Bella and the Merciless Sheikh (10 page)

But this time she didn't make the mistake of trying to snuggle.

She couldn't face another rejection.

Just looking at him was enough to make her want him again and when he leant forward to deliver a lingering kiss to her mouth, her tummy tumbled and she waited in a fever of anticipation.

‘Are you hungry?'

‘Oh, yes,' Bella groaned and then realised that he was talking about food. ‘I— Great. Yes. Food.'

He looked at her for a long moment and then pulled himself up on his elbow. ‘This is
not
how I usually spend my time in the desert.'

Bella gave a faltering smile. ‘Am I supposed to say sorry?' Suddenly he seemed remote and intimidating. ‘Can you stop acting like a sheikh? You make me feel uneasy.'

‘How do you want me to act?'

‘Like a man.' Her eyes lingered on the dark stubble that shaded his jaw. ‘You're off duty.'

‘I'm never off duty. Responsibilities don't go away just because you are not looking at them.'

Unsettled by the topic of conversation, Bella gave a saucy smile. ‘You've got to learn to relax and have fun. Talking of which—' She pounced on him, pushing him onto his back, using the element of surprise to her advantage. ‘Now you're in my power.'

He looked at her with mocking, slumberous eyes. ‘You think so,
habibiti
?'

‘Surrender or be punished.' She nipped his jaw with her teeth, loving the rough texture—
helplessly, hopelessly attracted to his raw masculinity.
‘By the time I've finished with you, you won't need a harem.'
A girl could become addicted to his mouth.

‘You are a one-woman harem.' He groaned, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her mouth down to his with determined force. ‘And you are driving me mad.'

‘I have that effect on people,' Bella murmured against his mouth, her hair sliding around them like a gold curtain, locking them into their own private world. ‘Just lie still while I drive you even madder.'

 

Zafiq poured milk into a cup and stared at the sunrise.

What was he doing?

An entire day and night had passed and the only time they'd left the tent was to cool down in the still waters of the
oasis. How could he have lost track of time?
Since when had he had so little self-control that he couldn't resist a beautiful woman?

He'd forgotten duty, responsibility—everything except the vivacious, feisty, incredibly sexy girl in his bed.

‘Don't tell me—' her voice came from behind him ‘—you're standing there thinking we shouldn't be doing this.'

Zafiq turned and almost dropped the milk. Despite the lack of bathroom facilities her hair hung smooth and sleek over her shoulder, like honey poured from the jar. Her eyes were the same blue as the cloud less sky and they sparkled with life and happiness. He'd never met a woman so vital and energetic. ‘For someone who can't wait to escape from the desert, you look remarkably content.'

‘I
am
content.' Ignoring the cup of milk in his hand, she wound her arms around him, completely uninhibited. ‘The desert is growing on me. I like some of its inhabitants.'

His senses over whelmed by the scent of her hair and the warmth of her body, Zafiq stood stiffly, bemused by the feelings that besieged him. Accustomed to people treating him with the appropriate degree of deference and distance, he found her tactile, affectionate nature faintly disturbing. She had no idea how she was supposed to behave with him.

And he had no idea how to behave with her.

Struggling against his natural tendency to keep people at a distance, he finally lifted his hand to stroke her back but she'd already pulled away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes suddenly guarded, as if his lack of response had injured her.

‘So—' her tone was a shade cooler than it had been a moment earlier ‘—what are we going to do today?'

What he wanted to do was drag her back against him but his years of ruthless self-discipline acted like chains, preventing him from freely expressing his emotions. He took refuge in the practical. ‘You need to eat—'

‘Is this break fast? I've lost track—' She gazed at the mug
in his hand and her lips curved into a cheeky smile. ‘What's that you're holding? Milk sheikh?' Glancing at his face, she shrugged. ‘Sorry. That's my last sheikh joke, I promise. And I'll behave. I know you want solitude so I'll just stay here for the rest of the day and you can go and do whatever it is you do when you're by yourself.'

Zafiq looked up at the position of the sun and gauged whether he still had time to ride before the sun grew too hot for the horses.

