Desert Prince's Stolen Bride
He’ll do anything to wed his princess…Even if it means stealing her away!Shy palace governess Olivia Taylor spends her life being overlooked. Until the night brooding Prince Zayed spirits her away! To reclaim his country, Zayed must wed his betrothed. But when it becomes clear that Olivia is the wrong bride can they put their mistake right? And, with such heated chemistry between them, do they want to…?
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Heâll do anything to wed his princess...
Even if it means stealing her away!
Shy palace governess Olivia Taylor spends her life being overlooked. Until the night brooding Prince Zayed spirits her away! To reclaim his country, Zayed must wed his betrothed. But when it becomes clear that Olivia is the wrong bride, can they put their mistake right? And with such heated chemistry between them, do they want to...?
After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in a small village in the English Lake District with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories, she loves reading, baking and playing chess with her sonâshe has yet to win against him, but she continues to try. Learn more about Kate at kate-hewitt.com.
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Seduced by a Sheikh miniseries
The Secret Heir of Alazar
The Forced Bride of Alazar
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
ISBN: 978-1-474-07206-9
DESERT PRINCEâS STOLEN BRIDE
© 2018 Kate Hewitt
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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Contents
HE CAME IN through the window.
Olivia Taylor looked up from the blanket sheâd been folding, her mouth dropping open in wordless shock. She was too surprised to be scared. Yet. He was dressed all in black, his body underneath the loose garments tall, lithe and powerful. A turban covered his hair but beneath it Olivia saw his face and the determination blazing in his steel-coloured eyes.
She drew a breath to scream when he moved swiftly towards her and slipped a hand over her mouth. âI wonât hurt you,â he said in Arabic, his tone brusque and yet also strangely gentle. It took her a moment to make out the words; sheâd learned some Arabic living in the Amari household, but it was still of the schoolgirl variety. Sheâd been hired to speak only English to the three youngest Princesses.
He continued speaking and her shocked mind struggled to understand. âThat is my solemn vow, and I will never break it. Just do what I say and no harm shall ever come to you. I swear it on my life.â
Olivia stood there rigidly, his hand on her mouth, the scent of his skin in her nostrils. He smelled of horse and sand and sweat and musk...and, strangely, it was not unpleasing. Her mind was spinning with terrifying numbness, around and around, unable to latch onto any coherent thought. She couldnât think. She could barely breathe. Shock gave way to fear, making her dizzy. It was as if everything were happening underwater or in slow motion, yet far too fast, because already the man was propelling her to the window, and somehow she was going, going, her legs weak as water, her insides sliding around like jelly, her mind a blank canvas of fear and shock.
