Page 21 of A Cinderella For The Desert King

In that first startled moment when she had turned all she’d got was a blurred impression of the man she remembered—perfect face, perfect body and an aura of high-voltage maleness that had delivered a gut-punch blow to her unprepared nervous system.

‘Should you be—?’

Standing there looking gorgeous?

Rising above the unhelpful prompting of her subconscious, she took a breath and tried again, focusing on the fact that, though her first impression was correct—he was still off-the-scale gorgeous—he also looked as though sheer willpower was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

‘I decided that it might be hard to garner respect when any false move is likely to reveal my rear; however, getting dressed was not quite as simple as I thought.’

It was not his growled admission that brought a rush of colour to her cheeks but the mental image that flashed into her head. She was not in the habit of imagining men’s bottoms...

‘You could have asked someone for help...’ Abby imagined that his position of power would make it likely that the staff would knock the door down to offer him assistance. ‘Shall I...?’ She paused and felt a flush bloom on her cheeks as she struggled to banish the half-formed image in her head of herself performing the required assistance...only in her mind she was taking the clothes off rather than helping him put them on.

‘Shall I get someone to help you?’

‘Someone who is not you?’

Her alarmed eyes flew to his face... Relax, Abby; he can’t read your mind. ‘One of those men in the—’

‘No!’ He barked out the injunction and then paused and took a deep, obviously painful breath before continuing in a more moderate tone. ‘They are not nurses.’

‘Who are they...? Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy—’

‘They are the men who run Aarifa.’

The comment shocked her into an uncensored response. ‘Isn’t that your father?’

‘My father lost interest in the job a long time ago.’

Her curiosity was interlaced with empathy as an image of a frail and elderly ruler flashed into her head. ‘So he relied heavily on your brother.’

The suggestion drew an odd laugh that terminated in another wince.

‘I think I should call a nurse or—’ Her concern morphed into something far less elevated when he lifted a hand, causing his unbuttoned shirt to gape open a few extra inches, revealing a hard, taut, muscle-ridged torso. The tendrils of shameful heat unfurling in the pit of her belly cooled into empathy as he winced and she realised his injuries were not restricted to his face.

Abby dragged her eyes upwards towards his face. Under the long-sleeved ankle-length silk dress she wore her heart continued to thud hard as she tilted her head back to meet his heavily lidded eyes. That in itself was a novelty—her own height meant it was rare that she ever had to look up at anyone.

‘I think this is a mistake...’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘No, it is a mistake; I really don’t know why I’m here...we could do this by email when you’re feeling better, or...’

He placed a hand on the side of her cheek. The touch of his long fingers was light but the electrical tingle it sent through her nervous system was anything but.

‘I prefer the personal touch.’

Abby fought the hypnotic tug of his electric-blue eyes and focused on the damage to his face, the bruising along the crest of one razor-sharp cheekbone that extended over the chiselled planes of his dramatically handsome face. Bruising that the dark shadow of stubble dusting his lean cheeks and angular jaw could not disguise.

‘I don’t.’ She got nowhere near the level of cool she was aiming for but to her relief his hand fell away, though that may have been simply because he looked as though he needed all of his control just to stay standing up.

‘Even if you manage to get dressed, you’ll probably pass out...is that really worth it?’

An expression of hauteur spread across his lean features as he responded with chilly dismissal. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Well, you can be snooty if you like but I was only trying to help.’

The hauteur faded from his face, to be replaced by a smile that she found much more disturbing. ‘As forthright as ever... I had forgotten.’ His eyes slid from her face down her body, his gaze possessing a caressing quality that made her stomach muscles quiver. ‘You scrub up rather well...’

She looked quickly away from the heat in his eyes, but not soon enough to stop the lick of flame that slid through her body.

‘And it is very hard to tell that your feet are mismatched.’

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