by Various
‘Go and tell Hassan. If he values his job, he will exercise the stallion.’
Bella opened her mouth to point out that Hassan probably valued his neck more than his job, and then closed it again. She couldn’t afford to fall out with anyone. She was all too aware that her own job security hung by a thread.
Nodding to the grim-faced Yousif, she walked over to the barn and found several of the jockeys together, discussing who would ride Batal in the race that was looming closer.
‘Hassan—’ Bella picked out the jockey who had become a friend. ‘Give me your clothes.’
The young man put his hands on his hips and grinned suggestively. ‘You are seducing me, no? You find my masculinity overwhelming?’
Bella sighed. Had everyone read the newspaper coverage on her? ‘No,’ she said wearily, refraining from pointing out that after four days with the Sheikh, she had a whole new take on masculinity. ‘I’m saving your job and your life. But I need a spare set of your clothes. Just do it, Hassan. I’ve been up since five, I’m hot and tired and my leg is sore because Amira just nipped me.’
‘Lucky Amira.’ One of the other jockeys offered her a bowl of dates and she helped herself with a smile of thanks, never able to say no to that particular treat.
‘Good job I’m doing all this exercise or I’d be the size of a palace. Hassan, go and hide somewhere for a couple of hours. The rest of you need to say you saw him riding Batal.’
‘I wouldn’t ride that monster if it cost me my job.’ Hassan handed her a set of clothes, his expression curious. ‘What are you going to do with these?’
‘Ride “that monster” so it doesn’t cost you your job.’ Her tone flippant, Bella walked to the back of the barn. ‘Turn your backs.’ Quickly she stripped off her trousers and T-shirt and pulled on Hassan’s riding clothes.
Then she twisted her blonde hair into a tight knot and secured it on top of her head, promising herself that tonight she was going to find time to wash it. Only when she was confident that not a single wisp of blonde hair was showing, did she pull on the racing helmet.
‘You’re riding the stallion? Are you mad?’ Genuinely concerned, one of the jockeys hurried over to her. ‘Bella, you can’t do that. You’re a woman.’
‘Oh, please—’ Bella shot him an impatient look and pushed her feet into a pair of riding boots. ‘Being a woman hasn’t stopped me getting up at the crack of dawn and slaving in these stables. I learned to ride before I could walk. And anyway, do you want to ride Batal?’
The jockey pulled a face. ‘No. I have a wife and children.’ His expression sheepish, he looked at the others and they all looked away.
‘Precisely.’ Bella fastened the helmet. ‘But one of us has to do it or Hassan will lose his job. Batal lets me feed him and clean him out without biting me. Hopefully he’ll let me climb on his back.’
Perhaps he’d remember her from the desert.
Perhaps he’d remember that, for a short moment in time, she’d had his master’s approval.
Walking back across the barn, Bella removed the scarf that Hassan was wearing around his neck. ‘No one is expecting me to ride, so they won’t notice. I just need you to cause a distraction while I fetch Batal from the stable.’
Hassan grabbed her hand. ‘Why are you doing this for me?’
‘Because you covered for me when I messed up at the beginning,’ Bella muttered, struggling to position the scarf effectively. ‘It’s because of you that Yousif didn’t go to Sheikh Zafiq, and don’t think I don’t know it. Can you help me tie this stupid thing?’
The jockeys looked uneasy. ‘A woman shouldn’t be riding alone…’
‘You’re forgetting—I’m not riding as a woman. I’m riding as Hassan. And anyway, I’m only taking Batal to do some track work. I’m not riding through the streets.’ Bella fastened the scarf across her face by herself. ‘How do I look?’
The men looked at each other.
‘You have breasts,’ Hassan muttered, his face scarlet, and Bella frowned.
‘Oh. I’d forgotten about that. That’s inconvenient.’
‘Wear this—’ One of the other jockeys gave her a silk jacket. ‘It’s the Sheikh’s colours. Anyone seeing you will know you’re riding for him and it covers your—’ He cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘It shouldn’t draw attention and it might keep people away from you. Are you sure you want to do this?’
