Imprisoned by a Vow. Annie West

was a short wedding celebration by Bakhari standards,’ she murmured, concentrating on his face and not the vast sky beyond his shoulder as he ascended the stairs to the plane. ‘We got off lightly.’

      Gamil had been furious, wanting to display his wealth and important son-in-law to the cream of society. He’d surpassed himself in ostentatious displays of riches that would have made her parents cringe. No wonder she’d felt ill. It must have been the heavy food.

      Leila felt a solid shoulder shrug against her as Joss stepped sideways through the door. Strange how she didn’t mind in the least the alien sensation of being clasped so close to him.

      ‘I had places to be. I couldn’t stay feasting for day upon day.’

      ‘Of course not. Very few people insist on such traditions any more.’

      She took a deep breath of cool air and surveyed the luxurious private jet. Already she felt better. Maybe after years locked away she’d simply lost her ability to deal with the Bakhari heat. The explanation buoyed her.

      ‘I can stand now. Thank you. I feel all right.’

      Joss tilted a look from his superior height, scouring her face as if penetrating her secrets. His expression gave no hint of his thoughts. But then he was a self-made multibillionaire. He’d perfected the art of keeping his thoughts to himself.

      A flicker of unease trembled under her skin. What did he see as he watched her? A business asset or something else?

      Leila pushed her palm against his collarbone, trying to lever some distance between them. It didn’t work, only making her aware of his unyielding strength. Held in his arms, she suddenly felt not so much protected as vulnerable. Puny against his formidable masculinity.

      It made her uneasy.

      His gaze dipped to her mouth and her lips tingled as if she’d eaten chilli.

      ‘Joss! I said I can stand.’ Suddenly it was imperative he release her. She’d felt light-headed before but this was different. Something she didn’t want to explore. Something to do with him.

      Smoothly he put her down, watching her intently.

      Fortunately the strength had returned to her legs. She was herself again, able to walk, spine straight and legs steady, to the lounge chair the stewardess indicated.

      Sitting straight despite its encompassing luxury, Leila turned to the hovering stewardess.

      ‘I’d like some water, please. And do you have anything for travel sickness?’

      ‘Of course, madam.’ The woman bustled away.

      If Leila tried hard enough she might convince herself it was motion sickness she’d experienced out there after her first trip in a vehicle in ages. Or the effects of heat.

      She watched Joss sit on the other side of the cabin. His gaze didn’t leave her as she took the medication and a healthy slug of water.

      His scrutiny made her uneasy. It wasn’t like Gamil’s, which had always made her flesh crawl. But Joss’s steady regard seemed to strip her bare. Surely he couldn’t see the tumble of elation and anxiety she strove to hide? Concealing what she felt had been a matter of survival under Gamil’s cruel regime and she’d become adept.

      Deliberately she put her head back and closed her eyes, reassured by the hum of the engines starting.

      When finally she felt the plane take off she opened them to see Joss, head bent over a stack of papers, his pen slashing an annotation across the page.

      Relief welled up inside her. He’d forgotten her, his curiosity had been temporary. Once they reached London he’d forget her entirely.

      She turned to see Bakhara drop away and exhilaration filled her. Her new life had just begun.