‘Are you cold?’

‘Not at all.’

Nothing could stop her boarding that plane. This was the first day of her new life away from the man who’d made her world, and her mother’s, hell. Soon she’d put her plans into action. Set herself up with the money she got on marriage and see about resuming her studies. She’d build a new life without ever needing to ask anyone’s permission again.

Joy flooded her. This was real. Joss had already secured her precious passport. How often had Gamil taunted her that he kept it under lock and key?

The limousine was ushered through a gate and onto the airfield. Moments later they drew up near a sleek jet. Staff waited to see them aboard.

‘Ready?’ The deep rumble of her husband’s voice tickled Leila’s spine, leaving her skin tingling. But, she reassured herself, he was husband on paper only. The instrument of her freedom.

‘Ready.’ Eagerly she pushed open the door before the chauffeur reached it.

Warm, desert-scented air wafted into the car as she slid from the seat. She nodded her thanks to the uniformed driver, turned to face the crew lined up at the base of the steps and grabbed the car door as her knees abruptly crumpled.

The world swooped around her: the sky vast, almost endless as it tilted and stretched towards a far distant horizon. It was so huge, so empty, as if it had the power to suck her up into its immense nothingness. Sick heat beat at her temples.

Her pulse raced as her heart catapulted against her rib cage. In her ears she heard the roar of pounding blood.

A nameless, dragging terror clawed at her. She knew it would press her down till that infinite space swamped her, expelling the last of the air from her labouring lungs.

Leila couldn’t breathe. Yet she fought to stay on her feet. She saw the chauffeur say something then Joss was in front of her. His mouth moved. His brow pleated in a scowl.

He might have been behind glass. Everything was distant but for the heat, the weight of the very air pushing at her, and the tandem crashing thud of her heart and lungs as panic seized her and her stomach churned.

Adrenalin surged as she fought the impulse to fling herself back into the car. Into that small cocoon of safety that beckoned so tantalisingly.

She wouldn’t do it.

She wasn’t going back, no matter what!

Yet it was all she could do to keep her feet on the ground, her hands limpet-like on the door.

‘Leila!’ This time she heard Joss. There was concern in his brusque tone. ‘What is it?’

She dragged in a deep breath and with furious effort straightened her shoulders. She lifted her chin, swallowing with difficulty, her throat as dry as the great inland desert.

Joss’s dark gaze held hers, reminding her she was strong. She’d survived years with her dangerously controlling stepfather. She’d got through a farce of a wedding that was all about business, not love. Surely she could walk to the plane.

The thought of being taken back to the capital, perhaps to her old home and her stepfather’s tender mercies, was a douche of ice water on overheated flesh.

‘Sorry,’ she said in an unfamiliar voice. ‘My legs are stiff from sitting so long.’ She tried to smile but it was more of a grimace. ‘I’ll be okay in a minute.’ At least her voice was merely hoarse now, not wobbly.

For answer Joss turned and said something to his staff, who dispersed out of sight.

Leila drew another breath. Whatever this unnamed fear, it wasn’t rational. It could be overcome. She took a tentative step, still holding the car door. Her legs were made of concrete, so heavy, yet shaking and weak as water.

She took a second step towards the jet. Only twenty paces to the stairs. She could manage that.

With a shuddering breath Leila forced her cramped fingers to release the door. Willing herself on, she paced towards the plane.

Out of nowhere strong arms wrapped round her, scooping her up. They hefted her against a solid body that smelled of soap and citrus and what could only be the spicy scent of male flesh. A thread of heat eddied through her, warming her frozen body.

The arms tightened and she felt the reassuring thud of Joss’s heart against her: steady, calm. Reassuring.

In that moment her instinctive protest faded away.

It didn’t matter that she hated the idea of needing help. Or that Joss acted simply because he couldn’t leave his bride collapsing on the tarmac.

For the first time since her mother’s death Leila knew the comfort of being held. The shock of it helped clear her pounding head.

‘Relax,’ Joss said in an even tone as if dealing with a half-fainting female didn’t faze him. Perhaps he was used to women swooning at his feet! ‘I’ll have you somewhere quiet in a moment.’