‘We will eat and then ride together.' He had no idea what made him make the suggestion but suddenly solitude seemed less appealing than having this gorgeous, spirited woman by his side when he rode.

‘Do you only ever give orders?' Taking the milk from him, she knelt down on the rug with easy grace and helped herself to a date from the bowl he'd prepared. ‘Mmm. I love these. They're completely different from the ones at home.'

‘Are you a confident rider?'

She nibbled the rich, dark flesh of the date and licked her fingers. ‘Is that a serious question?'

Blinded by a sudden vision of her straddling him, Zafiq tensed, shocked into silence by the sheer force of his response to her.

She looked at him expectantly. ‘I won't fall off the horse if that's what's worrying you.' Her expression was slightly puzzled, as if she was trying to work out what he was thinking. ‘I've ridden since I was a child.'

‘Your last experience on the back of a horse wasn't a huge success.'

‘The riding was fine—it was my sense of direction that was at fault.' Her fingers closed round another date. ‘Well, the horse's sense of direction wasn't anything to write home about either, but I suppose that's not her fault. The desert looks the same in every direction.'

‘On the contrary, it is a varied landscape if you keep your eyes open.'

‘That's where I was going wrong…' Bella finished her milk and ate a piece of the bread he'd prepared. ‘I collapsed unconscious and I haven't yet learned to do that with my eyes open. This food is absolutely delicious, thank you.'

Zafiq found it impossible to look away from her. Kneeling on the rug she was like some pagan goddess—lean and supple, fit and strong, her long limbs a warm honey gold under the hot desert sun. Even without access to a bathroom mirror and a bag full of cosmetics, she dazzled. And she was a woman who knew how to use her looks. The fact that, right now, she was too busy gorging on dates and licking her fingers to worry about seduction made her all the more seductive.

Zafiq felt the heat streak through his body.
And he'd ordered her to spend the day with him.
Was he mad? ‘The trousers you were wearing yesterday are dry now. Put them on. It will be more comfortable and protect your legs.'
And his sanity.
‘And stay in my tracks.'

‘What happens if I don't?'

‘Amira goes into deep sand and breaks a leg,' Zafiq said bluntly and saw horror cross her features.

‘Right. I'll follow you, then.'

‘So you will behave for the horse, but not for me?' He was once again forced to rethink his initial assessment of her as selfish and shallow. Whether she realised it or not, she was constantly revealing glimpses of the soft, caring woman under the defiant, independent exterior.

‘I've always been better with horses than people. I find them more straight for ward.'

Zafiq paused with his hand on the stallion's head, wondering what she meant by that remark. Curious, he turned to look at her but she was making a fuss of the horse, her profile revealing nothing. She looked young. Vulnerable.

Reminding himself that there was no room in his life for
a woman like her, Zafiq turned back to his horse. ‘You need to change your clothes.'

He heard the soft tread of her foot steps as she walked away, but she was back only moments later, dressed in the cotton trousers she'd been wearing when he'd rescued her, her long hair now falling in a thick plait between her shoulder blades, secured by another strand taken from a date palm. For ingenuity, he couldn't fault her.

‘Wear a scarf over your mouth and nose.' Handing her a length of soft cloth, he showed her how to wind it around her face so that it protected her from the sand.

Just when he was confident he had his reactions firmly under control, she lowered her eye lashes seductively. ‘Do I look mysterious? Is this where I do the dance of the seven scarves?'

Heat ripped through him, sharp and dangerous as a blade. Gritting his teeth, Zafiq secured the fabric and stepped back from her. ‘You are obsessed with harems and dancing.' But the scarf simply accentuated her beautiful eyes and he caught her by the waist, virtually flung her onto the back of the mare, before turning away abruptly.

Never before had he struggled to stay in control. He'd taken it as an indication of his own strength but now he realised that his control had never been truly tested. Until now.

Vaulting onto his stallion, Zafiq gathered up the reins and turned to look at her. She sat easily on the horse, as lean and athletic as she'd been in the pool. And she watched him with those dangerously beautiful eyes.

‘So what are we going to do?'

