by Various
He turned swiftly, his dark eyes hooded, his mouth a firm, uncompromising line as he swept her appearance in a single glance. Without saying a word he took the dagger from the folds of his robe and stepped towards her.
Alarmed, Bella took an involuntary step backwards. ‘There’s no need to—Oh—’ She squeaked in astonishment as he bent down, sliced the blade through the fabric and removed the surplus material in two bold strokes. The robe now stopped just above the ankle and Bella stared at his dark, glossy hair, heart thumping.
‘So the blade isn’t ornamental, then,’ she croaked, and he straightened in a lithe movement, his eyes menacing.
‘No.’ He slid it back inside his robe. ‘It isn’t.’
She licked her lips. ‘Why do you carry a knife?’
Without bothering to answer her question he strode out of the tent, leaving her staring after him, wondering what she’d done wrong.
He’d kissed her, hadn’t he? Surely he couldn’t blame her for that.
Irritated by the injustice of it all, Bella sat down on the bed, touching her lips with her fingers. Her lips were so dry after her day in the desert, it must have been like kissing sandpaper.
Feeling more vulnerable than she wanted to admit, she combed her fingers through her rapidly drying hair, wishing she could do something about her appearance.
There must be something she could use to see her reflection.
Typical, she thought gloomily. She met the man of her dreams and she didn’t even have a mirror or a decent pair of shoes.
No wonder he’d virtually run out of the tent. He’d probably prefer to look at his horse.
Bella’s wounded pride made her reluctant to leave the tent, but her restless nature made it impossible for her to sit still for long. And she couldn’t quite believe that he’d knocked her back.
She was used to fending men off, not chasing after them.
Telling herself that if he didn’t want to look at her, then he could face the opposite direction, Bella stalked out of the tent.
The throb in her head was growing steadily worse again but she was too proud to ask if he had any tablets.
‘I have made you tea.’ His deep voice came from a few metres away and she turned to look at him, noticing that he’d built a fire.
‘If it’s herbal tea, I might just have to kill you.’ Bella rubbed her hands up her arms, wondering how it was possible to feel shivery in the desert. ‘I don’t suppose you have anything more interesting to drink? Champagne?’
He didn’t smile. ‘It’s Bedouin tea.’
‘What’s Bedouin tea? Tea you drink before you go to bed?’ Still cross with him, she knelt down gingerly on the rug he’d placed on the sand, determined not to show how bad she felt.
‘It’s made from tea leaf, sugar and desert herbs—’ He poured some of the dark liquid into a cup and handed it to her. ‘It has a very distinctive flavour. Try it.’
‘I’ve drunk more tea in the past two weeks than I’ve had in my whole life.’ Bella sniffed the tea cautiously, took a sip and wrinkled her nose. ‘It tastes…different. I hadn’t imagined you drinking tea—’
‘It is customary to drink tea with a guest and share stories and news. The Bedouin are very hospitable people. And excellent story tellers.’
‘So tell me a story. But make sure it has a happy ending. No drama or misery. A few fairy princesses wouldn’t go amiss.’ She’d had more than enough drama lately to last her a lifetime. ‘Tell me about the Bedouin. They’re nomadic, aren’t they? So are you rediscovering your tribal roots?’
‘The sheikh is basically the leader of the tribe.’
‘All-powerful. Do people shake when they see you coming? Get it? Shake…sheikh…?’ Her voice trailed off. She grinned at him, her hands curled round the mug, eyeing the austere lines of his handsome face. ‘You don’t smile much, do you?’
‘I smile when I’m amused.’
Refusing to be daunted, Bella blew gently on her tea. ‘You need to lighten up and take life less seriously.’
‘Perhaps you need to take it more seriously. Then you wouldn’t find yourself dying of heatstroke and thirst, or stranded alone in the desert with a stranger.’
‘So what amuses you? You said you smile when you’re amused. So I’m wondering what makes you laugh. Obviously not my appalling sheikh jokes.’ She took another sip of tea and decided that the taste was growing on her. ‘When was the last time you collapsed with laughter? You know, laughed so hard you couldn’t speak—laughed so hard you almost cracked a rib.’
