Monarch of the Sands by Sharon Kendrick Read Free Book Online

firmness of her young body imprinted itself on his mind he was aware of the blood in his own veins growing hot and heavy. He could feel the curved definition of her thighs beneath his fingers, the soft weight of her breast as she slumped against his chest—and he felt a wave of guilty pleasure as he carried her into the house.
    Some of her strength must have returned because by the time he had deposited her on the old sofa in the sitting room, she had begun half-heartedly punching against his chest—and he let her. He crouched down in front of her, holding his palms up in front of him—like a man trying to quieten a fractious horse. ‘Francesca—’
    Her hands fell like stones into her lap. ‘Go away!’ she whispered.
    ‘You don’t want the truth?’
    ‘It isn’t true! Why would he want someone else when he’s engaged to me?’
But mightn’t that explain why Simon had been so unbelievably cautious about making love to her? Was it really nothing to do with respect for the old-fashioned morals she’d been brought up to believe in? Had the truth of it been that all along he had another woman and didn’t find Frankie attractive after all—makeover or no makeover?
    ‘You want proof?’ he demanded.
    Recovering some of her composure, Frankie sat up. ‘Yes, I want proof! Except you probably haven’t got any, have you? This is all because he got a bit drunk and you’re making a value judgement because you don’t think he’s good enough for me!’
    ‘Damned right he’s not,’ he said grimly, rising to his feet and going outside to retrieve a package from the passenger seat of his car, before carrying it back inside—still hoping that she might have changed her mind and just take his word for it. But one look at her face when he returned—a mutinous expression written on it that he’d never seen before—and Zahid knew that there was no alternative but to show her.
    Reluctantly, he pulled out a series of black and white photos and silently handed them to her.
    With fingers which felt frozen and a heart which was numb, Frankie looked down at the glossy images in her hands.
    There was Simon, locking his car—an innocent enough shot, but if she looked a bit more closely Frankie could see someone standing in the doorway of a house, waving to him. A rangy blonde wearing one of those skirts which only just about covered her knickers.
    The next image showed Simon warmly embracing the same woman and Frankie sought refuge in yet more denial.
    ‘She might just be his sister, or a relative,’ she croaked.
    ‘Really?’ questioned Zahid as she pulled out the third photo. ‘Pretty close family, if that’s the case.’
    This one was the killer. There could be no mistake or misunderstanding about a close-up where Simon appeared to be going for a new world record in how much tongue it was possible to shove down a woman’s throat. Frankie shuddered with revulsion as she compared it to all the chaste kisses he used to share with her. But didn’t it all make sense now? The reason he’d never touched her had not been because he’d
respected
her—but because he had someone else. Someone he really cared for and desired—rather than someone he just wanted to milk for all she was worth.
    With a ragged little cry, she let the photos slip from her fingers, her hurt and dismay making her turn on Zahid.
    ‘You had him followed!’ she accused as she felt hot tears of humiliation fill her eyes. ‘What right did you have to do that?’
    ‘Francesca,’ he admonished softly. ‘Aren’t you turning your anger on the wrong person here? I did it for your own good.’
    ‘B-but
why
?’ Frankie sobbed. ‘Why did you do it? Couldn’t you have just let me be happy for a while?’ she cried as tears of humiliation and shame began to slide down her cheeks.
    ‘You really think you can be happy in a relationship which is based on a tissue of lies? And then what?’ heflared, when still she didn’t answer. And for a moment, he