The heat in her voice slid right down her entire body as he observed in mocking detail every curve of her femininity; the voluptuous fullness of her breasts, the smallness of her waist, the broad sweep of her hips, the smooth flow and shape of her thighs, calves, ankles…
‘Your physique suggests otherwise, Miss Ross,’ he commented very dryly.
Emily burned. Her arms, released by the guards who were still flanking her, flew up to fold themselves protectively across her chest. Her chin lifted in belligerent pride as she stated, ‘I’m a professional diving instructor. I have a certificate to prove it amongst my papers in the bag your men took from me.’
Her inquisitor smiled, showing a flash of very white teeth, but something about that smile told Emily he was relishing the prospect of tearing her into tasty morsels and chewing on them. ‘It’s my experience that people can be many things,’ he remarked with taunting ease.
‘Yes. Well, you’re not wrong about that,’ she snapped. ‘Jacques Arnault is a prime example. And I think it’s time you told me who you are and what right you have to detain me like this.’
Emily was steaming with the need to challenge him, having been put so much on the spot herself. The idea of bowed head and downcast eyes was long gone. She kept a very direct gaze on his, refusing to back down from her demands.
‘You were caught trespassing on property that belongs to my family and you are closely linked to a man who was engaged in criminal activity on this same property,’ he clipped out as though her complaint was completely untenable—a total waste of time and breath.
‘You have no evidence that I was engaged in criminal activity,’ Emily swiftly defended.
He rolled his eyes derisively.
‘I swear to you I wasn’t,’ she insisted. ‘In fact, the costumes you found probably belong to the woman who posed as Jacques Arnault’s wife when I was tricked into becoming the only crew member on his yacht.’
‘Tricked, Miss Ross?’
‘I needed to get to Zanzibar. Jacques said he was sailing for Madagascar and would drop me off here if I helped…’
‘With his drug-running?’
‘No. With sailing the yacht,’ she cried in exasperation. ‘I didn’t know about the drug angle until after I woke up onboard and at sea, having been drugged myself.’
‘So…’He paused, his expression one of weighing up her account of the situation. He lifted a hand to stroke his chin as though in thoughtful consideration. But there was something simmering in his eyes that sent a warning tingle through Emily’s taut nerves as he concluded, ‘…you claim to be an innocent victim.’
‘I am an innocent victim,’ Emily pounced, swiftly asserting, ‘The deal was for me to be company for his wife as well as being another crew-member for the duration of the trip.’
One wickedly derisive eyebrow arched. ‘Where is the wife?’
Emily heaved a fretful sigh. Probably her story did sound unbelievable but it was the truth. She had nothing else to offer. ‘I don’t know. She was gone when I woke up the morning after I’d gone onboard.’
‘Gone,’ he repeated, as though underlining how convenient that was. ‘Without taking her belly-dancing costumes with her?’ he added pointedly.
Emily frantically cast around for a reason that might be credible. ‘Maybe she had to abandon them to get away from Jacques. I left quite a lot of my things behind on the yacht…’
‘In your bid to escape.’
‘Yes.’
‘To escape what, Miss Ross?’ he asked silkily. ‘You must admit Arnault has kept to the bargain you made with him, bringing you to Zanzibar, as agreed.’
‘Not to the public harbour at Stone Town, monsieur.’
‘This private harbour is along the way. He was on course to Stone Town.’
‘I couldn’t trust him to take me there. After doing his business at this location, he might have set sail for Madagascar, keeping me on as his crew.’
‘So you chose to commit yourself to a formidable swim in unknown waters, then brave facing a mangrove swamp in the darkness. This is the act of a desperate person, Miss Ross.’
‘A determined person,’ she corrected, though she was beginning to feel deeply desperate in the face of this prolonged cross-examination.
‘The kind of desperate person who will do anything to avoid facing prison,’ he went on with an air of ruthless logic. ‘A guilty person…’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong!’ she yelled, cracking under the pressure of his disbelief in her testimony. ‘I promised my sister I’d be in Stone Town for her and I wasn’t sure Jacques would take me there.’
‘Your sister. Who is your sister?’
‘Who are you?’ she whipped back, so frustrated by his incessant questioning of her position, the urge to attack his completely dismissed caution. ‘My sister and I have important private business. I’m not going to tell a stranger what it is.’
Her defiant stance earned a glance that told her she was being utterly ridiculous in his opinion, but Emily didn’t care. She wanted some answers, too.
‘You are addressing Sheikh Zageo bin Sultan Al Farrahn,’ he stated loftily.
A sheikh! Or was it a Sultan? He’d spoken both titles and either one made instant sense of this amazing place. But did he have any jurisdiction here?
‘I thought Sultan rule was long gone from Zanzibar and the island is now under the government of Tanzania,’ she threw back at him.
‘While it has become part of Tanzania, Zanzibar maintains its own government,’ he sharply corrected her. ‘And I command considerable respect and influence here. Instead of fighting me, Miss Ross, you would do well in these circumstances to seek my favour.’
‘And what does seeking your favour entail?’
Fiery contempt blazed from her eyes. Her nerves were wound up so tightly, she felt like a compressed spring about to explode from its compression. If he dared suggest a sexual favour…if he dared even lower his gaze to survey her curves again…Emily knew she’d completely lose it and start fighting like a feral cat.
Fortunately she was not dealing with a stupid man. ‘Perhaps you need time to consider your position, Miss Ross,’ he said in a reasoning tone. ‘Time to appreciate the importance of giving appropriate information so you can be helped.’
Emily’s mind slid from attack mode and groped towards wondering if she’d taken a self-defeating angle throughout this interview.