The Sheikh Who Blackmailed Her: Desert Prince, Blackmailed Bride / The Sheikh and the Bought Bride / At the Sheikh's Bidding. Chantelle Shaw

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      Expression stormy, she took a sip from her coffee cup and yelped as the liquid scalded her mouth. She slammed the cup down, splashing coffee all over the snowy table linen, and poured iced water from the pitcher into her glass.

      She was greedily gulping it when she saw Sayed in the doorway.

      ‘Miss Barton …? I am sorry to disturb you.’

      Gabby’s expression of polite enquiry morphed into one of apprehension when the normally imperturbable Sayed spoke again.

      ‘I am very worried about the Crown Prince, miss.’

      She dropped the glass, spilling water over the already ruined table linen.

      Her manner was at stark variance to the icy dread that was creeping over her as she smiled politely and asked, ‘Has something happened?’

      If anything had happened she would be the only one, barring Hakim, who realised the ominous implications. Her jaw firmed and her hands balled into tight fists at her sides as she struggled to control her panic. Damn the man for a stubborn idiot.

      ‘I think something must have, miss … He … the Crown Prince … is … angry.’

      Gabby expelled a relieved sigh. At least he wasn’t ill. ‘Is that all? He’s always angry.’

      Even as she spoke Gabby realised he wasn’t—at least not with everyone else. By comparison with his cranky, critical attitude to her, he was capable of displaying an almost supernatural degree of tolerance with other people. Not that he suffered fools gladly, but on the other hand he gave praise where it was due, and people went the extra mile just to receive one of his rare smiles.

      Gabby pushed away the image of Rafiq smiling and concentrated on Sayed, who was shaking his head in an emphatic negative motion.

      ‘No, this is serious. I have known the Crown Prince since he was a child, and I have never seen him like this. I am worried,’ he confessed.

      So was Gabby, though she struggled to hide it. ‘Why are you telling me this, Sayed?’

      ‘I thought you might—’ He stopped, looking awkward, and began wringing his gnarled hands together.

      Gabby took pity on him and suggested, ‘You thought I might be stupid enough to risk getting my head chewed off?’ Despite her joking tone the genuine anxiety in the older man’s eyes filled her with increasing disquiet.

      Sayed looked relieved. ‘Exactly so, miss. He might listen to you.’

      Gabby stared at the man, wondering if he had been out too long in the midday sun. Listen to her? Rafiq did not listen to anyone. But her … She was the very last person he would listen to. Somehow the staff here had got the wrong message from her presence.

      ‘So he didn’t seem ill at all?’

      ‘Ill, miss?’ He shook his head, looking puzzled, adding with a touch of pride, ‘No, the Crown Prince enjoys excellent health. He always has, even as a boy.’

      Gabby’s eyes fell. Even asking if he was ill went against the denial screaming inside her as she refused point-blank to contemplate a world that did not contain Rafiq.

      It was bizarre. Not long ago she had not known he even existed, except as a name in the official guidebook. Now the idea of him not being here made bony, skeletal fingers of dread in her chest tighten until she couldn’t breathe.

      ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ She doubted it would be anything of substance, but Sayed obviously thought otherwise: his relief was obvious. The man clearly imagined she possessed supernatural powers. ‘Where is he?’

      ‘He is in his private room in the tower, miss. I think you know where it is.’

      Gabby saw the man’s secret little smile. Clearly the grapevine was alive and well in the Palace. And she for one didn’t want to know what garbled version of the truth had been passed around.

      Gabby had lifted her hand to tap on the door when she heard the sound of a loud, angry voice inside. She stopped and waited. There was a short silence after the rant ended, and then the even more alarming sound of crashing and smashing began.

      Gabby gave up on the idea of announcing herself. Instead she pushed the door open cautiously. It gave. Wondering what on earth she was going to find, she squared her shoulders and stepped inside.

      There was evidence of the destruction she had heard, but there was nothing systematic about it as far as she could see. Rafiq, who was pacing the floor like a sleek, feral caged animal, wasn’t simply walking around objects, but through them.

      Rafiq turned, a snarl on his face. ‘What are you doing here?’

      Their glances connected, worried blue on wrathful and smouldering black, and her breath snagged painfully in her throat. In his primitive anger all pretence of civilisation was washed away and Rafiq was quite simply magnificent. Of course she had always known he was a man of strong passions, and she had even seen him strain at the emotional leash at times, but now it had snapped!

      As their glances connected his eyes, blacker than the darkest starless night sky, lit from within by twin flames, drilled into her. Every individual fibre and muscle in his body was bunched and taut. He was an explosion about to happen.

      She didn’t want to supply the final trigger. Gabby ran her tongue lightly across her dry lips as something that was part trepidation and part excitement slid through her. Now that really did make her weird …

      ‘What has happened, Rafiq? Are you ill? Is—?’

      ‘Not ill—just dying.’ He saw her flinch, but pushed away the shaft of inconvenient guilt that slipped like a dull blade between his ribs.

      Gabby, her face pale, bit down on her quivering lip and tucked her hair behind her ears. It immediately sprang free. ‘Well, something must have happened to put you in this mood.’

      His upper lip curled into a sneer. ‘Something? Oh, yes, something has happened,’ he agreed darkly as he swung away from her.

      Gabby watched, her frustration growing as he recommenced his restless panther-like pacing of the room. She chased after him, catching him as he reached the doors that lay open to the balcony where she had lost her balance the first time they had met.

      Without thinking she caught hold of his arm and tugged him to a stop.

      He stood breathing hard, staring with a look she couldn’t put a name on at her hand on his arm.

      ‘Sorry—I’m a tactile person.’ She sincerely hoped he didn’t correctly translate this as I can’t keep my hands off you. ‘I keep forgetting people don’t lay hands on the royal person without an invitation.’

      She turned her head to one side and regarded him with a calm she was not feeling.

      ‘Will you stop being so damned enigmatic and stay still for ten seconds? You can be snide and superior just as well when you’re sitting down. I know this,’ she said, placing her hands flat on her chest, ‘because I’ve seen you do it.’

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