Chapter 069

Two days later, Lyra stared up at him with consternation. “You have to be

joking.”

“Come on,” Viktor wheedled, holding out his hand beneath the hot

afternoon sunshine. “You said you wanted to do it.”

Glancing back at the tallest sand dune, she licked her lips. “I said it

looked fun in theory.”

“You know you want to.” Wind ruffled his tousled black hair as he smiled

down at her. He was casually dressed, in a well-worn black T-shirt that

hugged his muscular chest and large, taut biceps and low-slung jeans on his hips. He looked relaxed and younger than she’d ever seen him. He lifted a

dark eyebrow wickedly. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Lyra licked her lips. When he looked at her with that mischievous smile,

he made her want to agree to absolutely anything.

But—this?

Furrowing her brow, she looked behind her. Three young Berber boys,

around twelve or thirteen years old, were using brightly colored snowboards

to careen down the sand, whooping and hollering in Berber, the primary

language of the tribe, but the boys’ joyous laughter needed no translation.

Lyra and Viktor had been sitting outside the dining tent, lazily eating an

early dinner of grapes, flatbread and lamb kabobs, when the boys had

started their raucous race. As Lyra sipped mint tea, with Viktor drinking a

glass of Moroccan rosé wine beside her, she’d said dreamily, “I wish I could

do what they’re doing. Be fearless and free.”

To her dismay, Viktor had immediately stood up, brushing sand off his

jeans. “So let’s go.”

Now, he was looking at her with challenge in his eyes. “I have an extra

sandboard. I’ll show you how.”

She scowled. “You know, saying something looks fun and being brave

enough to actually do it, are two totally different things!”

“They shouldn’t be.”

“It looks dangerous. Illyra would never let me do it.”

“Another good reason.”

Lyra stiffened. “I wish you would quit slandering Illyra—”

“I don’t care about her,” he interrupted. “I care about you. And what you

want. Your sister isn’t here to stop you. I’m not going to stop you. You say

you want to do it. The only one stopping you is you.”

She looked up at the dune. It was very tall and the sand looked very hard.

She licked her lips. “What if I fall?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “So what if you do?”

“The kids might laugh, or—” she hesitated “—you might.”

“Me?” He stared at her incredulously. “Is that a joke? You’d let fear of

my reaction keep you from something you want?” His sensual lips lifted as

he shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like the Lyra I know.”

She felt a strange flutter in her heart. Viktor thought she was brave. He

thought she was bold.

And she was, when she was with him. She barely recognized herself

anymore as the downtrodden housekeeper she’d been in Hawaii. Tomorrow

was New Year’s Eve, but for Lyra, the New Year—her new life—had

already begun.

She’d be able to pay off their debts. She hugged the thought to her heart

like a precious gift. They’d be free of the dark cloud of fear that had hung

over them for ten years, forcing them to stay under the radar with low-

paying, nondescript jobs. Illyra would be able to start her business. Lyra

would never feel like a burden again to anyone.

But it would come at a cost. Lyra looked up at Viktor. He could be a

rough man, selfish and unfeeling, and yet beneath it all...he truly was a good

man. His generosity would change her life.

But she would never see him again. And that thought was starting to hurt.

Because she couldn’t kid herself.

She’d stopped thinking of their marriage as a business arrangement long

ago.

Yesterday, Viktor had taught her how to ride a horse. Very patiently,

until she lost her fear of the big animals’ teeth and sharp hooves, until she

started to gain confidence. She was still a little sore from their ride that

morning, traveling across the dunes to the nearest village, to bring medicine

from Marrakech. As she and Viktor galloped back together across the

desert, his eyes had been as blue and bright as the wide Moroccan sky. She

lost a new fragment of her heart every time he looked at her with that

brilliant, boyish smile.

Just as he was looking at her now.

“Well?” His hand was still outstretched with utter confidence, as if he

knew she would not be able to resist.

“Is it soft? Like powder?”

He laughed. “No. It’ll leave bruises.”

“Sounds fun,” she muttered.

“Do you want to try it or not?”

She swallowed, then looked at the boys zooming down the sand dune at

incredible speed, on boards lightly strapped to their feet. Heard their roars

of laughter and delight. Maybe it wasn’t hard. Maybe it was actually quite

easy. All she had to do was make the choice.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed. She was done being afraid—of anything. Done

living a life smaller than her dreams. Holding her breath, she put her hand in his own.