Bella thought about Amira. And then she thought how Zafiq would feel if he lost the mare he’d bred from a foal.
‘Absolutely.’ She helped herself to one more date for courage. ‘Go and distract Yousif and leave the rest to me.’
Chapter Eight
ZAFIQ tapped his fingers on the table, only half listening to the interminable discussion on oil prices and investment strategy. Never before had his responsibilities seemed more arduous or his palace more stifling.
Glancing idly out of the window he could see the racetrack he’d had built a few years before. Close to his stables, it offered a training facility as well as a world-class venue for international race meetings.
A lone horse and rider galloped over the turf and Zafiq’s eyes narrowed as he instantly recognised his stallion, Batal.
Batal, who had put Kamal in hospital two weeks earlier.
Having visited the young man daily, Zafiq had given Yousif strict instructions that no one but him should ride the horse.
He was resigned to the fact that the race was lost.
And if the race was lost, so was his beloved Amira.
But someone—he couldn’t see who—was training Batal.
Whoever it was rode well, coaxing an impressive performance from the normally fractious stallion, keeping that leashed power under control with a light hand.
‘That is Hassan.’ His brother Rachid followed his gaze. ‘He has been exercising Batal since Kamal’s fall.’
‘I gave instructions that no one was to ride him but me.’
‘You’ve been incredibly busy. You had good reason not to spend time in the stable.’
Knowing that his reason for not being in the stables had golden hair and long legs, Zafiq felt the dull ache of tension spread across his shoulders. The sweet pull of temptation had been a constant companion since his return from the desert. It ate away at him, challenging his self-control.
‘Hassan is to be praised,’ he said in a neutral tone. ‘I hadn’t realised he possessed such superior riding skills. Perhaps the race is not lost after all.’
‘He has surprised us all.’ Rachid frowned. ‘I wouldn’t have thought it. I have seen him ride many times and he is competent, but not exceptional.’
Zafiq rose to his feet, intrigued by the sudden change in Rachid. Over the past few weeks his brother seemed to have grown in confidence, contributing to affairs of state in a way that he never had before.
Zafiq wondered idly what had caused the change.
Had being left in charge for a short time given him the confidence he’d lacked?
‘Batal has been acting up all week, kicking out his box and misbehaving—’ Rachid strolled to the window and watched the horse gallop around the track ‘—generally suffering from an excess of testosterone.’
All too familiar with the adverse effects of an excess of testosterone, Zafiq gave a grim smile and wondered whether a ride would relieve the almost unbearable tension.
Deciding that anything would be better than remaining in the palace for another day, he concluded the meeting.
He felt trapped. Stifled. The palace felt like a prison, his responsibilities like chains around his body.
‘Is everything all right, Zafiq?’ Rachid lingered behind after the others had left the room. ‘You seem distracted. Are you worrying about the race?’
‘Everything is fine.’ This was his life. This was his duty. And he realised that he’d been neglecting his responsibility towards his younger brothers and sisters. ‘I have not seen much of Sahra since I returned from the desert. She eats dinner in the f
astest time possible and I’ve received no complaints about her behaviour for several weeks. Should I be worried?’
‘She has been making a huge effort not to upset you.’
That revelation turned Zafiq’s internal radar to full alert. ‘Why? What does she want?’
Rachid grinned. ‘You know women so well.’
‘Sadly, yes.’ Accustomed to his young half-sister’s tricks, Zafiq braced himself for a shopping list. ‘What is it this time? Diamonds? Dresses? Break it to me gently.’ Turning back to the table, he started to sign the papers that Kalif had left for his attention. ‘She is progressing well in her training to bleed some poor man dry?’
‘Not all women are like my mother,’ Rachid said quietly, and Zafiq felt an immediate spurt of regret that he’d allowed his feelings to show.
He put his pen down instantly. ‘My apologies, Rachid.’
