A Stranger's Kiss

wrong man, could have such a disastrous effect on her. ‘Well? What do you say?’
    ‘Pax?’ she offered, softly, but refused to meet his gaze.
    He turned her chin gently, so that unless she closed her eyes she had no choice but look at him and for a long moment he studied her face. Then he caught the nape of her neck and pulled her down, so that for the pause of a heartbeat his lips brushed against hers. ‘Pax,’ he murmured and before she knew what had happened she was sitting safely in her own seat once more.
    And trembling.
    She looked at her hand grasping the armrest and wondered if he knew what he had done to her. But he had returned his attention to the book. Apparently it was all inside and she had managed not to betray herself totally. Then the captain announced that they would shortly begin their descent to Bahrain.
    The bustle of arrival covered any remaining awkwardness and by the time they had cleared Customs, Adam introduced her to the dark, smiling man who met them as Mrs Tara Lambert without problem, only laying the faintest emphasis on the Mrs.
    ‘Tara, this is Hanna Rashid.’ The man took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘We spoke yesterday on the telephone, did we not, Madame Lambert? Such a beautiful voice.’ Despite his French accent and his European clothes, his complexion was dark, his moustache thick and silky. He was exotically foreign and his black eyes suggested that he was her slave as he ushered them through the arrivals hall and out to the car. ‘And how is the lovely Jane?’ he asked Adam as she walked ahead. ‘Such a pity she could not join you on this visit.’ His voice had dropped, but not sufficiently for the discretion he had so evidently intended. She didn’t catch Adam’s reply, only Hanna Rashid’s soft laughter.
    Their luggage was stowed in the back of a large white Mercedes and Hanna drove across a long causeway over a muddy creek and into the darkness of the open desert.
    Tara looked around her, wondering where they were going, but the men were deep in conversation and paying no attention to her. They passed buildings hidden behind high walls that were illuminated by thousands of lights, dusty palm trees, barren desert and then finally Hanna drove through a pair of gates set into one of those high walls and into the courtyard of a large house.
    ‘You should be comfortable here, madame.’
    Tara smiled. ‘I hadn’t realised we were to be your guests, Mr Rashid. I had assumed we would be staying in an hotel.’
    ‘But, no. You will be more private at the villa.’ He opened the door and helped her out. A servant immediately appeared and unloaded the baggage.
    At the door Hanna offered his hand. ‘We will meet later, for dinner, when you have rested.’
    Tara frowned. ‘But, I don’t understand...’ Something in Adam’s face made her stop.
    ‘There’s a car in the garage, Adam. We’ll see you at about ten?’
    ‘Thanks, Hanna.’ He put his arm around Tara’s waist and swept her inside. The door closed and she turned on him.
    ‘What—?’
    ‘This is Hanna’s summer home. Even in winter his British guests find Manama a little humid.’
    ‘But I can’t stay here alone with you.’
    ‘No?’ He stood back to let her enter a beautifully furnished drawing room. ‘You’ll be quite safe, Tara. I’m fussy about sharing.’ He helped himself to a drink and offered her one. She shook her head, speechless. He drained his glass. ‘Shall I show you to your room?’
    ‘No, thank you. I’m sure I can find it myself.’
    He shrugged. ‘Well, don’t get lost.’
    His warning was unnecessary. The elderly man servant who had taken their bags was waiting to conduct her to her room, which was just as well. The villa was far larger than she had realised and left to her own devices she might never have found it.
    Built on two floors, all the upstairs rooms were reached via a covered veranda, which overlooked a courtyard garden in which a small fountain splashed seductively and, which now the sun had set, was illuminated with concealed lighting.
    Tara unpacked her bag and took advantage of the luxurious en suite bathroom, pampering herself with bath oil to soak away the dried out feeling from the pressurised atmosphere of the aircraft. Then she sorted out something to wear. They were having dinner at a nightclub in Manama and since she had no idea how dressy it might be, settled on her “little black dress”.
    Adam would no doubt curl his lip, but she