The fire crackled and a whisper of smoke curled into the air. ‘I can’t recall ever having “collapsed with laughter” and amusement has never affected my ability to converse.’
‘Don’t people ever make jokes around you?’
‘Never.’
‘Because you’re so intimidating, I suppose.’ Seriously worried by how ill she felt, Bella curled her legs to one side. ‘What do you do to relax, then? Parties? Do you sheikh rock and roll?’
A muscle flickered in his lean, angular jaw. ‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’
‘No. I can’t. Sorry. I’m trying to make you laugh but I know when I’m beaten, Your Highness,’ Bella said flippantly, really disconcerted by the fact he hadn’t smiled at a single one of her jokes. Used to being the centre of attention wherever she went, she didn’t know how to react to him.
He added something to the food bubbling in the pot. ‘Presumably you frequently collapse with laughter?’
‘Quite often. Usually at awkward times. There’s something about stiff, formal occasions that makes me want to giggle. Usually at about the same moment someone is pointing a camera at me.’
His glance was penetrating. ‘You attend many stiff, formal occasions with photographers in attendance?’
Bella stilled. ‘Not really. Church and stuff. Family photographs.’ The annual Balfour Ball with shoals of hungry paparazzi ready to indulge in a feeding frenzy.
Thinking of that particular event wiped the desire to laugh from her body.
He was still watching her. ‘Is everything a joke to you?’
‘No,’ Bella said flatly, staring down at her empty mug and trying not to think about the latest scandal she’d unearthed. ‘But I prefer to try and see the funny side of life whenever possible.’
‘You are extremely frivolous.’
‘Yeah, that’s me.’ Her voice husky, Bella kept her eyes fixed on the mug until she was sure she was in control. ‘You ought to meet my father. You’d get on really well. If you have a spare month you could compare notes on my deficiencies. So you’re from a noble family, is that right? How come you speak perfect English?’
‘I went to a boarding school in England. My father understood the importance of maintaining our unique history and culture whilst incorporating the advances of the modern world.’
Bella looked around her, surprised to realise that it had grown dark while they were talking. Above them what seemed like a million tiny silver stars gleamed in a cloudless desert sky and she stared up at them in fascination. ‘I feel as though I could reach out and touch them. I don’t remember there being this many stars in England.’
‘You have too much light pollution.’
Or maybe she’d never stopped to look at the sky. ‘It’s pretty. Reminds me of a dress I had once—’ she tilted her head to one side ‘—indigo silk with tiny silver beads.’
‘Do you ever think of anything other than how you look?’
‘Looking good is part of my job,’ Bella said defensively and then flushed as his eyes narrowed.
‘What is your job?’
‘Oh, this and that…’ She was tempted to just say ‘doctor’ or ‘lawyer’ or something that would wipe the arrogant look off his face. She didn’t think he’d be impressed to know she spent most of her day asleep and most of the night at parties, wearing clothes by designers who were desperate to have their creations modelled by Bella Balfour. ‘I’m sort of in between
jobs at the moment.’
‘It is good to take time out to reflect on how you are spending your life. Everyone needs time to think about whether they are making a difference.’
‘Absolutely.’ Bella squirmed, pretty sure that she didn’t make a difference to anyone. At least, not a positive one. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
‘I spend a week in the desert to escape the constant pressures of twenty-first-century life.’
‘Don’t you miss civilization? How do you survive without the Internet?’
‘The Internet is a useful tool, not an addiction.’
‘For me it’s an addiction. I’m a Google girl. How do you stop yourself playing around with it?’ Bella waved her hand and then remembered that she hadn’t had a manicure for two weeks and tucked it out of sight. ‘I go on to look up one thing—I don’t know, let’s say a new spa or something—next thing I know, an hour has passed and I haven’t done the thing I was supposed to do. I’m horribly undisciplined.’
