ear as he dipped his head to hers. ‘Or it may be your last.’
She stiffened even as she accepted the indignity, for she had been raised to accept no stranger’s touch. But she had little choice now, with his arm like a steel band around her waist, the fingers of one large hand splayed from her chest to her belly and the palm of his other hand plastered hard across her mouth so that she could all but taste his heated flesh.
Unnecessarily close.
Unnecessarily possessive.
Every breath she took contained his scent, a blend of horseflesh and leather, of shifting sands and desert air, all laced with a warm, musky scent that wormed its way into all the places he touched her and beyond. Those places burned with heat until unnecessarily possessive became unnecessarily intimate, and some innate sense of survival pounded out a message in her heartbeat, warning her that perhaps she was not as safe as she had supposed.
Something inside her
