Averill: Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 3) by Jackie Ivie Read Free Book Online Page A

ghotra. It flapped around his head in the growing wind. His disguise was easy for her to pierce. He may look Arabian, but nothing could hide the erect set of his wide shoulders. He stood out easily among his men, mainly due to his size.
    His manliness.
    Hmm . It seemed Captain Tennison was a very manly specimen. Fascinating. Interesting. And very handsome.
    “ Oh no. No. Please God...no.” 
    Averill whispered the words and turned from her contemplation of Captain Tennison. She did not think him manly. She didn’t think of him at all. It was forbidden. This couldn’t be happening to her.
    “So tell me,” Captain Tennison’s words pr eceded him as he brought in a bundle of canvas sheeting. “Why do you hate your eyes so?”
    Averill looked out at the sand swirling about the campsite. She wasn’t about to face him until she had her thoughts back where they belonged. That much, she was certain of.
    “You don’t look especially Egyptian anyway, you know.”
    He spoke as if she weren’t ignoring him. She glanced sidelong at him. Of course she looked Egyptian. It was just her eyes marking her as a union of two races.
    “Don’t look at me like that . I’m only speaking the truth. I would guess with less sun, your skin might surprise you at how light it is, too.”
    “I don’t want to talk about me.” 
    The thought of his looking at her skin made a series of strange tingles run her arms. Her legs. And center at each breast tip. It was an exciting sensation. And dangerous.
    “All right.”
    Averill watched him look out at the night for some long moments.
    “The sand is getting nearer . Help me cover our shelter.”
    She wasn’t much help at lifting his canvas high enough. But he didn’t chastise, only worked efficiently, until the extra material draped the space, creating an intimate interior. And worse. Captain Tennison waited for her, reclining on his pallet. He’d left the side away from the wind open a bit, and through it she saw him gesture for her. And she couldn’t think of one reason to refuse.
    It was brighter when the lamp didn’t have to compete with the wind, but it was much harder to breathe. That could’ve been because the captain took up so much room. Averill scooted to one side, letting him stretch out his legs. She couldn’t help noticing that when he did so, the outline of his legs was easy to see through his long robes.
    What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t even notice such things. He was a man. And he was forbidden. And she was staring. Heat flared in her cheeks.
    “ So. What do you want to talk about?” he asked.
    She jumped slightly before resorting to a shrug.
    “That’s no answer , Averill.”
    “Why talk?” she asked in Spanish to test him . Perhaps she was looking for the spark of pleasure in his eyes.
    “Spanish, too ? I should’ve guessed. I’m almost speechless. Where did you come from?”
    She didn’t reply. The enclosure grew warmer as he regarded her. She had to turn away first. And finally, he sighed.
    “I know . You don’t want to talk about you. But I can’t just sit here and watch you stare at the ground. I’ll go mad. Think of me for a change.”
    It was a good thing she was looking at the ground . He’d not miss the widening of her eyes, nor the gasp from that statement. It was getting difficult not to think of him.
    “I’m the black sheep of my family,” he said, conversationally.
    She glanced up at him and saw his grin.
    “If we can’t talk about you, I’ll just bore you with talk of myself . That should make the hours pass a bit faster, no?”
    She looked heavenward for a moment and he laughed.
    “ Very well. Here goes. I’m a Tennison. The family name goes back to the Crusades. About fourteenth century, or so, if I’m not mistaken. I lost many a great-great-great....”  He let his voice dwindle and then he winked.
    Averill ducked her head, ashamed of the blush that stole across her cheeks . He had winked at her! She almost put her hands