‘I have no trouble believing that.’
She looked at the pot on the fire. ‘So if you’ve gone back to nature, how did you light the fire? Did you rub two sticks together? Use a magnifying glass to concentrate the sun’s rays?’
‘I used a match,’ he said drily and Bella giggled and wagged her finger at him.
‘That’s a disgraceful short cut. I’m really disappointed in you. You should have been setting fire to camel dung at the very least.’ She was painfully conscious of him—of his strength and competence. ‘But you enjoy being away from everything, honestly?’
‘Desert life is hard, but simple. The problems are basic ones that man has faced for centuries. Where to find food and water. How to provide for a family. I enjoy the silence and I enjoy being with the horses.’
‘How come the stallion is happy alongside the mare?’
‘They know each other well.’
‘So the mare I took, you know her?’
‘Amira—she belongs to me.’
Bella remembered the guards. ‘You own those stables?’
‘You ask too many questions.’ He poured more tea into her mug and spooned food into a bowl. ‘Eat. You haven’t eaten all day.’
She stared at the bowl he handed her. ‘You cook for yourself?’
‘Is that so surprising?’
Bella put her mug on the ground and lifted the bowl, realising that she was expected to eat with her fingers. ‘Well, you don’t exactly come across as “new man,” if that’s what you’re asking me. I suppose I expected you to have chefs and people running round after you.’ Examining the contents, she tried to imagine her father or any of the men she knew cooking anywhere, let alone the desert. ‘I’m impressed. I think.’ She sniffed suspiciously. ‘What is it? Camel stew? Loin of lizard?’
‘It’s rice and vegetables.’
Stung by his tone, Bella tightened her grip on the bowl. ‘You think I’m a complete waste of space, don’t you?’
‘I am trying not to think about you.’ He kept his eyes on the fire as he ate his meal, the fire illuminating his handsome face. ‘This is not how I envisaged my few days in the desert. It is supposed to be time for contemplation. And relaxation. Clearly you know nothing of either pastime.’
‘That’s not fair! I’m not stopping you relaxing.’
A sardonic smile touched his beautiful mouth. ‘You think not, habibiti?’
Her insides decidedly unsettled, Bella sampled the stew gingerly. ‘This tastes good. I’m not going to get in your way, I promise. Just do what you would normally do if I weren’t here.’
‘I am.’ He ladled more stew into his own bowl. ‘Unfortunately you are doing it with me.’
‘Ignore me.’
‘How do you propose I do that? You are not an easy woman to ignore.’
His words sent a thrill of excitement through her body. ‘No?’
‘A woman as beautiful as you cannot fail to know precisely what effect she has on men.’
‘You don’t seem to be having too much trouble resisting me.’
‘I have a severe aversion to being manipulated. Every look you give me and every word you speak is a carefully constructed plan to get your own way.’
Bella was starting to feel truly dreadful. The shivering intensified by the moment and her head throbbed too badly to allow her to construct a smart response. She wished she hadn’t eaten. ‘All right. I’ll stop talking.’
‘Is that truly a possibility?’ The irony in his tone was matched by the gleam in his eyes. ‘You strike me as a woman who has never learned the meaning of the word silence.’
His harsh evaluation was all the more hurtful because she was feeling so ill. Suddenly she felt horribly vulnerable, alone in the desert with this ice-cold stranger.
She ought to be putting all her efforts into persuading him to take her to the city, but she felt too ill to summon up the energy.
It was only when the bowl was gently removed from her hands that she realised that he was watching her.
‘I’m fine,’ she whispered fiercely, and he sighed.
‘Go to bed. Tomorrow you will feel better.’
Would she? She didn’t think she’d ever feel better again. Despite the fire, her teeth were chattering. ‘I-is it c-cold or is it me? Do you have a j-jumper or something?’
With a driven sigh, he rose to his feet. ‘You have sunstroke—that is why you are shivering.’
‘Sunstroke? That sounds serious!’ Alarmed, Bella stared at him, her teeth still clattering. ‘Sh-should you call an air ambulance or something?’
