Modern Romance July 2018 Books 5-8 Collection. Annie West

It was a very comfortable seat, but she’d been sitting in it for ages. The Emir’s serious-eyed secretary had looked down his nose at her and warned she’d have a long wait, since the Emir had many important appointments. Far more important, he implied, with a comprehensive glance, than dealing with some tawdry dancing girl.

      Lina wanted to tell him the clothes she wore weren’t her choice. She hadn’t been permitted to bring her own clothes with her to the palace, only the outfits her aunt had provided.

      She’d stared straight back at the secretary, refusing to drop her gaze, and let him huff and puff. Eventually he’d led her into the library, motioned to a chair and left.

      Now, finally, Lina could stand the temptation no more. She’d never seen so many books. They lined three walls. Surely that was more than any person could ever read in a lifetime.

      Quietly, she got up and tiptoed to the nearest shelf. The covers were beautiful, leather and fabric in all the hues of a rainbow. Some tall and slim. Others short and stumpy. She reached out and trailed her fingers over one, then another, then another.

      Imagine all the secrets hidden in these books. All the nuggets of knowledge. All the explanations of scientific marvels and history. And stories, so many stories contained in this massive collection. Wonderful stories such as her mother had told her and many more besides. The idea left her giddy with the possibilities.

      With a quick look over her shoulder, Lina selected a book. Its cover was hard and green with gilt lettering. The secretary hadn’t said she couldn’t touch.

      Carefully she slid it out, testing its weight on her hands. She opened it to find gorgeously coloured pictures of plants. A few she recognised, ones that grew in the foothills near her home. Others were unfamiliar. Her fingers traced the delicate shape of one beautiful flower. Its petals were a dark red that looked so real it might have been plucked fresh this morning.

      Finally, when she’d looked her fill, she put the book back and moved along the shelf, selecting another at random. This one had a cover of red. Inside there were no pictures, but—

      ‘Lina.’

      She spun, almost dropping the precious book as she started.

      The Emir closed the door behind him. Last night, in the warm glow of his lamplit bedroom, he’d thrown her off balance. She’d told herself it was shock because she’d seen so much of his handsome, sculpted body. More than any woman expected to see of a man who was not her husband.

      Yet that same thrill of excitement ran through her veins as he crossed the room towards her with that easy stride. The same breathlessness at his sheer masculine beauty and that aura of power he wore as surely as the fine white robes. His face, against the pale fabric, was bronze and arrestingly handsome. His eyes dark and penetrating.

      And she knew exactly what he was like beneath his clothing. The moulded muscles, the hard, intriguing line of his shoulders. The wisp of black hair that bisected his flat belly and dipped below his trousers.

      That explained why her heart hammered too fast and why, low in her body, she felt a rush of unfamiliar molten heat. It was reaction to him as a man, not as her ruler.

      The realisation brought a flush to her cheeks and she hurriedly looked down at the book, open in her hands.

      ‘It’s good to see someone making use of the library. I doubt my uncle ever opened the books and I haven’t had time yet. Is it something interesting?’ His tone was gentle. Clearly he tried to put her at ease. As if she were his equal, not his...possession. Her breath hitched on the thought.

      He stopped before her and every hair on her body prickled in awareness.

      ‘I...don’t know. I just opened it.’

      There was a long pause. Then he reached out and lifted the book from her hands. But instead of keeping it, he merely turned it up the other way and gave it back to her.

      Lina stared down at the lines of writing, warmth rising in her cheeks. She swallowed but didn’t look up.

      ‘Lina?’

      ‘Yes, sir?’

      ‘Can you read?’ She heard the whisper of kindness in his voice, a note that reminded her, abruptly, of her long-dead mother. For even her father, though not mean or cruel, had never been tender.

      A lump formed in her throat.

      ‘Lina?’ That tone, though gentle, compelled. She felt the force of his will drag her head up till her gaze collided with his. She shivered as fire and ice made her skin tingle and her backbone stiffen.

      ‘No, sir.’ Shame swamped her. She hated to admit the deficiency. It seemed to reinforce every cliché that had been thrown at her and her mother by her father’s relatives and many of their neighbours. As if their lack of learning was a character flaw rather than a lack of opportunity.

      ‘But there are schools in your town. I’ve seen them.’ The Emir’s brow knotted.

      Lina nodded. She’d pleaded to be allowed to attend. But it had not been deemed appropriate.

      ‘My father didn’t believe it necessary for females to attend school. My mother wanted me to go, but she died when I was young and there was no one else to persuade my father.’ She paused, feeling it necessary to explain. Her father hadn’t been evil, just set in his ways. And he’d been disappointed that his only child was a girl. ‘He had very traditional views.’

      Lina’s mother had been his second wife, twenty years his junior. She’d been beautiful, clever and charming, but faced prejudice because poverty and lack of education had forced her into becoming a dancer, performing in public before her marriage. That prejudice tainted Lina too, as if despite her careful upbringing, her morals were questionable because of her mother’s previous profession.

      ‘Do you want to learn?’

      Lina blinked up at the grave face before her. Was he serious?

      If it were her uncle or one of his sons asking, she’d expect some sort of teasing trick, to raise her hopes then dash them. But this was the Emir. The man who’d listened to her last night when he could have ignored her. Who’d been polite and almost gentle, despite his obvious fatigue.

       The man who’d allowed her to go to her own bed, alone and untouched, instead of doing any of the things she’d been told he’d demand of her.

      She hadn’t slept all night, going over and over each word, each gesture and nuance in her mind. The more she’d remembered, the more the glow of warmth inside her built.

      ‘Of course! I tried to find someone to teach me. But it didn’t work out.’

      She’d made the mistake of asking one of her cousins. The quiet, scholarly one who didn’t make brash jokes in her presence and who’d seemed almost pleasant. Except their ‘lesson’ had lasted about five minutes before his hands started to wander. Then he’d grabbed her and tried to kiss her and Lina had never been so glad to see her aunt as when she’d burst in, even though it meant Lina was locked in her room for the next week as punishment.

      Her hands shook so much she closed the book and put it down on the shelf beside her. ‘Would you...? Could I really learn to read and write?’

      Hope nosedived at his suddenly fierce expression. As if her excitement displeased him. For a long moment he stared at her, his mouth a grim line. Then he nodded curtly and swung away to take a seat behind his imposing desk.

      ‘Of course it’s possible. In fact, it’s necessary if you’re going to make your way in the world.’

      He gestured for her to take the seat before him. It made her feel a little like she had as a child, called before her father to account for some misdeed. Except, despite the shimmer of tension in the air and the hint of anger in the Emir’s tensed jaw, there was compassion in his eyes.

      ‘Clearly you can’t stay here in the palace.’

      ‘But