‘You don’t have to apologise. I made the comment, not you. And you don’t need to protect me any more. I’m a man now, Zafiq, and part of being a man is facing the truth. You taught me that.’ Rachid straightened his shoulders. ‘I loved my mother, but that love did not blind me to her faults. I see now what trouble she caused with her extravagant nature. The fact that our people still support our family is because of their love for you.’
Stunned, Zafiq found himself struggling for the right thing to say. ‘Rachid—’
‘I know that my mother is the reason you are not yet married. I know you feel our father gave in to her, but Sahra will not be like my mother,’ Rachid said firmly. ‘She does want something, but not jewels or dresses. If you take time to talk to her, I think you’ll find she’s changed.’
Changed?
Everyone around him appeared to be changing and he hadn’t noticed.
Cautious now, Zafiq gave up signing documents. ‘If there is something she wants, why doesn’t she ask me herself?’
‘Because she thinks you will say no.’
Was he such an ogre? ‘What is it she wants?’
‘Her own horse.’
‘A horse?’ Zafiq couldn’t have been more surprised if Rachid had told him his sister had wanted his permission to ride naked through the souk. ‘Sahra is terrified of horses. I have tried repeatedly to encourage her to ride. I’ve hired instructor after instructor and not one of them has managed to persuade her to stay on the animal for more than two minutes. She hates it.’
‘She has been riding every day for the past few weeks. She has conquered her nerves.’
Genuinely astonished, Zafiq spread his hands in question. ‘So who is responsible for this transformation? Presumably Yousif has appointed a good-looking jockey that I don’t know about.’
‘Bella,’ Rachid said simply, his eyes softening. ‘She has spent so much time with Sahra, teaching her. And she’s so brave and beautiful—she has been an inspiration to my sister. Sahra wants to ride like her, and—’
‘Bella? Bella Balfour?’ Aggravated that the mere sound of her name had the ability to ignite a firestorm within his body, Zafiq gave a low growl of impatience. ‘So she has found a way to avoid working by spending her time with a princess. I should have guessed she’d do anything possible to avoid hard graft.’
‘You’re wrong. Bella works harder than anyone. She helps Sahra when she finishes work. They’ve formed a bond.’
Zafiq’s eyes narrowed because he’d never seen such strength in his younger brother before. ‘What can Bella Balfour possibly teach Sahra that I would want her to learn?’ His own discomfort made his tone chillier than he intended. ‘How to use her looks to manipulate a man? How to ignore duty and responsibility?’
How to be exactly like his stepmother?
‘She has shown great responsibility. No one looks after Amira and Batal but her. Do you know she even sleeps in Amira’s stall now because she’s so afraid someone is going to try and steal the mare? Yousif tried to persuade her to go back to her room, but she refuses.’
Zafiq ruthlessly dismissed an unwanted image of Bella curled up asleep in a mound of straw. ‘Yousif should have told me he was having problems with her.’
‘Yousif adores her. Bella has become a favourite with everyone, especially the stable lads. They all love her.’
Zafiq ground his teeth, perfectly able to visualise what skills had led to such a sudden burst of approval from the palace staff. He knew better than anyone how far she’d go to get her own way. ‘Clearly Bella Balfour is more talented then even I gave her credit for.’
‘Oh, she is,’ Rachid said earnestly, missing the irony. ‘She has made some training suggestions that have made a great deal of difference. And she is the only person Batal doesn’t kick.’
Zafiq made a mental note to pay an early visit to the stable in order to watch Bella work her charm offensive. ‘So where does Sahra fit into this?’ His fingers closed on one of the sheets of paper and he scrunched it into a tight ball. ‘Why has no one mentioned her friendship with Bella before now?’
‘Because of the way you’re reacting now! Mentioning Bella’s name in front of you is a sure way of putting you in a filthy mood. It isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you lose your cool before—’ Rachid flushed slightly. ‘I suppose it’s because you spent time with her in the desert. That must have been a difficult situation for you.’
Zafiq, who considered himself inscrutable, was stunned to discover that he’d revealed so much. ‘What do you mean, “difficult”?’
