It seemed not to bother him a whit.

“You were hungry,” Marcos observed when her plate was empty.

“Being kidnapped will do that to a person,” she muttered, then gave a little laugh, as if it were a joke.

“Would you like more roast duck? Some dessert, perhaps?”

It was the most he’d spoken during their whole meal. But, unfortunately, any more roast duck and she’d burst out of her chic little dress. Another reason to wish she was wearing a track suit. “Thank you, but no. But there is something I do want.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your freedom, plus a quick flight to Morocco?”

She gave a nervous laugh, since that was exactly what she wanted. But she wasn’t going to let him catch her so easily. Shaking her head, she folded her arms, resting them on the table with what she hoped was an earnest look. “I just want to know what my brother and Aziz did to you that made you so angry.”

For a moment he looked as if he might tell her. Then he held out his hand. “Come out and see the view.”

Reluctantly, she set down her napkin and let him draw her towards the open doors of the veranda. “You can see the valley all the way to the sea,” he said. “See those lights? That’s El Puerto de las Estrellas. The village used to be known for smugglers, pirates, thieves.”

“Apparently it still is,” she muttered.

His dark eyebrows lowered. “Perhaps so, now that you are here. The Winters are liars and thieves, and your fiancé is worse.”

She bit back a tart retort, knowing it wouldn’t help her cause to argue. Besides…well, his accusation was true.

Sheldon had lied about many things. Particularly when he’d promised to watch out for Nicole. And, though she didn’t know Aziz very well, she was reasonably sure he was keeping a mistress and intended to keep doing so after their marriage. Plus there was that other small matter of murdering his first wife.

As they stood on the wide stone balcony a cool breeze blew through the valley, making her shiver in her tiny cocktail dress. Without hesitation, he put his arm around her.

“I am glad you are here with me,” he said softly.

Tamsin involuntarily leaned back into the warmth of his arms. Perhaps she had misjudged him, she thought suddenly. For all she knew, he had good reason to hate her family. Her brother and fiancé had certainly made enemies—even Tamsin despised them. Maybe trying to trick him and escape was a mistake. Maybe if she told Marcos the truth about why she was being forced to marry Aziz, he could truly help her…

“You are the pin in my grenade,” he said, giving her a hard smile. “Without you, I could not destroy Aziz al-Maghrib and your brother so easily.”

He was deliberately trying to bait her. She kept her expression bland, but inside she simmered. She wanted to kick him in the shins. Or maybe just kick herself for thinking well of him, if only for a moment.

What was it about him that kept luring her in? He was as relentless as the sea. The darkness of his beautiful eyes held a dangerous riptide that tempted her to drown in the murky depths…

“Getting warmer?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, looking at him. The moon was covered with gray clouds. The only light came from candles in the dining room behind them. They cast a glow around the edges of Marcos’s black hair, like a halo, leaving his face in shadow.

Dark angel, she thought again.

His gaze rested on her. “The cool air comes off the Atlantic at night.”

From the height of the castle, she thought she could see a glimpse of moonlight on the distant ocean. Something square and hard rubbed against her hip and she glanced down beneath her lashes. She saw a glimpse of silver in his pocket.

His mobile phone!

If she had his phone, she could call Aziz. He could pick her up with his uncle’s helicopter. Or she could call Bianca and Daisy, her two best friends from boarding school, who’d been her roommates over the summer. Bianca’s wealthy family kept private jets in New York and London. Whether by Aziz’s helicopter or Bianca’s plane, she could be back in Morocco tonight.

She had to get Marcos’s phone.

But how?

Kiss him, an inner voice whispered. If she could get him to put his arms around her, she could slip the phone out of his pocket. She would tuck it down her dress and make an excuse to leave. Then she could call Aziz and tell him where to find her. It was the perfect plan.

A shame she wasn’t sure she could do it.

Kiss Marcos? She licked her lips nervously. She was accustomed to being the recipient of kisses, not the initiator. And Marcos seemed like the kind of man who would have a great deal of experience. Unlike her.

Feeling both awkward and bold, she forced herself to take his hand in her own. “What did my brother and Aziz do?”

To her relief, he didn’t pull away. “Why do you keep asking me? Do you care?”

“I care because I hate them too. They’re evil. Not just to me, but to someone I love.”

Kiss me, she thought, looking up at him. Kiss me.

The way he looked down at her, pulling her close in the Spanish moonlight, almost made her forget why she was doing this. All she could think of was that they both hated the same men, and that she wanted Marcos to kiss her.

She slowly ran her hands down his chest. She could feel the muscles through his crisp linen shirt, feel the beat of his heart. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me what they did, what you intend to do in return.”

He grabbed her hands, forced them to be still. His handsome face looked ferocious, almost savage.

Kiss me. She took the final step that pressed her body fully against his. She looked up. He was much taller than she was, but in this moment, as she looked up at him in the sultry jasmine-scented night, she realized she’d lost all fear.

“You aren’t alone, Marcos.” She pressed her cheek against his. His chin felt rough against her skin. Her lips brushed against his ear as she said softly, “Let me help you…”

She heard his sudden intake of breath. He pulled back, forcing her away from him.

“It won’t work,” he said harshly.

“What won’t?” she asked, feeling dazed by her own sudden longing. All she could think about was him kissing her, feeling his lips on hers.

“Do you really think that you can just flirt and toss your hair and I’ll be so dazzled I’ll let you escape?”

Her cheeks burned red-hot. So he knew. He knew she was trying to lull him into letting her escape. “No, I—”

“I’m not that stupid. I won’t let you go just for a few cheap kisses.”

What was he trying to tell her? Shocked, she met his eyes. But she didn’t have time to feel humiliated. She didn’t have time to think. She was desperate—desperate enough to offer anything. She took a deep breath. “And what if I offered you more than just kisses?”

“Your body, you mean?” Apparently unaware of what it cost her to even suggest such a thing, he snorted in derision. “If I wanted you, I could seduce you. Easily.”

“That’s not true!” she gasped, hurt.

His dark eyes regarded her smugly. “We both know it is.”

She ground her teeth. Perhaps it was true, that in her inexperience, she’d revealed that she wanted him, but she’d have died rather than admit it. “For your information, I’ve resisted much better men than you. Handsomer. Richer. Smarter.”

“Have you?” he said evenly. He ran his hand beneath her jaw line, forcing her to look up at him. “So if I were to kiss you now, you’re saying that you would feel nothing.”

“Not a thing,” she said defiantly.

“Really.” He wrapped his arms around her. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, stopping when his lips were a millimeter from hers. “So this leaves you cold?”

She could feel his breath, smell the sweetness of brandy. Her lips felt swollen, tingling as if warming after frostbite, expanding towards his. “Completely.”

“And this?”