Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

Her hands clenched and she glared at him. ‘Don’t put yourself out, will you?’

Accustomed to receiving the appropriate degree of respect at all times, Zafiq was taken aback by her lack of deference. ‘Generally people put them selves out for me,’ he drawled softly. ‘That’s the way it works.’

‘You say “jump” and they say “how high?”’

‘Something like that.’

She tilted her head and studied him with perfect blue eyes that had undoubtedly been designed by nature to bring a man to his knees. ‘If that’s how you expect people to behave around you, then you definitely don’t want to keep me here. I’m honestly not great at doing as I’m told. In fact, I’m rubbish. That’s why I’ve been banished to the middle of the desert. I’ll drive you mad if you make me stay.’

Zafiq almost laughed.

She was already driving him mad, but he had no intention of revealing that.

‘You seem anxious to become better acquainted with the inside of a prison cell.’ His remark appeared to register because her face coloured.

‘Look, I know it was wrong to take the horse, OK? But—’

‘Not for taking the horse.’ Reluctant to reveal that he was actually grateful to her for that part of her escapade, Zafiq trod with caution. ‘For speaking to me with such a lack of respect.’

‘At least prison has bars, which would be a step up from the Retreat,’ she quipped, quickly regaining her spirit. ‘Alcohol is banned. You have to get your highs from herbal tea.’ She studied his reaction and then rolled her eyes. ‘I liked you better when you laughed. You should do it more often.’ Tense and edgy, she paced to the other side of the tent. ‘What am I supposed to call you, then?’

‘Your Highness.’

‘Wow. No formality, then! And I’m supposed to do everything you tell me, Your Highness?’ Her mouth curved into a mocking smile that challenged his already straining self-control. ‘So I’m your slave, is that right? Sorry, I should have said, Is that right, Your Highness?’

Zafiq had a disturbing image of this blonde, defiant beauty dressed in thin veils and bound at the wrists and ankles, awaiting his pleasure. ‘I hadn’t considered that option, but I will bear it in mind.’

His reply seemed to unsettle her. The dangerous gleam in her sexy eyes was almost enough to make Zafiq rethink his ultimatum.

She was the most alluring, tempting woman he’d ever met.

‘We will get along very well together,’ he said in a cool tone. ‘As long as you obey certain basic rules.’

‘And what are those?’ She flicked her hair out of her eyes in an unconsciously graceful gesture. ‘I just have to do everything you say, Your Highness?’

‘Yes.’ He watched as she swayed slightly and suddenly he remembered how long she’d been exposed to the sun. She must be feeling awful and yet she was determined to hide it from him and it was impossible not to admire that. ‘You’re still suffering from dehydration. Drink something.’

‘You might be a sheikh, but could you stop ordering me around? It brings out the worst in me.’ But she sank back onto the mattress and reached for the glass, her hand shaking as she sipped the water. ‘I feel filthy. My hair is full of sand. Does this tent have an en-suite bathroom or anything?’

For some reason he found her sense of humour every bit as disturbing as her more obvious charms. People were usually stilted and formal around him. They didn’t crack jokes. ‘As it happens, there is an en-suite bathroom. Outside the tent. This is an oasis. There’s a pool.’