‘I'm going to show you that there's a world beyond your laptop and your iPod.' His eyes clashed with hers and for a disturbing moment the future loomed in the back ground, a stark reminder that this wasn't his life. Or hers. Just an inter
lude. And then he reminded himself that the future had no place in what they shared. This was about the moment. This was about now. ‘I'm going to show you the desert.'

B
ELLA
urged Amira faster, screwing up her eyes as the horse's hooves pounded the sand into a golden mist. Ahead of her, the Sheikh's powerful stallion thundered across the desert and she gave a shout of laughter because each time she did this it gave her the most incredible high.

It felt fantastic to be back on a horse, and riding in the desert was the most exciting, exhilarating experience to be had.

She'd ridden out with Zafiq every morning and evening for the past three days and she couldn't remember ever being so happy. When they weren't riding they were making love or cooling off in the still waters of the beautiful pool or nibbling dates and talking.

She'd never felt so free.

Leaning forward against the mare's neck Bella shifted her weight and drove the animal forward, closing the distance. Over the past few days she'd watched and learned. No deep sand here, she thought, anxious not to harm the horse in any way, remembering everything Zafiq had taught her. The horse was fast, so fast that the scrap of silk protecting her face unravelled itself as she drew along side the Sheikh's stallion. Thrilled that she'd matched his speed for the first time, Bella challenged him with a smile and saw his mouth tighten in disapproval and exasperation.

You're going to pay the price for that one, Bella
, she
thought to herself and then his eyes gleamed and he pulled away from her, squeezing every last drop of energy from the horse with his skilled riding. The black stallion seemed to float across the sand, his tail high, his neck arched—strength and power visible in every muscle of his sleek body. Watching the power un leashed, Bella thought to herself that horse and rider were well matched.

Finally Zafiq urged the powerful beast round the base of a sand dune and Bella followed, coughing as sand flew into her mouth.

She was still choking when a bottle of water was pushed into her hand.

‘Drink.'

Bella drank, the water soothing her dusty throat. ‘My scarf slipped. I've been swallowing sand for the past five minutes.' Despite the lateness of the day, the sun was still a fiery ball in the cloud less sky, the intense heat shimmering over the surface of the sand.

But she was protected now—hat, cream and the knowledge that the cool waters of the oasis waited for them back at the desert camp.

Glancing at him, she saw that his eyes were fixed on the horizon. ‘You love it here, don't you?'

For a moment he didn't answer, and then he looked at her. ‘It is the one place I can be myself without answering to anyone.'

‘I thought you were the one giving the orders. Can't you just tell them to leave you alone?' The moment the words left her mouth she was embarrassed by her flippant response. Squirming on the back of her horse, Bella shrugged apologetically. ‘I mean, you are the Sheikh. You make the rules.'

‘My responsibility is to my people, and also to my family.'

Family. Responsibility.

Bella wiped her brow with the back of her hand, uncom
fortably aware that the feelings inside her had nothing to do with the heat. ‘But you have to think of yourself too.'

‘That is why I allow myself five days in the desert.'

‘Five days.' Bella took another sip of water, ignoring the lurch in her stomach.
One more day to go
. ‘Wow. As holiday entitlements go, that's pretty stingy. You ought to have a word with human resources and renegotiate your working conditions. And why are you responsible for your family? Can't they look after them selves?'

‘Our parents died when they were young. My brothers and sisters rely on me.'

‘Everyone seems to rely on you. So if you like family so much, why haven't you married?' Bella handed the water back to him, distracted by the shadow of stubble that darkened his strong jaw. ‘Don't you want kids of your own?'

‘My wishes are secondary to the needs of my people. If it were my personal choice, I would never marry.' Zafiq sat relaxed on the stallion, his expression unreadable as he studied the wind patterns in the sand. ‘But at some point I will take a wife, yes. And we will have children. It is necessary.'

‘Wow. With that much enthusiasm behind it, how can it fail?' Bella felt a stab of emotion she didn't recognise. ‘So when the pressure gets too much, you're going to pick a suitable wife. Someone with the right breeding.' Someone completely unlike her—
someone who didn't have bad Balfour blood and an uncertain temperament.

