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Bella's Disgrace
Sarah Morgan
They had probably never even heard of the Balfours out here in the desert.Bella Balfour, fashion icon and wild child, is not enjoying herself. Her father has sent her to the middle of nowhere – it must be to punish her for her scandalous behaviour. She has to get back to civilisation!So Bella steals a horse and heads for the nearest city: the sheikhdom of Al-Rafid. Bella finds herself trapped in the desert with devastatingly gorgeous Sheikh Zafiq Al-Rafid and, on a whim, pretends to be an anonymous, everyday girl. But when the two leave their idyllic oasis for real life, will Bella be able to convince the Sheikh that she’s changed her party-girl ways?




About the Author
SARAH MORGAN trained as a nurse and has since worked in a variety of health-related jobs. Married to a gorgeous businessman, who still makes her knees knock, she spends most of her time trying to keep up with their two little boys, but manages to sneak off occasionally to indulge her passion for writing romance. Sarah loves outdoor life and is an enthusiastic skier and walker. Whatever she is doing, her head is full of new characters and she is addicted to happy endings.

Balfour

Bella’s Disgrace
SARAH MORGAN






www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE
SAND, sand and more sand.
Her father couldn’t have sent her to a more remote place if he’d put her in a rocket and sent her to the moon. And if that had been possible, no doubt he would have signed the cheque, Bella thought bitterly as she curled her bare toes into the coarse sand of the desert and stared across the stark landscape. Come to think of it, this might as well be the moon. Or maybe Mars. The red planet.
Why a retreat in the middle of the desert?
Why not a nice spa on Fifth Avenue?
‘Bella?’
Hearing her name, Bella gave a moan of despair. Already? It was barely daylight.
Reluctantly, she turned. None of this was his fault, she reminded herself. It wasn’t fair to take her anger and frustration out on him. ‘Early start, Atif?’
He was dressed simply in a white robe, the fabric glaring under the beginnings of the Arabian sun. ‘I meditate before dawn.’
Bella suppressed a yawn. ‘Personally I prefer to start my day with a strong black coffee.’
‘You can find a better start to the day by feasting on what lies around you,’ the old man murmured. ‘There’s nothing as calming as watching the sunrise in the desert. Don’t you find the peace soothing?’
‘Honestly? It’s driving me stark-staring nuts.’ Without thinking, Bella reached for her phone and then remembered that it had been confiscated, along with everything else that she needed to communicate with the outside world. She tapped her empty palm impatiently against her thigh and then looked down at her fingernails with distaste. Given the choice between a coffee and a manicure, she would have opted for the manicure. ‘Do you actually own this place?’
‘I am merely passing through. When I am ready, I will move on.’
‘I would have moved on after two minutes given the chance! I’ve been here for two weeks and it feels like a life sentence.’
How could her father do this to her? Thanks to him, she’d been cut off from everyone. Left alone at a time when she desperately needed human comfort.
The shocking discovery she’d made only two weeks earlier had left her numb and emotionally drained. The person she’d been before that night had gone forever. So had the naive assumptions she’d nurtured throughout her life.
Regret tore through her
You shouldn’t have looked, Bella.
Like Pandora, she’d lifted the lid of the box and now she was paying the price.
‘You allow emotion to grip you the way a falcon grips its prey.’ Atif watched her with the same tranquil expression he adopted during their sessions together. ‘You are angry, but your father sent you here for your own benefit.’
‘He sent me here as a punishment because I embarrassed him.’ Bella wrapped her arms around herself and wondered how she could feel cold in such a hot, oppressive place. ‘I’ve embarrassed the whole family. Brought the Balfour name into disrepute. Again.’ But no one had considered what the whole sordid incident had done to her. And the fact that no one had considered her feelings simply increased her sense of abandonment.
Remembering everything that had happened on the night of the Balfour Ball, Bella felt a lump build in her throat. She wanted to know how her sister Olivia was feeling about the whole thing—she wanted to make amends.
Her behaviour had been bad—she knew that. But she’d been goaded. Upset. And Olivia had said things too …
‘Can I have my phone back just to send one text?’ Suddenly it seemed desperately important that she contact her twin. ‘Or could I use your computer? I haven’t checked my emails for two weeks!
‘That isn’t possible, Bella.’
‘I’m going mad, Atif! Sand and silence are a lousy combination.’ She glanced around her desperately and her attention focused on a cluster of low whitewashed buildings she’d noticed earlier in the week. ‘How about those stables over there—can I at least go for a ride or something? Just for an hour.’
‘They are nothing to do with the Retreat. The stables are privately owned.’
‘Strange place to keep horses.’ Bella studied the guards standing by the entrance. Why would a stable need guards? ‘Well, if I can’t borrow a horse could I at least have my iPod? I find it easier to relax to music.’
‘Silence is golden.’
‘Around here, everything is golden.’ Simmering with frustration, Bella looked at the shifting sands and an idea took shape in her mind—an outrageous, daring idea. ‘That city we passed through on the way here, tell me about it.’
‘Al-Rafid is a sheikhdom, famous for its rich, cultural heritage.’
‘Is there oil?’ She forced herself to make casual conversation but all she really wanted to ask was, How long will it take me to get there and do they have high-speed broadband?
‘Huge reserves of oil, but the ruling Sheikh is an astute businessman. He has turned what was once an ancient desert city into an international centre for commerce. The buildings on the waterfront are as modern as anything you would find in Manhattan or Canary Wharf, but only a few streets away is the old city with many wonderful examples of Persian architecture. Al-Rafid Palace is the most breathtaking of all, but it is rarely opened to the public because it is home to Sheikh Zafiq and his family.’
‘Lucky him, living in a city. He obviously hates the sand too.’
‘On the contrary, Sheikh Zafiq loves the desert, but he is a fiercely bright, educated man who has successfully incorporated progressive business thinking into the running of a very traditional country. But he has never forgotten his roots. For one week every year, he allows himself time alone in the desert. Time for reflection. He is a powerful man—some would say ruthless—but he is also a man deeply aware of his responsibilities.’
Responsibility…
Wasn’t that the last word her father had said to her before he’d sent her into exile? Bella squirmed uncomfortably, trying to ease the sharp prick of her conscience. ‘So … this sheikh. Is he married with eight wives and a hundred children?’
‘His Highness has not yet chosen a wife. His family background is complicated.’
‘I bet it’s a picnic compared to mine.’
‘Sheikh Zafiq’s mother was a princess, much loved by everyone. Unfortunately she died when he was a baby.’
‘She died?’ Bella felt as though she’d been thumped in the chest. Like her, he’d lost his mother as a child. She felt compelled to find out more about the powerful, ruthless Sheikh, forgetting that her original objective had been simply to discover the distance to civilisation. ‘Did his father marry again?’
‘Yes, but tragically both his father and stepmother were killed in an accident when His Highness was just a teenager.’
So he’d lost two mothers.
Bella watched as the rising sun set fire to the dunes, changing the colours from dull red to bright gold. She felt a strange affinity with the mysterious Sheikh. He was out there somewhere across the bleak, featureless mountains of sand. Did he think about the mother he’d never known? Had he discovered things about her that would have been better left a secret?
Was his mind as much of a mess as hers?
Bella dug her hands into the pockets of her cotton trousers and reminded herself that regret was point less. The past couldn’t be undone. In all the hours of enforced meditation there was one topic on which she’d refused to allow herself to dwell.
Her mother.
Later. Later, she’d have to think about it but for now it was all too raw.
‘So this Sheikh guy—’ she pushed her hair out of her eyes, grimacing at the texture and indulging in a brief fantasy about deep conditioning and a blow dry ‘—he must have been pretty young to take over the running of a country.’
‘Just eighteen. But he was bred to rule.’
‘Poor guy. Must have had a pretty grim childhood. But all that oil must mean he’s rich. So why hasn’t he married? I suppose he’s old and ugly and can’t even buy himself a wife.’
‘His Highness is in his early thirties and is considered extremely handsome by those better qualified to comment on these things than me.’
‘So what’s wrong with him, then?’ Bella eyed the lizard that scuttled across the sand in front of her.
‘At some point he will marry someone suitable, but I understand that he is in no hurry.’
