The Balfour Legacy

by Various

  Balfour 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.’ Overwhelmed 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.’

  ‘And you’re certainly not mine.’

  She gave a half-smile. ‘Finally we agree on something. So let’s just move on with our lives, Your Highness.’

  There was a long, protracted silence. ‘I expected to find you on your laptop. You were desperate to be taken back to civilisation. You used every trick up your sleeve to persuade me to bring you to Al-Rafid.’

  At the beginning. Bella had to bite her lip to stop herself from reminding him that by the end she’d used every trick she knew to persuade him not to bring her back.

  How did she tell him that she felt utterly defeated? That nothing that had happened in her life so far had felt a fraction as painful as the fact that he was sending her away.

  ‘Look at me, Kate!’ He muttered under his breath and jabbed his fingers through his hair. ‘I mean, Bella.’

  Something in his tone made her turn her head and, in that single painful look, they shared something so honest that the feeling drove the breath from her lungs. The seconds stretched into a minute and still the tension pulsated between them until Bella lost her grip on control.

  ‘Zafiq—’

  ‘No.’ He snarled the word like an animal in pain and stepped away from her as if she were infectious. ‘That is not possible.’

  Bella felt as though someone had crushed her heart with a brick. ‘Right. No. Of course it isn’t. Silly me.’ The pain in her throat was almost intolerable and she swallowed hard, trying to dispel the lump as he strode towards the door.

  ‘There is a flight to England tomorrow afternoon. You’re booked on it.’

  Bella’s heart dropped and she felt a sudden rush of panic. It suddenly dawned on her that he actually was sending her home. ‘No!’ For a moment she forgot to be cool or dismissive. She forgot to pretend she didn’t care what was happening. She forgot everything except the fact that he was sending her back to England.

  And suddenly she realised how calm and relaxed she’d felt in the desert with Zafiq. She’d discovered a side of herself she hadn’t known existed. And now he was sending her back to her old life. There would be mirrors and bottles of conditioner, make-up and the whole of her wardrobe. Even without her allowance, she knew she could earn money. A single magazine shoot would make her enough money to survive for several months.

  She’d be back to being Bad Bella Balfour.<
br />
  And the paparazzi would hound her. It didn’t matter what she did, everyone would think the worst of her because that’s what they always did.

  And the thought sickened her.

  She didn’t want to use her family name to make money.

  She didn’t want to use her family name at all.

  ‘Whatever we shared is over.’ Zafiq spoke with a brutal frankness that cut like the lash of a whip but Bella was past caring about pride and dignity.

  ‘Don’t send me back!’ She jumped off the window seat and sprinted across to him, grabbing his arm with her fingers.

  He shook her off, his eyes cold. ‘We had sex, Bella. Nothing more. And don’t pretend you’re a stranger to that type of relationship.’

  She didn’t bother correcting him.

  ‘You don’t understand—’ Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat and tried again. ‘I—I’m begging you, Zafiq. Don’t send me back.’

  His gaze was hard and unsympathetic. ‘What? No flirtation? Have you decided to go straight to feminine tears and bypass your usual seduction routine?’

  ‘I don’t blame you for thinking that way,’ Bella whispered, ‘but this is different. I’m not putting on an act. I—I can’t go back. The press will destroy me, and my family has had enough bad publicity because of me. I just want to stay out of the way.’

  ‘Then go and visit Europe.’

  ‘I don’t have the money—’ Her face was scarlet and Zafiq made a contemptuous sound.

  ‘So you don’t care about your family. And you’re asking me for money.’

  ‘No!’ Her voice rang with passion and her fingers shook as she rubbed the tears from her eyes. ‘That isn’t what I’m asking. I—Will you—I want you to give me a job.’

  Stunned silence greeted her outburst and she didn’t blame him. She was as shocked as he was.

  ‘A job?’ Zafiq looked at her with incredulous disbelief and then started to laugh. ‘What sort of job? Chief troublemaker?’

  His lack of belief in her stung, and she lifted her chin. Now he knew she was Bella Balfour he was making the same assumptions as everyone else. ‘I wouldn’t cause trouble—’

  ‘Bella, you just have to walk into a room and trouble walks up and smacks you on the cheek,’ he said wearily. ‘And there is no job in my palace that would encompass your unique skill set.’

  Suddenly she was determined to show him. To show everyone. ‘You need someone in your stables,’ Bella blurted out, catching his arm as he turned to leave. She felt the muscle flex under her fingers and removed her hand instantly, stung by the sudden physical connection that threatened to burn her alive. ‘Please, just listen to me for a moment. I’m good with your horses, you said so yourself. Let me look after Amira. I’ll be her groom. I’ll train her. I’ll sleep in her box. Anything, but let me stay here.’

  ‘A job in my stables requires hard work and discipline. I have seen no evidence of either quality in you.’

  ‘I can work hard!’

  ‘When did you last get up at five in the morning and muck out a stable?’

  ‘Never,’ Bella said honestly, ‘but—’

  ‘Bella, you wouldn’t last a day in my stables.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Give me the job and I’ll prove you wrong.’

  Zafiq stared at her in brooding silence and Bella swallowed, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he must be able to see it. This was a different man from the one she’d teased and laughed with in the desert. This man had never veered from duty and responsibility and she had no doubt that his authority was absolute. ‘Please, Zafiq. Don’t send me home.’

  She saw indecision shadow his handsome face, saw his eyes flicker to her mouth, and then instantly move away as if the glance might have fatal consequences.

