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  ‘Rafiq is entertaining Ethan—up there,’ Hassan explained when she asked where everyone else was. Following his gaze, Leona could see lights were burning in the windows of the deck above.

  ‘Should we be joining them?’

  ‘I don’t think they would appreciate the interruption,’ he drawled. ‘They have a poker game planned with several members of the crew, and our presence would dampen their—enthusiasm.’

  Which was really him saying he didn’t want to share her with anyone. ‘You have an answer for everything, don’t you?’ she murmured.

  ‘I try.’ He smiled.

  It was a slaying smile that sent the heat of anticipation burning between the cradle of her hip-bones, forcing her to look away so he wouldn’t see just how susceptible she was even to his smile. Going to lean against the yacht’s rail, she looked down to watch the white horses chase along the dark blue hull of the boat. They were moving at speed, slicing through the water on slick silent power that made her wonder how far they were away from San Estéban by now.

  She didn’t ask, though, because it was the kind of question that could start a war. ‘This is one very impressive toy, even for an oil-rich sheikh,’ she remarked.

  ‘One hundred and ninety feet in length,’ he announced, and came to lean beside her with his back against the rail. ‘Twenty-nine feet across the beam.’ His arm slid around her waist and twisted her to stand in front of him so she could follow his hand as he pointed. ‘The top deck belongs mainly to the control room, where my very efficient captain keeps a smoothly running ship,’ he said. ‘The next down belongs to the sun deck and main reception salons designed to suitably luxurious standards for entertaining purposes. We stand upon what is known as the shade deck, it being cast mostly in the shade of the deck above,’ he continued, so smoothly that she laughed because she knew he was really mocking the whole sumptuous thing. ‘One half is reserved for our own personal use, with our private staterooms, my private offices etcetera,’ he explained, ‘while the other half is split equally between outer sun deck, outer shade deck, plus some less formal living space.’

  ‘Gosh, you’re so lucky to be this rich.’ She sighed.

  ‘And I haven’t yet finished this glorious tour,’ he replied. ‘For below our feet lies the cabin deck, complete with six private suites easily fit for the occupation of kings. Then there is the engine room and crew’s quarters below that. We can also offer a plunge pool, gymnasium and an assortment of nautical toys to make our weary lot a happier one.’

  ‘Does it have a name, this sheikh’s floating palace?’ she enquired laughingly.

  ‘Mmm. Sexy Lady,’ he growled, and lowered his head so he could bury his teeth in the side of her neck where it met her shoulder.

  ‘You’re joking!’ she accused, turning round in his arms to stare at him.

  ‘Okay.’ He shrugged. ‘I am joking.’

  ‘Then what is she called?’ she demanded, as her heart skipped a beat then stopped altogether because he looked so wonderful standing here with his lean dark features relaxed and smiling naturally for the first time. She loved him quite desperately—how could she not? He was her—

  The laughter suddenly died on her lips, his expression telling her something she didn’t want to believe. ‘No,’ she breathed in denial. He couldn’t have done—he wouldn’t…

  ‘Why not?’ he challenged softly.

  ‘Not in this case!’ she snapped at him, not knowing quite what it was that was upsetting her. But upset she was; her eyes felt too hot, her chest too tight, and she had a horrible feeling she was about to weep all over his big hard beautiful chest!

  ‘It is traditional to name a boat after your most cherished loved-one,’ he pointed out. ‘And why am I defending myself when I could not have paid you a better compliment than this?’

  ‘Because…’ she began shakily.

  ‘You don’t like it,’ he finished for her.

  ‘No!’ she confirmed, then almost instantly changed her mind and said. ‘Yes, I like it! But you shouldn’t have! Y-you—’

  His mouth crushed the rest of her protest into absolute oblivion, which was where it belonged anyway, because she didn’t know what she was saying, only that a warm sweet wave of love was crashing over her and it was so dangerously seductive that—

  She fell into it. She just let the wave close over her head and let him drown her in the heat of his passion, the power of his arms and the hunger of his kiss.