‘Of course.'

‘What if you don't love her?'

He frowned. ‘Love isn't a requirement. I will make sure that I pick someone I can respect and admire. That will be enough.'

‘And she'll marry you for the status. Not because she loves you but because of who you are.' Her thoughts shifting to the discovery she'd made the night of the Balfour Ball, Bella couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone. ‘And what about
your kids? How do you think your children will feel about that when they grow up? Do you think it's good for a child to know that her father never loved her mother? And what about your wife? Aren't you afraid she might fall in love and have an affair?'

‘My wife would never have any reason to stray.' He spoke with utter conviction, his hand steady on the bridle as he watched her curiously. ‘Are you going to tell me why this subject upsets you so deeply?'

‘It doesn't upset me,' Bella snapped, and Amira gave a nervous whinny and side stepped into Zafiq's stallion. With a show of superb horsemanship and controlled strength, Zafiq calmed both animals and Bella stroked a shaking hand down her horse's mane, horrified by her loss of control. ‘Sorry,' she muttered. ‘None of my business. Let's ride, shall we?'

‘You seem to have strong views on marriage.' His tone was a shade cooler. ‘Have you been married?'

‘No! That's one mistake I haven't made.'
Probably the only one
, Bella thought bleakly, turning the mare and urging her back towards their desert camp. Why, oh, why hadn't she kept her mouth shut? The last thing she wanted to do was think about the mess she'd left behind at home.

Ironic, she thought to herself, that four days ago she couldn't wait to get back to civilisation. Now, she was dreading it.

Zafiq was by her side, holding the stallion firmly, refusing to allow him to surge ahead. ‘You've never been married, and yet you have had men.'

‘No, I was a virgin until I met you,' she said flippantly, wondering why she should care that his face darkened with masculine disapproval.

Since when had she needed anyone's approval?

She'd grown up disappointing everyone.

She should be used to it by now.

Horrified by the sudden weakness that had her tempted
to confess her whole messy life history, Bella urged Amira forward.

What was the matter with her? Why would she want to spill her guts to this guy who wouldn't understand anything about her life? And anyway, she didn't want to think about being Bella Balfour. She didn't want the name Balfour intruding on their few days of desert bliss.

Bella was so shocked by that thought, she pulled the mare to a halt again.

Bliss?

She looked around her as if she were seeing the desert for the first time. She studied the strange swirling patterns on the red-gold sand, the steep rise of the dunes and the sheer magnitude of the scenery around her. She thought of the sunsets she'd seen—of the blazing red ball of fire sinking down below the horizon and the incredible stars, shining in the night sky like diamonds against dark velvet in a jeweller's window.

‘Now what's wrong?' Zafiq was by her side, his expression concerned. ‘Are you hurt? Is the sand bothering you?'

Yes, the sand was bothering her, but not in the way she'd expected.

‘I—it's beautiful,' Bella said huskily. ‘We could be the only two people on earth.'

‘A few days ago that would have horrified you, along with the absence of conditioner and a mirror.'

‘I know. Worrying, isn't it?' Bella gave a humourless laugh and swiped a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘Now I
know
I need a therapist.'

‘Time for reflection in the desert is as good as a therapist. Are you going to tell me what's troubling you?'

She didn't dare admit it was the thought of going back to civilisation. ‘Do you ever wish life could just stay this simple,' she blurted out and saw his eyes narrow.

‘I don't allow myself to think like that because I know it's not an option.'

‘Don't you ever think about yourself?'

‘Yes.' His gaze held hers. ‘This week, I have pleased no one but myself.'

‘You've pleased
me
,' she whispered, and Zafiq hesitated and then reached across and took her hand.

‘Tell me what is wrong.'

It was the first time he'd touched her in a way that wasn't sexual and the moment was all the more poignant because she knew the only reason he was offering her comfort was because he didn't know her. Not really. Once he discovered she was Bella Balfour—
once he heard all the scandal and gossip
—he'd walk away without looking back.

She removed her hand from his. ‘What could possibly be troubling me?'

‘You have told me very little of your real life.'

