“I’m surprised you do not remember me, Lady Sheridan.” Samir Al Zahrani took a seat in the spacious cabin’s only chair.
Anne was seated in the corner by the narrow bed, watching him the way she would a venomous snake. She clutched the tattered pieces of her dress to cover her undergarments. She’d been roughly handled, her gown ripped, but so far no one had touched her other than dragging her to this cabin.
“Remember you? Of course I do. You nearly ran me over in Brighton a few days ago.” It had shocked her when she’d woken in the cabin and seen him.
Samir shook his head, leaning back in his chair. Dark eyes like polished onyx, without any warmth, stared back at her. “No. We met before that.”
Anne searched her memory frantically, trying to recall what he meant.
“I tried to steal you aw
