Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

‘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 un in formed, 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 under wear, 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.