Сара Морган – Royal Affairs: Desert Princes & Defiant Virgins: The Sheikh's Virgin Princess / The Sheikh and the Virgin Secretary / Desert Prince, Defiant Virgin (страница 3)

Clearly, he was someone extremely senior in the Sultan’s security team, Alexa mused as her eyes trailed from his almost-perfect bone structure to the firm, sensual curve of his mouth. Powerful, she thought. If she had to find one word to describe the man in front of her, then it would be powerful, and she felt her stomach lurch. When the Sultan had promised a bodyguard to escort her on the journey, she’d expected someone who would follow orders.

This man didn’t look as though he’d ever followed an order in his life.

Which made the situation extremely awkward. She didn’t want him as her bodyguard. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust anyone. Whatever happened, she had to be in charge of her own safety; it was the only way she would ever escape from the tangled mess of her life.

She couldn’t believe that this moment had arrived—that she’d actually survived this far. Her brain fluttered around the edges of panic, as it always did when she considered her impending marriage to the Sultan of Zangrar.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of him. She wasn’t. Having lived the life she’d lived for the past sixteen years, she no longer cared that he was reputed to be ruthless, controlling and totally devoid of emotion. In a way, it actually helped, knowing that he didn’t have a sensitive side, because she didn’t have to feel guilty about forcing him into a marriage that was so lacking in romance.

There was no escaping from the fact that, in normal circumstances, this marriage would be the last thing she wanted. But her circumstances weren’t normal, and this marriage wasn’t about what was best for her, it was about what was best for Rovina.

Her hand tightened on the hilt of the sabre. She’d reviewed her options so many times that her brain felt raw with thinking, and no matter how often she circled round the issue she always ended up at the same place.

The future of Rovina depended on her marriage to the Sultan.

And now that goal was finally within reach.

Only a journey now stood between her and Zangrar.

But it would be a hazardous journey, and she would need to have her wits about her. Ironic though it seemed, the last thing she wanted was a bodyguard. Having him there would simply put her life at greater risk.

A giggle from the women watching reminded her that they were becoming the subject of scrutiny and gossip, and Alexa smiled, reminding herself that she had an image to keep up: the image of a woman with nothing more serious on her mind except the pursuit of frivolous pleasures.

‘You can go home, bodyguard.’ She removed the glove from her fencing hand and spoke softly so that only he could hear. ‘I don’t need your protection.’ Her words provoked a sharp intake of breath from the man standing in front of her.

‘My protection is not optional.’ His dark eyes glinted dangerously as he studied her face. ‘You and I need to speak alone. Now.’

Startled by his autocratic tone, Alexa opened her mouth to refuse, but he closed long, strong fingers around her wrist and propelled her bodily towards the ante-room where the fencing equipment was stored, apparently indifferent to the curious stares of those watching.

He’d been fighting a woman?

Tension erupting inside him, Karim released her and slammed the door to the ante-room shut with the flat of his hand, his eyes fixed on the cascading mass of soft, silky curls that poured down her back. Her hair was the colour of a desert sunset. And that first glance into her eyes had been like throwing himself onto a burning spear. His body had been consumed by the most basic of sexual urges, the chemistry between them so hot and instantaneous that for a moment he’d been able to think only of sex.

‘Unlock the door.’ Apparently unaware of his response to her, she gave the order sharply, a note of panic in her voice. ‘Unlock it now.’

‘I take orders only from the Sultan himself.’

‘Please …’ Her face had lost most of its colour, and he frowned.

‘You have just faced my blade without showing the slightest consideration for your personal safety,’ he drawled softly. ‘And yet you expect me to believe that you’re afraid of a locked door?’

‘Just open it,’ she said in a hoarse voice. ‘Please open it.’

Perplexed and exasperated in equal measure, Karim turned the key, watching as she relaxed. The rebel princess was afraid of a locked door? It was so incredibly unlikely that he almost laughed. If she was that easy to frighten then it should take very little to persuade her that life in the harsh climate of Zangrar, in the company of a ruthless Sultan, was definitely not for her.