  ‘Bed?’ he suggested against her clinging mouth.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, then fed her fingers into his hair and her tongue between his ready lips. A groan broke low in his throat; it was husky and gorgeous; she tasted it greedily. A hand that knew her so very well curved over her thighs, slid up beneath her wrap, then cupped her bottom so he could bring her into closer contact with his desire. It was all very hot and very hungry. With a flick of a few scraps of silk they could be making love right here against the yacht’s rail and in front of however many unseen eyes that happened to be glancing this way.

  Hassan must have been thinking similarly because he suddenly put her from him. ‘Bed,’ he repeated, two dark streaks of colour accentuating his cheekbones and the fevered glitter in his eyes. ‘Can you walk, or do I carry you?’

  ‘I can run,’ she informed him candidly, and grabbed hold of his hand, then turned to stride off on long slender legs with his husky laugh following as she pulled him behind her.

  Back in their stateroom, now magically cleared of all evidence that they had eaten, they parted at the end of the bed, one stepping to one side of it, one to the other. Eyes locking in a needle-sharp, sensual love game, they disrobed together, climbed into the bed together and came together.

  Hot, slow and deep, they made love into the night and didn’t have to worry about empty spaces in between because one loving simply merged into another until—finally—they slept in each other’s arms, legs entwined and faces so close on the pillows that the sleep was almost a long kiss in itself.

  Leona came awake to find the place beside her in the bed empty and felt disappointment tug at her insides. For a while she just lay there, watching the sunlight seeping in through the window slowly creep towards her across the room, and tried not to let her mind open up to what it was bringing with it.

  After a night built on fantasy had to come reality, not warm, like the sun, but cold, like the shadow she could already feel descending upon her even as she tried to hold it back for a little while longer.

  A sound caught her attention. Moving her head just a little, she watched Hassan walk out of the bathroom wearing only a towel, his sun-brown skin fashioned to look almost like skillfully tanned leather. For such a dark man he was surprisingly free of body hair, which meant she could watch unhindered each beautifully toned muscle as he strode across to one of the concealed doors in the wall and sprung it open at a touch to reveal a wardrobe to provide for the man who had everything. A drawer was opened and he selected a pair of white cotton undershorts, dropped the towel to give her a glimpse of lean tight buttocks before he pulled the shorts on. A pair of stone-washed outer shorts followed. Zipped and buttoned, they rested low on a waist that did not know the meaning of spare flesh to spoil his sleek appearance. A casual shirt came next, made of such fine white Indian cotton she could still see the outline of his body through it.

  ‘I can feel you watching me,’ he remarked without turning.

  ‘I like to look at you,’ Leona replied. And she did; rightly or wrongly in their present situation, he was a man to watch whatever he was doing, even fastening buttons as he was doing now.

  Shirt cuffs left open, he turned to walk towards the bed. The closer he came the faster her heart decided to beat. ‘I like to look at you, too,’ he murmured, bracing his hands on either side of head so he could lean down and kiss her.

  He smelt clean and fresh and his face wore the smooth sheen of a wet razor shave. Her lips clung to his, because she was still pretending, and her arms reached
up so she could clasp them round the back of his neck. ‘Come back to bed with me,’ she invited.

  ‘So that you can ravish me? No way,’ he refused. ‘As the wise ones will tell you, my darling, too much of a good thing is bad for you.’

  He kissed her again to soften the refusal, and his mouth was smiling as he straightened away, but as his hands reached up to gently remove her hands she saw the toughening happening behind his eyes. Hassan had already made contact with reality, she realised.

  With that he turned away and strode back to the wall to spring open another set of doors which revealed clothes for the woman who wanted for nothing—except her man. And already she felt as if he had moved right out of her reach.

  ‘Get up and get dressed,’ he instructed as he walked towards the door. ‘Breakfast will be served on the sun deck in fifteen minutes.’

  As she watched him reach for the door handle the shadow of reality sank that bit deeper into her skin. ‘Nothing has changed, Hassan,’ she told him quietly. ‘When I leave this room I won’t be coming back to it again.’

  He paused, but he did not turn to glance back at her. ‘Everything has changed,’ he countered grimly. ‘You are back where you belong. This room is only part of that.’ Then he was gone, giving her no chance to argue.

