Sheikh's Defiant Bride by Sandra Marton

Author:Sandra Marton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2008-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

MADISON stared at the door Tariq had shut behind him.

Shut. Not slammed. A display of hot anger would have been frightening. His icy calmness was terrifying.

She flew to the door and locked it even though she knew it was an empty gesture. A lock would not keep him out. This was his plane, staffed by people loyal to a prince who thought he lived in an earlier century.

That he had brought her on board, carried her to his bed, kept her in it while he forced himself on her…

She bit back a moan.

Tariq hadn’t forced himself on her. She had responded to each touch, each kiss, urged him to do more, to take her and take her and take her…

No. She wasn’t going there. Her moment of weakness was in the past. She’d had sex with him. It wasn’t the end of the world. She was almost thirty, she was not a virgin; she’d had sex before.

But never like that.

Never so she wouldn’t have noticed if the world had ended as long as Tariq held her, moved deep, deep inside her…

Madison spun away from the door.

What he had done had been a pure, masculine flaunting of power. What she had done was disgrace herself, but reliving what had happened was pointless. Thinking about that—that nasty fairy tale he’d told her about kidnapped women and forced marriages, was pointless, too.

It had to be a lie.

Not even the Prince from Hell would think he could get away with that kind of thing.

He’d tried to scare her and he’d succeeded, but she was past that now. What mattered was getting through the next hours, until he wearied of this new game. That meant getting dressed, leaving this room and facing him with her head high.

First, she needed to clean up. She could smell his scent on her skin.

There was another door in the room. Did it open onto a bathroom? Yes. A bathroom, complete with a shower stall. She turned the water on full, stepped under it, reached for the soap…

His soap.

This same bar had slid over his body, over all those hard muscles, over the steel-in-silk part of him that had filled her…

Madison caught her breath.

She waited, let the water beat down on her bowed head. Then she got busy scrubbing and rinsing.

She dried off. Finger-combed her hair. Stepped back into the bedroom, flung open the drawers of a built-in dresser and found shirts and jeans. His clothing, of course, and she hated the thought of it against her skin but what choice did she have?

She dressed quickly, rolling up the legs of a pair of faded jeans, securing the waist with a belt she dragged through the loops and knotted. She plucked a shirt from the drawer, cotton so soft it might have been silk. The fit was a bad joke but she managed, folding back the sleeves, gathering the tails together and tying them just above the jeans.

Then she went back into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror.

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