Bella and the Merciless Sheikh (11 page)

‘It would seem so.' Zafiq's eyes hardened and his tone was cold.

Bella tightened her fingers on the reins and glanced over her shoulder even though she knew they were the only people for miles. ‘If you know who this person is, can't you stop them? Arrest them or something?'

‘Not without evidence, although I do have people working on that.'

‘You could just pull him out of the race.'

‘No. Batal deserves to win. He will win.' The stallion swished his tail, as if he were agreeing with that statement. But Bella was still worried.

‘But if they're willing to resort to theft—if Amira's that clever and valuable—I shouldn't be riding her,' she said humbly, and Zafiq laughed.

‘Do you think I would have let you if I had not been confident in your skills?' His eyes warmed slightly. ‘You have an amazing bond with her. I saw that when I rescued you from the desert. She didn't leave you. And you ride well. You have a natural gift with horses.'

Ridiculously pleased by his praise, Bella gave a half-smile. ‘You think so?'

‘Yes. And you are less self-conscious when you are around the animals. You have stopped looking at your reflection in my dagger and worrying about your appearance.'

Had she?

Stunned by that observation, Bella frowned and realised that it was probably true.

And she knew why. He made her feel beautiful. For once, she didn't need a mirror because she didn't feel judged.

‘Before I was sent off to boarding school, I never thought about how I looked.' It was something that hadn't occurred to her before. ‘I just spent my whole life in the stables. With
the horses.' And being forced to exist without them had been torture.

‘You owned a horse as a child?'

Thinking of the stable full of horses at Balfour Manor, Bella flushed. ‘Well, I…rode quite often, yes. But not lately—'
Lately she'd been too busy messing up her life.
‘As a child it was my hobby.' She hesitated, looking back on those days with a slightly sick feeling. ‘Three-day eventing—I don't know if you have that here. Dressage, cross-country and show jumping.'

Should she have told him that much about herself? Bella stared at Amira's mane, wishing she'd kept her mouth shut but then she reassured herself that Zafiq didn't know anything about her past. He wasn't going to know she'd been selected for the junior eventing squad when she was sixteen.
He wasn't going to have seen the newspaper coverage about her blowing her big chance
.

‘Eventing takes considerable all-round skill.' He looked at her with new respect. ‘Here, our passion is flat racing. It is a tradition that goes back centuries.'

‘On a race track?'

‘We have a famous race track in Al-Rafid, but the Al-Rafid Cup is raced in the desert.'

‘Isn't that tough on the horses?'

‘It is a short race, run in the early morning when the air is cooler.'

‘But if someone really is trying to steal Amira, how are you going to keep her safe?'

‘She is safe here, with us.'

Us.

Bella wondered if he even realised what he'd said. Somehow over the past few days, they'd become a pair. A unit.

She concentrated again on the horse's mane, terrified by what she was feeling. This man wasn't right for her and this
life wasn't real, so why was she suddenly wishing she could stay in the desert forever?

Shaken by the thought, she glanced at the black stallion, who was prancing along the sand sideways, desperate to be allowed another burst of speed. ‘He's so beautiful I'm surprised no one has tried to steal him too.'

‘Batal is infamous for his uncertain temper,' Zafiq said drily. ‘No one who prefers their bones to be attached to one another, would steal this stallion.'

‘I think he's a very genuine, gentle horse.'

‘With you he does seem to be astonishingly well behaved.' Zafiq gave a faint smile. ‘It's a compliment. Batal isn't renowned for his people skills. If he were human he would have been sent to anger-management classes long ago.'

‘I think he's sulking because Amira almost beat him in the race.' Bella watched as the stallion's ears twitched. ‘Are you afraid of being beaten by a woman, Batal? Just like your master. That's why I had to let him win in the pool. To protect his male ego.'

‘My ego needs no protection,' Zafiq drawled, and Bella narrowed her eyes and shifted in her saddle.

‘Race me again, then. No favours. The gloves are off.'

‘You are incapable of racing fairly. I can guarantee that the moment I'm about to start, you will remove your top or smile at me.'

Bella laughed. ‘Am I that bad?'

