Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

‘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 eye lashes.

‘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.’