Bella's Disgrace. Sarah Morgan

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      ‘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?’

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