At the Sheikh's Bidding(4)

Zahir  spun round and raked a hand through his hair. Hell, she was an    unforeseen complication he could do without, he thought furiously. On    the other side of the world an old and heartbroken man was waiting to    greet his grandson. He had promised his father he would bring Faisal's    son to Qubbah, and he would not fail him. But clearly the situation was    not as straightforward as he had assumed. He knew without conceit  that   he was a brilliant businessman and a shrewd tactician, feared and    revered in the boardroom, but for the first time in his life he was  at a   loss to know what to do next, and he hated the feeling.                       
       
           



       

‘I can't  believe you thought you could just turn up here and whisk a    three-year-old child off to another country, when he doesn't even know    you,' Erin threw at him. ‘Kazim is little more than a baby, for  heaven's   sake, who has just lost his father. Didn't it occur to you  that he   would be terrified at being dragged off by a complete  stranger?'

‘I  was not going to drag him anywhere,' Zahir snapped, stung by her    criticism. ‘I came here alone today, rather than with my usual team of    staff, so that he would have a chance to get to know me. My brother  must   have known I would come for him once I learned of his existence,'  he   added harshly. ‘I assumed Kazim's nanny had been instructed to  continue   caring for him until I arrived. I have already employed a  highly   qualified and experienced nanny to take charge of him in  Qubbah.'

Fear  gripped Erin, and her confusion intensified, but she hid both   emotions.  ‘Well, I'm sorry you've had a wasted journey,' she said,   forcing  herself to sound calm. ‘But Faisal made it clear that he wanted   Kazim to  grow up in England-with me. He asked me to adopt Kazim, and I   was happy  to do so.'

‘In that case, why did he make no mention of you in his letter?'

Zahir had voiced the question that Erin could not answer, but she was saved from having to try when Gordon Straker stood up.

‘I'm  sorry to interrupt, but it looks as though the weather is getting    worse, and I have a train to catch,' he said apologetically. He was    already pulling on his coat, glancing worriedly out of the window at the    heavy sky that warned snow was likely to continue falling for many    hours yet. ‘Erin, if you need my advice at all … ' He hesitated and turned    his eyes briefly to Zahir before moving them back to Erin. ‘Please    contact me at my London office, any time.' He walked towards the door,    but paused when Zahir spoke sharply.

‘Are you sure there is  nothing in the will about the child? No clause   stipulating who should  care for Kazim-no financial provision made for   him?'

‘No,' the  solicitor replied simply. ‘Your brother left everything to   Erin-in the  expectation, I imagine, that she would provide for Kazim.'

‘Which  I will,' Erin burst out fiercely, infuriated at Zahir's plainly    sceptical expression. ‘I love Kazim as if he was my own child.'

‘Really?'  Zahir swung away from her and gave a harsh laugh. Erin   sounded  convincing, but he found it impossible to believe that she was   prepared  to devote her life to a child who was not her own flesh and   blood out of  love. Not when his own mother had abandoned him.


He had  barely given his mother a thought for the past decade, Zahir   realised  with a jolt. Georgina had been his father's second wife, an   American  who, according to his three older half-sisters, had found it   difficult  to settle to the life of strict protocol demanded of wife to   the King of  Qubbah. Zahir had not known that, and as a young boy he  had  simply  accepted her frequent trips back to the US and waited   impatiently for  her to return to the palace. But when he was eleven she   had not  returned, and he'd never seen her or spoken to her again.

His  father had explained that she was busy looking after her sick   mother and  couldn't come back. Zahir had missed her desperately, and   for a long  time after she had gone he had kept her silk robe hidden   beneath his  pillow and wept into it every night. But when he was   fourteen he learned  the truth-that she had refused to live in Qubbah   any longer and had  accepted a huge financial settlement from his father   in return for not  seeking custody of her only son.

She had sold him-and he had  never cried again after he'd found out, nor   spared her another thought.  But he had learned a valuable lesson  about  love and trust, Zahir  conceded bitterly-a lesson that had been   reinforced six years ago, when  he had been betrayed by the only other   woman he had ever loved.

Noises  from beyond the library door catapulted him back to the present:   the  sound of a child crying mingled with a distinctive, broad   Yorkshire  accent. A moment later the door was flung open and a woman   appeared with  a hysterical toddler her arms.

‘Sorry to disturb you.' She  addressed Erin, oblivious to the tension in   the room. ‘But Kazim has  banged his head on the kitchen table. You   know how he runs everywhere.  Look, there's a lump the size of an egg   come up on his forehead, but he  won't let me console him-he wants you.'

Quickly Erin held out her  arms and took the sobbing child from the   cook, her heart clenching when  he wrapped his arms around her neck and   burrowed close. ‘Shh, it's all  right, darling. Let me look at your   head.' She brushed his dark curls  off his brow and inspected the livid   bruise, before applying the ice  pack Alice had handed her. ‘That's   quite a bump you've got there, but  there's no real harm done.'                       
       
           



       

Kazim's sobs gradually subsided as  she cuddled him. He smelled   deliciously of soap and baby powder, and the  intensity of her love for   him squeezed her heart like a giant fist. She  had adored him since he   was three months old, and nothing would ever  make her give him up, she   vowed fiercely. But when she glanced up and  saw Faisal's brother   watching her, with his dark, forbidding gaze, she  was filled with a   sense of foreboding.

Alice heaved a sigh of  relief. ‘Kazim's a little daredevil,' she   cheerfully informed the two  men. ‘He's always running and climbing, and   he's constantly getting into  mischief. Erin has her work cut out,   looking after him.'

Erin saw Zahir frown and groaned silently. Thanks, Alice-that's a real help.

‘Shouldn't you seek medical advice for his head injury?' he queried coldly.

Kazim  was squirming in her arms, wanting to get down and clearly none   the  worse for his accident. ‘He's fine,' Erin said tersely. ‘He's a   lively  three year-old, for goodness' sake, I can't keep him wrapped in   cotton  wool. I'm a fully trained nanny and qualified in first-aid,'  she   continued, when Zahir looked unconvinced. ‘I'm perfectly capable  of   looking after him.'

She lifted her chin and her eyes clashed with  his cold, faintly   contemptuous gaze. She hated his arrogance, but she  could not look away   from him. As she watched heat flared in those dark  depths, and for a   split second raw, sexual hunger gleamed beneath his  heavy brows before   his thick lashes fell, concealing his thoughts.


Shaken, she glanced at Gordon Straker, who was edging towards the door. ‘Erin, I'm sorry, but I really must … '

‘Yes,  of course.' Making a swift decision, she set Kazim down and   turned to  Alice. ‘Will you keep an eye on him while I see Mr Straker   out?'

She  hurried across the hall after the solicitor, and stopped him as he   was  about to open the front door. ‘Mr Straker, when did Faisal give  you  the  letter he instructed you to send to his brother after his  death?  Was it  when he married me?' she queried huskily.