Hidden In The Sheikh's Harem. Michelle Conder

      

       ‘I’m not sleeping with you!’

      Zachim tugged the horse blanket over the top of them. ‘No, you’re not. You’re sleeping next to me. There’s a big difference. We need to share body heat to keep warm. Relax and this will be a lot easier.’

      Relax? Farah couldn’t have been more tense if she’d tried. It had been a long time since she had been physically close to anyone, and all this bodily contact was messing with her head.

      ‘This isn’t right.’

      ‘But kidnapping your Prince is fine?’

      ‘Must you always have the last word?’ she grumbled.

      ‘I was going to ask the same of you.’

      Not wanting to find him at all amusing, Farah curled herself into a tight ball to try and put distance between them. Self-sufficiency was a prized trait in the harsh desert climate, and Farah was proud that she could survive on her own if she had to. She wanted to point this out to the Prince, but that would involve speaking to him and she’d much rather pretend he wasn’t there. She’d much rather pretend she was in her own bed than on the cold, hard ground, wrapped in the strong arms of her father’s number one enemy.

      With two university degrees and a variety of false career starts under her belt, MICHELLE CONDER decided to satisfy her lifelong desire to write and finally found her dream job. She currently lives in Melbourne, Australia, with one super-indulgent husband, three self-indulgent (but exquisite) children, a menagerie of over-indulged pets, and the intention of doing some form of exercise daily. She loves to hear from her readers at michelleconder.com

      Hidden in the

      Sheikh’s Harem

      Michelle Conder

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For my family, with love. Always.

      And to Bobo, shokran!

      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       About the Author

       Title Page

       Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       Extract

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      PRINCE ZACHIM BAKR AL-DARKHAN tried not to slam the door as he left the palace apartment his half-brother was using for his brief visit but it wasn’t easy. Nadir was being a cranky, stubborn hard-ass, refusing to take his rightful place as the next King of Bakaan, which left Zach in line for the job.

      ‘Everything, all right, Highness?’

      Damn; he was so preoccupied with what had just gone down he hadn’t even sensed the elderly servant he’d known all his life waiting in the shadowed recess of the arched windows.

      But, no, everything was not all right. Every day that passed without a leader made their people more and more uneasy. His father had only been dead for two weeks but already there were whispers of some of the more insurgent tribes gathering for ‘talks’.

      Yeah, like the Al-Hajjar tribe. Once their families had been rival dynasties, but two centuries ago the Darkhans had defeated the Hajjars in a brutal war, creating resentments that still remained. But Zach knew that the current leader of the tribe—Mohamed Hajjar—hated his father, not only because of their history, but because he held his father responsible for the death of his pregnant wife ten years ago. And probably his father had been partly responsible because, Allah knew, he had been responsible for the death of Nadir’s mother for entirely different reasons.

      The fact was their father had been a miserly tyrant who’d ruled through fear and had been ruthless when he didn’t get his own way. As a result Bakaan was stuck in the dark ages, both in its laws and infrastructure, and it was going to be an enormous challenge to pull it into the twenty-first century.

      A challenge that his brother was better suited to take on than Zach. And not just because Nadir was politically savvy with finely honed boardroom instincts, but also because it was his rightful place as the eldest son. With Nadir taking charge it would also free Zach up to do what he did best—creating and managing change at street level where he could do the most good.

      Something he’d already started doing after his delicate mother had begged him to come home five years ago when Bakaan had been on the brink of civil war. The cause of the unrest had stemmed from a rogue publication started by someone in one of the mountain tribes detailing his father’s failings and calling for change. There wasn’t much in the publication Zach could argue with, but he’d done his duty and settled the unrest in his father’s favour. Then, appalled at the state his country was in, he’d set aside his Western lifestyle and stayed, working behind the scenes to do what he could until his increasingly narcissistic and paranoid father had either seen sense or died. Death had come first and the only thing Zach felt was hollow inside. Hollow for the man who had only ever seen him as the spare to the throne, and not a very worthy one at that.

      ‘Highness?’

      ‘Sorry,