Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

Silence greeted his announcement and when she did speak there was a frantic note to her voice. ‘What? When?’

‘Right now.’ Before he gave in to the wild, ravenous craving that was threatening to snap his self-control.

‘But I thought we had another day.’ There was panic in her voice and the hand that pushed her hair away from her face was shaking. ‘It’s just—you said you were here for five days.’

She’d been counting.

Zafiq picked up his knife, his knuckles white as he grasped the handle. ‘I am needed at the palace.’

‘But—’

‘I am needed!’ He didn’t look at her and it shamed him to admit even to himself that her influence over him was so great that he didn’t dare look her in the eye in case he gave in to temptation.

Life gave you difficult choices, he reminded himself grimly, and the important thing was to make the right ones. ‘We’ll return to the city before dark.’

‘That soon? We could stay one more night and go in the morning—’ Her voice faltered and Zafiq took a step backwards, battling a powerful urge to take her in his arms.

‘I’ll prepare the horses.’ Determined that this was one test he was not going to fail, he forced himself to ignore her slumped shoulders and strode out of the tent.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE horses walked through dusty streets, past a souk selling brightly coloured silks, spices and jewellery and finally through an arched gateway that took them within the palace walls.

From the moment they’d entered the magnificent desert city of Al-Rafid they had been accompanied by mounted guards and Bella felt a rush of nostalgia for the simple life they’d led by the oasis. Astride his prancing black stallion, Zafiq was unmistakable as a man of power and authority and Bella had never felt more removed from him than she did now.

It didn’t help that he hadn’t once glanced in her direction since they’d reached the city.

Consoling herself that she was at least still by his side, Bella stroked Amira, taking comfort from the warmth of the mare’s shiny coat.

Zafiq rode into a beautiful court yard dominated by a central fountain and swung out of the saddle. Reluctant to leave Amira, Bella stayed on the mare but he turned to look at her, his dark gaze unreadable.

‘The Retreat have sent your things. Your passport and travel documents are all intact. You have your wish—you are back in civilisation. There will be no charges for the theft of the horse. You are free to go.’

Go? Bella felt her insides drop. He was sending her away?

For a moment she thought she must have misunderstood him.

He couldn’t possibly be saying it was over, could he?

For the past four days they’d been as close as it was possible for a man and a woman to be. They’d shared everything.

Well, almost everything, she thought uncomfortably, thinking of all the things she hadn’t told him about herself.

But this couldn’t be about that. He couldn’t have found out yet, could he?

And Bella admitted to herself that she was dreading that moment.

For once she’d been able to live her life outside the persona that the media had created for her.

And she’d never been happier.

Perhaps he didn’t realise that she didn’t want to leave. After all, she’d gone on and on about hating the desert and wanting to get back to civilisation, hadn’t she? Perhaps he didn’t realise that she’d fallen in love with the desert—and him.

Bella froze with shock.

No. That couldn’t be right. Not love. She didn’t do love. Men fell in love with her. Men made fools of them selves over her. It didn’t happen the other way round.