Christina felt a strange sensation creeping through her body again. Did she enjoy his kiss? But that was impossible. She hated him!
She went limp in his arms, but before she could manage to kick out, Philip picked her up, and his laughter rang through the tent.
“That little trick of yours won’t work again, Tina.”
Philip carried Christina through the heavy curtains to his bed. When she saw his intent, she began to fight in earnest, but he dropped her onto the bed and lay down beside her. She beat at his chest with her fists until he pulled both of her arms above her head and held them there with one hand.
“I think I’ll see now if your body matches your beautiful face.”
Philip untied the robe she was wearing. He threw his leg over her to still her kicking and, with one rending tear, ripped her nightdress apart.
Christina screamed, only to find his lips on hers and his tongue probing deeply in her mouth. But this time his kiss was soft and gentle, making her head spin with mixed feelings. He moved his lips to her neck and with his free hand boldly caressed her full, ripe breasts.
Searching her eyes for a response, Philip smiled down into her face. “You’re even more beautiful than I had dreamed possible. Your body was made for love. I want you, Tina,” he whispered huskily. Then he lowered his lips to her breasts, kissing each one in turn. Christina felt on fire.
She had to say something to make him stop. She was no match for his strength. “You’re no gentleman, Mr. Caxton. Must you rape me against my will,” she asked coldly, “knowing that I hate you?”
Philip looked at her then, and she could see the desire fade from his dark green eyes. He released her and stood up beside the bed. He gazed down at her, and his mouth was hard, matching the cold glint in his eyes.
“I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman, but I will not rape you. When I make love to you, it will be because you want it as much as I. And you will want me, Tina. I promise you that.”
“Never!” she hissed, pulling her clothes across her body. “I will never want you. I hate you with all my being.”
“We shall see, Tina,” Philip answered, and turned away.
“And would you stop calling me Tina? It is not my name!” she yelled at him, but he had already left the tent.
Christina tied the robe across her torn nightdress and glanced about the room. But there was nothing to see, only a single chest beside the huge bed with its heavy sheepskin cover.
Sliding under the cover, Christina mused over what he had said. So—he would not rape her. If he was a man of his word, she would be quite safe, for she knew she could never want him. Why should she ever want any man? Desire was a man’s emotion, not a woman’s.
But what if he didn’t keep his word? She hadn’t the strength to stop him if he decided to take her by force. What then? And what the devil was he doing in Egypt, anyway? He acted like a native, and the tribe seemed to accept him as one of them. She couldn’t understand it, and the question kept going through her mind without answers.
When she thought of the lengths Philip Caxton had gone to, to get her here, she became furious again. To think that she had come all the way across the ocean only to be abducted by a madman! Well, she wouldn’t be here long if she could help it. With thoughts of escape running through her mind, Christina finally went to sleep.
DAMN, BUT CHRISTINA could be a bitch when she wanted to, Philip thought. Well, her day would come, and he would take great pleasure in making her admit her desire for him.
Late as it was, Philip left the tent to visit Sheik Yasir Alhamar, his father, for he knew the old man would be waiting for him.
Yasir Alhamar had been sheik of the tribe for over thirty-five years. He had captured his first wife, an English lady of noble family, while raiding a caravan. She lived with Yasir for five years, giving him two sons, Philip and Paul.
During those days, the tribe lived a nomadic life on the desert, and the climate and hard life aged Philip’s mother quickly. She begged to go home to England with her sons. Yasir loved her very much and let her go. But she promised him to let his sons return to Egypt when they came of age, if they chose.
Philip was raised and schooled in England. When he was twenty-one years of age, his mother told him about his father. Philip decided to find Yasir and live with him. When Philip’s mother died five years ago, he inherited the estate. He left it in the care of the Caxtons’ estate manager, since he didn’t want to live in England and his brother was still in school.
Philip lived with his father’s tribe eleven years, but finally went back to England a year ago to attend his brother’s wedding. Paul had talked him into staying for a while. Then he met Christina Wakefield, and decided to make her his.
Philip had followed Christina and John Wakefield to the dock and waited patiently until their ship departed. It was sheer luck that he managed to obtain passage on a cargo ship. He left the same day, but docked a week before Christina’s ship.
When he arrived, he contacted Saadi and Ahmad, and had them bring his horse, Victory, to meet him in Cairo. Saadi and Ahmad were good comrades; they were also distant cousins of his. The whole tribe was distantly related to him.
Philip had a half-brother here who was eight years younger than he. But they didn’t get along too well. He could understand why, since Rashid would have become head of the tribe if Philip had stayed in England.
Yasir Alhamar was sitting up on the sheepskins that served as his bed. He still lived the traditional nomadic way, with little furniture and few comforts. Philip could remember how his father had laughed at him when he carted his bed and furniture up to the hillside encampment.
“So, you are still an Englishman, Abu. I had thought you would be used to sleeping and eating on the ground after so long,” Yasir had said.
“At least I stole the items, father,” Philip had returned.
