‘I don’t have to answer your questions!’
‘Do you even have an office there?’ he demanded.
She swallowed. ‘Not yet,’ she said finally, ‘but—’
‘You are nothing,’ he snarled, ‘nothing! Your father insults me by sending you to me.’
‘You’ve got this all wrong,’ Joanna said quickly. ‘I am his confidante. And his vice-president—well, I will be, when—’
‘What you are,’ he said grimly, ‘is a Jezebel.’
She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. ‘What?’
‘I knew Bennett was desperate to hold on to his contract with that pig, Abu Al Zouad.’ His eyes shot to her face. ‘But even I never dreamed he’d offer up his daughter to get it!’
‘Are you crazy? I told you, my father is ill. That’s why he sent me to meet with you!’
‘He sent you to do whatever had to be done to ensure success.’ He threw her a look of such fury that Joanna felt herself blanch. ‘If Khalil wouldn’t accept one sort of bribe, surely he’d accept another.’
She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Are you saying my father…are you saying you think that I…?’ She sprang towards him across the console and slammed her fist into his shoulder. ‘You—you contemptible son of a bitch! I’d sooner sleep with a—a camel than—’
She cried out as the car swerved. The tyres squealed as they clawed at the verge; the brakes protested as he jammed them on, and then he swung towards her, his eyes filled with loathing.
‘But it would be like sleeping with a camel, wouldn’t it, Miss Bennett? Sleeping with a man like Khalil, I mean.’
‘If you touch me,’ Joanna said, trying to keep her voice from shaking, ‘if you so much as put a finger on me, so help me, I’ll—’
‘You’ll what?’ His lips drew back from his teeth. ‘Scream? Go right ahead, then. Scream. Scream until you can’t scream any more. Who do you think will hear you?’
God. Oh, God! He was right. She looked around her wildly. There was darkness everywhere—everywhere except for his face, looming over hers, his eyes glinting with anger, his mouth hard and narrowed with scorn.
‘My father,’ she said hoarsely. ‘My father will—’
‘The scorpion of the desert is a greater worry to me than is your father.’
‘Surely we can behave like civilised human beings and—?’
He laughed in her face. ‘How can we, when I am the emissary of a savage?’
‘I never said that!’
‘No. You never did. But you surely thought it. What else would a greedy, tyrannical bandit be if not a savage?’ His mouth thinned. ‘But I ask you, who is the savage, Miss Bennett, the Hawk of the North—or a father who would offer his daughter to get what he wants?’
He caught her wrist as her hand flew towards his face. ‘I’ve had enough, you—you self-centred son of a bitch! My father would no more—’
His face twisted. ‘Perhaps I should have let it happen.’ He leaned towards her, forcing her back in her seat. ‘Maybe it wasn’t your father who suggested you make this great sacrifice. Maybe it was you who wanted to share Khalil’s bed—or did you think it would be sufficient to share mine?’
‘I’d sooner die,’ Joanna said, her voice rising unsteadily while she struggled uselessly to shove him off her. ‘I swear, I’d sooner—’
His lips drew back from his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘Just think what erotic delights a savage like me might have taught you. Enough, perhaps, to keep your useless New York friends tittering for an entire season!’
‘You’re disgusting! You—you make me sick to my stomach!’
His mouth dropped to hers like a stone, crushing the words on her lips. She struggled wildly, beating her free hand against his shoulder, trying to twist her face from his, but it was useless. He was all hard sinew and taut muscle that nothing would deter.
After a moment, he drew back.
‘What’s the matter?’ he said coldly. ‘Have you changed your mind about adding a little sweetening to Bennettco’s bribe offer?’
Hatred darkened Joanna’s eyes. ‘What a fool I was to think I could deal with you in a civilised manner! You’re just like your Prince, aren’t you? When you can’t get what you want, you just—you reach out and grab it!’
‘What if I said you were wrong, Miss Bennett? What if I told you that I am not a man who takes?’