‘And who can blame him? Marriage can be a nightmare. My father has done it three times. He’s a devotee of the saying, “If at first you don’t succeed—try, try and try again.” You have to admire his perseverance. As a spectator sport it’s quite gripping.’
‘Your father has had three marriages?’
‘You’d think he’d be good at it by now, wouldn’t you?’ Bella brushed sand from her bare arms, wondering whether it counted as exfoliation. ‘He’s had enough practise.’
‘You have to let the anger go, Bella. You’re too passionate.’
‘That’s me.’ She kept her tone careless. ‘Too passionate. Too … everything. Try having siblings, half-siblings, three mothers and a father like mine and you might understand why I don’t have your sense of calm. Nothing winds you up like family. Except maybe having your laptop, your phone and your iPod removed at the same time.’
‘It is when life is at its most demanding that we must seek inner peace. Your own ability for quiet reflection can be an oasis in the storm of life.’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a few days by an oasis,’ Bella said absently, unsettled by the effect his words had on her. The truth was she envied his sense of calm. She wanted that, but had no idea how to achieve it. ‘Palm trees, water to bathe in. I have no problem with sand, providing I’m staring down at it from my sun lounger with a Margarita in my hand.’
He bowed his head. ‘I’ll leave you to reflect, Bella. And see you at nine for yoga.’
‘Yoga. Yippee. The excitement might just kill me.’ Bella’s expression was deadpan and she watched him stroll back towards the tents but inside she was boiling with emotion.
Enough!
No more meditation.
No more desert.
She was going to find the keys to a Jeep and get out of here even if it meant tying someone up in their tent.
She was about to return to the Retreat and go on the hunt for transport when she noticed that the guards had disappeared from the entrance to the stables. Bella’s eyes narrowed and her mind raced ahead as she adjusted her plans. No one knew her in the stables, did they? If she walked with enough confidence they might even think she worked there.
Indulging in a brief fantasy about fleeing across the desert in a horsebox, she slid past a sign that said “Strictly No Admittance” and walked down a sandy path that led to a stable block. A fountain bubbled in the centre of the deserted courtyard and only now could Bella see that the stables were both sophisticated and extensive.
‘Whoever owns this place must be seriously loaded.’ She sneaked a look over her shoulder to see if anyone had noticed her. But the stables appeared deserted. No guards. No one.
Strange, Bella thought, glancing around her. Where was everyone?
She knew from experience that stables were busy places.
A horse stuck its head over the door of the stable and whickered at her.
Bella walked across to him. ‘At least someone lives here. Hello, beautiful,’ she crooned, rubbing her hand over the mare’s silky neck. ‘How’s your morning so far? Done any meditation? Knotted any of your legs into a lotus? Sipped any herbal tea?’
The horse blew gently against her neck and Bella suddenly felt better than she had for weeks.
‘Want to come and sleep in my tent?’ She kissed the animal on the nose, fussing and gentling the mare, the familiar scent of hay and horse calming her in a way that no amount of meditation had achieved. Peering over the stable door, she took in the quality of the horse. ‘You really are a beauty. Pure-bred Arab. Why would anyone keep a horse as special as you hidden away out here?’
The horse nudged her hard and Bella almost lost her balance.
‘You’re fed up with being trapped in the stable, aren’t you? I know the feeling. Where is everyone? Why are you on your own here?’
The place was eerily deserted and Bella looked around uneasily, trying to shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong—that something bad was about to happen.
‘Oh, for crying out loud—’ Cross with herself, she turned back to the horse. ‘I’ve been living in boredomville for so long I’m imagining things. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past two weeks it’s that nothing ever happens out here.’
The horse moved restlessly in its box and Bella murmured to the animal sympathetically, sharing that restlessness. She had a desperate longing to spring onto her back and just ride and ride until her thoughts were far behind.
And why not? Why take a Jeep when she could ride to the city?
It couldn’t be that far. She could remember the way. Vaguely. Once there she could arrange for the horse to be returned with her compliments.
Hopefully Atif would be so angry he’d refuse to have her back.
I’ll be banned, Bella thought happily, sliding the bolt on the stable door and letting herself inside. Bad Bella. ‘People always think the worst of me and I’d hate to disappoint them. Poor Atif is going to need to delve deep to discover his inner peace,’ she told the mare as she swiftly untied her. ‘I’m about to put his karma through significant turbulence. He’d better fasten his seat belt.’
‘If you wish to spend a week alone in the desert, then at least allow your guards to accompany you, Zafiq.’
‘If I allowed the guards to accompany me, then I would no longer be alone,’ Zafiq pointed out drily. ‘This is the one week of my life when I am allowed to be a man and not a ruler. I place you in sole charge, Rachid.’
His young brother paled, clearly daunted by the responsibility. ‘You don’t think you should postpone your trip? The oil negotiations have reached a crucial stage. They are expecting you to come back with a lower offer.’
‘Then they will be disappointed.’
‘You are seriously going to walk away at the peak of negotiations? It’s the worst time.’
Zafiq gave a cool smile. ‘On the contrary, it’s the best time, Rachid.’
‘What if they go elsewhere?’
‘They won’t.’
‘But how can you be so sure? How do you know? How do you always know the right thing to do?’ As they walked towards the stables, his brother cast him an envious glance. ‘I wish I could be as inscrutable as you. You never reveal your emotions.’
Hearing the angry squeal of a stallion, Zafiq walked purposefully in the direction of the commotion. ‘The same cannot be said for my horse, who seems to be revealing his emotions unhindered.’
‘Everyone in the stables is terrified of him.’
Zafiq watched as his Master of Horse led the halfwild, prancing stallion into the yard. Noticing the stallion’s ears flatten angrily, he sighed. ‘It seems Batal needs a break as much as I do.’ Without hesitating he strode towards the horse, his brother following at a safe distance.
‘Do you ever worry about anything?’ Rachid blurted the words out as if he’d been bottling them up for days. ‘Was there ever a time when you felt like me?’
Zafiq reflected on that question, a grim smile touching his mouth. He could have told his brother that his childhood had felt like nothing more than a rigorous training camp for instilling a sense of responsibility and duty.
‘Confidence comes with experience. I have had plenty of experience.’ With that economical response, he watched as Batal pawed the ground, nostrils flared. ‘Release him.’ As the sweating stable staff sprang out of the way, he put his hand on the animal’s neck and the stallion shuddered and calmed.
‘Horses and women—’ Rachid grinned at him in admiration. ‘How do you do it?’
Zafiq ignored the question, vaulting onto the animal’s back with athletic ease. ‘I will be back in five days. And Rachid—’ his hand closed around the reins as he stilled the restless stallion ‘—this is your opportunity to gain experience of your own. Don’t waste it. And try not to start a war.’
Without giving his brother time to voice any more objections, Zafiq allowed the shivering, expectant horse to spring forward, not bothering to rein him in as he plunged forwards through the open gates that led straight from the palace into the desert. The animal gave two ferocious bucks, but Zafiq didn’t shift in the saddle and the stallion settled down, as if remembering that he’d met his match in this particular rider.
‘You’re as impatient as I am to leave the city,’ Zafiq murmured, enjoying the surge of adrenalin that came with the sudden burst of speed.
The desert opened up before him, the space offering sanctuary from the oppressive demands of state business and the pressures of caring for his young brothers and sisters, whose needs appeared to become more complicated as they grew up, rather than less. As their guardian, he felt a burden of responsibility towards them that was in every way equal to the one he felt for his country.
After eleven punishing months of responsibility and duty, he was ready to leave it all behind and indulge in the yearly solitude he richly deserved and rarely enjoyed.
No problems. No pressure.
Just the desert and his own company.
Lost.
Heat, thirst, sand, heat, thirst, sand …
Shouldn’t she be there by now? She’d been riding for hours and it all looked the same.
Whatever had possessed her to think she’d be able to find her way?
Her mouth was drier than the desert, her head throbbed and her eyes stung.
Bella squinted dizzily into the blazing sun, focusing on the shimmer of heat that seemed to make the landscape move. What she really needed now was an oasis with cool water and palm trees offering a generous cocoon of shade. But there was nothing except sand, heat and the desperate burning thirst that grew more acute by the minute.
Her mouth was so dry she would even have welcomed herbal tea.
