Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

‘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?