prick of her conscience. ‘So … this sheikh. Is he married with eight wives and a hundred children?’
‘His Highness has not yet chosen a wife. His family background is complicated.’
‘I bet it’s a picnic compared to mine.’
‘Sheikh Zafiq’s mother was a princess, much loved by everyone. Unfortunately she died when he was a baby.’
‘She died?’ Bella felt as though she’d been thumped in the chest. Like her, he’d lost his mother as a child. She felt compelled to find out more about the powerful, ruthless Sheikh, forgetting that her original objective had been simply to discover the distance to civilisation. ‘Did his father marry again?’
‘Yes, but tragically both his father and stepmother were killed in an accident when His Highness was just a teenager.’
So he’d lost two mothers.
Bella watched as the rising sun set fire to the dunes, changing the colours from dull red to bright gold. She felt a strange affinity with the mysterious Sheikh. He was out there somewhere across the bleak, featureless mountains of sand. Did he think about the mother he’d never known? Had he discovered things about her that would have been better left a secret?
Was his mind as much of a mess as hers?
Bella dug her hands into the pockets of her cotton trousers and reminded herself that regret was point less. The past couldn’t be undone. In all the hours of enforced meditation there was one topic on which she’d refused to allow herself to dwell.
Her mother.
Later. Later, she’d have to think about it but for now it was all too raw.
‘So this Sheikh guy—’ she pushed her hair out of her eyes, grimacing at the texture and indulging in a brief fantasy about deep conditioning and a blow dry ‘—he must have been pretty young to take over the running of a country.’
‘Just eighteen. But he was bred to rule.’
‘Poor guy. Must have had a pretty grim childhood. But all that oil must mean he’s rich. So why hasn’t he married? I suppose he’s old and ugly and can’t even buy himself a wife.’
‘His Highness is in his early thirties and is considered extremely handsome by those better qualified to comment on these things than me.’
‘So what’s wrong with him, then?’ Bella eyed the lizard that scuttled across the sand in front of her.
‘At some point he will marry someone suitable, but I understand that he is in no hurry.’
‘And who can blame him? Marriage can be a nightmare. My father has done it three times. He’s a devotee of the saying, “If at first you don’t succeed—try, try and try again.” You have to admire his perseverance. As a spectator sport it’s quite gripping.’
‘Your father has had three marriages?’
‘You’d think he’d be good at it by now, wouldn’t you?’ Bella brushed sand from her bare arms, wondering whether it counted as exfoliation. ‘He’s had enough practise.’
‘You have to let the anger go, Bella. You’re too passionate.’
‘That’s me.’ She kept her tone careless. ‘Too passionate. Too … everything. Try having siblings, half-siblings, three mothers and a father like mine and you might understand why I don’t have your sense of calm. Nothing winds you up like family. Except maybe having your laptop, your phone and your iPod removed at the same time.’
‘It is when life is at its most demanding that we must seek inner peace. Your own ability for quiet reflection can be an oasis in the storm of life.’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a few days by an oasis,’ Bella said absently, unsettled by the effect his words had on her. The truth was she envied his sense of calm. She wanted that, but had no idea how to achieve it. ‘Palm trees, water to bathe in. I have no problem with sand, providing I’m staring down at it from my sun lounger with a Margarita in my hand.’
He bowed his head. ‘I’ll leave you to reflect, Bella. And see you at nine for yoga.’
‘Yoga. Yippee. The excitement might just kill me.’ Bella’s expression was deadpan and she watched him stroll back towards the tents but inside she was boiling with emotion.
Enough!
No more meditation.
No more desert.
She was going to find the keys to a Jeep and get out of here even if it meant tying someone up in their tent.
She was about to return to the Retreat and go on the hunt for transport when she noticed that the guards had disappeared from the entrance to the stables. Bella’s eyes narrowed and her mind raced ahead as she adjusted her plans. No one knew her in the stables, did they? If she walked with enough confidence they might even think she worked there.
Indulging in a brief fantasy about fleeing across the desert in a horsebox, she slid past a sign that said “Strictly No Admittance” and walked down a sandy path that led to a stable block. A fountain bubbled in the centre of the deserted courtyard and only now could Bella see that the stables were both sophisticated and extensive.
‘Whoever owns this place must be seriously loaded.’ She sneaked a look over her shoulder to see if anyone had noticed her. But the stables appeared deserted. No guards. No one.
Strange, Bella thought, glancing around her. Where was everyone?
She knew from experience that stables were busy places.
A horse stuck its head over the door of the stable and whickered at her.
Bella walked across to him. ‘At least someone lives here. Hello, beautiful,’ she crooned, rubbing her hand over the mare’s silky neck. ‘How’s your morning so far? Done any meditation? Knotted any of your legs into a lotus? Sipped any herbal tea?’
The horse blew gently against her neck and Bella suddenly felt better than she had for weeks.
‘Want to come and sleep in my tent?’ She kissed the animal on the nose, fussing and gentling the mare, the familiar scent of hay and horse calming her in a way that no amount of meditation had achieved. Peering over the stable door, she took in the quality of the horse. ‘You really are a beauty. Pure-bred Arab. Why would anyone keep a horse as special as you hidden away out here?’
The horse nudged her hard and Bella almost lost her balance.
‘You’re fed up with being trapped in the stable, aren’t you? I know the feeling. Where is everyone? Why are you on your own here?’
The place was eerily deserted and Bella looked around uneasily, trying to shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong—that something bad was about to happen.
‘Oh, for crying out loud—’ Cross with herself, she turned back to the horse. ‘I’ve been living in boredomville for so long I’m imagining things. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past two weeks it’s