She’d stopped guiding the horse and was only dimly aware that the animal was still walking purposefully.
‘I’m sorry,’ she moaned, leaning forward and burying her burning face in the mare’s mane. ‘I don’t care about me but I’m really sorry I’ve done this to you. Why aren’t you fitted with sat nav? Stop walking. There’s no point. We might as well just give up.’
The horse gave a snort of disapproval and continued to walk. Bella was too weak and exhausted to do anything about it.
She was going to die.
Her body was going to be buried under the sand and discovered centuries later by archaeologists digging for relics.
Despite her dizzy, dehydrated state the inevitable headlines flashed into her head: Bad Bella Balfour Disappears from Desert Retreat.
Perhaps they’d think she’d drowned herself in herbal tea.
Perhaps they wouldn’t even care.
She gave a weak moan and tried to say something to the horse but by now her mouth was so dry it was difficult to speak. The pain in her head was so severe she felt as though someone was attacking her with an axe and her vision blurred.
The last thing she saw before she slid from the horse was an ominous black shadow emerging through the golden haze.
Death, she thought dizzily, and landed on the sand unconscious.

CHAPTER TWO
ZAFIQ sprang from his horse and issued a low command. The stallion immediately threw up his head proudly and stood still, his tail held high.
Taking in the identity of the other horse, Zafiq’s initial shock turned to raw, undiluted fury. ‘Amira—’ His voice gentle, he approached his favourite mare, hand outstretched, his anger ruthlessly contained. ‘What are you doing all the way out here?’ The horse allowed him to take the reins and he swiftly tied the animal to the saddle of his own mount.
Later, he promised himself with icy focus. Later, there would be a price to pay for this. For now, his priority had to be the girl.
She was the most unlikely looking horse thief he’d ever seen.
One glance at her thin cotton clothing was sufficient to tell him that she knew nothing about surviving in the harsh, unforgiving desert, and his mouth tightened as he bent over her inert body.
A pink baseball cap lay in the sand some distance from where she’d fallen but apart from that one small concession to the heat of the sun she appeared to have nothing in the way of protection.
Zafiq’s lip curled in contempt. After all the threats and warnings, this was who’d they sent to kidnap his most valued horse?
Impatience mingling with anger he glanced around for a rucksack, or something that indicated the girl had packed liquid, but there was nothing.
Muttering under his breath he stooped and lifted her, the breath hissing through his teeth as her blonde hair trailed over his arm like a shaft of light from a single sunbeam. Sand dusted her flushed cheeks and his eyes rested on her dry lips.
Unable to look away from the generous curve of her mouth, Zafiq felt a dangerous heat explode inside him and he stared down at her beautiful face, momentarily forgetting everything except the woman in his arms. And then her eyelids flickered upwards and he found himself staring into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. They were eyes that reminded him of a summer sky, of the azure blue of the Arabian Sea, of the cerulean silk that was sold in the souks of Al-Rafid. But despite the intense colour those eyes were dull, dazed and her lips parted and she whispered something—nothing that made sense; something about herbal tea—and then her eyes closed and she didn’t say another word.
Aware that he was still staring down at her face, Zafiq felt a rush of anger.
What sort of a man was he?
The girl was unconscious.
She was half dead, and he was thirsting for her as she was no doubt thirsting for water.
Dehydration, he thought savagely, holding her easily as he walked back to his stallion and removed a bottle from his saddlebag. He’d seen it before, too many times.
‘Drink,’ he ordered harshly, but she gave no sign that she was able to obey his command.
Questioning what crime he’d committed to be saddled with an unconscious girl at a time when he was supposed to be enjoying solitude, Zafiq splashed a small amount of water over her lips and watched with grim satisfaction as her tongue flickered out. At least he wasn’t dealing with a corpse.
He wanted her to live so that she could face justice for trying to steal his horse. She would pay the price for her crime.
In order to keep her alive, he needed to get her out of the sun and cool her down. And the only place he could do that was in his own camp.
Resigning himself to the inevitable, Zafiq swung her limp body onto his horse and supported her while he vaulted on behind her. Drawing her lifeless body against the power of his own, he closed his legs on the stallion’s flanks and urged him forwards, glancing over his shoulder to check on the mare.
It took less than twenty minutes to reach the shelter of his remote desert camp—twenty minutes during which he discovered to his frustration that he was able to become aroused by an unconscious woman.
Dismounting in a fluid movement, Zafiq gritted his teeth as he lifted her once again into his arms.
Perhaps he should have left her in the desert.
Turning the horses loose to find shade and water in the small oasis, he carried the unconscious girl towards his tent, breathing through his mouth in order to block out the tantalising floral scent of her hair. He dumped her gently on the mat that served as a bed and frowned impatiently as she lay still, not moving.
Torn between concern and exasperation, Zafiq leant forward and placed his fingers on her forehead. Registering the dry, burning heat, he realised that if he didn’t cool her down, he was going to have a serious problem on his hands.
‘I don’t know who you are, but you clearly have more beauty than sense,’ he growled, striding across the tent to fetch a bowl of tepid water and a piece of cloth.
So much for a week of peace, solitude and quiet reflection.
Zafiq dipped the cloth in the water and bathed her face and neck. Knowing that her recovery was dependent on cooling and rehydration, he reluctantly unfastened the buttons of her long sleeve shirt. Peeling it away he bathed her slender arms, keeping his eyes averted from the pretty lace bra that was now the only barrier between him and her body. He left her arms and body damp, allowing the water droplets to cool her overheated skin.
At this rate he was going to need the cool water himself, he thought, seriously unsettled by the effect she had on him. With haste and clinical efficiency he tugged her white cotton trousers past the curve of her hips and down her long legs.
‘Atif?’ She murmured a man’s name and Zafiq frowned sharply, wondering whether there had been someone else out in the desert with her.
Of course. She must have had an accomplice. A plan to kidnap his horse couldn’t have been executed by one lone woman, could it?
Wondering what had happened to his usual clarity of thought, Zafiq dropped the cloth back into the bowl and raked her flushed cheeks with an impatient gaze, but this time his impatience was directed towards himself. Since when had he ceased to think logically?
Driven by concern and the pressing need to extract information, he scooped her up and pressed the cup of water to her lips. ‘Drink,’ he ordered, and although her eyes remained closed she obediently parted her lips and swallowed. ‘And more.’ He continued to encourage her to drink and then laid her gently back against the pillows and bathed her once again.
Shaded by the tent and cooled by the water she started to revive.
Only when he judged that she was able to answer, did Zafiq scoop her up once again and voice the question that was troubling him.
‘Who was with you?’ His voice was rough—rougher than he intended—but even so she didn’t respond. Trying to ignore the softness of her skin against his arms, Zafiq tried again. ‘Were you alone?’
Her eyes slid to his and she looked at him with those stunning blue eyes that were undeniably designed to drive a man to distraction.
‘Horse—’ she croaked, and Zafiq felt the tension ripple across his shoulders.
‘I know about the horse. What about humans?’
Her tongue moistened her lower lip, slowly, as if speaking were the hardest thing she’d ever done. ‘Is the horse OK?’
She was lying half dead in his arms and yet she was asking about the horse?
Momentarily thrown by that surprising fact, it took Zafiq a moment to realise that she obviously had a vested interest in the animal’s welfare. ‘She is fine, although no thanks to you. You will not be profiting on this occasion.’
‘Profiting?’
‘There are many questions which you will answer in time, but first tell me about Atif. Who is he?’
Her eyes closed again but not before he’d seen tears glistening and the dull sheen of despair.
‘Please don’t make me go back.’
‘Go back where?’ Accustomed to receiving an immediate answer to any question he posed, Zafiq found this laborious process of dragging information from her unspeakably tedious.
What sort of man would leave it to a woman to steal a horse?
Or had she seduced someone to achieve her objective?
Irritated by his thoughts, he pressed the cup to her lips again. Her hand closed over his wrist as she drank and the burn of her fingers against his skin induced a reaction so shockingly powerful that Zafiq almost dropped the cup.
‘How could you have done this without help? There must have been someone with you?’
‘No.’ Her voice was faint. ‘On my own.’
As he laid her back against the pillows, Zafiq pondered why a horse thief should be working alone and unsupported. All the intelligence he’d received on the threat to his valuable mare had seemed to point to a group of people. ‘Sleep.’ He rose to his feet swiftly, needing to distance himself. Needing to regain control. ‘I must check on the animals.’
