Bella and the Merciless Sheikh
Her mother.
Later. Later, she’d have to think about it but for now it was all too raw.
‘So this Sheikh guy—’ she pushed her hair out of her eyes, grimacing at the texture and indulging in a brief fantasy about deep conditioning and a blow dry ‘—he must have been pretty young to take over the running of a country.’
‘Just eighteen. But he was bred to rule.’
‘Poor guy. Must have had a pretty grim childhood. But all that oil must mean he’s rich. So why hasn’t he married? I suppose he’s old and ugly and can’t even buy himself a wife.’
‘His Highness is in his early thirties and is considered extremely handsome by those better qualified to comment on these things than me.’
‘So what’s wrong with him, then?’ Bella eyed the lizard that scuttled across the sand in front of her.
‘At some point he will marry someone suitable, but I understand that he is in no hurry.’
‘And who can blame him? Marriage can be a nightmare. My father has done it three times. He’s a devotee of the saying, “If at first you don’t succeed—try, try and try again.” You have to admire his perseverance. As a spectator sport it’s quite gripping.’
‘Your father has had three marriages?’
‘You’d think he’d be good at it by now, wouldn’t you?’ Bella brushed sand from her bare arms, wondering whether it counted as exfoliation. ‘He’s had enough practise.’
‘You have to let the anger go, Bella. You’re too passionate.’
‘That’s me.’ She kept her tone careless. ‘Too passionate. Too…everything. Try having siblings, half-siblings, three mothers and a father like mine and you might understand why I don’t have your sense of calm. Nothing winds you up like family. Except maybe having your laptop, your phone and your iPod removed at the same time.’
‘It is when life is at its most demanding that we must seek inner peace. Your own ability for quiet reflection can be an oasis in the storm of life.’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a few days by an oasis,’ Bella said absently, unsettled by the effect his words had on her. The truth was she envied his sense of calm. She wanted that, but had no idea how to achieve it. ‘Palm trees, water to bathe in. I have no problem with sand, providing I’m staring down at it from my sun lounger with a Margarita in my hand.’
He bowed his head. ‘I’ll leave you to reflect, Bella. And see you at nine for yoga.’
‘Yoga. Yippee. The excitement might just kill me.’ Bella’s expression was deadpan and she watched him stroll back towards the tents but inside she was boiling with emotion.
Enough!
No more meditation.
No more desert.
She was going to find the keys to a Jeep and get out of here even if it meant tying someone up in their tent.
She was about to return to the Retreat and go on the hunt for trans port when she noticed that the guards had disappeared from the entrance to the stables. Bella’s eyes narrowed and her mind raced ahead as she adjusted her plans. No one knew her in the stables, did they? If she walked with enough confidence they might even think she worked there.
Indulging in a brief fantasy about fleeing across the desert in a horsebox, she slid past a sign that said “Strictly No Admittance” and walked down a sandy path that led to a stable block. A fountain bubbled in the centre of the deserted courtyard and only now could Bella see that the stables were both sophisticated and extensive.
‘Whoever owns this place must be seriously loaded.’ She sneaked a look over her shoulder to see if anyone had noticed her. But the stables appeared deserted. No guards. No one.