The Diplomat's Daughter by Liz Crowe

Author:Liz Crowe [Crowe, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Turkish Delight
Amazon: B0089F2E3O
Publisher: Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Published: 2012-06-05T06:00:00+00:00

***

It took Levent nearly five minutes to calm his pounding heart. The first glimpse of her, leaning out over the precipice had terrified him so much he’d been frozen in place after his eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the courtyard. When her foot shifted closer to the edge, he’d moved fast. Now he stood, fists clenched against the urge to hold her, to soothe whatever had rattled her so badly, made her escape her home and hide here, in their old forbidden playground.

The consulate’s driver had called him, after being alerted by the kitchen staff the young missus had snuck out again and had been gone over an hour. It was obvious the man didn’t approve of him. Word had gotten around the backstairs that the young woman of the house had left angry, and it was likely because of him. They all realized something about him already. That somehow he’d know immediately where she’d gone. The driver had huffed and puffed and made lot of noise about “bad influences” and “knowing one’s place” as they drove to the Tokapi area. But Levent leapt from the back when he spotted the crevice they’d discovered all those years ago and made his way through. It was a challenge to fit his man-sized body into the slender opening but once in he dashed across the close-clipped grass, praying she was here, hoping she hadn’t done anything truly stupid in her fury.

And here she was, mere inches from him, her chest heaving with some combination of fear and anger and, if he wasn’t mistaken, lust. Levent was no virgin. His height was an anomaly among Turkish men, but he’d inherited it and the dark, olive-skinned good looks of his father. It made finding women willing to mess around pretty easy. Too easy. Now that he was feeling better about his business, about his place in the world, he needed something more. He wanted the woman standing here with him. But it simply could never be. He took a deep breath and a chance that a simple touch would calm her and reached for her arm.

The spark that shot into his hand made him wince. He should take his hand off her, but didn’t. He watched, an objective observer, as he moved to the bare skin of her upper arm, down to her elbow, and took her shaking hand. As if he were watching from a distance, he saw himself pulling her close, taking a deep breath of her scent—a combination of citrusy perfume or shampoo and a spicy, seductive essence that he’d come to forever associate with Vivian. His brain tried to put on the brakes, but his body’s need to feel, to touch, to caress overruled all logic. It had been a long time coming. He couldn’t resist any longer.

Her lips were set in a hard line, but he slipped the hat off and smiled at the sight of her shorn-hair rebellion. It was what he loved most about her when they were younger—her constant need to be thumbing her nose at authority.

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