No one would be touching his horses again, he promised himself fiercely as he strode towards the entrance of the tent.
‘Wait—’ Her soft croak stopped him. ‘Who are you?’
Zafiq gave a cynical smile.
Never before had anyone asked him that question. He eyed her blonde hair and fair skin thoughtfully. It was entirely possible that this uninformed, naive woman, who thought she could kidnap a valuable animal without detection, genuinely had no idea who he was.
Which suited him.
His exact location was a secret. And he wanted it to remain a secret, particularly as he now had Amira’s safety to think about.
‘I’m your nemesis,’ he purred, his voice lethally soft as he lifted the flap of the tent. ‘And you are going to live to regret the day you stole my horse.’
Everything had shifted from gold to white.
Had she died and gone to heaven?
Bella blinked several times and realised that she was staring up at canvas. She was inside a tent. And it was hot. Stiflingly hot, like being trapped in an oven on full heat with the door closed. Her head throbbed, her mouth felt parched and she had no idea what she was doing here. Memories flickered through her head—a strong male voice ordering her to drink, firm, decisive hands stripping her of her clothing …
Stripping her of her clothing?
Realising that she was naked apart from her underwear, she was about to find something to cover herself with when the flap of the tent was pushed aside and a man strode inside. Stripped to the waist, his muscular bronzed shoulders glistened with water, as though wet from a dip in the pool. He was naked apart from a towel tied loosely around his lean hips.
For a moment she thought she must be hallucinating because he was indecently, impossibly, handsome.
‘OK, maybe I have died and gone to heaven,’ Bella croaked humorously but there was no answering smile from her rescuer. Eyes as dark as jet scanned her with arrogant appraisal and unconcealed disdain.
‘You have a strange concept of heaven. Or maybe you don’t realise how much trouble you’re in.’
‘You are my kind of trouble—’ Feeling weak and dizzy, Bella eyed his powerful physique and started to laugh. ‘You have to see the funny side—all those hours I’ve spent at parties hoping to meet a spectacular-looking man and he turns up here in the desert—’ The desert.
Oh, God, she was still in the desert.
Catching the flare of shock in his eyes, she sighed as everything rushed back to her. ‘Look, I’ve no idea where I am, but just tell me you’re not going to make me drink herbal tea and search for the meaning of life. Otherwise I’ll have a relapse.’ Conscious of the contrast between his striking good looks and her dishevelled appearance, Bella surreptitiously slid her fingers through her hair, wincing as she encountered a dry, matted mass. ‘Ugh. Sand. There’s sand everywhere.’
‘That’s why it’s called the desert.’
‘Yes, but it’s even in my hair—’ Her trademark silky mane had the texture of sandpaper and Bella shuddered.
No wonder he wasn’t looking at her the way men usually looked at her.
‘A few hours ago you were staring death in the face and now you are worrying about your hair?’ The contempt in his tone added insult to injury.
‘Look, do you have any idea what it’s like to be stranded in this red, gritty wilderness without so much as a bottle of decent conditioner?’ Bella pouted at him and then lifted her fingers to her mouth in horror. ‘My lips are cracked—’
‘That’s what happens when you trek across the desert without appropriate protection.’ He was as harsh and blistering as the desert sun and Bella’s spine stiffened defensively.
‘I hadn’t planned on getting lost!’
‘That tends to happen when you point your horse in the wrong direction.’ His sardonic tone was the final straw and Bella felt her cheeks redden.
‘Your bedside manner needs work.’
‘The quality of my bedside manner,’ he drawled, ‘depends on who is lying in my bed.’
A stranger to masculine indifference, Bella was appalled to feel a lump settle in her throat. She reminded herself frantically that red tear-stained eyes in a sandblasted face would make her look like a gargoyle and swallowed hard, refusing to give in to an emotion that would make her even less physically appealing.
Give me half an hour in that pool he’s just swum in, she thought to herself, and I’ll knock him dead. Even without the aid of a mirror.
‘Are you always this preoccupied with your appearance? One would have thought you had more important issues on your mind. Like humility. You should be dwelling on the lesson the desert has taught you.’ The slow-burning anger in his eyes made her wonder what she’d done to offend him so deeply.
‘The desert has taught me never to leave the city again.’ Feeling sicker by the minute, Bella stretched gingerly and discovered that she ached from head to toe. ‘You don’t seem very pleased that I’m alive.’
‘I was not expecting to spend my first night in the desert with a half-dead female.’
‘You prefer completely dead females? I suppose at least they don’t answer back.’ Sneaking a look at his unsmiling face, Bella decided there was no point in asking if he had a mirror. ‘Look, I’m sorry I’ve messed up your plans, OK? Just give me something for my headache, point me towards the city and I’ll get out of your way.’
He muttered something in a language she didn’t understand and this time his glance was both fierce and contemptuous. ‘Have you learned nothing from your escapade? This is the desert, not the English countryside. You don’t just go for a walk. Or even a ride.’
Bella remembered the dark shadow emerging from the haze of sunlight and realised that it must have been him. ‘You do.’
‘I was born in this country. I understand every movement of the sun and every shift of the sands and yet even I would not set out on a journey as lamentably ill equipped as you. Next time you decide to commit a crime I suggest you spend more time on the planning. You had no map, no spare clothing and no water.’ Incredulity and disgust radiated from his expression and his tone. ‘What were you thinking?’
‘I suppose I wasn’t really thinking,’ Bella admitted, chastened by his harsh words and distracted by the word crime. ‘I just wanted to get to the city. I misunderstood the distance.’
‘And that one small error would have cost two lives if I hadn’t arrived when I did.’
‘Two?’ As she absorbed the meaning behind his statement, Bella struggled to a sitting position, guilt sharpening her anxiety. ‘Wait a minute. The beautiful horse—is she all right? You said—’
‘She will survive, but no thanks to you. That mare is a valuable animal.’ His smile was cynical. ‘But you know that, don’t you? That’s why you took her.’
‘I took her because she was so friendly.’ Bella was tortured by the horror of what might have happened. She’d almost killed a horse. She’d totally and utterly messed up. Again. But no one would be surprised to hear that, would they? Everyone expected her to mess up. ‘She’s full Arab isn’t she? They have such distinctive features.’
‘And I’m sure you were well acquainted with her distinctive features. How else would you be sure of stealing the right animal?’
‘You’re right to be angry with me.’ Bella was genuinely contrite and more than a little puzzled by the venom in his tone. ‘I’m angry with myself. I would never intentionally have put the mare in danger. I love horses—much more than humans actually,’ she said humbly, ‘but I honestly thought it would take me less than an hour to get to the city.’
‘Was that where they were waiting?’
‘Who?’
‘Your accomplices.’
‘I didn’t have any accomplices.’
‘Then how did you plan to sell her?’
‘I wasn’t going to sell her!’ Bella sat up straight, offended by the suggestion. ‘I was going to send her back to the stables.’
Exasperation mingled with incredulity. ‘You expect me to believe that you stole a horse with the intention of returning her?’
‘I didn’t steal a horse!’ Bella’s voice was an outraged squeak. ‘I—I just borrowed her. For a short time … ‘ Her voice trailed off, her pathetic defence squashed by the satanic blaze of his beautiful black eyes. ‘I’m not a thief!’
‘You were in possession of an animal that does not belong to you. Had she escaped from her stable?’
Bella shrank slightly. ‘Er, no.’
‘So you physically took her?’
‘I borrowed her—’ Seriously worried now, Bella wished she had a weapon so that she could defend herself. And then she remembered he was a man. And she had big blue eyes. What better weapon could a girl ask for? She angled her face and looked directly at him. ‘I can explain.’
One eyebrow raised, he folded his arms. ‘Rarely have I been so intrigued to hear an excuse.’
Perhaps he hadn’t looked at her properly. Bella widened her eyes slightly but his hard gaze didn’t flicker.
She must be too far away from him. Still, there was always her hair. Her long, blonde hair. Bella tried to flick her hair over her shoulder but it was so stiff with sand it barely moved.
Realising that she was going to have to rely on her wits, not her looks, she felt her insides quail. ‘I was stuck in this place in the middle of nowhere—’
‘What was it called?’