‘I don’t fight women, Your Highness.’

She stilled and then gave a tiny shrug, some of her defiance returning. ‘You do now.’ With a single, graceful movement of her shoulders, she removed her jacket. ‘And, anyway, you won. Your ego is still intact.’

‘My ego requires no protection.’ He dragged his eyes away from her hair with difficulty, his brain and body fighting a vicious battle for supremacy. Intellect warred with basic masculine instinct, and the sudden tightening of his body reminded him that the power of basic masculine instinct was never to be underestimated. ‘I could have hurt you.’

Only now, when she stood without the thick, protective padding of the fencing jacket, could he see how fine-boned and delicately built she was. Her exquisitely perfect face revealed centuries of breeding, and Karim studied her closely, trying to reconcile the innocence of that face with her debauched reputation. And she studied him back, her gaze fearless and unfaltering.

Then she turned and hung her jacket in the cupboard. ‘You’re good. But you’ve had a wasted journey. I don’t want a bodyguard.’

‘Your wishes in the matter are irrelevant, Your Highness.’ Whether she wanted him or not, she was getting him. His mission was to persuade her to change her mind about marrying the Sultan, and he needed to be with her on the journey if he was to achieve that goal.

Her glance was curious. ‘Do you guard the Sultan himself?’

It wasn’t a question he’d anticipated, and it took him a moment to formulate an acceptable answer. ‘I have ultimate responsibility for the Sultan’s safety, yes.’

‘In that case, I’m sure he’s missing you. Go home.’ With a swift movement of her fingers, she removed the plastron, the half-jacket that protected her fencing arm. ‘Use your talents elsewhere. I don’t need them.’

‘You are no longer planning to marry the Sultan?’

‘Of course I’m marrying the Sultan. But I don’t need anyone with me on the journey. I prefer to arrange my own protection.’

‘And who have you selected to provide this service?’

‘Me.’ Her tone suggested that she considered the answer obvious. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that, when it comes to safety issues, the only person you can really depend on is yourself.’

‘You plan to travel through the desert alone and unaccompanied?’

‘Absolutely. And I hope no one threatens me, because I’m lethal when I’m threatened.’ As if determined to convince him of that fact, she fixed him with her cool, blue stare, and Karim lifted an eyebrow.

‘Clearly you are unaware of the fact that many men find a woman’s vulnerability to be one of her greatest charms.’

‘Those same men undoubtedly have miniscule egos and need to slay dragons in order to demonstrate their masculinity.’ She stooped to put her mask and glove in the cupboard. ‘I refuse to put my safety at risk in order to pander to a man’s need to flex his muscles in public. I slay my own dragons.’

For the first time in his adult life, Karim found himself speechless. He’d never met a woman like her before. ‘You cannot seriously be intending to make the journey to Zangrar alone? You have no knowledge of the route.’

‘I can read a map, use satellite navigation and I can talk on the phone. Princesses have a multitude of skills these days. We’re a very versatile breed. Haven’t you heard?’

What he’d heard was that the Princess Alexandra was a real rebel, and he could see that the rumours had foundation. There was a fire in her eyes and defiance in her stance, and even after five minutes in her company he could see that she was no man’s idea of a gentle, compliant wife.

She was a handful.

Even while contemplating the disaster that would ensue if this woman ever arrived in Zangrar, Karim was reflecting on the fact that this next battle between them might be every bit as stimulating as the fencing. Removing his own jacket, he stretched out a hand and dropped it onto the nearest chair. ‘Clearly you’ve never aspired to be like the princesses in the fairy stories.’

‘Passive victims, you mean?’ A thoughtful frown touched her forehead and then she gave a careless shrug. ‘I wouldn’t be stupid enough to take a poisoned apple from a stepmother who hates me, and I’ve always hated sewing, so there’s no way I’d prick my finger on a spinning wheel.’

‘But you are planning to marry a sultan,’ Karim pointed out silkily, and she smiled, showing no signs of trepidation at the prospect.

‘That’s right. I am.’

‘And the Sultan insists that you are escorted on the journey, Your Highness.’