‘It’s obvious that the two of you didn’t get on, but you’re much too responsible a person to let her make her own way back through the desert so you were stuck with her. And I know she isn’t your type,’ his brother went on hastily. ‘She’s not exactly conventional, is she?’
Zafiq ground his teeth. ‘Conventional? No. She certainly isn’t conventional.’
‘And rescuing Bella meant you lost your few days of solitude. We all know you would have rather been on your own—’
Absorbing his brother’s interpretation of events in incredulous silence, Zafiq decided that it was better not to explore that particular topic in too much depth.
Rachid was still talking. ‘Honestly, Zafiq, she has added a great deal to Batal’s training. Before he threw Kamal she taught them something called a volte—it improves the horse’s balance apparently. Bella thinks if we can calm him down, it will help him win the cup.’
‘If we can find a rider who can stay in the saddle, then Batal will win the cup.’ Striding towards the door, Zafiq felt the tension spread across his shoulders.
‘Bella says it encourages engagement and power.’
‘Bella says, Bella says…’ Exasperated, Zafiq turned on his brother. ‘What qualifies Bella Balfour to change the training regime of my horses?’
‘She knows a lot about horses! Did you know she was selected for the British eventing team when she was sixteen?’
No, she hadn’t mentioned that. ‘Did she win a medal?’
‘No, because there was a scandal and she ended up being deselected—’
‘Now that,’ Zafiq drawled, ‘sounds like Bella.’
‘You’re so hard on her!’ Rachid flew to her defence. ‘She’s had a difficult life—’ He clamped his mouth shut as if he’d said something he shouldn’t and Zafiq’s mouth tightened.
‘What do you know about her life?’
‘Quite a lot. She’s very chatty in the stables. Really down-to-earth and normal.’
And clever, Zafiq thought grimly. ‘You’re infatuated with her blonde hair and her blue eyes, Rachid. Don’t let that blind you to who she really is.’
‘Perhaps you are the one who is blind to who she really is.’ Rachid spoke quietly. ‘She’s a really sweet, kind girl.’
Zafiq looked at him closely, suddenly questioning why Rachid appeared instantly more grown-up and mature. He’d gone from boy to man in the space of a few weeks. Reflecting on the possible explanation for a change within that time frame, Zafiq felt a chill spread through his body.
No.
‘Just how far has your relationship with her gone?’
Rachid straightened his shoulders. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘Answer my question.’
‘She isn’t interested in me, but if she were—’ Rachid broke off, and Zafiq made an impatient sound, engulfed by a tornado of emotions, none of which he cared to examine too closely.
‘You could not find a less suitable woman than Bella Balfour if you searched the planet. She is bold, outspoken, fearless.’ Catching Rachid’s stunned expression Zafiq realised that he’d done nothing but list her qualities. ‘And she’s emotional,’ he added swiftly. ‘Dealing with Bella is like dealing with a child. She shows no restraint. She has no idea how to behave.’
‘That’s what I find so refreshing,’ Rachid said earnestly. ‘One of the drawbacks of our position is that people are afraid to be themselves around us. Don’t you find that, Zafiq? Bella is always herself. She says what she thinks. She isn’t afraid to challenge authority if she disagrees with something.’
Remembering all the ways she’d challenged his authority, Zafiq gave a low growl.
‘Enough talk about Bella Balfour!’
It was time he paid a visit to the stables.
Her limbs aching from another long day, Bella collapsed in the straw that lined Amira’s box.
The mare lowered her head and blew on her gently and Bella gave a groan and closed her eyes. ‘I’m so tired I could die. It’s riding that great brute Batal that finishes me off. He’s all muscle and I’m so worried that someone is going to recognise me that I can’t relax. Every time I ride him out, Hassan has to go and hide. It’s completely ridiculous that I can’t just ride as myself. I shall be glad when this stupid race is over. I’m only doing it for you, you know that, don’t you?’
Clearly oblivious to the enormous sacrifice being made for her, Amira started to munch hay and Bella smiled sleepily.
‘Ungrateful beast.’