‘The Retreat.’ Bella shuddered. ‘It’s an alternative, yoga. thingy—a drive-you-mad place—’
‘It is a world-renowned centre for contemplative meditation.’
‘That too.’ Bella discreetly removed some sand from inside her nails and grimaced with distaste. ‘Anyway, there was sand everywhere—sand, sand and more sand.’
‘In the time it is taking you to voice your excuse, the entire landscape of the desert will have altered,’ he drawled, and Bella glared at him.
‘You’re so unsympathetic. I suppose you’re going to tell me you love the sand.’
‘I have too little time to enjoy it.’
‘How much time is too little? A nanosecond? I don’t think I ever want to see a grain of sand again. And that’s why I borrowed the horse. I just had to get out of there! I doubt I’ll ever be able to look at a beach again. I’ll be taking city breaks from now on.’
His gaze hardened. ‘So you just walked into a busy stable and helped yourself to a horse.’
‘Actually, that was really weird.’ Bella wrinkled her nose as she remembered how odd it had seemed to her at the time. ‘The place was deserted. A bit spooky actually. No one around. It was as if something was about to happen—’ she gave a shrug ‘—but that was probably wishful thinking. Nothing ever happened in that place, I can tell you. My imagination must have been playing tricks.’
‘It’s heartening to know that you are capable of imagination—’ But he seemed distracted, as if something she’d said had captured his attention. ‘So you are saying that no one was there? That you simply walked into the yard, took the horse and rode into the desert?’
‘Yes. Whoever is running that stable should fire some of the staff because they were really lax. I mean, what if one of the horses was sick or something?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Anyway, so I rode into the desert, following the track to the city. Except it obviously wasn’t the right track. It all looks the same. And then I realised I was lost. If you hadn’t come along when you did—’
‘You would be dead.’ His blunt appraisal made her shiver.
‘Yes. Very probably. So, thanks again. I’m lucky you found me.’
He watched her for a long moment, as though he were making his mind up about something, and then he strode across the tent, pulled open a canvas bag and removed a robe. Intercepting her stare, his mouth tightened. ‘You might want to look away.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’ Bella’s wicked side took over, driving her into territory she knew she would have been better avoiding. ‘You have a fantastic body.’
Shock flared in his eyes and dark streaks of colour highlighted his magnificent cheekbones. ‘And you play a dangerous game for a woman alone and unprotected. Perhaps I am not a good man to be trapped with, habibiti.’ His voice was suddenly soft and there was a shimmer of mockery in his jet-black eyes. He slid the robe over his head in a fluid movement, somehow managing to discard the towel at the same time. ‘I believe you have a saying: “out of the frying pan into the fire.'”
Bella’s mouth dried as she watched him slide a dagger into the folds of his robe and her stomach fluttered with nerves. ‘Well, it’s certainly true that in the past few hours I’ve been fried, sautéed and flambéed.’ Her weak attempt at humour again fell flat and she flopped back against the pillows, her head throbbing and her bravado wearing thin. ‘All right, I get the message. No humour allowed. But you ought to know it’s polite to at least smile when someone makes a joke.’ She wanted to ask why he needed a dagger, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
He was a complete contrast to the men she usually met—a lethal combination of untamed man and raw sexuality. A real man, she thought to herself, distracted by the dark shadow that emphasised the strong lines of his jaw. It was hard to imagine him sitting at a desk in a tall city office, but she had no problem imagining him wrestling a wild animal with his bare hands. Embarrassed to admit that she found him astonishingly attractive, Bella put her hands over her eyes and gave a groan. She was the ultimate modern city girl and here she was lusting over macho man.
The heat must have finally got to her.
‘I’m surprised you find your situation amusing.’ His gaze held hers. ‘You’re lost and you have absolutely no idea where you are.’
‘I’m not lost. I’m with you.’
‘And that gives you no cause for alarm?’ His cool voice held a dangerous edge. ‘I could be a greater threat to your safety than being lost in the desert. There is no one else near you. No one to rescue you. No one to hear you scream.’
Bella burst out laughing. ‘You sound as though you’re doing a voice-over for a horror movie.’
‘I am merely pointing out that a healthy dose of caution might increase your life expectancy.’
‘I’ve lived in London and New York. I’m streetwise.’
His smile was slow and deadly. ‘You are not in London or New York now. You are in the middle of the Arabian Desert with a man you don’t know. And outside this tent there are poisonous snakes, scorpions and enough sand to swallow you whole and never again reveal your body.’
His words made her shiver and Bella rubbed her hands over her arms, growing more alarmed by the minute. ‘Stop trying to scare me. Do you want a hysterical woman in your tent?’
‘I don’t want a woman in my tent at all.’
‘Oh—’ Bella relaxed slightly. ‘I get it. You’re gay.’
Incredulity flared in his dark eyes. ‘I am not gay. But nor did I seek company on this trip. I value solitude.’
‘Really?’ For a moment she was fascinated. ‘You mean you actually want to be on your own?’
‘Time for reflection is a gift.’
Bella pulled a face. ‘In my opinion, reflection is an overrated pastime. I prefer being around people.’
‘So what were you doing in the Retreat?’
‘I was sent there.’
‘By … ?’
‘Look, do we have to talk about this? The place was bad enough when I was there, without having to think about it afterwards. My brain is tired of examining itself. I’m allergic to meditation. Life is difficult enough without reflecting on it.’ Bella watched as he poured himself a glass of water. Every movement he made was assured and confident, and although he was quite staggeringly good-looking, he was far too serious for her.
And now he was looking at her with the same expression of grim disapproval that her father used whenever she saw him.
Bella closed her eyes, the throb in her head worsening by the minute.
She heard him step towards her. ‘How bad is that headache?’
‘Headache? What headache? I don’t have a headache.’ She would rather have died than admit weakness to this stony-faced, austere sex god. ‘I’ve never felt better in my life.’
‘You’re dehydrated. Drink more water.’
Bella contemplated ignoring his advice but the pain tearing through her head was growing worse so she reached for the cup that he’d placed on the floor by the bed. ‘How come you have so much water with you?’
‘I came prepared. Unlike you. I’m not accustomed to having to repeat a question—who sent you to the Retreat?’
‘My father sent me.’ She took another sip of water, tempted to ask him how much water it would take to cure the headache. ‘I was supposed to find myself.’
‘Instead of which you lost yourself.’ His sardonic smile turned his face from handsome to breathtaking and Bella found it impossible to look away. He really was stunning. In fact, she had an uneasy feeling that his eyes might be even more beautiful than hers. If she didn’t have a vile headache and he wasn’t so moody, she’d definitely be interested.
Slightly unsettled by that realisation, she put the cup down carefully, trying not to spill any of the precious liquid. ‘Thank you for rescuing me.’
‘I had no choice. You collapsed in my path.’
He stood watching her from the end of the bed and it was impossible to miss the air of command that clung to him. ‘So who are you?’
Bella’s eyes widened again, but this time in amazement. No one had ever had to ask who she was before. Everyone knew who she was. Everywhere she went she was followed, photographed and criticised. People who had never even met her thought they knew her. Everyone had an opinion of her—almost always bad.
But out here in the wild sands of the desert, her face meant nothing.
It occurred to Bella that, at this precise moment, no one knew where she was. No one was watching her. No one was waiting for the scandalous Balfour twin to slip up. The headline writers of the newspapers were probably sitting bored at their desks, wondering who to write about.
An unusual sense of freedom settled over her.
Feeling liberated, she gave a wide smile. ‘I’m Kate,’ she said impulsively. ‘And you are … ?’
‘And who is Olivia? And what is it you don’t want her to do?’
Reminded of the situation that had brought her to the desert, Bella’s euphoria dimmed. ‘How do you know about Olivia?’
‘While you were delirious with the heat, you talked. You kept saying, “No, Olivia, don’t do it. Don’t do it.” Who is Olivia?’
‘Just someone I know,’ Bella whispered, her body trembling. Suddenly she wondered just how much she’d revealed. ‘What else did I say?’ Had she talked about her other sister Zoe? Had she said anything else about that terrible night?
‘Nothing much. Did no one know you were leaving the Retreat?’
‘No.’ Bella thought back to the conversation she’d had with Atif. ‘But I think they’ll guess.’
