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The Sheikh's Untamed Bride: Lost to the Desert Warrior / Sheikh in the City / Her Ardent Sheikh. Jackie BraunЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Sheikh's Untamed Bride: Lost to the Desert Warrior / Sheikh in the City / Her Ardent Sheikh - Jackie Braun


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      The Sheikh’s Untamed Bride

      Lost to the Desert Warrior

      Sarah Morgan

      Sheikh in the City

      Jackie Braun

      Her Ardent Sheikh

      Kristi Gold

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       About the Author

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       Sheikh in the City

       About the Author

       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

       Her Ardent Sheikh

       Dedication

       About the Author

       One

       Two

       Three

       Four

       Five

       Six

       Seven

       Eight

       Nine

       Ten

       Copyright

       Lost to the Desert Warrior

      Sarah Morgan

      Bestselling author SARAH MORGAN writes lively, sexy contemporary stories for Mills & Boon. RT Book Reviews has described her as “a magician with words” and has nominated her books for their Reviewers’ Choice Awards and their “Top Pick” slot. In 2012 Sarah received the prestigious RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America. She lives near London with her family. Find out more at www.sarahmorgan.com.

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘The Persians teach their sons, between the ages of five and twenty, only three things: to ride a horse, use a bow and speak the truth.’

      —from The Histories by Herodotus, Greek historian, about 484-425 BC

      ‘SHH, DON’T MAKE a sound.’ Layla slammed her hand over her sister’s mouth. ‘I can hear them coming. They mustn’t find us.’

      She wished she’d had time to find a better hiding place. Behind the long velvet curtains in her father’s private rooms hardly seemed like an obvious place for concealment, and yet she knew in some ways this was the safest place. No one would think to look for the princesses here. They were never allowed in his bedroom. Not even today, on the day of his death.

      But Layla had wanted to see for herself that the man who’d called himself her father lay cold and still in his bed and wasn’t about to leap up and commit some other sin against her or her sister. She’d stood there, hidden by the curtain, and heard him seal her fate with his dying breath. His last words hadn’t expressed regret for a life misspent. There had been no demand to see his daughters, nor even a request to pass on a loving message to make up for years of cold neglect. No apology for all


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