Free Bella and the Merciless Sheikh by Sarah Morgan Page A

person.’
    Zafiq closed his eyes briefly, trying to dispel the image her words created. everything about her was bold, physical and athletic, from the long limbs clearly displayed under the remodelled robe to the strength in her slender arms. She was vibrant, energetic and alive.
    â€˜I’m hot after my ride. I’m going to bathe.’ His jaw clenched, Zafiq strode towards the tent and then paused and delivered a warning glare. ‘And I don’t want an audience.’
    â€˜OK, Your Highness.’ The dimple was back. ‘I promise not to peep.’
    Growling deep in his throat, Zafiq took refuge in the tent.
    She was slowly driving him mad.
    Â 
    Reviewing the success of her plan with delight, Bella sat in the shade of a large date palm, fanning herself with a giant leaf. At this rate she’d be back in the city by lunch time.
    Lying there in the oppressive heat, she realised that the knot of tension in her stomach had eased and that she actually feltrested for the first time in two weeks. Last night she’d slept. No bad dreams.
    Brushing an insect off her arm, Bella wondered why. She was still in the desert. She still had all the problems that had been with her when she’d arrived two weeks earlier. What had changed?
    Hearing a splash, she stopped fanning herself and watched as the Sheikh powered through the water with rhythmic strokes, the muscles across his shoulders rippling as he swam.
    He was fit, she thought dreamily, in more ways than one.
    And he was going to go mad when he saw her sitting here.
    Whether he’d be angry enough to banish her somewhere civilised remained to be seen.
    How long would it take her to get her own way? Hopefully after a morning in her company, he’d be calling the cavalry and expelling her to civilisation.
    In the meantime, she was going to enjoy herself. How often did she get the chance to admire a physique like his?
    He was, without doubt, the sexiest man she’d ever encountered.
    Bella rested her chin on her hands, her eyes following every movement of his bronzed, hard body as he put himself through a punishing physical workout. He was the polar opposite of the pale, artistic society types she mixed with. Not just in looks, but in personality and behaviour.
    And then there was the fact that he was so serious.
    Bella gave a little frown.
    Not her type.
    So why was she sitting here watching him?
    What she should really be doing was making the best of herself, but it was hard to make the best of yourself without a mirror.
    She stared at his discarded robe and suddenly she had an idea.
    Glancing across the water to check he still had his back to her, she leant across and picked up the robe, retrieving the knife gingerly.
    The deadly blade glinted in the harsh overhead sun and Bella smiled as she tilted it to find the right angle.
    â€˜What are you doing there?’
    Caught out, Bella glanced up guiltily and saw the anger flash across his face. Ignoring her thundering pulse rate, she smiled sweetly, raising her voice so that he could hear. ‘Er, fiddling with your dagger and watching you?’
    Instead of replying he swam back towards her, each stroke a study in controlled, masculine power.
    Remembering that kiss, her heart started to thud and she felt an almost ridiculous urge to make a run for it. But her limbs wouldn’t move so she stayed as she was, sitting in the dust, her eyes on the man, the dagger clutched in her hand.
    He emerged from the pool like some glorious vision of athletic perfection, water pouring off his muscular frame, his abdomen flat and strong, his chest and legs shaded by dark hairs.
    Bella tried to say something flippant but discovered she wasn’t capable of saying anything at all when confronted by such raw masculinity.
    Raking his dripping hair away from his face, he stared at her angrily. ‘You were not supposed to be watching me.’
    â€˜There’s nothing else to do. I don’t have a