‘And they will send out a search party,’ her rescuer snapped, ‘which is the last thing we want.’
‘I agree! If they find me they’ll just drag me back for more torture—’ Her eyes narrowed speculatively as she thought about what he’d just said. ‘Wait a minute. Why wouldn’t you want a search party to find me? It shouldn’t bother you, unless … you don’t want anyone to know where you are … ‘ Her mind working, she rubbed her fingers along her forehead, trying to ease the pain in her head. ‘And if you don’t want anyone to know where you are, it means that normally people do know where you are, which in turn means that you’re either a dangerous murderer on the run from justice, or you’re someone important—’
‘I haven’t yet been driven to murder anyone,’ he gritted, ‘but that moment could be fast approaching. You clearly do have a very agile imagination and you talk a great deal for someone who was almost unconscious a few moments ago.’
‘I have remarkable powers of recovery. So if you’re not a criminal, then you must be famous.’ Bella drew her legs up and rested her chin on her arms, determined not to reveal just how ill she was feeling. ‘You’re the Sheikh, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want anyone to know where you are.’ Watching closely, she saw his immediate withdrawal. His shoulders straightened and his eyes were suddenly blank.
‘What do you know about the Sheikh?’
‘Very little. But Atif told me you spend a week every year in the desert.’ She gave a soft gasp of understanding. ‘That’s why you don’t want a search party, isn’t it? This is your week in the desert and you don’t want anyone to know where you are.’
‘You are making a great number of assumptions.’
‘All of which are right. There’s no need to get defensive. I know all about wanting to avoid people. And I know how to keep secrets.’ Bella rubbed her fingers over her cheeks and grimaced as she felt how dry her skin was. ‘I’ll do you a deal. I won’t say I saw you, if you don’t say you saw me.’
‘This is not a joke.’
‘Neither is my headache.’ Exhausted from the conversation, Bella flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes. ‘Stop glaring at me. You’re very bad tempered. That’s what meditation does for you. You should try thinking less.’
‘Perhaps you should try thinking more, and then you would not find yourself in such scrapes.’
Deciding that it was time to get herself out of this mess, Bella swung her legs out of bed, stood and promptly collapsed in an undignified heap on the floor of the tent. ‘Oops. Horizontal again and I haven’t even had a drink.’ She kept up the banter, too proud to admit how ill she felt. ‘Look, just point me towards Al—whatever it’s called, and I’ll be out of your way. You can go back to your life and I can go back to mine.’ Although what she was going to do with no source of income, she had no idea. Her father had cut off her allowance.
If she was at home she would have called one of the glossy magazines and offered herself for a cover shoot, but that wasn’t exactly an option in the desert.
Did anyone employ models in this part of the world?
Even if they did, they weren’t going to find her attractive at the moment.
He obviously didn’t.
Strong hands lifted her to her feet. ‘Given that you don’t have the strength to cross the tent, how do you propose to make this journey safely?’
‘Just lend me a horse. I’ll be fine.’ Overcome by a wave of dizziness, Bella looked for something to lean on. The only solid object seemed to be his chest, so she used that. Feeling hard muscle and solid male strength, awareness sliced through her, taking her by surprise. ‘You smell really good,’ she muttered. ‘But I guess women tell you that all the time.’
He said something in a language she didn’t understand and the next minute he’d released her and she crumpled to the floor in a heap again.
‘All right, maybe women don’t tell you that all the time.’
He’d pushed her away. Men never pushed her away.
It was always the other way round.
Still battling with the terrible dizziness, she risked a glance at him and clashed with furious black eyes.
‘You have no idea how to behave.’
‘You’re right.’ Bella dug her nails into her legs, fighting back a sudden rush of nausea. Oh, God, she felt hideously ill. And she was stuck with a man with a bad attitude and a dagger. ‘You’d better get rid of me. Just lend me a horse and I’m out of here.’
‘I will not lend you a horse.’
‘Why not?’ Her pride severely dented by his rejection, Bella suddenly wished she had access to her bathroom at Balfour Manor. And her hairdresser. Then this arrogant man wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to push her away. Deciding that extra charm was needed to compensate for her sunburned face and sandy hair, she treated him to her most seductive smile. ‘You don’t need two horses. That’s just greedy.’
‘My stallion would kill you in minutes, and the mare is too valuable to risk with a novice.’
Affronted by his derogatory tone, Bella was about to confess that she knew a great deal about horses but decided that the less he knew about her the better.
She was feeling sicker and dizzier by the minute and it was dawning on her that she was stranded in the desert at the mercy of this stranger who thought she was a horse thief. ‘I just want to get back to the city. I could make it in a couple of hours.’
‘It takes longer than a couple of hours.’ His tone dripped acid and he paced to the far side of the tent, every line of his powerful frame rigid with tension as he contemplated the situation. ‘Without an escort, you would not make it.’
Bella struggled to stand, wavering like a newborn foal yet to become acquainted with its legs. Ignoring the obvious challenges of playing the seductress when it was difficult to put one leg in front of the other, she walked across to him. ‘Then won’t you escort me? Please?’ Her voice coaxing, she placed her hand on his biceps and felt hard, solid muscle under her fingers.
He was strong. Really strong.
Without thinking what she was doing, she slid her fingertips slowly over his arm, fascinated by his physical strength.
The breath hissed through his teeth and he looked down at her, the raw sexuality in his shimmering gaze punching the breath from her body.
Chemistry arced between them and Bella responded to his unmistakably male appraisal with a slow, feminine smile.
So he wasn’t immune.
It was a boost to her confidence to know that even without the help of her hairdresser, she could still twist a man around her little finger.
You’re going to be giving me that horse as a gift in a minute, she thought with a flash of relief, peeping at him from under her lashes.
It was a look that had never failed her. Even without the extra help of mascara, she was optimistic that she could work her usual magic.
‘I know you’ll help me,’ she said breathlessly, deciding that a man as macho as him would respond best to a weak-female-in-trouble approach. All she needed to do was take advantage of his need to feel like a man and at least flirting took her mind off the fact she was lost in the desert with a stranger.
Searching for just the right phrase to boost a fragile ego, she gave a faltering smile. ‘I—I don’t think I can cope by myself.’
He didn’t return the smile. ‘Given that I’ve already had to rescue you once, I don’t need you to tell me that you can’t cope by yourself. I have reached that conclusion without assistance.’
Angry, Bella turned red. And now she was trapped. If she snapped that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, then there was no way he’d help her.
Frustrated, she decided that the only other trick worth trying was agreeing with him. Men liked that, didn’t they? It made them feel clever.
Ignoring her inner woman who was gearing up to slap his arrogant face, she lifted her blue eyes to his, switching her expression to helpless.
‘You’re right.’ She conjured up her most pathetic voice. ‘I can’t cope. I’m a disaster.’ Trying not to reflect on the fact that her father would actually have agreed with that statement, Bella cleared her throat and added extra weight to her image of vulnerability by fluttering her eyelashes.
‘You seem to be having some sort of problem with your eyes,’ he drawled. ‘Is it sand? If so, then I recommend that you splash them with water.’
Bella couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. ‘So you do have a sense of humour under that severe exterior.’
‘I’m not laughing.’
‘Well, you should! It would do you good! You’re way too grumpy. Oh, just forget it. Flirting with you is too much like hard work,’ Bella said crossly, seriously worried that she seemed to have lost the only skill she possessed. ‘If you won’t help me, I’ll just go by myself!’
‘An interesting transformation. Innocent to independent in one blink of an eyelash. You’re a very manipulative woman. And slow to learn.’
Bella gasped. ‘I’m not slow!’
‘But you admit to being manipulative. Interesting.’ His smile lacked humour. ‘The only way you will make it out of this desert alive is if you are escorted.’
‘Then escort me,’ she said sweetly, peeping at him from under her lashes, but his answering gaze was hard and unyielding.
‘Is that what men do when you look at them? Do they roll over and say yes?’
‘The rolling over part usually comes after the yes,’ Bella said flippantly, feeling her anxiety increase by the minute. He just didn’t respond to her the way other men did.
‘Your morals are clearly as suspect as your judgement.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my judgement.’
