Captive For The Sheikh's Pleasure. Carol Marinelli

mouth spread into a smile and he walked over to her.

      Right over.

      He came into her space, and as his hand moved towards her she flinched; he gripped her chin and forced her face up.

      She refused to meet his eyes as he spoke.

      â€˜Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sheikh Ilyas al-Razim...’

      She knew that name and her eyes met his then and all trace of that smile was gone. Contempt blazed in his eyes and his fingers were firm on her jaw as he spoke on. ‘You shall deal with me now, rather than an aide. I have decided to cut the snake off at the head myself.’

      â€˜I don’t know what you want with me.’

      He released her then and went over to a low dark table where he retrieved a folder, which he held out to her.

      â€˜Did you enjoy your day on the royal yacht?’ he asked.

      With shaking hands Maggie took the folder and opened it. A photo of her wearing just a bikini was the first thing she saw.

      In it she was smiling, but Maggie could well remember the awkwardness of that moment and could see the grit of her teeth. It paled in comparison to her discomfort now as she realised she had been photographed and that he must have examined it.

      â€˜There are more,’ he told her.

      And there were, for there she was lying on a bed as Hazin came into the cabin.

      Maggie felt sick.

      â€˜Keep going,’ he said calmly.

      The next was an image of the royal prince whose cabin she had inadvertently ended up in. Hazin was laughing and naked! Very quickly she jerked her eyes away, but there was no solace for her gaze went straight to Ilyas’s.

      And his eyes were not kind.

      â€˜What is your relationship with my brother?’ he asked.

      Oh, this was the older brother Hazin had spoken less than fondly of.

      â€˜Answer the question. What is your relationship with my brother?’

      â€˜I don’t have one.’

      â€˜So you often share a bed with men you have no relationship with?’

      â€˜Not often, no...’

      He didn’t get her nervous humour—the vague joke that had shot out, because Maggie had never shared a bed with a man in her life.

      â€˜When these sex tapes surface...’

      She laughed.

      Possibly it was the shock of being stranded in the desert that made it such a nervous laugh. Or perhaps it was the irony that she, a twenty-four-year-old virgin, was being accused of taking part in some salacious scandal with a royal prince.

      â€˜You find this funny?’ he checked.

      â€˜A little,’ Maggie said. ‘Well, I find it bizarre—although possibly it’s a nervous reaction—but, yes, the thought of me appearing in a sex tape is laughable.’

      He frowned and Maggie guessed this foreboding man had no idea what being nervous felt like, and neither would he laugh easily. She spoke on, eager to clear up the mistake. ‘I can assure you there are no sex tapes—at least, none with me in them.’

      He said nothing.

      â€˜I had sunstroke,’ Maggie explained. ‘I just went to lie down.’

      â€˜You’ve recovered quickly,’ he mused. ‘Given that you were well enough to go on your little tour.’ He seemed to tire of her then. ‘We will speak later.’ He called out in Arabic and there was the sound of small bells and two women dressed in black came in. ‘Go and make yourself presentable.’

      â€˜Presentable?’ Her voice was incredulous, but then nerves flooded in as she was terribly aware he had seen photos of her with very little on and perhaps that was his reason for bringing her here. ‘If you think for one moment—’

      â€˜Go and clean up,’ Ilyas interrupted.

      â€˜The only thing that needs cleaning up is your mistake,’ Maggie said. ‘You can’t keep me here. I’m due to fly home on Monday.’

      â€˜What time?’

      â€˜In the morning.’

      â€˜How convenient,’ he said, ‘when the tapes are due to be released at midday.’ He shook his head. ‘You aren’t going anywhere yet, but we shall speak later. There are still a couple of hours till sunlight and you should get some sleep. I would prefer to speak when you are properly rested. Your laughter in the face of something so serious is concerning. That sunstroke you mentioned perhaps?’