‘You are the most maddening, infuriating and seductive woman I've ever met.'

Her stomach flipped. They weren't words of affection, but hearing that he found her seductive was better than nothing.

Flustered, she changed the subject again. ‘So shouldn't we tell the stables that Amira is safe with you? They'll think she's been stolen.'

‘They know she's with me.'

‘How can they possibly know she's with you? Does she have a homing beacon or something? Satellite tracking device?'

‘I used the phone.'

Bella frowned in confusion. ‘But you told me you didn't have a phone!'

‘No. I said I wouldn't contact anyone to have you taken to civilisation.' He delivered the facts in typically masculine style. ‘Unfortunately my position makes it impossible for me to be truly out of contact. The phone is for emergencies.'

‘Your horse was an emergency?'

‘She is a valuable animal. If I hadn't contacted them there would have been a search party and many people would have been inconvenienced—' he hesitated ‘—also, they would have come looking for you. And that would have led them to me.'

‘So people really don't know exactly where you are.'

‘No, but they know they can contact me in a crisis.'

‘Can't they handle it without you?'

‘I hope so.' Cool and unconcerned, he guided the stallion to the right, reading the ground and avoiding potential dangers. ‘My brother is in charge—'

‘Don't tell me—he's always been jealous that you're the eldest,' Bella improvised wildly, ‘and while you're away he's gathering together all his supporters so that he can over throw you. Maybe he's the one who wants Batal to lose the race.'

Zafiq's eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘My brother feels nothing but relief that the burden of responsibility is mine. He is a mild-mannered, overly sensitive, generous-spirited young man who lacks confidence. And he has charge of my stables.'

‘Sensitive and lacking in confidence? And he's related to you?' Bella rubbed her hand over Amira's neck, a smile on her face. ‘You're obviously at different ends of the gene pool.'

‘He is my father's son by his second wife.'

‘Oh—' Her smile faded. ‘I'd forgotten you had a wicked stepmother too.'

‘You had a wicked stepmother?'

Bella thought of Tilly and Lillian and flushed. ‘No,' she said quietly. ‘Not wicked.'
But neither had loved her, had they?
Even her own father struggled to look at her.
And now she understood why
. Everything had been revealed on the night of the Balfour Ball. ‘So he's your half-brother.'

Zafiq frowned, as if the term somehow offended him. ‘I think of Rachid as my brother in every sense of the word.'

Bella's heart fluttered as she thought of what had happened the night of the ball. ‘So, you don't think it matters that you have different biological parents?'

‘We were brought up together. We were raised as brothers.'

It was a different situation, Bella told herself numbly. His family didn't involve lies and deceit. ‘You were really fond of your stepmother, then.'

Zafiq's mouth tightened. ‘Didn't you suggest that we drop this topic?'

She glanced at his profile, stunned by the sudden change in him. He was remote and intimidating, very much the ruling sheikh. Clearly things weren't as smooth in his family as she'd first thought.

‘Sorry, I thought—'

‘Enough talking. I agree with your earlier suggestion—let's ride.' Without waiting for her response, he urged the stallion into a gallop, and Bella's mare threw up her head in excitement.

‘At a guess I'd say he wasn't that fond of his stepmother,' Bella muttered, letting Amira have her head. ‘Which just goes to show that families have a lot to answer for.'

She rode into the camp just a few seconds behind him, the heat closing in on her and her mouth dry from the dust.
Sliding off the mare, she patted her and took her across to the water.

Almost immediately she felt Zafiq behind her. His strong hands closed over her hips and he wrenched off her tunic and trousers, his mouth on her neck as he stripped her naked.

‘I have been waiting to do this all evening. Watching you on the horse has been driving me mad.'

Bella gasped, liquid heat pouring through her body and pooling low in her pelvis. Her knees buckled and she felt a rush of embarrassment because she wanted him so badly and she knew she shouldn't. She turned in his arms and kissed him hungrily, her hands sliding over his bare torso, her mouth locked against the fierce demand of his. They fell to the ground, onto the rug that still held the remains of their earlier meal, not even bothering to make it the last few metres to the tent.