‘You chose to ride through a desert. That behaviour borders on the insane.’ He extracted himself from her grip with a deliberate movement and Bella looked at him in dismay, horrified to discover that the lump was back in her throat.
Her life had fallen apart and she appeared to have lost the only thing she’d ever been sure of. Her ability to attract men. And that was all she had, wasn’t it? That was her gift. She wasn’t clever like her sister Annie; she wasn’t sweet and kind like Emily, or practical like Olivia..
She had blue eyes. She had blonde hair. And the combination had stopped working. Feeling incredibly vulnerable, she looked away. ‘Look, you obviously hate me and that’s fine. I don’t care. Surely that’s all the more reason to escort me back to the city where you’ll never have to see me again. I promise I won’t be any trouble—’
And finally he laughed. ‘The word could have been invented just for you. You have trouble written all over you.’
‘Then the sooner you escort me out of your life, the better,’ Bella said hopefully and he shook his head, still laughing.
‘You just can’t help it, can you? You have to flirt. I’m tempted to give you seven veils just to see how far you’re prepared to go to get what you want.’
Distracted by how seriously attractive he was when he laughed, Bella stared at him. ‘Do women really dance for you? Using veils?’
‘People do whatever I want them to do,’ he said silkily, and she felt her stomach perform a series of elaborate acrobatics.
‘More fool them. I wouldn’t dance for you.’
His smile was supremely confident. ‘I’m the ruling sheikh. If I order you to dance, you’ll dance.’
‘And if I refuse?’ It was weird, she mused, this combination of raw fear and shocking chemistry.
His smile faded and he looked at her with disturbing intensity. ‘You are wilful and reckless.’
‘Absolutely right.’ Abandoning the helpless woman act, Bella tried a different approach. ‘You don’t want me around. As you say, I’m more trouble than I’m worth. So why don’t you just lend me the friendly horse that isn’t likely to kill me and I’ll go and be wilful and reckless somewhere you can’t see me.’
They stared at each other for a long, tense moment.
Then he surprised her by taking her face in his hands.
His fingers were firm and strong on her face and Bella wondered if he could feel the frantic beat of her heart. Did she have a pulse anywhere near his fingers?
A slow, heavy weakness spread through her limbs but she knew that the lethargy had nothing to do with her recent spell in the desert and the feeling shocked her because she never felt anything for men. She used them, the way they used her.
His gaze held hers. ‘I’ll escort you back to the city—’
Hypnotised by his velvety dark eyes, Bella felt a rush of relief. ‘Thank you so much, you’re a really wonderful person. I knew it the moment you walked into the tent. I knew that all that scary warrior stuff was all an act. And that dagger is obviously ornamental. I bet it isn’t even sharp—’ ‘Do you always interrupt people?’ ‘Often,’ Bella breathed, distracted by the beauty of his eyes. ‘Sorry, what were we saying? Oh, yes … interrupting—it’s one of my many faults. But I’m working on it.’
‘Then you might like to work a little harder.’ His thumb traced a circle over her cheek. ‘I said that I’ll escort you back to the city—’
‘I heard you. And I—’ Bella felt his fingers cover her lips and she felt the instant response of her body.
‘—at the end of my stay here,’ he said softly, a trace of mockery gleaming in his eyes as he finished his sentence. ‘Once a year I am given the chance to be alone. I will not relinquish that luxury for anyone. I will not change my plans for a woman.’
Bella made a sound in her throat but his fingers still covered her lips.
‘Which gives you two choices.’ He spoke in a deceptively gentle voice. ‘Either you can try and make your own way on foot—and if you do that I calculate you’ll be dead in an hour or so—or you stay here with me until it suits me to return you to Al-Rafid.’

CHAPTER THREE
ZAFIQ withdrew his hand from her lips, fighting an inexplicable temptation to replace it with his mouth. ‘Those are your options. Pick one.’
Anger flared inside him but the anger was directed towards himself and his own weakness.
Despite her ordeal, she was more alluring than any other woman he’d ever encountered, and his jaw tightened because she was a woman who knew how to use her gifts and he despised the fact that he was susceptible to her practised flirtation.
The rigid self-control and discipline on which he prided himself suddenly seemed like a flimsy, fragile thing. It was like going into battle and discovering that your armour was made of paper.
Perhaps, he mused grimly, he’d never been really tested before.
Was that what this week of reflection and personal time was going to be about? His own weakness?
Was he about to discover that he was, after all, just like his father?
His initial suspicions that she was part of the conspiracy to steal his horse had been eliminated by her explanation. It was galling to acknowledge that he might actually have to be grateful to her because it seemed that she’d inadvertently foiled a serious crime. By ‘borrowing’ Amira she had clearly prevented the threatened kidnap by a matter of minutes. Contemplating the reaction of the criminals who had been planning to steal his horse, he gave a grim smile. They must have had a shock to discover that someone had already done the job for them.
He was determined to keep his precious mare safe in his care until he was due to return to the city.
Which meant keeping the girl too.
Zafiq watched as various emotions flickered across her beautiful face.
Even with sand in her golden hair she was gorgeous. She reminded him of a princess from one of the fairy stories he’d read to his younger sisters when they were small. Only less sweet natured. A sulky princess. Now that he’d thwarted her plans to escape from the desert, he could see her struggling to hold back her temper. She was fiery and full of fight and he wondered what she was hiding.
Her hands clenched and she glared at him. ‘Don’t put yourself out, will you?’
Accustomed to receiving the appropriate degree of respect at all times, Zafiq was taken aback by her lack of deference. ‘Generally people put themselves out for me,’ he drawled softly. ‘That’s the way it works.’
‘You say “jump” and they say “how high?'”
‘Something like that.’
She tilted her head and studied him with perfect blue eyes that had undoubtedly been designed by nature to bring a man to his knees. ‘If that’s how you expect people to behave around you, then you definitely don’t want to keep me here. I’m honestly not great at doing as I’m told. In fact, I’m rubbish. That’s why I’ve been banished to the middle of the desert. I’ll drive you mad if you make me stay.’
Zafiq almost laughed.
She was already driving him mad, but he had no intention of revealing that.
‘You seem anxious to become better acquainted with the inside of a prison cell.’ His remark appeared to register because her face coloured.
‘Look, I know it was wrong to take the horse, OK? But—’
‘Not for taking the horse.’ Reluctant to reveal that he was actually grateful to her for that part of her escapade, Zafiq trod with caution. ‘For speaking to me with such a lack of respect.’
‘At least prison has bars, which would be a step up from the Retreat,’ she quipped, quickly regaining her spirit. ‘Alcohol is banned. You have to get your highs from herbal tea.’ She studied his reaction and then rolled her eyes. ‘I liked you better when you laughed. You should do it more often.’ Tense and edgy, she paced to the other side of the tent. ‘What am I supposed to call you, then?’
‘Your Highness.’
‘Wow. No formality, then! And I’m supposed to do everything you tell me, Your Highness?’ Her mouth curved into a mocking smile that challenged his already straining self-control. ‘So I’m your slave, is that right? Sorry, I should have said, Is that right, Your Highness?’
Zafiq had a disturbing image of this blonde, defiant beauty dressed in thin veils and bound at the wrists and ankles, awaiting his pleasure. ‘I hadn’t considered that option, but I will bear it in mind.’
His reply seemed to unsettle her. The dangerous gleam in her sexy eyes was almost enough to make Zafiq rethink his ultimatum.
She was the most alluring, tempting woman he’d ever met.
‘We will get along very well together,’ he said in a cool tone. ‘As long as you obey certain basic rules.’
‘And what are those?’ She flicked her hair out of her eyes in an unconsciously graceful gesture. ‘I just have to do everything you say, Your Highness?’
‘Yes.’ He watched as she swayed slightly and suddenly he remembered how long she’d been exposed to the sun. She must be feeling awful and yet she was determined to hide it from him and it was impossible not to admire that. ‘You’re still suffering from dehydration. Drink something.’
‘You might be a sheikh, but could you stop ordering me around? It brings out the worst in me.’ But she sank back onto the mattress and reached for the glass, her hand shaking as she sipped the water. ‘I feel filthy. My hair is full of sand. Does this tent have an en-suite bathroom or anything?’
