The Sheikh’s Tempted Prisoner by Holly Rayner Page 0,24

it was high enough for Atnan to walk under.

When they reached the opening, they were met with a circular enclosure surrounded by stone benches. At the center was a colorful mosaic fountain with a few chunks of its ledge missing here and there. The water spout was as dry as the sand around them, and all the various pots housed brown, dead plants or dirt. When Lily turned to Atnan, his eyes were heavy with sadness.

“This was once such a beautiful place, one of her favorites. Being here is like coming to her grave. I can see now why my father couldn’t bear to even think of its existence.”

He looked back at the ground, and Lily felt a sharp stab of guilt at making him take her there. She walked over to him and took his hand in hers again. After a moment, he met her gaze.

“Why don’t we try looking somewhere else, maybe where the memories aren’t so sharp?”

After a pause, Atnan nodded, lacing his fingers with hers as he quickly led the way out. Lily’s emotions were roiling as they stepped back inside the foyer. She felt guilty and sad and giddy and excited all at once, and she wondered just how she would navigate her life now that she and Atnan had reached the hand-holding stage of whatever they were.

He stepped over to another pair of doors and flung them open to reveal a faded ballroom.

“Whoa, you guys held dances here?”

Atnan shook his head.

“Not that I remember, though my ancestors certainly liked them, and I’ve heard some pretty interesting stories of things that happened in this room. It was never a place I spent much time in, though.”

Glad to see him feeling even a little bit better, Lily smiled up at him. He lifted the hand that was wrapped in hers as though preparing for a formal dance.

“A dance? But there’s no music!” she said, as though he had offered.

He grinned at her, his other hand palming her lower back as he brought her closer. He began to circle her around, then, the two of them staring at each other in wonder, Lily pondering whether he would go in for a kiss. She wanted to tell herself she would turn her cheek if he did, that she would do what she could to keep their friendship strong and not risk it.

Her lips tingled at the thought of pressing against his.

In the midst of twirling her around, he dipped her, and she craned her neck back, laughing, before she tilted it back up and gazed into his brown eyes which were filled with—was that lust?

We can’t, she reminded herself.

“Wh…what’s upstairs?” she asked breathlessly.

Atnan stood, straightening her and releasing her from his hold. Lily took a step back, forcing herself to be strong. She could not give in to her attraction. For all she knew, she had no future with Atnan. She was squatting in his country illegally for heaven’s sake! Why would he want anything to do with her, anyway?

He turned and looked up at the rickety old staircase. It was made of wood and had clearly been fashioned centuries before.

“It’s nothing terribly exciting, though I imagine you’ll find some way to turn that around,” he answered, looking back down at her.

The heat in his eyes hadn’t dissolved, and Lily cleared her throat and walked past him.

“Well, then,” she said, calling over her shoulder, “we’ll just have to take a look, now won’t we?”

She pressed the ball of her foot against the bottom step, testing the wood. It creaked a little beneath her, but she continued, not wanting to give in to the heat in Atnan’s eyes. She took a couple more steps, the wood beneath her feet creaking more with each one.

“Lily…” Atnan began, but it was too late.

The banister crumbled beneath her hand, and she lost her balance, falling backward.

She prepared for sharp pain, but a pair of sturdy arms wrapped around her, carrying her gently back to the marble floor. Lily’s eyes were squeezed tight, her arms clinging to Atnan as she slowly registered the fact that she wasn’t hurt.

“Lily?” he asked, his voice gentle and a little afraid.

She opened her eyes. His face was inches from hers, and his eyes combed her face, looking for any sign of injury. She held on a little tighter.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

“I told you it wasn’t safe here,” he said, though there was more worry in his voice than anything.

He ran his fingers over her hair,