Hidden In The Sheikh's Harem

Ignoring her question, he jerked the old car to a stop in front of a set of massive stone steps; heat shimmered off the pale sandstone walls of the palace, turning them white. The courtyard they were in was already a hive of activity with a procession of servants rushing around. Farah returned her gaze to the prince’s as he rested his hands on the steering wheel, his lion’s eyes scanning her face to the point of discomfort.

She raised her chin as if his perusal was nothing more than an irritant. She was hoping he was going to tell her that, now that he was back home, he was going to let her go. That he was going to let the whole thing drop and forget it had even happened. She knew she’d like to. ‘Well?’ She stared him down. ‘Are you going to tell me or not?’

‘Yes, I’m going to tell you.’ He smiled but it was grim in his hard, beautiful face. ‘I’m going to use you as bait.’

* * *

Farah fumed as the prince all but dragged her along opulent hallways and past closed doors, servants and guards bowing one after the other as they proceeded; none of them showing an ounce of shock at seeing their prince pulling a woman along roughly by the arm. If possible the interior of the palace was grander than the exterior and Farah’s mind buzzed at the wondrousness of the wide hallways and soaring ceilings stencilled in blue, green and gold fretwork prevalent in the Moorish period, the ancient artworks that were framed under bright lights, and the solid marble floor that shone to a high gloss from the sunshine streaming in through high arched windows.

Realising she was letting herself become awestruck, she dug her heels into the polished floor. ‘You can’t do this.’

Of course he didn’t respond to her outraged cry but stopped before an enormous carved door. Ignoring her, he turned towards two guards who had rushed to follow them. ‘No one comes in here, no one goes out—is that clear?’

‘Yes, Your Highness,’ they said in unison.

‘I won’t let you use me this way,’ Farah asserted as he shoved her into the room.

When he gave a short, sharp laugh she stared at him belligerently. ‘You have no grounds to hold me.’

The prince turned cold, menacing eyes on her and for the first time she noticed the deep brown ring that bordered all that gold. ‘I don’t need a reason.’

‘Right. Your word is law, is that it?’ Farah tossed her filthy hair which she’d replaited after the prince had sifted his fingers through it back over her shoulder.