The Balfour Legacy

by Various

  ‘Why would I want to do that?’ Bella’s wicked side took over, driving her into territory she knew she would have been better avoiding. ‘You have a fantastic body.’

  Shock flared in his eyes and dark streaks of colour highlighted his magnificent cheekbones. ‘And you play a dangerous game for a woman alone and unprotected. Perhaps I am not a good man to be trapped with, habibiti.’ His voice was suddenly soft and there was a shimmer of mockery in his jet-black eyes. He slid the robe over his head in a fluid movement, somehow managing to discard the towel at the same time. ‘I believe you have a saying: “out of the frying pan into the fire.”’

  Bella’s mouth dried as she watched him slide a dagger into the folds of his robe and her stomach fluttered with nerves. ‘Well, it’s certainly true that in the past few hours I’ve been fried, sautéed and flambéed.’ Her weak attempt at humour again fell flat and she flopped back against the pillows, her head throbbing and her bravado wearing thin. ‘All right, I get the message. No humour allowed. But you ought to know it’s polite to at least smile when someone makes a joke.’ She wanted to ask why he needed a dagger, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  He was a complete contrast to the men she usually met—a lethal combination of untamed man and raw sexuality. A real man, she thought to herself, distracted by the dark shadow that emphasised the strong lines of his jaw. It was hard to imagine him sitting at a desk in a tall city office, but she had no problem imagining him wrestling a wild animal with his bare hands. Embarrassed to admit that she found him astonishingly attractive, Bella put her hands over her eyes and gave a groan. She was the ultimate modern city girl and here she was lusting over macho man.

  The heat must have finally got to her.

  ‘I’m surprised you find your situation amusing.’ His gaze held hers. ‘You’re lost and you have absolutely no idea where you are.’

  ‘I’m not lost. I’m with you.’

  ‘And that gives you no cause for alarm?’ His cool voice held a dangerous edge. ‘I could be a greater threat to your safety than being lost in the desert. There is no one else near you. No one to rescue you. No one to hear you scream.’

  Bella burst out laughing. ‘You sound as though you’re doing a voice-over for a horror movie.’

  ‘I am merely pointing out that a healthy dose of caution might increase your life expectancy.’

  ‘I’ve lived in London and New York. I’m streetwise.’

  His smile was slow and deadly. ‘You are not in London or New York now. You are in the middle of the Arabian Desert with a man you don’t know. And outside this tent there are poisonous snakes, scorpions and enough sand to swallow you whole and never again reveal your body.’

  His words made her shiver and Bella rubbed her hands over her arms, growing more alarmed by the minute. ‘Stop trying to scare me. Do you want a hysterical woman in your tent?’

  ‘I don’t want a woman in my tent at all.’

  ‘Oh—’ Bella relaxed slightly. ‘I get it. You’re gay.’

  Incredulity flared in his dark eyes. ‘I am not gay. But nor did I seek company on this trip. I value solitude.’

  ‘Really?’ For a moment she was fascinated. ‘You mean you actually want to be on your own?’

  ‘Time for reflection is a gift.’

  Bella pulled a face. ‘In my opinion, reflection is an overrated pastime. I prefer being around people.’

  ‘So what were you doing in the Retreat?’

  ‘I was sent there.’

  ‘By…?’

  ‘Look, do we have to talk about this? The place was bad enough when I was there, without having to think about it afterwards. My brain is tired of examining itself. I’m allergic to meditation. Life is difficult enough without reflecting on it.’ Bella watched as he poured himself a glass of water.

  Every movement he made was assured and confident, and although he was quite staggeringly good-looking, he was far too serious for her.

  And now he was looking at her with the same expression of grim disapproval that her father used whenever she saw him.

  Bella closed her eyes, the throb in her head worsening by the minute.

  She heard him step towards her. ‘How bad is that headache?’

  ‘Headache? What headache? I don’t have a headache.’ She would rather have died than admit weakness to this stony-faced, austere sex god. ‘I’ve never felt better in my life.’

