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

caught movement on the rooftop above him so she knew that they weren’t alone. She let her lip curl into an insolent sneer. ‘Need help to bring in one woman, Prince Zachim?’
    â€˜Oh, I think I’ve already proven that I don’t need help bringing you in, little cat.’
    â€˜Ha!’ She was scornful. ‘You got lucky the first time. You caught me by surprise.’
    â€˜Really?’ His teeth sank into his fleshy bottom lip as his gaze dropped to her mouth, telling her more than words that he knew exactly what had distracted her the first time. ‘Who’s to say it won’t happen again?’
    â€˜Me,’ she snapped, humiliated by her own weakness where he was concerned. Why, oh, why did her body find his so damned fascinating? It made no sense at all.
    The cumbersome
abaya
dragged around her legs as she shifted to keep him in sight. If she got the chance she was going to have to toss modesty to the wind and lift her skirts to try and outrun him. ‘I know you have a sword on you.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Draw it or get out of my way.’
    â€˜I’m not going to fight you.’
    â€˜Afraid?’ she challenged.
    He smiled. ‘Give it up. We both know you have no chance of beating me.’
    Farah stilled. His voice was so controlled, so knowing. He was calling her bluff, damn him, and a deep desire to do the opposite, a deep desire to
show
him, turned her muscles hard. For a brief moment she indulged in the reckless fantasy of besting him, of being the one to bring the mighty Prince of Bakaan and his monumental ego to his knees. Could she do it?
    â€˜I can take you,’ she said, twisting the sword in a few expert loops, testing it for weight and balance. It wasn’t a great piece of craftsmanship but it was better than nothing.
    A slow smile spread across his face. ‘Now, that I’d like to see.’
    Oh!
She caught the not so subtle innuendo in his tone and lunged at him, hoping to catch him off guard, realising too late that that was exactly what he’d wanted her to do.
    Moving with impressive speed for a man his size, he dodged her blade and she heard the hiss of metal against leather as he unsheathed his own. Adrenaline raced through her veins and charged her body. This was what she needed—a good bout of sparring to rid her of all the tension, fear and worry that threatened to swallow her whole.
    She charged him again and brought her sword crashing down against his as hard as she could. She didn’t let up and the clash of steel was the only sound ringing in the small empty square around them. Although, as to that, a thousand spectators could have been watching and she wouldn’t have noticed.
    The adrenaline seemed to give her added strength, but even so she couldn’t detect any weakness in him that would give her an advantage.
    â€˜Cease this, Farah,’ he ordered, using his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow.
    Distracted by the sight of his muscular forearm it was she who was caught off guard when his sword unexpectedly came down over hers with so much force her teeth rattled.
    It was as if he’d only been using half his strength before, and irritation that he would go easy on her gave her a burst of energy and she rushed him, both exhilarated and appalled when she heard the rip of fabric.
    Absolute shock held them both immobile and, horrified, Farah watched as bright red blood bloomed from the dark sleeve of his robe.
    Oh, dear Allah
... She hadn’t really meant to hurt him... Her appalled gaze rose to his. Instinct finally kicked in at his ferocious expression and she dropped the sword before taking off towards a nearby alley.
    Sweat and fear made her more clumsy than usual and she screamed when she felt a hand grab hold of her headscarf. Fortunately the fabric gave and Farah shot into the alleyway.
    The pounding of his footsteps behind her alerted her as to how close he was right before his arm