Bound To Her Desert Captor. Michelle Conder

he pocketed her phone. She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t keep it because her phone was her lifeline too, but at this point she’d do almost anything to placate him and make him go away.

      ‘Satisfied?’ she asked, the word husky on her lips.

      ‘Hardly.’ His gaze raked down over her again and she became acutely aware of her nudity beneath her robe. The small room seemed to shrink even more and the air grew heavy between them, making it nearly impossible for her to breathe. The man had a dire effect on her system, there was no question about that.

      ‘Why were you so keen to jump on a plane and fly here after that one email?’

      ‘I...’ Regan swallowed. ‘I was worried. It’s not like Chad to be out of contact.’

      ‘So you rushed over here because you thought he might be in trouble? Do you always put your brother first, or is it that you like to feel indispensable?’

      Regan’s pride jolted at his words because there was some truth to them. Becoming Chad’s guardian and throwing herself into the role had helped to fill a void in her life and move on from her grief.

      Hot colour flamed in her face. ‘You don’t know me.’

      ‘Nor do I want to. Get dressed,’ he ordered before turning and walking back into the main room.

      Regan exhaled, willing herself to be calm. She moved to the doorway to find him going through the photos on her camera. Instantly she went into panic mode. ‘Hey, don’t touch that. It’s old and I can’t afford to replace it.’

      She lunged to retrieve her precious camera and he held it aloft. ‘I’m not going to break it,’ he snapped. ‘Not unless you keep trying to grab it.’

      Snatching her hand back from where it had landed on the hard ball of his shoulder, she slapped her hands on her hips. ‘I don’t care who you are, you have no right to go through my things.’

      He gave her a dismissive glance to say that he had every right and even if he didn’t there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it. ‘There isn’t anything I won’t do to get my sister back, Miss James. You’d better get used to that idea.’

      His sister?

      Regan frowned. ‘What has your sister got to do with anything?’

      Slowly his gaze returned to hers, the blue so clear and so cold she could have been staring into a glacier. ‘Your brother has my sister. And now I have his.’

      ‘That’s insane.’

      ‘For once we agree on something.’

      ‘No, I mean you’re insane. My brother isn’t with your sister. He would have told me.’

      ‘Really?’

      Maybe. Maybe not. ‘Are they in a relationship or something?’ If they were she was a bit hurt that he hadn’t told her. They had always shared everything in the past.

      ‘You’d better hope not. Now move. My patience is at an end. I need to return to the palace.’

      Wait? Was he really the King of Santara?

      ‘I’m... I’m not going anywhere with you.’

      ‘If you insist on going as you are I won’t stop you. But you’ll get far more looks than you did earlier, parading around in tight jeans and a flimsy shirt.’

      ‘My clothes were perfectly respectable, thank you very much.’

      ‘You have five minutes.’

      ‘I’m not going with you.’

      ‘That’s your choice, of course, but the alternative is that you remain in this room until your brother returns.’

      Regan frowned. ‘You mean as in locked in here?’

      ‘I can’t afford to have my sister’s disappearance become public knowledge. With you asking questions and wandering around on your own you’ll only draw attention to yourself. And, no doubt, get yourself into trouble in the process.’

      ‘I won’t say anything. I promise!’

      Regan knew she sounded desperate and she was. The thought of being locked in a hotel room for who knew how long was not acceptable. If what this man said was true she wanted freedom to find Chad and figure out what was going on. Preferably before this man found him.

      He shook his head. ‘Make your decision. I don’t have all night.’

      ‘I’m not staying here!’

      ‘Then get dressed.’

      Regan’s mind was spinning out of control. Her head, already fuzzy from lack of sleep, was struggling to keep pace with the rate at which things were moving. ‘I need more time to think about this.’

      ‘I gave you five minutes. You now have four.’

      ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a more arrogant person than you. Actually, strike that: I know I haven’t.’

      He folded his hands across his chest, his muscular legs braced wide, his expression hard. Like this he looked as if he could take on fifty men blindfolded and win.

      ‘Your telephone service will be disconnected and I will have guards posted outside your door. I do not advise you to try to leave.’

      ‘But how do I know you are who you say you are?’ she said on a rush. ‘You could be an imposter for all I know. A murderer. I’d be crazy to go with you.’

      ‘I am not a murderer.’

      ‘I don’t know that!’

      ‘Get dressed and I’ll prove it to you.’

      ‘How?’

      He heaved an impatient sigh. ‘You can ask any member of the hotel staff downstairs. They will know who I am.’

      For the first time since he had barged into her room Regan saw a way out. If he was really going to take her downstairs then she had a chance of alerting someone as to what was going on.

      ‘Okay, just...’ She grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt from her case. ‘Just give me a minute.’

      Locking herself in the bathroom, she very nearly didn’t come back out but decided that he’d most likely break the door down if she aggravated him too much. He had the arms for it.

      Concentrating more on his abundant negative qualities, she opened the door to find him propping up the opposite wall, looking at his watch. ‘One minute early. I’m impressed.’

      Arrogant jerk.

      Regan grabbed her handbag and walked ahead of him out the door. She waited as he stabbed the elevator button. ‘If you’re really a king, where are all your guards?’

      ‘I rarely take guards with me on unofficial business. I can take care of myself.’

      Convenient, she thought.

      ‘And why was it that no one in the shisha bar knew your identity? If you’re really the King I would have expected some bowing and scraping.’

      The slow smile he gave her told her he wouldn’t mind making her bow and scrape for him. ‘I’ve found that people rarely see what they’re least expecting.’

      Regan raised a brow. She couldn’t argue with that. She might have thought he looked dangerous when she had first seen him, but she hadn’t expected him to turn up at her door making outrageous accusations about her brother. Nor had she expected him to tell her he was the King. Though whether or not that was true still remained to be seen.

      ‘How’s the headache?’ he asked, watching her in the mirrored wall. Regan slid her gaze to his. ‘Don’t bother denying it,’ he continued. ‘You’re so pale you look like you’re about to pass out.’

      ‘My