Awakened by Her Desert Captor by Abby Green Read Free Book Online

skin from the spray.
    But the vehicle had stopped now, and Arkim was at her side, holding out a hand. Sylvie ignored it and stepped out, not wanting to see what would undoubtedly be a mocking look on his face.
    When he didn’t move, though, she had to look at him. He gestured with a hand and—damn him—a mocking smile.
    â€˜Welcome to my home, Sylvie. I expect our time here to be...cathartic.’

CHAPTER THREE
    S YLVIE PACED BACK and forth in the rooms she’d been shown to by Arkim. Cathartic! The arrogant, patronising son-of-a—
    A knock sounded on the door and she halted, her breathing erratic. Her hands balled into fists at her sides—she wasn’t ready to see Arkim again.
    Cautiously she approached the ornately decorated door and opened it, ready to do battle, only to find two pretty, smiling women on the other side. They had her two wheelie suitcases. One filled with now redundant dance costumes, the other with her own clothes.
    She forced a smile and stood back. They entered meekly and she observed their pristine white dresses. Like long tunics. They wore white head coverings too, but not veils obscuring their faces. They looked cool and fresh, and Sylvie felt sticky and gritty after the tumultuous day.
    As they were leaving again one of the girls stopped and said shyly, ‘I’m Halima. If you need anything just pick up the phone and I will come to you.’
    She ducked her head and then was gone, leaving Sylvie feeling a little slack-jawed. She had her own maid ?
    Arkim had left her here with a curt instruction to rest and said that he’d let her know when dinner would be ready. Sylvie could see the sky outside turning blood-red from the setting sun, and for the first time took in the sheer opulence of the rooms.
    She was in a reception area that would have housed her small Parisian apartment three times over. It was a huge octagonal space, with a small pond in the centre with a tiled bottom and sides, where exotic fish swam lazily.
    There were eight rooms off this main area. Two guest bedrooms, a dining room, and a living room complete with state-of-the-art sound system and media centre which had had all channels available when Sylvie had flicked it on.
    The decor throughout was subtle and understated. The stone walls of the castle had been left exposed. and modern artwork and an eclectic mix of antiques enhanced the rather austere ancient building. Huge oriental rugs adorned the floors, softening any sharp edges further. The windows were all open to the elements, and even though it was sweltering outside, the castle had been designed so that balmy breezes wafted through the open rooms.
    There was also a gym, and an accompanying thermal suite with hot-tub and sauna/steam room. And then there was the main bedroom suite, dressed in tones of dark red and cream. A fan circled overhead, distributing the air to keep it cool.
    She’d never considered herself much of a sensualist, beyond tapping into her inner performer for her work, but right now her senses were heightened by everything she’d seen since she’d arrived in this country.
    The bed was situated in the middle of the room, and strewn with opulent coverings and pillows. It had four posters and luxurious drapes, which were held back in place by delicately engraved gold curtain ties. The bed looked big enough to hold a football team with room to spare, let alone one person... Or two , inserted a snide voice, which Sylvie ignored.
    One thing she was sure of: Arkim Al-Sahid would not be sharing her bed. Yet something quivered to life deep inside her and she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off it...an image filled her brain of naked pale limbs entwined with much darker ones.
    For years Sylvie had seen her peers indulge in casual sexual relationships and on some level had envied them that ease and freedom. She’d gone on dates...but the men involved had all expected her to be something she wasn’t. And