Because it was an empty, useless life. A life that mattered to no one…

‘I'm here to get away from my real life, like you.' Bella stroked the mare gently and the horse snorted and stamped at the sand, sensing her rider's tension.

‘You said your father sent you here—'

‘Wasn't that kind of him?' She treated him to the dazzling smile she always used when she wanted men to lose the thread of a conversation, but he shot her a warning glance.

‘Unless you wish to end up flat on your back in the sand, do not play your tricks on me.'

‘I'm not playing tricks,' Bella lied, piqued that she was still unable to penetrate that iron control of his. Even though he was flatteringly attentive when they were in bed, she didn't fool herself that she was able to manipulate him. ‘My father sent me here because he thought I needed a break. Tell me why the horses don't seem to mind the heat and the dust.'

Apart from a lingering look, he accepted the change of subject without argument. ‘The Arabian horse was bred to
cope with the demands of this environment. The Bedouins were the Arab horse's first protectors.'

‘So Batal has a good blood line.'

‘As does your mare.' Zafiq glanced across at her. ‘To the Bedouin, yours would be the more valuable animal. They preferred mares. They rode on horse back to attack neighbouring tribes and steal their cattle, and a stallion would be more likely to make a noise and alert the enemy.'

‘Girl power,' Bella said with delight, stroking the mare's neck. ‘I had no idea Amira is so valuable. No wonder you were so angry when you saw me riding her in the desert. Sorry.'

‘Don't be sorry. I may even have reason to thank you for your impulsive actions that day. The security at the stables was lax.' His eyes darkened like a menacing storm cloud. ‘And I have my suspicions as to why…'

Bella looked at him expectantly. ‘Well? You can't say something like that and then not finish the sentence! Why was security lax? To be honest I thought it was weird—one minute there were guards, and the next there was no one there. The place was empty.'

His jaw tightened. ‘Amira is the most valuable animal I own.'

‘If she's that valuable, why was she stuck in stables in the middle of nowhere?'

‘Precisely
because
she is that valuable.' He hesitated, as if he were making up his mind whether she could be trusted or not. ‘Breeding and racing Arab horses is a passion of mine. A lucrative passion. Unfortunately, some are jealous of the success I've been enjoying. The Al-Rafid Cup approaches and tensions are running high.'

‘I presume the Al-Rafid Cup is a horse race.'

‘It is a world-famous desert race that will be run a month from now. The winner of that race achieves much international prestige.'

Bella was intrigued. ‘And my Amira is going to run in that race?'

‘No, Batal will run in the race. And he will win.'

‘So what's that got to do with Amira?'

‘The tradition is that the winner receives the best mare in the loser's stable. If I lose, they will choose Amira.'

Bella felt a flash of horror at the thought of this beautiful horse going to a nameless stranger. ‘So what are you going to do about that?'

He gave a deadly smile. ‘I don't intend to lose. However, I suspect that someone out there is exploring more creative ways of obtaining Amira. She is one of the most coveted mares in the world. She has already produced three Derby winners.'

Bella bristled. ‘Then you should have had security!'

‘There
was
security—' Zafiq gave a humourless smile ‘—but clearly something went badly amiss. If you hadn't wandered in when you did…'

‘You think they were about to steal her?' Faint with horror, Bella tightened her grip on the reins. ‘Poor Amira. That's so shocking—I wish I'd met them!'

Zafiq inhaled sharply and shot her a horrified look. ‘That would
not
have been good for you.'

‘It wouldn't have been good for them if I'd known they were stealing a horse!'

‘
You
were stealing a horse,' Zafiq pointed out drily, and Bella shrugged defensively.

‘Actually, I wasn't. Not really. I was borrowing her. Short-term. That's completely different.'

‘Your moral code seems a little confused.'

‘Blame it on two weeks in the Retreat. It drove me to a life of crime.' Bella rubbed her hand down Amira's mane protectively. ‘So you hid her out here in the desert so that she'd be safe. But someone found out. And they were going to steal her. But the simplest thing would be to make sure that Batal
doesn't win the Al-Rafid Cup, wouldn't it? So basically, both horses are at risk.'