different families?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t seem to want to elaborate, then surprised her by adding, “My real mother was Irish and my dad’s one-eighth Aboriginal, if you hadn’t already guessed.”
His smooth skin had a tanned look she found disturbingly attractive. “Is it a problem?”
“Not around here. Maybe in the big smoke, the city,” he elaborated for her benefit. “Out here, you’re judged by your actions.”
What did his actions tell her about him? First condoning a barbaric punishment, then being prepared to endure it in her place? More hero than villain, she decided.
Carrying her, his arms had felt strong and supportive. Tending to her leg, his touch had been almost unbearably gentle. And she hadn’t missed the gleam of male response to the shapely calf her torn jeans had revealed. He had made her feel feminine and, yes, beautiful, restoring some of the pride in herself Jamal had threatened to crush.
She found herself warming to Tom, wanting to tell him the truth about herself, but still felt unsure. She knew nothing about him beyond what her instincts told her. Could she trust them?
“You’ve had a pretty poor welcome to the Kimberley,” he said.
He was making amends without knowing it. She put a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tighten and her pulse skip in response. The temptation to trust became a certainty. “It’s over now.”
Tom wished he could dismiss his part in her injury so readily. Seeing the danger she’d been in, he’d tried his best to protect her, but doubt wracked him. Could he have talked Wandarra into letting her off? Or would Andy’s people have come looking for her later and inflicted worse harm?
According to the outback credo, what was done was done and you moved on. Tom knew he should also be moving on. But something about Shara made him wish the drive to the homestead was twice as long. Her touch on his arm felt like a fresh brand. Amazing that there wasn’t a mark on his skin.
Her skin was the color of milk coffee, satiny and soft in contrast to his own. Scratches marred her skin where she had tracked the kangaroo through the bushes into the gorge, more concerned for the animal’s safety than her own. He felt an un-characteristic urge to kiss them better.
Not sure what impulse drove him, he asked, “What are you afraid of, Shara?”
“What makes you think I’m afraid?”
“Before you thought better of it, you started to say you came here to be safe. Are you running away from something?”
“Not something, someone,” she confessed, sounding relieved by the admission.
“A man?” She nodded. Feeling a surge of jealousy, he asked, “A lover?”
She shrank closer to the car door. “Never. I’d die before I’d let Jamal touch me.”
Not liking the way she shied away from him, Tom said quietly, “You’d better tell me what this is all about.”
“Why? I’m nothing to you.”
He’d been asking himself the same question without coming up with an answer he wanted to hear. “I’m the nearest thing to the law out here for the moment. Maybe I can help.”
She shook her head, black hair tumbling like silk around her face. “You can’t. Jamal is too powerful. He has friends everywhere.”
“Not among my family.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing her uncoil a little, although the screen of hair still hid her expression. The sight whirled him back eight years. As if a door had opened in his mind, he remembered who and what she was. When he’d last seen her, her face had also been screened, but by a scarf crossing under her chin, the fringed ends tossed over her shoulders. The glimpse of beauty he’d gained had fired his imagination for weeks afterward.
Amid the heat and dust, she’d stood out like the rare desert flowers that sprang up only after rain. He’d felt sorry for her, forced to attend her father when she must have been bored witless. Judy had noticed and struck up a conversation, he remembered. If he was right about her, she and Judy had kept in touch ever since.
Only one way to find out. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” he asked.
She nodded resignedly. “Eight years ago. A lifetime.”
“Princess,” he said slowly, his changed intonation bringing her head up, her eyes glittering with fear. “No wonder you looked so startled when I called you that. You are a princess. Shara—” he searched his memory “—Najran. Your father, King Awad, buys bloodstock for his breeding program from our neighbors, the Horvaths.”
She buried her face in her hands as memory flooded back. Her father had asked about some new breeding techniques being used in the Kimberley, and Clive Horvath had arranged for them to visit Diamond Downs.
While their entourage was being shown around the cattle yards, a handsome young man had ridden in, commanding Shara’s attention. The dust and heat had been choking but Tom had looked comfortable, happy, even, in the stifling atmosphere. She’d seen his gaze linger on her as he was being presented to her father. Tom wouldn’t have seen much of her face beneath her silk scarf, but she had certainly noticed him.
Des had invited Tom to join them, but he’d murmured his regrets and ridden away. She remembered admiring the easy way he’d melted into the landscape, wishing she could have gone with him, although her father would have been scandalized beyond words. As it was, he’d only allowed her to accompany him to Australia after she’d argued that she would need a broader experience of the world to share with her children one day.
Although the discussions about cattle had been tedious, her imagination had been captured by the beautiful, limitless vistas of the Kimberley. Finding a kindred spirit in Judy had been a high point. Almost making up for the slight she’d felt over Tom’s refusal to stay, Shara thought.
Almost.
From Judy, she’d learned that Diamond Downs covered over a thousand square miles. Now Shara wished it were larger, putting more distance between herself and Jamal.
“Tell me about Jamal,” Tom prompted, as if reading her thoughts.
“I’m promised to him in marriage, but he’s the most corrupt man in my father’s ministry. After he caught me trying to gain proof of his treachery, he forced me to accompany him to Australia. Under our law a wife can’t speak against her husband, so he intends to marry me before we return to Q’aresh.”
“Nice touch,” Tom murmured. “Can’t your father protect you?”
“He has no idea what Jamal is really like. Years ago he saved the life of my brother, the crown prince, putting my father in his debt.”
Tom nodded. “And you’re the payment. I see.”
She wound her fingers together. “I don’t think you do. As soon as Jamal gains access to my titles and dowry, he means to take the throne from my father.”
Tom released a whistling breath. “Have you told the king what you suspect?”
“I tried, but at that point I had no evidence beyond what I’d overheard. He thought I was making it up to get out of the marriage.” She gave a derisive snort. “In my country, a woman’s word—even that of a princess—counts for little against a man’s.”
“What happens if you don’t marry this man?”
She couldn’t suppress a shudder. “My father will keep me locked in the palace until I change my mind.”
“Talk about a rock and a hard place. What are you going to do?”
“Before I was caught, I recorded Jamal talking about his plans. The tape is hidden aboard the private plane that brought us here. I have to stay out of his clutches long enough to get the tape back and send it to