Kate Hewitt - Desert Prince's Stolen Bride

‘Why do you care about my father?’ she asked, her voice trembling. ‘Who are you?’

For a moment he could only stare. She knew who he was. She had to know. ‘I am Prince Zayed al bin Nur,’ he said, biting off each word. She’d wed him, she’d slept with him! Of course she’d known he was her fiancé, her intended husband. Because, if she hadn’t known, why the hell had she slept with him? Agreed to marry him?

‘Zayed...’ Her face had gone pale, her lips bloodless, dawning horror in her eyes. Something was very, very wrong, and the cold fist that was clutching Zayed’s heart squeezed painfully.

‘And you,’ he said forcefully, each word a throb of insistent intensity, ‘are Princess Halina Amari.’ She had to be. He’d seen photographs—blurry, yes, but he’d watched her in the palace. She’d played with her sisters; she’d gone into her bedroom. She had to be his intended bride. His wife.

But already she was shaking her head.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, I’m not Halina.’

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