Free Hidden In the Sheikh's Harem by Michelle Conder Page A

like the devil himself and a frisson of helpless fear went through her as he silently surveyed her.
    The feeling made her so angry she drew the sword she gripped tightly in the folds of her dress before she could think better of it. ‘If you take another step, you’ll regret it,’ she warned.
    He glanced at her weapon and raised an amused eyebrow. ‘Is that so?’
    By Allah, his insolence was insulting and she unconsciously shifted into a purely combative stance. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that she could win a real contest with him—he dwarfed her in height and breadth—but maybe, just maybe, she could take him by surprise and land him on his backside long enough to dash through the maze of streets that led back to the busy souk. There she could blend with everyone else and disappear in the sheer volume of human bodies.
    As far as plans went, it wasn’t much of one, but since giving up wasn’t an option either she held her ground.
    â€˜Did you know,’ he drawled, inspecting his fingernails as if every one of his senses wasn’t attuned to her slightest movement. ‘There are at least twenty-five ways to kill a person with your bare hands?’
    No, she hadn’t known that. ‘Right now, I’d settle for just one.’ She held the sword tighter and waited for him to come at her. Instead he threw his head back and laughed.
    The sight and sound of his amusement disconcerted her because she’d been serious!
    â€˜Put the sword away, Farah,’ he instructed softly, all pretence at relaxation over.
    Farah’s fingers flexed around the hilt. The way he said her name in that rough, sexy voice sent a sharp, sweet ache straight to her pelvis but she ignored it. ‘No.’
    His eyebrows climbed his forehead. ‘I was starting to think that you were smart, my little Zenobia. Are you about to prove me wrong?’
    She had trained with a few of her father’s respected bodyguards before he had put a stop to it. They’d soon see who wasn’t very smart. ‘I escaped, didn’t I?’ she taunted.
    A muscle ticked in his jaw. Good. An angry man made more mistakes than a rational one.
    â€˜My guards found you.’ His eyes fell to the glint of the sun shining off the sharp blade of her rapier.
    Farah curled her lip. ‘Your guards are incompetent. I doubt they could find a particle of dust in a sandstorm. Perhaps they are poorly trained.’
    The muscle flickered again in his jaw and a small smile threatened to curve her lips at how easily she got to him. He’d been lucky when he’d grabbed her at her father’s camp. He wouldn’t be so lucky this time.
    â€˜It’s not a good idea to prod an angry lion,’ he drawled as he pushed away from the wall. ‘They tend to bite.’
    A shiver snaked down Farah’s spine at the warning implicit in that drawl; his voice was deep and melodious, as if he were paying her a grand compliment. ‘I think you got lucky coming upon me now,’ she challenged. ‘If your men had truly found me, why didn’t they take me?’
    â€˜They were ordered not to.’
    â€˜Why?’ Farah tensed as he took another step toward her, the overhead sun highlighting his chiselled features.
    The square behind her was deathly quiet but she didn’t take her eyes off the prince to find out why. Nothing was more dangerous to her right now than this man. She raised her sword in preparation to strike, sweat making her palms slippery. ‘Were you afraid they’d get hurt?’
    â€˜No.’ He circled to her right and she pivoted on her slippered feet to follow him. ‘I was afraid you would.’
    His black robes billowed as he prowled around her and she knew beneath the soft trousers his strong thighs would be tensed to spring at her.
    â€˜Put the sword down. You won’t win this battle.’
    Farah didn’t say anything but her keen eyes