  Leona returned to watching the sun inch its way across the cream carpet for a while. Then, on a sigh, she slid out of the bed and went to get herself ready to face the next round of argument.

  In another room not that far away Hassan was facing up to a different opponent. Ethan Hayes was standing there in the clothes he had arrived in minus the bow tie, and he was angry. In truth Hassan didn’t blame him. He was wearing a bruise on his jaw that would appal Leona if she saw it, and he had a thick head through being encouraged to imbibe too much alcohol the night before.

  ‘What made you pull such a crazy stunt?’ he was demanding.

  Since Hassan had been asking himself the same thing, he now found himself short of an adequate answer. ‘I apologise for my men,’ he said. ‘Their…enthusiasm for the task got the better of them, I am afraid.’

  ‘You can say that again.’ Ethan touched his bruised jaw. ‘I was out for the count for ten minutes! The next thing I know I am stuck on a yacht I don’t want to be on, and Leona is nowhere to be seen!’

  ‘She’s worried about you, too, if that is any consolation.’

  ‘No, it damn well isn’t,’ Ethan said toughly. ‘What the hell was wrong with making contact by conventional methods? You scared the life out of her, not to mention the life out of me.’

  ‘I know, and I apologise again.’ Not being a man born to be conciliatory, being forced to be so now was beginning to grate, and his next cool remark reflected that. ‘Let it be said that you will be generously compensated for the…disruption.’

  Ethan Hayes stiffened in violent offence. ‘I don’t want compensation,’ he snapped. ‘I want to see for myself that Leona is okay!’

  ‘Are you daring to imply that I could harm my wife?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ Ethan returned in a tone deliberately aimed to provoke. ‘Overenthusiasm can be infectious.’

  Neither man liked the other, though it was very rare that either came out from behind their polite masks to reveal it. But, as the sparks began to fly between the two of them, this meeting was at risk of being one of those times. Leona might prefer to believe that Ethan Hayes was not in love with her. But, as a man very intimate with the symptoms, Hassan knew otherwise. The passion with which he spoke her name, the burn that appeared in his eyes, and the inherent desire to protect her from harm all made Ethan Hayes’ feelings plain. And, as far as Hassan was concerned, the handsome Englishman’s only saving grace was the deep sense of honour that made him respect the wedding ring Leona wore.

  But knowing this did not mean that Hassan could dismiss the other man’s ability to turn her towards him if he really set his mind to it. He had the build and the looks to turn any woman’s head.

  Was he really afraid of that happening? he then asked himself, and was disturbed to realise that, yes, he was afraid. Always had been, always would be, he admitted, as he fought to maintain his polite mask because, at this juncture, he needed Ethan Hayes’ cooperation if he was going to get him off this boat before Leona could reach him.

  So, on a sigh which announced his withdrawal from the threatening confrontation, he said grimly, ‘Time is of the essence,’ and went on to explain to the other man just enough of the truth to grab his concern.

  ‘A plot to get rid of her?’ Ethan was shocked and Hassan could not blame him for being so.

  ‘A plot to use her as a lever to make me concede to certain issues they desire from me,’ he amended. ‘I am still holding onto the belief that they did not want to turn this into an international incident by harming her in any way.’

  ‘Just snatching her could do it,’ Ethan pointed out.

  ‘Only if it became public property,’ Hassan responded. ‘They would be betting on Victor and myself holding our silence out of fear for Leona’s safety.’

  ‘Does she know?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ Hassan confessed. ‘And not at all if I can possibly get away with it.’

  ‘So why does she think she’s here?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ Hassan countered, and gained some enjoyment out of watching Ethan stiffen as he absorbed the full masculine depth of his meaning. ‘As long as she remains under my protection no one can touch her.’

  Ethan’s response took him by surprise because he dared to laugh. ‘You’ve no chance, Hassan,’ he waged. ‘Leona will fight you to the edge and back before she will just sit down and do what you want her to do simply because you’ve decided that is how it must be.’