  ‘You’re dehydrated. Drink more water.’

  Bella contemplated ignoring his advice but the pain tearing through her head was growing worse so she reached for the cup that he’d placed on the floor by the bed. ‘How come you have so much water with you?’

  ‘I came prepared. Unlike you. I’m not accustomed to having to repeat a question—who sent you to the Retreat?’

  ‘My father sent me.’ She took another sip of water, tempted to ask him how much water it would take to cure the headache. ‘I was supposed to find myself.’

  ‘Instead of which you lost yourself.’ His sardonic smile turned his face from handsome to breathtaking and Bella found it impossible to look away. He really was stunning. In fact, she had an uneasy feeling that his eyes might be even more beautiful than hers. If she didn’t have a vile headache and he wasn’t so moody, she’d definitely be interested.

  Slightly unsettled by that realisation, she put the cup down carefully, trying not to spill any of the precious liquid. ‘Thank you for rescuing me.’

  ‘I had no choice. You collapsed in my path.’

  He stood watching her from the end of the bed and it was impossible to miss the air of command that clung to him. ‘So who are you?’

  Bella’s eyes widened again, but this time in amazement. No one had ever had to ask who she was before. Everyone knew who she was. Everywhere she went she was followed, photographed and criticised. People who had never even met her thought they knew her. Everyone had an opinion of her—almost always bad.

  But out here in the wild sands of the desert, her face meant nothing.

  It occurred to Bella that, at this precise moment, no one knew where she was. No one was watching her. No one was waiting for the scandalous Balfour twin to slip up. The headline writers of the newspapers were probably sitting bored at their desks, wondering who to write about.

  An unusual sense of freedom settled over her.

  Feeling liberated, she gave a wide smile. ‘I’m Kate,’ she said impulsively. ‘And you are…?’

  ‘And who is Olivia? And what is it you don’t want her to do?’

  Reminded of the situation that had brought her to the desert, Bella’s euphoria dimmed. ‘How do you know about Olivia?’

  ‘While you were delirious with the heat, you talked. You kept saying, “No, Olivia, don’t do it. Don’t do it.” Who is Olivia?’

  ‘Just someone I know,’ Bella whispered, her body trembling. Suddenly she wondered just how much she’d revealed. ‘What else did I say?’ Had she talked about her other sister Zoe? Had she said anything else about that terrible night?

  ‘Nothing much. Did no one know you were leaving the Retreat?’

  ‘No.’ Bella thought back to the conversation she’d had with Atif. ‘But I think they’ll guess.’

  ‘And they will send out a search party,’ her rescuer snapped, ‘which is the last thing we want.’

  ‘I agree! If they find me they’ll just drag me back for more torture—’ Her eyes narrowed speculatively as she thought about what he’d just said. ‘Wait a minute. Why wouldn’t you want a search party to find me? It shouldn’t bother you, unless…you don’t want anyone to know where you are…’ Her mind working, she rubbed her fingers along her forehead, trying to ease the pain in her head. ‘And if you don’t want anyone to know where you are, it means that normally people do know where you are, which in turn means that you’re either a dangerous murderer on the run from justice, or you’re someone important—’

  ‘I haven’t yet been driven to murder anyone,’ he gritted, ‘
but that moment could be fast approaching. You clearly do have a very agile imagination and you talk a great deal for someone who was almost unconscious a few moments ago.’

  ‘I have remarkable powers of recovery. So if you’re not a criminal, then you must be famous.’ Bella drew her legs up and rested her chin on her arms, determined not to reveal just how ill she was feeling. ‘You’re the Sheikh, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want anyone to know where you are.’ Watching closely, she saw his immediate withdrawal. His shoulders straightened and his eyes were suddenly blank.

  ‘What do you know about the Sheikh?’

  ‘Very little. But Atif told me you spend a week every year in the desert.’ She gave a soft gasp of understanding. ‘That’s why you don’t want a search party, isn’t it? This is your week in the desert and you don’t want anyone to know where you are.’

