‘And watch your tongue! None of your clever remarks. Stay silent unless asked a direct question.’

Gamil needn’t have worried. Leila didn’t speak when Joss Carmody entered the formal sitting room.

Her breath snagged as her gaze climbed a big frame to his rugged face. His strong features weren’t chiselled but hewn, all tanned angles and sharp edges, stark lines and deep grooves. His black hair, though brushed back, curled overlong at the collar. She had the impression of unruly wildness, combed into temporary decorum, till she met his eyes and realised this man was anything but lacking in control.

He surveyed her with the keen alertness a banker devoted to his financial reports.

Joss Carmody’s eyes were indigo dark, like the desert sky just before the first stars winked awake. They held hers and she felt a curious squeezing sensation high in her chest. Her pulse sped as she stood, mesmerised.

Whatever she had expected it wasn’t this.

A moment later he turned to discuss business with Gamil. Oil of course. What else would bring an Australian resources tycoon halfway around the world? Or make him consider marrying her?

The land she’d inherit on marriage held the region’s last and largest untapped oil reserves—a unique holding Gamil used to further his own prestige.

She watched Joss Carmody sit down, cradling a cup of strong coffee, effortlessly dominating the room.

Surely even tycoons took more interest in their potential brides than this? His utter indifference rankled. Surprising how much it rankled. After years under her stepfather’s brutish regime it shouldn’t bother her.

Why should a stranger’s indifference matter? She should be grateful he had no personal interest in her. She couldn’t have gone through with this if he’d looked at her the way Gamil had once stared at her mother—with that hot, hungry possessiveness.

Joss Carmody didn’t see her, just a parcel of arid, oil-rich land. She’d be safe with him.

Joss turned to the silent woman sitting opposite.

Her green-grey stare had surprised him when he arrived. He’d sensed intelligence, curiosity and, could it be, a hint of disapproval in that gaze? The idea intrigued.

Now she lowered her eyes demurely to the cup in her hand. She was the epitome of Middle Eastern modesty melded with elegant Western sophistication. From her sleek, dark chignon to the high heels that had restricted her walk to a delicate, swaying glide, she was the real thing.

Class. She had it in spades.

He didn’t need the opulent black pearl pendant or the matching bracelet of massive pearls to tell him she was accustomed to luxury. She wore them with a casual nonchalance only those born to an easy life of privilege could achieve.

For a split second something like envy stirred.

He repressed it as he did anything that resembled untoward emotion. Instead he appraised her.

She seemed suitable. Her ownership of those enormously rich oilfields made her eminently suitable. It was the only reason he considered marriage: to get his hands on what would be the key to his next major venture. Besides that she had connections and the right background to be useful. Yet Joss never left anything to chance.

‘I’d like to know your daughter better,’ he said as Gamil drew breath. ‘Alone.’

There was a flash of something in the other man’s eyes. Fear or speculation? Then Gamil nodded and departed with one last, warning look at his daughter.

Joss pondered that look. Surely the old man didn’t fear he’d force himself on her? As if Joss hadn’t women enough to satisfy every whim!

‘You’ve been very quiet. You don’t take an interest in the oilfields you own?’

Eyes cool and clear as a mountain stream lifted to his. ‘There seemed little to add.’ Her English was flawless with a subtle, barely there accent that proved curiously enticing. ‘You and my stepfather were engrossed in your plans.’ Her charming smile didn’t reach her eyes.

‘You disapprove?’ Sixth sense warned that her smile concealed rather than revealed.

She shrugged and he watched, intrigued as the silk slid and moulded a pleasing, feminine figure. His chosen bride was rounded in the right places, despite the fragility of her throat and wrists.

She was a necessary part of the deal yet he hadn’t expected to feel more than slight curiosity about her.

The stirring of male appreciation in his belly surprised him. He hadn’t expected a beauty. He permitted himself a moment’s satisfaction. At least being with her occasionally wouldn’t be a hardship.

‘The fields will be developed.’ Her low voice had a husky edge that drew his skin taut with anticipation. ‘You have the resources to do that and my stepfather maintains a very close interest in the family business.’

In other words she didn’t bother her head with sordid details like where her wealth came from. Why wasn’t he surprised? He’d met lots like her: privileged, pampered and eager to live off the hard work of others.

‘You don’t work in the industry yourself? Take a personal interest in your assets?’