His characterization of her wasn't fair, she thought defensively. It wasn't because of his race that she didn't want him touching her. Unlike most of her fellow Europeans, she didn't consider Arabs automatically inferior because of the color of their skin. Besides, he wasn't even one.
"You may be incredibly savage, but you aren't an Arab," she ground out. "You're a Berber."
Mocking admiration shone in his eyes. "My congratulations. At least you can perceive the difference. That is far more than many of your race can do."
Annoyed by his provoking sarcasm, she averted her face so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Leave me alone."
Any gentleman would have taken her muttered demand as a dismissal. While he was certainly no gentleman, she at least expected him to take the hint and leave her in peace. Yet he made no move to go.
"I am waiting," she said pointedly, echoing his earlier command. "I wish to go to sleep."
"Please, be my guest."
"Not until you leave!"
"I am not going anywhere."
Whipping her head around, Alysson scowled up at him. "You said if I took off my jacket I could have your burnous."
"It is big enough for the both of us. We will share it."
She gaped at him. "You can't mean for us to sleep together! ''
"Can I not?"
"It—isn't—proper," Alysson sputtered, embarrassment, frustration, and dread all warring within her. She had never been overly concerned about her reputation before, nor was that her chief concern now, but she had no qualms about claiming modesty if it would help protect her from this heathen.
“I don't even know your name,'' she protested weakly. "How can I possibly sleep next to you?"
His chuckle, when it came, was soft, amused. "You may call me Jafar. Does that make it more acceptable, now that we have been introduced?"
"It most certainly does not!"
"Just remember that you are my captive and that you have no choice but to accede to my wishes. That will appease your conscience."
As he spoke, he sat up and fished in his sash for something. Alysson abruptly swallowed the retort on her tongue as her gaze dropped to his waist. In the gloom of nightfall she could make out the glittering stones of the jeweled dagger.
Looking up, she caught the flash of white teeth as Jafar smiled. With exaggerated care, he drew the dagger from his belt and placed it on the ground at his other side, as far away from her as he could reach. Alysson pressed her lips together in anger and regret.
Then he reached down and grasped her stockinged ankle.
She nearly yelped. "What do you think you're doing!" she exclaimed, sitting up abruptly.
He brushed her hands away. "Securing you for the night. I told you, I don't want you running off."
In shock she watched as he encircled her left ankle with a length of woolen cord. He meant to hobble her like an animal!
"Damn you . . . you . . ." She faltered, choking on her own words.
But he wasn't tying her feet together. Instead, he was lashing her ankle to his. If she tried to untie the knot in the night, if she so much as stirred, he would feel her movements and prevent her from escaping.
Shaking with thwarted outrage, Alysson clenched her fists so tightly that her nails scored her palms. "I swear to God, you will rue the day you came near me!"
"Allah is more likely to sympathize with your plight than your Christian god."
His blasphemy made her breath catch. Taking advantage of her momentary lapse of hostility, Jafar gently pushed her back down. To her shock and dismay, he g
athered her resisting body in his arms and drew the edges of his burnous around them both. Alysson found herself locked in his strong embrace, her head resting on his good arm, her nose pressed against his chest.