“I don’t dispute that,” he said, dismissing her with a wave. “I had never heard that you attended such an establishment.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Like you would have believed it. You only want to know that I went to wild parties and dated lots of guys. That’s far more interesting than the truth.”
She had a point. He’d been guilty of assuming the worst about her.
He studied the woman lounging on pillows across from him. As a concession to her complaints about her costume, he’d had Adiva bring Sabrina a dress of cobalt-blue. The long sleeves and high neckline were so modest, even the sternest father would approve. Yet he found sensual pleasure in watching her. The supple silk covered her curves, but did not hide their existence. He watched the turn of her neck and the way her breasts shifted as she moved.
Tonight Sabrina wore her long red hair down around her shoulders. The loose curls tempted him. He wanted to let them twist around his fingers to discover if they were as soft as they looked.
“So you did not live the hedonistic life of a wanton western woman?” he asked as he reached for a strawberry in the bowl between them.
Sabrina sighed. “All that muck about me and men doesn’t come from me.” She ducked her head but not before he saw color staining her cheeks. “It’s my mother. She’s a bit of a flirt.”
“That bothers you?”
She shrugged. “It was weird when I was little. There were different men around all the time. I missed my father, but she didn’t want me to talk about him. Of course when I was with him, I wasn’t allowed to speak of her, either. I always wanted her to find one person and marry him. But she said she’d been married once and she’d hated it.”
She picked up a slice of pineapple, then put it on her plate. “When I turned fourteen, she told me it was time for me to have a boyfriend.”
Kardal had heard stories of Sabrina’s mother’s wildness, but he had never thought she would push her own daughter in that direction. “What did you say?”
“That I thought life should be about more than body parts.”
Kardal bit into his strawberry. He wasn’t sure he believed Sabrina, but he liked her answer.
“School was important to me,” she continued. “Especially after I went to college, but Mom never got that. The irony is I maintained an A average in college, which meant I spent a lot of time studying. I couldn’t physically have attended all those parties and still gotten my grades. But no one bothered to figure that out.”
More and more interesting, Kardal thought. Sabrina was a woman of many surprises. Some of them were turning out to be quite pleasant.
“Perhaps it was not a mistake to rescue you in the desert,” he told her.
She rolled her eyes. “I cannot even begin to tell you how your words make me quiver with joy.”
Chapter 6
“You have a most disagreeable personality,” Kardal said, rebuking her as he took another strawberry. “A slave should be more docile. I do not approve of sarcasm in a woman.”
“Hey, I don’t approve of being kidnapped, but no one asked me,” Sabrina told him, somewhat pleased to be holding her own with the Prince of Thieves. Of course the fact that he was fully dressed helped her situation considerably. Naked, he was the hands-down winner.
He dismissed her protestation with a flick of his wrist. “You are enjoying your time in my city and most especially in my company. Would you prefer to be meeting your betrothed?”
She stared in surprise. “How do you know about the troll prince?”
Kardal nearly choked as he swallowed, then glared at her. “The what?”
“Troll prince. My father has betrothed me to some horrible man.”
“How do you know he is horrible?”
“Because my father has never been concerned about me. This is—as he put it—an alliance, not a marriage.” She shrugged. “I suppose the good news is that you’re slightly better than the troll prince, but not by much. So how did you know about my betrothal?”
“I hear rumors.” He passed her a strawberry. “Returning to our former subject, you did not attend your mother’s infamous parties?”
Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “Not if I could avoid it. She and I are so different, I have trouble believing we’re related. However, I do look like her, so there’s no question that she found me under a rock and took me home.”
“I have seen pictures of your mother,” he told her. “I find you more attractive.”
The man was holding her captive, she reminded herself. He’d taken her from the desert, forced her—until tonight—to dress like a harem call girl. She still had on her slave bracelets and who knew what other tortures he had in mind for her. So she should absolutely not care that he thought she was prettier than her mother. Yet she did.