  ‘You are making a great number of assumptions.’

  ‘All of which are right. There’s no need to get defensive. I know all about wanting to avoid people.

  And I know how to keep secrets.’ Bella rubbed her fingers over her cheeks and grimaced as she felt how dry her skin was. ‘I’ll do you a deal. I won’t say I saw you, if you don’t say you saw me.’

  ‘This is not a joke.’

  ‘Neither is my headache.’ Exhausted from the conversation, Bella flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes. ‘Stop glaring at me. You’re very bad tempered. That’s what meditation does for you. You should try thinking less.’

  ‘Perhaps you should try thinking more, and then you would not find yourself in such scrapes.’

  Deciding that it was time to get herself out of this mess, Bella swung her legs out of bed, stood and promptly collapsed in an undignified heap on the floor of the tent. ‘Oops. Horizontal again and I haven’t even had a drink.’ She kept up the banter, too proud to admit how ill she felt. ‘Look, just point me towards Al—whatever it’s called, and I’ll be out of your way. You can go back to your life and I can go back to mine.’ Although what she was going to do with no source of income, she had no idea. Her father had cut off her allowance.

  If she was at home she would have called one of the glossy magazines and offered herself for a cover shoot, but that wasn’t exactly an option in the desert.

  Did anyone employ models in this part of the world?

  Even if they did, they weren’t going to find her attractive at the moment.

  He obviously didn’t.

  Strong hands lifted her to her feet. ‘Given that you don’t have the strength to cross the tent, how do you propose to make this journey safely?’

  ‘Just lend me a horse. I’ll be fine.’ Overcome by a wave of dizziness, Bella looked for something to lean on. The only solid object seemed to be his chest, so she used that. Feeling hard muscle and solid male strength, awareness sliced through her, taking her by surprise. ‘You smell really good,’ she muttered. ‘But I guess women tell you that all the time.’

  He said something in a language she didn’t understand and the next minute he’d released her and she crumpled to the floor in a heap again.

  ‘All right, maybe women don’t tell you that all the time.’

  He’d pushed her away. Men never pushed her away.

  It was always the other way round.

  Still battling with the terrible dizziness, she risked a glance at him and clashed with furious black eyes.

  ‘You have no idea how to behave.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Bella dug her nails into her legs, fighting back a sudden rush of nausea. Oh, God, she felt hideously ill. And she was stuck with a man with a bad attitude and a dagger. ‘You’d better get rid of me. Just lend me a horse and I’m out of here.’

  ‘I will not lend you a horse.’

  ‘Why not?’ Her pride severely dented by his rejection, Bella suddenly wished she had access to her bathroom at Balfour Manor. And her hairdresser. Then this arrogant man wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to push her away. Deciding that extra charm was needed to compensate for her sunburned face and sandy hair, she treated him to her most seductive smile. ‘You don’t need two horses. That’s just greedy.’

  ‘My stallion would kill you in minutes, and the mare is too valuable to risk with a novice.’

  Affronted by his derogatory tone, Bella was about to confess that she knew a great deal about horses but decided that the less he knew about her the better.

  She was feeling sicker and dizzier by the minute and it was dawning on her that she was stranded in the desert at the mercy of this stranger who thought she was a horse thief. ‘I just want to get back to the city. I could make it in a couple of hours.’

  ‘It takes longer than a couple of hours.’ His tone dripped acid and he paced to the far side of the tent, every line of his powerful frame rigid with tension as he contemplated the situation. ‘Without an escort, you would not make it.’

  Bella struggled to stand, wavering like a newborn foal yet to become acquainted with its legs. Ignoring the obvious challenges of playing the seductress when it was difficult to put one leg in front of the other, she walked across to him. ‘Then won’t you escort me? Please?’ Her voice coaxing, she placed her hand on his biceps and felt hard, solid muscle under her fingers.

  He was strong. Really strong.

  Without thinking what she was doing, she slid her fingertips slowly over his arm, fascinated by his physical strength.

