Пиппа Роско – Reclaimed By The Powerful Sheikh (страница 1)
“The past will never be forgotten.”
And his request won’t be denied...
Ten years ago, Mason McAulty was swept into an overwhelming affair with Prince Danyl Al Arain—which ended tragically. Now Danyl has arrived at her struggling Australian farm with a million-dollar demand to attend his royal gala. She cannot refuse—or deny their still-burning fire. As memories pull Mason back into the arms of the sheikh, will their secret pain be overcome by their intense desire?
PIPPA ROSCOE lives in Norfolk near her family and makes daily promises to herself that
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Reclaimed by the Powerful Sheikh
Pippa Roscoe
ISBN: 978-1-474-08797-1
RECLAIMED BY THE POWERFUL SHEIKH
© 2019 Pippa Roscoe
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Contents
Note to Readers
MASON MCAULTY COULDN’T tell if she was breathing.
It was highly likely, an automatic physical directive obeyed by her body through necessity, but often during a race she didn’t have the time to remind herself to do it. But then, often during a race she didn’t have unwanted thoughts intruding on her mind. Usually her mind was like a cool stream running quick and clear. Not this time. Mason should be focused on the horse beneath her, not the man from her past—the man in her present—the man she wanted to run from. Danyl.
She stopped short the shiver of ache that vibrated within her chest from thoughts of what might have been before it could take hold. Before it could synchronise with the rhythm of the pounding of horses’ hooves and overwhelm her. She shoved the thought away and focused on the invisible line halfway round the racetrack, beyond a corner that was coming up. Very quickly.
The burn in her thighs, holding her just above Veranchetti’s spine, felt good. Felt right. Sound in her ears was nothing but an unending roar. Her knees, absorbing the undulations of the horse beneath her. Hooves thundering in place of a heartbeat. For her. For Veranchetti. They were perfectly in time with each other.
This.
Mason could have been riding for hours, years even, but it had only been seconds. Perhaps only as long as a minute. But it was the last eighteen months that condensed into this moment. Nothing else mattered, but everything mattered. She had to win this race. For her father. For herself. For everything that she’d been through and everything that she would go through.
With ruthless focus, Mason blocked out the thoughts, blocked out the sight of the horse in front of her, the one beside her and the many behind her. She blinkered her vision, just like Veranchetti, as they came to the last corner on the flat race.