GIVEN TO THE PRINCE

Part 19

Victoria half sat, half lay on the limousine's passenger seat. The car's tinted windows shut out all but the brightest lights, plunging her and the devil beside her into deep shadow. She wanted to straighten herself but the entangling robe imprisoned her better than a rope. 

The prospect of drawing his attention gave her reason to stay still. How did one deal with a psychopath, a silver bullet, a stake through the heart? Not possessing either, her wits would have to suffice. 

She waited and watched him, slowing her breathing to quiet its sound. His familiar spicy scent now mingled with the pungent odor of a hot, angry male. One who had just carried her down two flights of stairs and through a block of hallways. His scent was no longer exotic, but earthy, raw, and dangerous. 

The only parts of him clearly visible were his tightly gripped hands where they rested on top of his legs. She was sure that whatever caused them to tremble wasn't fear. He hadn't stirred or spoken since the car sped away from the Civic Center. An involuntary gasp escaped her throat when he moved forward and switched on the dome light. Angling his head, he gave her a pitiless glare. Then, locking her eyes with his, he reached to activate the privacy window. The glass partition rose and so did her panic. 

The silent authority in his eyes held hers captive. Just like the glow bugs she used to collect as a child. The ones she sealed in one of her mother's crystal vases and set on her bedside table, leaving them to expend their last flash of brilliance in captivity. She had never thought the childish act cruel...until now. 

He moved again, this time in her direction. She strained to get one arm free from the robe and looked in every direction for something she could use to defend herself. Nothing appeared. Exhausted, she lay sweating, trembling, and near tears. Through all her struggles he had simply waited. Now, he reached for her. This, she thought, will be tomorrow's headline. 'Victoria Ballard strangled on her wedding night!' 

Rashid grabbed both sides of her robe and yanked upwards, successfully untangling her body. Then his hands slid under each of her arms, lifting and positioning her against the back of the leather seat. The sound of tinkling bells caused his eyes to widen with renewed disgust. His solid chest rose and fell in a short, hard rhythm. Leaning closer still, he invaded the last inch of space between them. When he ran the tip of his finger down her cheek and pushed a lock of hair from her face, her senses somersaulted as if she'd just been propelled off a mountain backward. There was no up, down, or point of reference to stabilize her emotions, not until he spoke to her again, his voice deep and raspy. 

"Though you may deserve otherwise, I have no intention of strangling you on our wedding night." 

How did he know what she had been thinking? 

The ring tone on his cell phone almost splintered her sanity. Sliding back across the seat, he easily dismissed her and spoke with whoever was on the phone in complete calmness. Not one unsteady syllable passed his lips. For that, she both envied and despised him. 

He ended his conversation at the same time the car came to a quick stop. Ignoring her, he vacated the limousine. Dreading his return, she pressed further back against the solid support of her own door. In her next breath, the wall at her back gave way. She would have fallen except for a pair of saving hands. Catching her, he placed her on her feet and then wrapped the fingers of one hand around her arm. 

To an onlooker, the gesture would appear courteous. An onlooker, however, could never be subjugated by the emphatic firmness of his touch. His sharp instructions to the two men who accompanied him reminded her of just how good he was at giving orders. The two tipped their bodies in a deferential bow and hurried away to do his bidding. She waited for him to start throwing orders at her next.