In the back ground Bella could hear the horses drinking and a faint splash as something fell and disturbed the stillness of the pool. Somehow the sounds of the open air were more evocative than any romantic music had ever been.

I'm never going to forget the desert
, was her last coherent though before he sank into her in a single determined thrust that joined them completely.

She groaned his name and his hand cupped her face.

‘Look at me,' he demanded huskily, and Bella stared up into his eyes and realised she'd never experienced intimacy before this moment. Never before had she stared into a man's eyes as he made love to her, never before had she felt what she was feeling now.
It was so real.

And yet how could it be real when they both had to return to their real lives?

How could it be real when he didn't even know who she really was?

 

Zafiq stood with the satellite phone to his ear, listening to the panic in his younger brother's voice. After making a few soothing noises, he sorted out each problem one at a time, issuing instructions and commands with cool authority. Only once did he falter and that was when his brother asked if he could cut his trip short by a day and return home early.

Zafiq's hand tightened on the phone, the fact that he didn't
want
to cut it short saying a great deal about his current state of mind.

Weakness
, he thought grimly, cutting the connection and staring at the white canvas of the tent.
The fact that he'd succumbed to her in the first place was a sign of weakness
.

‘Who were you talking to?'

Her voice came from behind him and Zafiq felt a stab of guilt as he turned.

She was standing in the opening of the tent, watching him with a smile.

The fact that her smile made him want to strip off her tunic and flatten her to the bed reinforced the decision he'd made.

‘My brother needed to speak to me urgently.' He knew he was going to hurt her and he was surprised by how badly he didn't want to do that.

‘What about? Is something wrong?' She strolled across to him, her feet bare, the dampness of her hair telling him she'd been enjoying the pool while he'd been on the phone. She slid her arms around his waist and Zafiq felt his body respond with predictable force. Heat erupted through him and he closed his hands around her arms and lowered his head.

Staring into those gorgeous blue eyes, something hard and uncomfortable formed inside him.

Was this how it had been for his father?

With a rough curse he put her away from him, like an addict denying a fix.

‘Zafiq? What's happening? Why are you looking at me like that?'

‘You've achieved your wish.' Stunned by the need gnawing at him, Zafiq reached for his robe and drew it over his head, forcing himself to ignore the urge to tumble her back onto the bed. ‘I'm taking you back to civilization,
habibiti.
'

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.

T
HE
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.

With a shiver of panic, she touched the mare's neck, feeling the animal quiver in response. ‘Miss Balfour?'

Hearing her name, Bella turned automatically and saw an elderly man studying her.
He knew who she was
. Her eyes flickered nervously to Zafiq but he was surrounded by people and she suddenly realised that up until this point she'd had no real sense of just how important he was. In the desert he had seemed like a strong, powerful man. Here, he was a ruler.

For a moment her mind flickered back to the unsmiling, cold man who had rescued her and then she remembered
how he'd laughed with her, how they'd held each other in passion.

Suddenly she was desperate for him to smile at her again—

‘I am Kalif, His Royal Highness's chief adviser. If you come with me, I can make the necessary arrangements.'

Still staring at Zafiq, Bella craned her neck to get a better view through the crowd, only half listening to the man. ‘Necessary arrangements for what?'

‘For your journey home.'

Arrangements to have her removed from the Sheikh's life like some diseased piece of flesh.

She wasn't a suitable woman for a sheikh to consort with in public.

Knowing that she was not being given a choice, Bella swung her leg over the horse and dismounted. ‘Thank you.' Determined to maintain her dignity, she followed Kalif across the court yard, struggling not to look back. It felt as though someone was pulling at her head and it was almost a relief when Kalif led her through a heavy door and into an ornate corridor.

‘Your things were for warded from the Retreat, Miss Balfour. I have them here.' He led her into a large airy room, dominated by an antique desk and large, colourful tapestries depicting desert scenes.

Bella stared at her designer suitcase, feeling as though it had come from a different life. A few days ago she would have been desperate to lay her hands on it, but now?

Wordlessly, she crossed the room and yanked the zip down. Inside was everything she'd been craving. There was her laptop, her phone, her iPod, a mirror, make-up—all the things she'd learned to live without.

