Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

His harsh evaluation was all the more hurtful because she was feeling so ill. Suddenly she felt horribly vulnerable, alone in the desert with this ice-cold stranger.

She ought to be putting all her efforts into persuading him to take her to the city, but she felt too ill to summon up the energy.

It was only when the bowl was gently removed from her hands that she realised that he was watching her.

‘I’m fine,’ she whispered fiercely, and he sighed.

‘Go to bed. Tomorrow you will feel better.’

Would she? She didn’t think she’d ever feel better again. Despite the fire, her teeth were chattering. ‘I—is it c-cold or is it me? Do you have a j-jumper or something?’

With a driven sigh, he rose to his feet. ‘You have sunstroke—that is why you are shivering.’

‘Sun stroke? That sounds serious!’ Alarmed, Bella stared at him, her teeth still clattering. ‘Sh-should you call an air ambulance or something?’

‘There are no emergency services in the desert.’

‘I d-don’t want to d-die in the d-desert.’

‘That is unlikely.’

‘And I b-bet you’re disappointed about that.’

‘Can you walk back to the tent or do you want me to carry you?’

‘I don’t want you to touch me!’

‘Good—’ His mouth grim, he doused the fire. ‘On that one thing, at least, we are in agreement. You need to go to bed and rest. Keep drinking. I will bring you a blanket and some cream for your skin.’

Feeling wretched, Bella dragged herself into the tent and collapsed on the bed. ‘At least this ultra stylish garment you’ve given me to wear can pass as night wear.’

A look of exasperation on his handsome face, he tucked a blanket over her. But despite his rough tone his fingers were gentle as he checked the temperature of her forehead. ‘Sleep. You will be better by tomorrow.’

Still shivering, Bella closed her eyes. ‘And then what?’

‘You and I are going to have to learn to live along side each other, habibiti.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘Unless you develop a sudden gift for silence, I suspect that will prove a challenge.’

CHAPTER FOUR

ZAFIQ urged his stallion across the sand, his hands barely touching the reins. Usually on his first night in the desert he fell into a soundless, dreamless sleep. Last night, sleep had eluded him and he’d stared at the stars for more hours than he cared to remember.

And the reason for his unusual bout of insomnia was currently asleep in the tent.

His tent.

Concerned about the shivering, he’d checked on her several times during the night and watching her sleep had proved every bit as disturbing as spending time with her awake. Asleep she lost the feisty, wilful side that was so much a part of her personality. Instead she looked vulnerable, her incredible blonde hair trailing over the sheets and her body curled into a fetal position, as if she were trying to protect herself.

Wiping that memory from his brain, Zafiq urged Batal faster. Usually, riding was guaranteed to clear his mind but apparently the golden-haired goddess had the ability to ruin even that simple pleasure.

Even a swim in the oasis hadn’t cooled his blood because his memory of her walking semi-naked through the water was indelibly printed on his brain.

Temptation, he thought grimly, had been shaped into the form of a woman.

Was this what his father had faced with his stepmother? All those times he’d given in to her greedy demands, was this what he had been fighting?

For the first time Zafiq felt a flicker of sympathy towards his father and then he crushed it.

A man always had a choice, he reminded himself grimly, no matter how captivating the woman. And the true test of a man lay in the choices he made, not when those choices were easy, but when he was presented with temptation.