‘Really?’
‘When you’re fully recovered I will take you there,’ he said casually.
A feverish thrill tightened Lexie’s skin. He was watching her, and as their eyes met he smiled, a slow movement of his mouth that sent even more chills of excitement through her. He sounded as though he was looking forward to the promised excursion as much as she was.
Help! Thoughts chased through her head in tumultuous distraction. She took a swift breath and said sedately, ‘How very intriguing. Does anyone have any theory on who built them?’
‘Theories abound,’ he informed her dryly. ‘Some say they are the original Atlantis, some that they were made by the Trojans when they fled Troy, some that the people who built them came from China.’
‘Are they being excavated?’
‘Yes.’
He told her about the ruins and the museum, and university teams that had combined to excavate them. He astonished her with tales of the furious war of words that had broken out between two extremely opinionated archaeologists, a battle fought through the media, until finally Rafiq had threatened to ban both of them from ever coming to Moraze again.
‘It seems incongruous for people whose profession is to find the truth to be so hidebound and one-eyed,’ Lexie said thoughtfully.
‘Egos often get in the way of the truth. Egos and greed.’
The words fell into the scented air, flat and cold and uncompromising, so much at variance with the soft hushing of the water in the fountain and the overarching infinity of the sable sky above that Lexie shivered. ‘Greed? Surely archaeologists don’t profit financially from their discoveries?’
‘Profit need not be financial. An interesting set of ruins well-excavated will build a reputation. Greed for the possible rewards of a big discovery can override common sense, and sometimes even lead to destructive actions.’
It sounded like a warning—one directed at her.
Did he know about her father? Greed and ego had led him to do monstrous things.
Shaken by the nausea that always affected her when she thought of the man who had sired her, Lexie sipped more of the delicious juice and said colourlessly, ‘I suppose you’re right.’
Dismissing the subject, Rafiq got to his feet. ‘Are you ready for dinner?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ But she stood too fast; the abrupt movement sent a jab of pain through her neck, making her clamp her lips together.
She didn’t think he’d noticed, but it took him only a second to reach her, his hands gripping her shoulders from behind as he asked, ‘What is it? What’s the matter? This is the second time you’ve almost fainted.’
‘I didn’t.’ Her voice sounded thin and far away, so she swallowed and tried again. ‘I must have twisted my neck in the accident. It’s fine, but every now and then the muscles remind me of it. It’s nothing.’
His grasp eased, but he didn’t let her go, still so close that she could discern his subtle, potent male scent.
‘Perhaps this will help,’ he said quietly, his thumbs moving in slow circles on the nape of her neck.
Sensuous little chills raced down her spine. Lexie closed her eyes, but that made her pulse rate soar even higher; an odd weakness in her bones threatened her with an undignified collapse. Resisting the temptation to lean back, she forced her eyes open and stared belligerently ahead, blinking to clear the dreamy haze from her sight.
Break it up right now, caution warned. She said curtly, ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you.’
‘Are you?’ A raw note in the words caught her attention as he turned her to face him.
She looked up into an angular visage, all hard lines and intensity. What she saw there drove every thought into oblivion.
Green eyes blazing, he bent his head. ‘You don’t look all right. Shall I carry you to your room?’
‘No!’ Sheer panic raised her voice.
Panic—and a wild response that blazed up from nowhere, licking through her like the best brandy, burning away inhibitions and restraint in a conflagration of need.
‘Your eyes give your words the lie.’ He dropped his narrowed gaze to her mouth. ‘And that delicious mouth makes promises I want to collect on.’
Struggling for control, she shook her head.
‘Say it,’ he said in a harsh voice. ‘Tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you.’
Lexie’s breath stopped in her throat. Her muscles locked as she met his gleaming gaze with a challenge she couldn’t hide.
‘Say no—or take the consequences.’ This time he spoke more gently.
Wordlessly she lifted a hand to his cheek.
Half smiling, he teased her with kisses on the corners of her willing mouth. An inarticulate little sound from her made him smile, but in answer to her wordless plea he deepened the kiss, and his arms clamped her against the lean strength of his body.
The tension between them was now revealed for what it was—a fierce sexual charge that hungered for this, for more…
Rafiq lifted his head to tilt hers back, so that he could kiss the length of her throat, stopping only a fraction above the neckline of the prim silk shirt she’d bought half a world away in Illyria.
Lexie’s heart literally jumped; she was sure she felt it move in her breast, then settle back into place before he said against her skin, ‘You have the mouth of a siren.’
His faint accent intensified so that he sounded exotic—almost barbaric. ‘And you kiss like one. Where did you learn that?’
‘I don’t—I don’t think you learn to kiss,’ she parried breathlessly, aware only that she couldn’t let him see how much that final caress had shattered her once-safe world.
One black brow arched. ‘Perhaps not,’ he drawled.
And he kissed her again, mercilessly stoking the craving that ate into her, a wild, primal longing for union, a desire that burned hotter and even hotter until she was aching, her body poised and eager, her mind clouded as though with drugs.
Alarm bells rang. When he lifted his head and let his gaze slide downwards, she realised that her inner turbulence was physically revealed; her breasts had peaked, demanding a satisfaction only Rafiq could give her.
Shocked, she pulled back. For a second she thought he was going to keep her in his arms by force, but then he gave a twisted, rather sardonic smile and let her go.
‘No,’ he stated rather than asked.
‘Dinner must be ready.’ Although her voice was hoarse and uneven, she met his gaze steadily, without flinching.
His laughter held no amusement. ‘Indeed, and one should never keep the servants waiting. This way.’
He extended his arm. After a moment’s hesitation Lexie laid her fingertips on it, feeling the slow flex of his muscle beneath them with a voluptuous thrill—half forbidden desire, half fear.
This was dangerous, she warned herself silently as they walked across the great hall.
‘You are afraid of me?’ His tone was aloof, at odds with the penetrating look he sent her.
‘No,’ she said rapidly. ‘Of course not.’
The person she was terrified of was herself. She appeared to have no resistance to Rafiq’s particular