  ‘Which is why I need your support in this,’ Hassan replied. ‘I need you to leave this boat before she can have an opportunity to use your departure as an excuse to jump ship with you.’

  He got it. In the end, and after a bit more wrangling, he watched Ethan Hayes turn to the door on a reluctant agreement to go. And, oddly, Hassan admired him for trusting him enough to do this, bearing in mind the year that had gone before.

  ‘Don’t hurt her again.’ Almost as if he could read his thoughts, Ethan issued that gruff warning right on cue.

  ‘My wife’s well-being is and always has been of paramount importance to me,’ Hassan responded in a decidedly cooler tone.

  Ethan turned, looked him directly in the eye, and for once the truth was placed in the open. ‘You hurt her a year ago. A man gets only one chance at doing that.’

  The kid gloves came off. Hassan’s eyes began to glint. ‘Take a small piece of advice,’ he urged, ‘and do not presume to understand a marital relationship until you have tried it for yourself.’

  ‘I know a broken-hearted woman when I see one,’ Ethan persisted.

  ‘And has she been any less broken-hearted in the year we have been apart?’

  Game, set and match, Hassan recognised, as the other man conceded that final point to him, and with just a nod of his head Ethan went out of the door and into the capable hands of the waiting Rafiq.

  At about the same time that Rafiq was escorting Ethan to the waiting launch presently tied up against the side of the yacht, Leona was slipping her arms into the sleeves of a white linen jacket that matched the white linen trousers she had chosen to wear. Beneath the jacket she wore a pale green sun top, and she had contained her hair in a simple pony-tail tied up with a green silk scarf. As she turned towards the door she decided that if she managed to ignore the throbbing ache happening inside her then she was as ready as she ever could be for the battle she knew was to come with Hassan.

  Stepping out of the stateroom, the first person she saw was a bearded man dressed in a long white tunic and the usual white gutrah on his head.

  ‘Faysal!’ Her surprise was clear, her smile warm. Faysal responded by pressing his palms together and dipping into the kind of low bow that irritated Hassan but
didn’t bother Leona at all simply because she ignored it. ‘I didn’t know you were here on the boat. Are you well?’ she enquired as she walked towards him.

  ‘I am very well, my lady,’ he confirmed, but beneath the beard she had a suspicion he was blushing uncomfortably at the informal intimacy she was showing him.

  ‘And your wife?’ she asked gently.

  ‘Oh, she is very well,’ he confirmed with a distinct softening in his formal tone. ‘The—er—problem she suffered has gone completely. We are most grateful to you for taking the trouble to ensure she was treated by the best people.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything but point her in the right direction, Faysal.’ Leona smiled. ‘I am only grateful that she felt she could confide in me.’

  ‘You saved her life.’

  ‘Many people saved her life.’ Daring his affront, she crossed the invisible line Arab males drew between themselves and females and reached out to press her hands against the backs of his hands. ‘But you and I were good conspirators, hmm, Faysal?’

  ‘Indisputably, my lady.’ His mouth almost cracked into a smile but he was too stressed at having her hands on his, and in the end she relented and moved away.

  ‘If you would come this way…’ he bowed ‘…I am to escort you to my lord Hassan.’

  Ah, my lord Hassan, Leona thought, and felt her lighter mood drop again as Faysal indicated that she precede him down the steps she had taken a tumble on the night before. On the other side of the foyer was a staircase which Leona presumed led up to the deck above.

  With Faysal tracking two steps behind her, she made her way up and into the sunlight flooding the upper deck, where she paused to take a look around. The sky was a pure, uninterrupted blue and the sea the colour of turquoise. The sun was already hot on her face and she had to shade her eyes against the way it was reflecting so brightly off the white paintwork of the boat.

  ‘You managed to make Faysal blush, I see,’ a deep voice drawled lazily.

  Turning about, she found that Faysal had already melted away, as was his habit, and that Hassan was sitting at a table laid for breakfast beneath the shade of a huge white canvas awning, studying her through slightly mocking eyes. Her heart tried to leap in her breast but she refused to let it. ‘There is a real human being hiding behind all of that strict protocol, if you would only look and see him.’