‘There are no emergency services in the desert.’
‘I d-don’t want to d-die in the d-desert.’
‘That is unlikely.’
‘And I b-bet you’re disappointed about that.’
‘Can you walk back to the tent or do you want me to carry you?’
‘I don’t want you to touch me!’
‘Good—’ His mouth grim, he doused the fire. ‘On that one thing, at least, we are in agreement. You need to go to bed and rest. Keep drinking. I will bring you a blanket and some cream for your skin.’
Feeling wretched, Bella dragged herself into the tent and collapsed on the bed. ‘At least this ultra-stylish garment you’ve given me to wear can pass as nightwear.’
A look of exasperation on his handsome face, he tucked a blanket over her. But despite his rough tone his fingers were gentle as he checked the temperature of her forehead. ‘Sleep. You will be better by tomorrow.’
Still shivering, Bella closed her eyes. ‘And then what?’
‘You and I are going to have to learn to live alongside each other, habibiti.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘Unless you develop a sudden gift for silence, I suspect that will prove a challenge.’
Chapter Four
ZAFIQ urged his stallion across the sand, his hands barely touching the reins. Usually on his first night in the desert he fell into a soundless, dreamless sleep. Last night, sleep had eluded him and he’d stared at the stars for more hours than he cared to remember.
And the reason for his unusual bout of insomnia was currently asleep in the tent.
His tent.
Concerned about the shivering, he’d checked on her several times during the night and watching her sleep had proved every bit as disturbing as spending time with her awake. Asleep she lost the feisty, wilful side that was so much a part of her personality. Instead she looked vulnerable, her incredible blonde hair trailing over the sheets and her body curled into a fetal position, as if she were trying to protect herself.
Wiping that memory from his brain, Zafiq urged Batal faster. Usually, riding was guaranteed to clear his mind but apparently the golden-haired goddess had the ability to ruin even that simple pleasure.
Even a swim in the oasis hadn’t cooled his blood because his memory of her walking semi-naked through the water was indelibly printed on his brain.
Temptation, he thought grimly, had been shaped into the form of a woman.
Was this what his father had faced with his stepmother? All those times he’d given in to her greedy demands, was this what he had been fighting?
For the first time Zafiq felt a flicker of sympathy towards his father and then he crushed it.
A man always had a choice, he reminded himself grimly, no matter how captivating the woman. And the true test of a man lay in the choices he made, not when those choices were easy, but when he was presented with temptation.
And he would not be making the same choices as his father.
He would never allow his judgement to be clouded by his feelings for a woman.
It wasn’t even as if she was his type of woman. She showed neither respect nor modesty. Accustomed to women who were usually overwhelmed to meet him in person, Zafiq found her vitality and lack of deference disconcerting to say the least.
Today he would urge her to remain inside the tent, away from the harsh desert sun. And he’d make sure she didn’t remove her robe again during their time in the desert. If she had to stay, then she had to learn to behave, he thought savagely, shielding his eyes against the sun as he focused on the horizon.
Having formulated what he believed to be a workable solution to the problem, Zafiq rode back to the desert camp, confident that he had his emotions well in hand.
Suddenly Batal gave a shriek of anger and rose on his hind legs, sawing at the air with his hooves. Welded to the back of the plunging animal, Zafiq spoke to the horse quietly, using all his strength to hold the powerful stallion in check.
Only when he’d calmed Batal did he look to see what had spooked him.
She stood in the shadow of the tent, her hair damp from another cooling dip in the oasis.
‘Sorry, I didn’t know you were out on the horse. You startled me.’ The redness of her skin had calmed overnight and her beautiful face now had a healthy glow.
But what really caught his attention was the way she was dressed.
For the first time in his life Zafiq found it difficult to speak. ‘What have you done to the robe?’
‘I altered it a bit.’ She glanced down at herself, her blonde hair sliding forward in a silken mass of temptation. ‘It was too long.’
