Page 17 of Going Rogue
Rogue
“Married, Crane?” On the question, a noise left Rogue’s throat. It was half infuriated huff and half helpless groan when they entered the tent they’d be spending the night in—together.
The Bedouin’s guest tent sat further awayfrom the rest. It consisted of a single room furnished with a double pallet of linens made from sheepskin. Rugs of varying bright colors boasting geometric designs completely covered the ground, while underneath them, the soft sand acted like a carpet pad.
In one corner, a basin of water sat on a tray with small washcloths for cleaning up. The only other items were stacks of colorful folded linens serving as nightstands on either side of the palleted bed. The makeshift tables held glowing lanterns, which bounced their shadows off the white tent walls, amplifying one glaring fact.
One bed.
Of course, the tent had only one freakin’ bed.
Today had been one disaster after another, so she might’ve been resigned to that point, but her resignation remained buried under the growing anger twisting through her blood like a snake preparing to strike. It’d be pretty damn hard to avoid any semblance of intimacy with Crane when they were sharing such a small space for the night.
Maybe it’s a good thing.
She shoved the unbidden thought away as soon as it rose. Her heart might want one thing, but she had to use her head. She’d let Crane speak for them because she understood enough about Bedouin culture to know they wouldn’t want to hear from her. But when he’d claimed her as his wife . . . shock had been the only thing to keep her hackles from rising. And it had long since worn off.
Now, she let the anger build to mask the fear she didn’t want to face. She didn’t know what she’d do if he tried to kiss her again. A part of her desperately wanted him to, and it scared the hell out of her. Fueling her anger, she whirled on him, ready to give him the full brunt of her ire.
He stood in front of the closed flap with his arms crossed like a bouncer guarding a door. As if he thought she’d run out or something ridiculous.
A current that had nothing to do with her fury and everything to do with lust attempted to distract her. Because the only thing ridiculous was how his muscles stood out insharp relief. With the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across his chest, his shoulders strained the material, and his biceps flexed with every breath.
The fact she noticed only added to the complicated stew of emotions brewing in her gut. She couldn’t even rage at him the way she wanted to. Who knew if any of the Bedouins spoke English?
While she waited, a flash of whatcouldn’thave been fear crossed his features before he covered it with a stoic expression. “Yes, married.”
She scoffed at his complete non-answer. “I’m sorry, let me rephrase the question,” she paused and took what she hoped would be a calming breath. “Why the hell did you say we were married?” Okay, the breath didn’t help much, but at least she’d growled the words instead of screaming them like she’d wanted to.
He cocked a brow while she tried not to breathe fire. “To protect you.” His tone sounded far too calm for her liking.
Rogue stared and tried to understand what she was missing. Usually, sheknewthings. Things just clicked for her, and whatever meanings were or weren’t meant to be conveyed, she could read them. It was one of the reasons she excelled at her job. But watching Crane for any sign of further explanation left her frustrated when the answer continued to elude her.
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked furiously until they were gone. She didn’t cryexceptwhen she got frustrated. It annoyed the hell out of her, which colored her voice when she snapped, “What am I missing here?”
“They wanted to know if you werepure, Rogan.” A flicker of something deadly broke through his stoicism before he snarled, “What do you think would’ve happened if they thought you weren’t?”
At least she didn’t needthatspelled out. She’d had enough of fending off attackers for one day. Watching the muscles in his jaw work, she tried and failed to connect the rest of the dots. “But being married isn’t being pure.” Those damn tears wanted to break free as she struggled to comprehend his reasoning.
How does that protect me?
To her absolute shock, he exploded. Like a grenade being launched, Crane blew up in her face, and she didn’t even have the wherewithal to stumble back a step.
In one jerky stride, his long legs had closed the distance between them, then he gripped the tactical vest and pulled her to her toes until they were nearly nose to nose. “If they knew you weren’t a virgin and you were unmarried—” His face paled, and his eyes pinched with pain before he closed them briefly and shook his head. “If they think we’re a couple, they won’t touch you.” His jaw clenched, and his teeth ground together loud enough for her to hear before he gritted out, “At least, they better not.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Halfway through his speech, she’d wished she could disappear in a puff of smoke. Complete and utter embarrassment burned through her, suffusing her skin with its heat until her face flamed as scarlet as a rose. She finally understood what he’d done, but he’d been wrong.
Shewaspure. And even if she didn’t wantto explain it to him, her fucking body decided to give her away.
Crane’s hands gentled, moving to cup her shoulders as he set her back on her feet. Confusion replaced the fierceness in his growl. “What is it?”
Rogue closed her eyes, praying this would all be a horrible dream when she opened them. She worked to control her breathing, but it didn’t have the desired effect. Her pulse refused to slow. It continued its racing beat, flushing warmth through her veins and reddening her skin.
Crane’s hands moved to grip her head. One tangled in her hair while the other brushed across her heated cheeks. When they stilled suddenly, dread dropped her stomach through the floor. “You’re not . . .?” His question trailed off as if even thinking it was absurd.
With a cringe, she opened her eyes.
