Hidden In The Sheikh's Harem. Michelle Conder

If he heard something, he’d come running.

      Squirming beneath him, she tugged against the rope and screamed behind his hand.

      Immediately his thumb and forefinger pinched her nose and her ears popped as she tried to force the sound out of her lungs. She thrashed her head from side to side even though she knew it was futile.

      ‘This is how it’s going to go,’ he murmured when she finally exhausted herself. ‘I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth and you’re going to stay quiet.’

      Farah listened but she knew there was no way she was going to follow his orders.

      ‘If you don’t, you’ll surely bring the guard in from outside and I’ll be forced to kill him with your dagger.’

      Fear kept her immobile. It was one thing to risk her own life but she’d never risk another person’s.

      Roughly he pulled her to her feet. ‘Nod if you’re going to comply.’

       CHAPTER FOUR

      FOR A MOMENT Zach thought he was going to have to knock her out cold and he didn’t want to do that. In order to get out of the camp, he needed her to lead him to the horses without drawing too much attention to them.

      Fortunately she had no idea how important she was to his escape and she nodded curtly. Slowly Zach drew his hand back and she immediately pressed her lips together as if he’d hurt them. Probably he had. She’d fought like a little wild thing and he was surprised at how strong she was. He was surprised at how slender and soft she had felt beneath him as well, and at how beautiful her face was—oh, not classically, like the faces of many of the women he’d dated, but there was something about the slant of her cheekbones and those bottomless brown eyes that made him want to sink into them. Her smooth skin and sexy-as-sin mouth didn’t hurt, either.

      With her keffiyeh having come off during their struggle, he ran his eyes over her heart-shaped face and down the long dark plait that rested just above small jutting breasts. She was dishevelled and in need of a bath, her proud little chin tilted upwards as if she wanted to tell him to go to hell, but still he wanted to hear her make that soft little hitch in her voice she’d made when he’d sucked on her fingers.

       Hell of a time to get a hard-on, oh mighty pride of the desert.

      He looked her over. ‘Do you have any other weapons, my little Zenobia?’ he asked dulcetly, unwinding the rope from her slender wrists.

      She rubbed at them and, even though it was nearly completely dark inside the tent, he could still read her fury and the desire to best him in her eyes. ‘As if I’d tell you that.’

      ‘If you don’t, I’ll be forced to search you.’

      ‘No!’ The sharp little word sprang from her lips like an Olympian off the starter’s block. ‘I don’t.’

      Zach nearly laughed at the desperation behind her words and wondered if she was afraid of him or afraid of the unexpected chemistry that had ignited between them.

      Chemistry he needed to ignore.

      ‘Come.’

      Her chin shot up again and she tossed her head like a mare that was being pulled too hard at the bit. ‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

      Zach smiled grimly. ‘You are. You’re about to walk me out of here and take me to the horses. If anyone stops us, you will tell them that you are taking me to your father. You’ll then lead me by this rope that will look like it is binding my hands until we get there.’

      He could almost hear her thoughts running wild, trying to take an alternate route. He yanked her against him and ignored her shocked gasp and the way his palm fit snuggly around the curve of her bottom. He had a moment of questioning his decision, of second-guessing his plan, but he really had no other option. And he’d let her go as soon as they got to the horses. In the meantime, she needed to know that he wasn’t about to cop any attitude from her. ‘Sound the alarm and I’ll kill anyone who stops us.’

      The desert was already freezing and he could hear the rising wind beating at the sides of the tent and making a hell of a racket. He had no idea how far Mohamed Hajjar’s camp lay from civilisation but he knew it was going to be a long night.

      Bending down, he retrieved a length of rope and coiled it around his wrists. He knew an observant guard would notice that his ankles were no longer bound but he was hoping the closing darkness would prevent anyone from noticing that before they got to the horses. Of course, he’d much prefer a high-powered vehicle to climb into, but in the three days he’d been held hostage he hadn’t once heard the sound of an engine.

      Zach positioned Farah just to the side so he could observe her expression. ‘Okay, my little warrior queen, let’s go.’

      ‘I’m not your anything.’ She kept her face averted but he saw the betraying tremble of her lower lip. For all her attitude, she was afraid of him. Not something he was going to allay even though he had never hurt a woman in his life. Of course, he’d never had cause to before now. Women loved him and he loved them—a much more desirable arrangement than this one.

      ‘Move.’ He positioned himself slightly in front of her but, rather than her grabbing his hands, he grabbed hers, laying the small dagger against her inner arm so that she knew who was in charge. ‘And don’t rush it.’

      When she lifted the tent flap he blew out a relieved breath that her boyfriend didn’t appear to be in the vicinity.

      The nearby guard was, though, and he immediately came to attention when he saw them. He asked Farah if everything was okay and when she hesitated Zach pressed the tip of her sharp dagger against her wrist.

      ‘Fine,’ she said through clenched teeth.

      ‘We’ll have to brush up on your acting skills but good enough for now,’ Zach whispered against her ear and got another whiff of camel. He grimaced and wondered whether she’d been rolling around with them.

      ‘You can’t get away. There’s a storm brewing.’

      Zach had already clocked the incoming storm and his eyes scanned the camp. Many of the men were still filling their stomachs around the campfire and the remaining ones were busy securing the tents against the rising wind. ‘I know. Perfect cover.’

      She stopped and he nearly ran into her. ‘I won’t do it,’ she hissed out of the side of her mouth.

      ‘Your father will mourn your death, no doubt.’

      ‘You won’t kill me.’

      Zach crowded her from behind. ‘It would be a mistake to underestimate what I would or would not do right now. Have you forgotten who my father was?’

      ‘Pig.’ The word was spat towards the sand.

      Exactly. Zach urged her forward. ‘I’m glad we understand each other. Now, walk and none of your men will die. Hopefully.’

      * * *

      Farah brushed at the strands of her hair that had come loose from her struggles with the prince and which now blew uncontrollably around her face. She was so angry with herself for being duped, she could spit. No doubt this would reinforce for her father that women were best left to domestic chores and had no place getting involved in the business of men. Right now she had to agree because it was her own stupidity that had got her into this mess. As if reading her mind, the hateful prince leaned in close again, his warm breath stirring the loose strands of hair at her temple. ‘Don’t feel bad about aiding my escape. If it had been anyone else, I would have been forced to kill him.’

      That thought gave her little comfort. She had made a mistake and didn’t know how to fix things. And she always knew how to fix things. It was her calling card. Everyone in the village came to her when there was trouble. And now