She had everything. She stared at the contents blankly, realising that the only thing she wanted was Zafiq.

That feeling of being wanted. That feeling of being connected with someone.

Confronting the unpalatable fact that for him it had just been sexual, Bella gave a twisted smile.
When had men ever wanted anything else from her?

Kalif cleared his throat. ‘The owner of the Retreat asked me to deliver a message to you.'

Staring down at the stark reminder of her real life, Bella barely heard him. ‘What was the message?'

‘He said that he hopes you will find peace.'

‘Fat chance,' Bella muttered, zipping the bag closed so violently that the mechanism jammed.

 

‘Bella Balfour?'

Zafiq's hand whitened on the newspaper article. Dropping it on his desk, he picked up the next one, this time a glossy gossip magazine with a stunningly beautiful blonde snapped arriving at Balfour Manor for the annual ball. The headline was
Bella of the Ball
and the girl was wearing a shocking dress so short that it barely skimmed the top of her incredible legs. Her blonde hair gleamed like a sun flower on a summer day and her bold blue eyes flirted with the camera.

She was so impossibly glamorous he barely recognised her as the girl who had plaited her hair and tied it with the leaf of a date palm.
The girl who had galloped across the sand, an expression of sheer happiness on her face.

Kalif cleared his throat. ‘As you can see, Your Highness, she is extremely high profile.'

Zafiq gave a hollow laugh as he flicked through the magazines.

Fashion icon.

Party queen.

He only needed to briefly scan what was in front of him to know that the woman he'd become obsessed with bore a striking similarity to his late stepmother.

With no qualm or conscience, Bella Balfour had flirted with him and slept with him. He couldn't even blame it on misunderstanding because she'd actually given him a false name.

None of the emotions she'd expressed had been genuine.

Shock held him rigid, the raw tension in his powerful frame the only outward manifestation of his inner pain.

For the first time ever, he'd let a woman close. And not any woman—
this
woman.

‘The newspaper editors must have felt as though they've been operating in their own desert over the past few weeks without Bella Balfour to give them material.' Somehow he kept his voice level. ‘There must have been a panic when she disappeared. It's fortunate I contacted the Retreat. I'm surprised her family didn't have a search party out looking for her.'

‘It appears that Miss Balfour has a reputation for being involved in somewhat wild goings-on,' Kalif murmured, his expression neutral. ‘Her disappearance caused nothing more than a few raised eyebrows.'

Digesting that piece of information, Zafiq stared sightlessly out of the window.
Wild goings-on.

It was like listening to the complaints he'd heard about his stepmother.

‘Where is Miss Balfour now?'

‘I have had her taken to a bedroom suite, Your Highness. Given that there is no flight to England until tomorrow after noon, it seemed like the best plan. Miss Balfour seemed rather subdued.'

‘Subdued?' Zafiq gestured to the newspapers with a sweep of his hand. ‘Are we talking about the same woman?'

Kalif hesitated. ‘She looked pale after the ride through the desert. I took the precaution of asking the palace physician to examine her.'

Clearly she was worried that her lies had been exposed.

And the fact that she was still in his palace disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

Somewhere, right now, she was probably standing naked under a shower, letting the water cool her beautiful body as she'd done so many times over the previous few days.

Picking up another newspaper, Zafiq stared at the headline in blank silence.

Bal four Family in Ruins.

‘This woman appears to make the front pages with monotonous regularity. Clearly she is an inveterate attention seeker. Thank you, Kalif,' he said softly. ‘Don't let me delay you. I know you have things to do.'

‘Yes, Your Highness.'

As his chief adviser melted out of the room Zafiq stood without moving, his eyes fixed on the gorgeous, glamorous girl on the pages in front of him.

Was it any wonder he'd behaved like a sex-starved adolescent? He was a red-blooded male and Bella Balfour was a distractingly beautiful woman.

But it hadn't just been her beauty that had appealed to him—it had been her spirit, her vitality,
her lack of deference.

There had been times when he could cheerfully have throttled her and other times when he'd relished the challenge she'd presented.