  The breath hissed through his teeth and he looked down at her, the raw sexuality in his shimmering gaze punching the breath from her body.

  Chemistry arced between them and Bella responded to his unmistakably male appraisal with a slow, feminine smile.

  So he wasn’t immune.

  It was a boost to her confidence to know that even without the help of her hairdresser, she could still twist a man around her little finger.

  You’re going to be giving me that horse as a gift in a minute, she thought with a flash of relief, peeping at him from under her lashes.

  It was a look that had never failed her. Even without the extra help of mascara, she was optimistic that she could work her usual magic.

  ‘I know you’ll help me,’ she said breathlessly, deciding that a man as macho as him would respond best to a weak-female-in-trouble approach. All she needed to do was take advantage of his need to feel like a man and at least flirting took her mind off the fact she was lost in the desert with a stranger.

  Searching for just the right phrase to boost a fragile ego, she gave a faltering smile. ‘I—I don’t think I can cope by myself.’

  He didn’t return the smile. ‘Given that I’ve already had to rescue you once, I don’t need you to tell me that you can’t cope by yourself. I have reached that conclusion without assistance.’

  Angry, Bella turned red. And now she was trapped. If she snapped that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, then there was no way he’d help her.

  Frustrated, she decided that the only other trick worth trying was agreeing with him. Men liked that, didn’t they? It made them feel clever.

  Ignoring her inner woman who was gearing up to slap his arrogant face, she lifted her blue eyes to his, switching her expression to helpless.

  ‘You’re right.’ She conjured up her most pathetic voice. ‘I can’t cope. I’m a disaster.’ Trying not to reflect on the fact that her father would actually have agreed with that statement, Bella cleared her throat and added extra weight to her image of vulnerability by fluttering her eyelashes.

  ‘You seem to be having some sort of problem with your eyes,’ he drawled. ‘Is it sand? If so, then I recommend that you splash them with water.’

  Bella couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. ‘So you do have a sense of humour under that severe exterior.’

  ‘I’m not laughing.’

  ‘Well, you should! It would do you good! You’re way too grumpy. Oh, just forget it. Flirting with you is too much like hard work,’ Bella said crossly, seriously worried that she seemed to hav
e lost the only skill she possessed. ‘If you won’t help me, I’ll just go by myself!’

  ‘An interesting transformation. Innocent to independent in one blink of an eyelash. You’re a very manipulative woman. And slow to learn.’

  Bella gasped. ‘I’m not slow!’

  ‘But you admit to being manipulative. Interesting.’ His smile lacked humour. ‘The only way you will make it out of this desert alive is if you are escorted.’

  ‘Then escort me,’ she said sweetly, peeping at him from under her lashes, but his answering gaze was hard and unyielding.

  ‘Is that what men do when you look at them? Do they roll over and say yes?’

  ‘The rolling over part usually comes after the yes,’ Bella said flippantly, feeling her anxiety increase by the minute. He just didn’t respond to her the way other men did.

  ‘Your morals are clearly as suspect as your judgement.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my judgement.’

  ‘You chose to ride through a desert. That behaviour borders on the insane.’ He extracted himself from her grip with a deliberate movement and Bella looked at him in dismay, horrified to discover that the lump was back in her throat.

  Her life had fallen apart and she appeared to have lost the only thing she’d ever been sure of. Her ability to attract men. And that was all she had, wasn’t it? That was her gift. She wasn’t clever like her sister Annie; she wasn’t sweet and kind like Emily, or practical like Olivia…

  She had blue eyes. She had blonde hair. And the combination had stopped working. Feeling incredibly vulnerable, she looked away. ‘Look, you obviously hate me and that’s fine. I don’t care. Surely that’s all the more reason to escort me back to the city where you’ll never have to see me again. I promise I won’t be any trouble—’

  And finally he laughed. ‘The word could have been invented just for you. You have trouble written all over you.’

  ‘Then the sooner you escort me out of your life, the better,’ Bella said hopefully and he shook his head, still laughing.