For some reason he found her sense of humour every bit as disturbing as her more obvious charms. People were usually stilted and formal around him. They didn’t crack jokes. ‘As it happens, there is an en-suite bathroom. Outside the tent. This is an oasis. There’s a pool.’
‘I hope it’s an infinity pool with a bar serving iced drinks in the corner and a changing room. Or am I supposed to strip off in public?’
‘It’s not public. I’m the only person here.’
‘Well …’ She took another sip of water and then put the glass down. ‘In that case, no peeping. And what about the creatures you mentioned before? Am I likely to be eaten while I’m bathing?’
He refrained from admitting that she was probably the most dangerous creature in the area. ‘I doubt you’ll be eaten.’
‘Good, because I don’t have a particular desire to be tonight’s takeaway for some hungry camel.’
‘Camels are herbivores.’
She shuddered and lifted her hands, palms towards him like a stop sign, but there was a twinkle of mischief in those eyes. ‘Don’t mention herbs to me again—after a week at the Retreat, I never want to hear about herbs again. I don’t want to eat them, and I don’t want to drink them.’ Her cheeks dimpled and a smile burst across her face like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. ‘And I don’t want to ride on one either. If there’s herb in the word, count me out. I suppose it’s useless to ask if you have a change of clothes? Mirror? Hairdryer?’
‘Wash your clothes in the oasis.’ He was irritated by how much that smile affected him. ‘They’ll dry quickly if you put them on a rock.’
‘And in the meantime I’m supposed to walk around naked?’
‘In the meantime you wear a robe.’ It might be a good for his sanity, Zafiq thought grimly, to cover her up from head to foot. The mere mention of the word naked was enough to make him consider jumping back in the pool himself simply for its cooling effects on his overtaxed libido. ‘And stay out of the sun.’
Bella sank under the still surface of the water. Her skin was burning from the sun exposure; she felt hot, grubby and unattractive but she did feel better now that she’d cooled off, and it was bliss to wash off the sand that appeared to have stuck to every part of her skin. There was no mirror in the tent but the Sheikh’s indifference to her as a woman told her everything she needed to know.
Clearly she looked a complete fright. Like some sort of alien sand monster. If she’d been thinking clearly she would have bathed in the pool before trying to talk him into taking her to the city.
Still unable to believe that he was going to make her stay here with him, she glared at the outside of the large white tent.
Where was he anyway? Meditating?
Bella frowned as she tried to see her reflection in the water.
No, a man with muscles like that had to do something more physical than meditate.
Was he watching her?
The thought made her shiver and she dipped under the water again and did her best to remove the sand from her hair, methodically working on it section by section.
‘Never again am I taking shampoo for granted.’ Despite her disappointment at not being back in the city, she had to admit that the pool was beautiful. Shaded by palm trees, the calm, glassy surface of the water reflected the perfectly blue sky, and beyond the palm trees the dunes rose steeply, turned to a shade of pinky orange by the late-afternoon sun.
It wasn’t the city, but it was better than being trapped in the Retreat. Better than having to meditate or contemplate or whatever, Bella mused as she cleansed the last section of her hair and then turned onto her back. Floating in the peaceful pool, staring up at the sky, she felt unusually tranquil.
In fact, the whole situation was surprisingly relaxing.
The Sheikh had no idea who she really was. He knew nothing of the latest Balfour scandal. They’d probably never even heard of the Balfours out here in the desert.
Which suited her perfectly.
Although she’d hated the Retreat, Bella knew she couldn’t go home.
What was there to go home for?
They didn’t want her there.
She’d made a hideous mess of her life.
Feeling tears prick her eyes, Bella dipped her head under the water, feeling more alone than she’d ever felt.
Feeling the water ripple around her she spluttered to the surface, realising that she wasn’t as alone as she’d thought.
The Sheikh’s stallion stood on the edge of the oasis, drinking from the water.
‘Hi, there.’ Bella grinned at him, admiring the powerful muscles of his neck and legs. ‘Are you really as dangerous as he says you are? You don’t look it.’
At the sound of her voice, the horse reared up, showing the whites of his eyes as he pawed the air.
‘All right, I get the message,’ Bella said drily, ‘you’re dangerous. And moody like your master. Calm down, will you? I’m harmless.’ She swam across from the centre of the pool and swept her dripping hair out of her eyes. ‘What else can you do? Any other tricks?’
The horse flattened his ears to his head and stared at her suspiciously.
Bella was about to reach out her hand to stroke him when a masculine voice stopped her.
‘Don’t touch him—he has a very uncertain temper. He could hurt you.’
Bella froze, but the sudden tremor of her limbs wasn’t caused by fear of the horse. ‘Have you been watching me?’
‘I was watching the pool. As you seem to have the most astonishing propensity for attracting trouble, I thought it might be the simplest way to keep you alive.’
‘I’m not your responsibility.’
‘I know. But if you die out here in the desert I will have to take your body back to the city and that doesn’t fit in with my plans.’
‘Oh, thanks!’ Her tone sarcastic, Bella waded into shallower water, forgetting that she was naked from the waist up.
She heard his sudden indrawn breath and saw his gaze linger on her body in an unmistakably masculine appraisal.
Bella resisted the inexplicable urge to cover herself. ‘Stop staring.’
‘If you didn’t want me to look, you wouldn’t have removed your clothes.’
‘I only have one set,’ she said tartly. ‘It’s either naked in the water, or naked all evening. Take your pick.’
‘You have no modesty.’
‘If you don’t like it, don’t look, Your Highness.’ But she saw the unmistakable gleam of admiration in his eyes as he scanned her curves reluctantly. Reluctant was good, she told herself. Reluctant meant the emotion he was feeling was more powerful than he wanted it to be. And there was no better confidence booster than a man who wanted her despite himself. Starved of affection—deeply wounded by the rejection of her family—Bella couldn’t help enjoying that admiration.
She stepped out of the water and twisted her hair into a thick rope, squeezing out the water, not bothering to cover herself. Although she didn’t look at the Sheikh, she was hyperaware of him as she stretched out her hand to the snorting stallion.
She could feel him looking at her.
‘You need to calm down,’ she cooed. ‘There’s no need to be all macho and dominating. I know you’re stronger than I am.’ She talked to the animal in a low voice and the horse blew through his nostrils, watching her all the time.
His head snaked forward in a rapid movement and in an instant the Sheikh was between her and the horse.
Controlling the stallion with a single, abrupt command, he closed his hand round Bella’s wrist and dragged her towards the tent.
‘You are the most provoking, wilful, obstinate—’
‘Irresponsible, thoughtless, selfish,’ Bella added helpfully, and he growled deep in his throat and hauled her against his hard, powerful body. Without hesitation or warning he brought his mouth down on hers and she felt his strong hands slide down her bare back, holding her captive. Her damp skin burned against the pressure of his fingers and sexual excitement consumed her body like a ravenous beast.
As his mouth plundered hers with raw, unrestrained passion all she was aware of was heat. The heat of his tongue, the heat of the tent and the scorching heat that seared through her body like a flaming lance.
It was like nothing she’d ever felt before.
Like nothing she’d ever imagined—
And then he released her, thrusting her away from him as if she were infectious.
Suddenly unsupported, Bella swayed, dizzy and disorientated from his kiss and wondering why he would want to stop doing something that felt so good.
Up until that point in her life if anyone had asked her if she’d ever been kissed, she would have said yes. Only now did she realise that she would have been lying.
She’d never been kissed.
Not like that.
Everything that had happened to her before this moment had been a pale imitation of the real thing.
Where had he learned to kiss a woman like that?
‘Cover yourself!’ His voice harsh, he kept his back to her and Bella stared blankly at his wide shoulders, wondering why he was so angry. She was feeling a thousand different emotions, but anger certainly wasn’t one of them.
But she didn’t argue. She saw the white robe that he’d spread on the bed, picked it up and slipped it over her head. It fell to the ground and she pulled a face.
‘Great. Right on trend. Do you have a pair of scissors or something? I’m going to break my neck if I wander around in this.’ She was surprised that her voice sounded so normal, because inside she felt anything but normal. That kiss had left her feeling as though she’d been mixed in a cocktail shaker.
He turned swiftly, his dark eyes hooded, his mouth a firm, uncompromising line as he swept her appearance in a single glance. Without saying a word he took the dagger from the folds of his robe and stepped towards her.

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