  ‘My Master of Horse is called Yousif,’ he said coldly. ‘He has complete authority over the running of my stables. If he mentions to me once, just once, that you have been anything other than an asset, then you will be on the first flight out of Al-Rafid Airport.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Bella muttered, her legs melting with relief as she realised he’d actually agreed to her request. She told herself that it didn’t matter that she’d probably never see him again—at least, not alone. The only thing that really mattered was that she didn’t have to go home to her old life. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You get one chance, Bella, and then you’re out.’

  It was back-breaking work.

  Up at five every morning, Bella dragged herself down to the stables, so tired that it felt as though someone had attached lead weights to her limbs.

  It didn’t help that all the other grooms and trainers viewed her with nothing but suspicion.

  Yousif, Zafiq’s Master of Horse, was civil enough to her but she knew he was waiting for her to slip up.

  They were all waiting for her to slip up.

  And she was concentrating so hard on not slipping up that she was like a cat on hot bricks.

  But she’d promised Zafiq that she’d prove him wrong, and she was determined to do that, no matter how many nails she broke in the process.

  She was allocated four horses to look after, including Amira and Batal, and she was horribly conscious of the responsibility she had caring for the Sheikh’s favourite and most valuable horses.

  But to her surprise, she loved the work. It reminded her of her childhood, when life had been so much less complicated.

  She cleaned out stables, she groomed the horses but her real responsibility was Amira and she lavished the mare with love and attention.

  ‘You’re the only person who isn’t waiting for me to slip on a banana skin,’ she told the mare as she brushed the horse’s coat, two weeks after she’d begged Zafiq for the job.

  She wondered if anyone had mentioned to Zafiq that she was doing a good job.

  Had he even asked after her progress?

  ‘You are caring for Amira?’

  Hearing an unfamiliar male voice behind her, Bella pushed her damp hair away from her eyes and turned, automatically braced to defend herself.

  Had she made a mistake? Was there something she’d overlooked?

  A young man stood watching her, admiration in his eyes.

  Recognising the Sheikh’s younger brother, Bella rubbed her hands over her trousers self-consciously, knowing she was filthy. ‘Your Highness.’

  ‘Do you know Amira has bred several Derby winners?’ He strolled into the stable and stroked the horse’s neck. ‘Batal had better win the Al-Rafid Cup for us this year, or we will lose her, and Zafiq would be devastated.’

  Bella felt her mouth dry. She wondered whether it was the mention of the Sheikh’s name or the thought of losing Amira that made her feel so sick. ‘Batal will win. He’s the fastest horse I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Fast and difficult. He has just thrown Kamal, his jockey.’

  ‘No!’ Horrified, Bella dropped the brush she was holding and Amira threw her head in the air, picking up the sudden tension. ‘He fell? Why?’

  ‘Batal spooked and threw him. Kamal has been taken to the hospital. He won’t be riding in the Al-Rafid Cup.’

  Horrified by that news, Bella curved her arms protectively around Amira. ‘Is he seriously injured?’

  ‘Broken bones. Not life threatening, but enough to make sure he can’t ride Batal for the foreseeable future.’

  Bella thought of what that might mean for Amira. The black stallion was the only horse in the Sheikh’s stables sure of winning the race. ‘Someone else will have to ride Batal!’

  ‘Batal is a killing machine,’ Rachid said flatly. ‘It is unlikely that any of the other jockeys will volunteer. Especially with Kamal now in hospital. He is the Sheikh’s top jockey. If he can’t stay on the animal, no one can.’

  ‘The Sheikh has no trouble riding him.’

  ‘Sheikh Zafiq is an exceptional rider. But he is not allowed to ride Batal in the race.’

  Bella kissed Amira, unable to bear the thought of losin
g her.

  What was Zafiq thinking at the moment, knowing that he was going to lose his favourite mare? She knew how much he loved Amira…

  He must be devastated.

  She tried not to think about the fact that two weeks had passed and he hadn’t even come down to the stables to see how she was getting on. He’d visited sporadically, but always when she was off exercising one of the horses. And she was reduced to straining her ears to catch snippets of conversation that involved the Sheikh. And she heard nothing but praise. After two weeks of listening to gossip, it was obvious to her that Zafiq was universally adored.

  It was also obvious that he was making sure that he didn’t bump into her.

  It was as if their relationship had never happened.

  A mirage, Bella thought miserably. A fantasy conjured up out of the burning sands and desert heat.

  She wondered if Zafiq’s brother realised he probably wasn’t supposed to be talking to her.

  A terrible commotion came from the stallion’s stall and Bella stopped thinking about Zafiq and hurried to the door with Prince Rachid right behind her.

  ‘Batal is in a bad temper. He has only half killed one rider today and he wants another victim.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘He reminds me of my brother. He has also been in a volatile mood since his return from the desert.’

  ‘You probably shouldn’t be telling me that,’ Bella muttered, watching with a frown on her face as Batal kicked his box hard and squealed with fury. ‘I’d better go and see if I can calm him down. What’s the matter with him?’

  ‘He needs to be ridden properly,’ Yousif said wearily, hurrying across to the stallion who greeted him by flattening his ears to his head and showing the whites of his eyes. ‘But His Highness is busy with state business, Kamal is in hospital and the horse will allow no one else on his back.’

  Bella bit her lip. ‘I’ll ride him.’ She put down the body brush she’d been using to groom Amira and wiped her shiny forehead with the hem of her T-shirt. Seeing Rachid’s eyes widen she blushed hotly. ‘Sorry. Look, you have belly dancers here, don’t you? What’s the difference?’ Hoping her thoughtless action wasn’t going to get her sacked, Bella hurried across to Yousif. After seeing the horrified reaction when she’d appeared in a pair of miniscule shorts on her first day, she’d been so careful to wear modest T-shirts and long trousers, reminding herself that it was better to boil to death in the desert heat than be sent back to England in disgrace. ‘Let me take Batal onto the racetrack.’