She'd excited him as no other woman ever had and she hadn't been afraid to stand up to him. Nor had she been afraid to lie.

Not once during the intimacy they'd shared had she told him who she really was.

And that, he thought grimly as he scooped all the papers up and deposited them in the bin, said everything that needed to be said about her. Bella Balfour was a wild child with no sense of responsibility or duty.

Holding that fact in his head, Zafiq swiftly showered, shaved and changed into a suit and tie, ready for his meeting.

Knowing she was there, in his palace, placed an almost intolerable burden on his self-control.

He wasn't going to go and see her, he told himself savagely, striding through the palace, oblivious to the anxious looks people were casting in his direction. Tomorrow she'd be back in her old life, and the temptation would be removed.

The one thing he did
not
need in his life was a wild child.

 

Bella sat at the ornate window seat, staring into space.

Her face was wet with tears and when she heard the door of her room opening she quickly turned her face towards the window, not wanting anyone to see her crying.

‘I honestly don't need a doctor,' she muttered thickly, ‘but thanks for the thought.'

‘If you are told to see a doctor, then you'll see one,' Zafiq said coldly, and Bella tensed, anger shooting through her like the flame from a blow torch.

‘Go away! I don't have anything to say to you. You're a complete and utter bastard, Zafiq.' She heard the door slam shut and wondered for a moment if he'd stormed out of the room, but then she heard his firm, confident tread as he walked towards her.

‘I could have you imprisoned for that remark.'

‘Is that how you dump women you don't want any more? You throw them in your
dungeon
?'

‘I don't have dungeons,' he gritted, ‘any more than I have a harem.'

‘Careful, Zafiq, you're on the verge of losing that precious control of yours.' She pulled her knees up to her chest, not looking at him, devastated by his rejection. ‘What are you doing here anyway?'

‘I want to know why you lied to me.'

‘I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you the truth.'

‘
Stop
acting like a spoiled child,' he thundered, ‘and answer my question!'

‘Leave me alone.'

‘Why are you sulking?'

‘I'm not sulking. I'm thinking.'

‘A whole new experience for you, I should imagine.' His acid tone stung and she gave a hollow laugh.

‘Ahh…I see you've been reading about me. My life story in headlines.'

‘Why did you tell me you were called Kate?'

‘Because for five minutes of my life I didn't want to be Bella Balfour, OK?' Her voice rose. ‘Try having a surname like mine and maybe you'd understand.' Over whelmed by emotion, Bella turned her head and looked at him for the first time and immediately regretted it. He looked spectacular, his powerful shoulders emphasised by the cut of his expensive suit, his tie a bold splash of designer silk.

‘Nice tie,' she said flatly, turning away quickly but not quite quickly enough. He'd seen the tears on her cheeks and he gave a soft curse and strode over to her. ‘
Make
me understand,' he ordered in a thickened tone. ‘I want to know what you were doing at the Retreat. I want to understand why you ran away and I want to understand why you lied to me.'

‘It doesn't matter,' Bella said wearily. ‘Why don't you just go and do whatever it is you do. It's over. I get the message. You don't need to hammer it home.' She heard him catch his breath.

‘You are on the front page of every British newspaper,' he growled. ‘You are “
Bad Bella
.” You're the “
terrible twin.
”'

Bella flinched—each ghastly headline felt as though he were throwing a brick at her. ‘So why are you asking me? It should be quite obvious to a man of your intelligence why I didn't tell you who I was.'

‘Why were you at the Retreat?'

She gave a hollow laugh. ‘You obviously weren't concentrating when you read the newspapers.'

‘There were rather a lot of them.'

‘My father sent me away to think about my life.'

‘A task at which you were clearly a spectacular failure.'

Feeling attacked, Bella drew her knees up to her chest. ‘Absolutely. I'm pretty much a disaster at everything I touch. But that's what everyone expects and I hate to disappoint them.' Her flippant tone concealed oceans of agony and suddenly she was afraid she wasn't going to hold it together in front of him. She needed to drive him away. ‘Look, this thing between us—it was just a fling. We both knew it wasn't anything else. You're not my type.'