Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

‘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.’