His Desert Rose. Liz Fielding
fantasy but that was all it was, a fantasy. He’d kidnapped her and she was far from safe.
She swallowed. Tried to gather her wits. The network briefed staff on this kind of situation before sending them to dangerous parts of the world. She knew that she was supposed to keep the man talking. Make him see her as a person.
The way he was looking at her, the fact that his legs straddled her, that his hips were pressed firmly against her abdomen suggested that he could do little other than see her as a person. A female person.
All the more reason to talk. ‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for my company. If you wanted to talk to me, why didn’t you come and join me on the plane? Or call at my brother’s house—’
Maybe he was getting the same thoughts, because without warning he moved, shifting to her side so that he was lying alongside her, eyeing her warily. ‘You knew who I was, didn’t you? Back there?’
Instantly. She had no intention of flattering him, though. ‘I shouldn’t think too many of the local bandits went to an English public school. And very few of them have grey eyes.’ Even in the darkness, his eyes had been unmistakable. ‘And of course there was your voice. I heard that just a few hours ago. If you’d wanted to remain anonymous, you should have sent one of your henchmen to capture me.’
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