Anger made her reckless. ‘I’d call you a liar,’ she snapped.
To her surprise, he laughed. ‘Which of us is the liar, Joanna? Or are you suggesting I not take what you are prepared to give?’
The look she gave him was pure defiance. ‘I offered you nothing.’
For a long moment, their eyes held. Then he smiled, and the smile sent her heart into her throat.
‘I never take that which has not been offered,’ he said, very softly.
She cried out as he reached for her again but there was no way to escape him. He caught her face between his hands, holding it immobile, and bent his head to hers. She stiffened, holding her breath, preparing instinctively for the fury of his kiss, for whatever ugly show of strength and power lay ahead.
But there was no way to prepare for the reality of what happened. His lips were soft, moving against hers with slow persuasion, seeking response.
Not that it mattered. It was a useless effort. She would never, could never, respond to a man like him, a man who believed he could first terrorise a woman, then seduce her. His hands spread over her cheeks, his thumbs gliding slowly across the high arc of her cheekbones. His fingers threaded into her hair, slowly angling her head back so that his lips could descend upon hers again—and all at once, to Joanna’s horror, something dark and primitive stirred deep within her soul, an excitement that made her pulse leap.
No. No, she didn’t want this! But her body was quickening, her mouth was softening beneath his. Was it the way he was holding her, so that she was arched towards him, as if in supplication? Was it the heat of his body against hers?
The tip of his tongue skimmed across her mouth. She made a sound, a little moan that was barely perceptible, but he heard it. He whispered something incomprehensible against her mouth and his arms went around her and drew her close, so that her breasts were pressed against his chest.
Joanna felt the sudden erratic gallop of her heart as his mouth opened over hers. His tongue slipped between her lips, stroking against the tender flesh. Heat rose like a flame under her skin as he cupped her breast in his hand. She shuddered in his arms as his thumb moved against the hardening nipple.
‘Yes,’ he whispered, ‘yes…’
How could this be happening? She hated him, for what he was and for the man he served—and yet, her hands were sliding up his chest, her palms were measuring the swift, sure beat of his heart as it leapt
beneath her fingertips. Her head fell back; he kissed her throat and she made another soft sound that might have been surrender or despair…
He let her go with such abruptness that she fell back against the seat. Her eyes flew open; her gaze met his and they stared at each other. For an instant they seemed suspended in time, and then two circles of crimson rose in Joanna’s cheeks.
Khalil smiled tightly. ‘You see?’ he said, almost lazily. He reached for the key and the engine roared to life. ‘I never take what is not offered.’
Humiliation rose in her throat like bile. ‘I get the message,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. ‘I’m female, you’re male, and I shouldn’t have said anything to insult you or the mighty Khalil.’
‘I’m happy to see you’re not stupid.’
‘Slow, maybe, but never stupid. Now, take me back to—’
‘We are not returning to Casablanca, Joanna.’
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘You can’t possible think I’d still go anywhere with you after…’
Her heart rose into her throat. He was turning the car, but not back the way they’d come. Instead, they were jouncing across hard-packed dirt towards a long, looming shadow ahead.
‘What is that?’ she demanded, but the question was redundant, for in the headlights of the car she could now see what stood ahead of them.
It was a plane. A small, twin-engine plane, the same kind, she thought dizzily, as Bennettco owned. But this was not a Bennettco plane, not with that spread-winged, rapier-beaked bird painted on its fuselage.
Instinct made her cry out and swing towards him. She grabbed for the steering wheel but he caught her wrists easily with one hand and wrenched them down.
‘Stop it,’ he said, his voice taut with command.
The car slid to a stop. He yanked out the keys and threw the door open. Several robed figures approached, then dropped to their knees in the sand as Khalil stepped from the automobile.
‘Is the plane ready for departure?’ he demanded in English.
‘It has been ready since we received your message, my lord,’ one of the men answered without lifting his head.
Khalil hauled Joanna out after him. ‘Come,’ he said.