He pulled her close. “Good,” he said in a low voice. “Let’s do it. Right

now.”

His face was inches from her own, and a tremble went through her that

had nothing to do with fear. Every time Viktor looked at her, every time

he spoke to her, she felt her heart expand until she felt as if she was flying.

Let’s do it. Right now.

His grip on her hand tightened. Then he abruptly turned away,

disappearing into a nearby tent. And she exhaled.

It had been torture sleeping next to him the last two nights. She’d been so

aware of him beside her, it was a miracle she’d gotten any rest at all.

Especially the first night, when they’d been talking so late into the darkness,

and he’d told her he meant to pay for her land. She’d been so ecstatic that

she’d thrown her arms around him. He’d held her so tightly, his eyes dark

on hers, and for one moment, she’d thought, really thought, he might break

his promise. And here was the really shocking thing...

She’d wanted him to.

Her lips had tingled as she’d waited breathlessly for him to lower his

mouth savagely to hers and pull her hard against his body. She’d ached to

stroke her hands down his hard, tanned chest, laced with dark hair. She’d

yearned to feel his pure heat and fire. Her body still shook with the memory

of how she’d wanted it. And looking at him, she’d known he felt the same.

But he’d hadn’t touched her.

When he’d abruptly turned away, she’d felt bereft—disappointed. Almost

heartbroken.

Which made no sense at all. She admired commitment to promises, didn’t

she? And while they’d been thrown together in a very intimate way, it

wasn’t as if they had—or ever would have—a real marriage.

She needed to keep reminding herself of that.

Viktor returned to the table outside the dining tent. He had two

snowboards hefted over his shoulders as if they weighed nothing. “Let’s

go.”

Smiling, and far lighter on her feet, she led the way to the top of the

dune.

“Like being faster than me, huh?” he said, quirking his eyebrow.

She grinned. “Absolutely.”

“We’ll see.” He answered her with a wicked smile. “Sit down right here.”

Obediently, Illyra plunked back on the warm sand in her cotton button-

down shirt and soft linen pants. As he knelt on the sand in front of her, in

his form-fitting T-shirt and loose cargo shorts, she wondered how brave she

could really be. He’d promised not to kiss her.

But there was no rule about her kissing him.

“You’re going to love this,” he said, pulling off her sandals.

She shivered. His hands brushed against the hollows of her bare feet, and

her mouth went dry. “I’m sure,” she murmured.

He was inches away from her. She could just lean forward and kiss him.

Press her lips against his. Could she do it? Was she brave enough?

Viktor’s blue eyes met hers, and he smiled. She wondered how she’d

ever thought him cold in Honolulu. Here, he was warm and bright as the

blazing desert sun. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes,” she whispered, praying he couldn’t guess why.

“Don’t be.”

She gave a soft laugh. “That’s easy for you to say.”

He placed her bare feet into the straps attached to the board. Standing up,

he grabbed her hands and pulled her upright. Illyra swayed a little, getting

used to the balance. She hadn’t been on a board in a long time. She tested

the sand with a slight lean and twist. Without snow boots, the ankle support

was nonexistent. Turning corners would be nearly impossible.

Viktor stepped into his own modified snowboard, and his arm shot out

to grab her when she started to tilt. “Ready?”

She felt a flash of dizzying heat with his hand on her arm. “Yes,” she

breathed. “I just need a second to build my courage.”

“So.” He gave her a slow-rising grin. “Are you interested in racing me?”

“Racing?” Illyra looked dubiously over the edge of the dune. It wasn’t as

steep as some of the mountains she’d snowboarded in Alaska, but that was

ten years ago. To say her skills were rusty was an understatement. And

boarding down sand was going to be like sailing down a sheet of ice. “I’m

not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I thought you said you liked being faster than me.”

“I do.”

“Then racing me should be right up your alley.” His masculine grin

turned downright cocky. “I’ll even give you a head start.”

Laughter bubbled up to her lips, barely contained. He clearly believed he

would be faster. “Um. Thank you?”

“And if you win, you’ll get a prize.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Your own private tent,” he said recklessly. “For the rest of the time

we’re in the Sahara.”

Her lips parted. Somehow that prize didn’t excite her as much as it once

would have. “And what about if you win?”

Viktor looked down at her, and something in his glance made her hold

her breath.

“You’ll share my bed,” he said softly, “and let me make love to you.”