At the Sheikh's Bidding(5)

‘Oh, no, it was about a  month before he died. Until then I hadn't known   Faisal had any family,  and I see that the revelation has come as a   shock to you too,' he added  gently.

Erin bit her lip, feeling a sudden urge to confide in the  kindly   solicitor. ‘From the moment Faisal learned that he was dying he  was   desperate to secure Kazim's future,' she explained urgently. ‘I've    cared for him since he was three months old. Faisal's wife died as a    result of complications while giving birth, and when Faisal's illness    was diagnosed a year ago he asked me to marry him to make it easier for    me to adopt Kazim. He told me he had no other family and he didn't  want   Kazim to grow up in care-like I had.'

She hated talking about her  past, and dropped her gaze from Gordon   Straker's face as she continued  in a low voice, ‘My mother was a drug   addict, who died when I was ten,  and I spent the rest of my childhood   in the care of Social Services. I  was a troubled teenager, and I don't   know where I would be now if I  hadn't been fostered-maybe working the   streets to pay for my next fix  like my mother,' she confessed thickly.   ‘My foster father worked here at  Ingledean, as a gardener, and when   Faisal came here with his baby son  he employed me as Kazim's nanny.   Despite my background he knew I would  love and protect Kazim as if he   was my own child.'

She was hurt  that Faisal had not been honest with her. He did have a   family, and just  before he'd died he had made the decision to tell them   he had a son.  Had he done so because he had begun to doubt her   abilities to be a good  mother to Kazim? Had he decided that he wanted   his estranged family to  be involved in the little boy's upbringing   after all?

All her old  doubts and insecurities rose up inside her, but Gordon   Straker opened  the front door and a blast of icy wind whipped into the   hall, snapping  Erin out of her reverie.

The solicitor gave her a sympathetic  smile. ‘You are Kazim's adoptive   mother, Erin,' he said gently, ‘and no  one can take him from you. Only   you can decide if it would be in his  best interests to have some   contact with his family in Qubbah.'

He  turned up the collar of his coat and stepped into the snow, but   paused  to glance back at her. ‘I've done a little investigating, and   from what  I've heard Sheikh Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir is an astute   businessman  and a risk-taker, respected on the world markets for his   brilliance and  daring. He is a man who is used to having his own way,   and who pursues  his goals with a ruthless determination, yet at the   same time many  people find him incredibly charming and   persuasive-particularly women.'  He gave a faint smile at her sudden   heightened colour. ‘All I'm saying  is-tread carefully, Erin,' Gordon   Straker warned softly, ‘and don't let  him bully you, my dear.'                       
       
           



       

‘Don't worry, I won't,' Erin replied fiercely.

But  as she flew back across the hall to the library, where she had left   the  Sheikh with her son, a shiver of trepidation ran through her. The    moment she had seen Zahir she had been mesmerised by his spectacular    looks and powerful sexual magnetism. The man spelt danger, and the    predatory gleam she'd glimpsed in his dark eyes warned her to be on her    guard.






CHAPTER TWO




ZAHIR  turned away from the window and the uninspiring view of   snow-covered  moors and found Kazim staring up at him, his   chocolate-brown eyes wide  with curiosity. Slowly he knelt down, so that   he was on level with the  toddler's gaze, and pain tugged in his  chest.  The little boy bore a  marked resemblance to both his parents,  and the  sight of his small,  lively face and impish grin made the  tragedy of  Faisal and Maryam's  untimely deaths seem even more  poignant.

The anger and bitterness  that had eaten away at Zahir for six long   years released its grip on  his heart and was replaced by a new emotion   that was unexpectedly  fierce. Love-pure and uncomplicated-flooded   through him, and he reached  out and stroked Kazim's cheek with fingers   that shook slightly.

Faisal's  little son was an orphan, but he would never feel alone or   unloved. He,  Zahir, would make sure of that. Because of his stubborn   pride he had  left it too late to be reconciled with his brother, but he   would love  his nephew as if he were his own child. Kazim belonged in   Qubbah, and  nothing would prevent Zahir from taking him home.

His mind turned  briefly to Faisal's second wife and he dismissed her   with a shrug. Erin  was an inconvenience he would have to deal with. For   now he focused all  his attention on his brother's son.

‘He seems tall for a three-year-old,' he commented to the cook, who had settled her generous frame into an armchair by the fire.

‘Oh,  he is-and strong,' she agreed cheerfully. ‘He's strong-willed too.    Kazim's an adorable child, but he knows his own mind. Sometimes Erin    struggles to cope with his temper tantrums, especially at bath-time.'

Zahir frowned. ‘What do you mean-struggles? Does she lose her temper with him?'

Kazim  was a sturdy toddler, but he had been left alone in the world   since his  father's death, totally dependent on Erin's care. Who was   this woman  Faisal had entrusted with his son? Erin had said that she   loved Kazim  but he, Zahir, was linked to Kazim by blood, and a wave of    protectiveness swept through him.

‘Heavens, no.' Alice shook her  head. ‘Erin is wonderfully patient with   him. She really does think of  him as her own child-and, after all,   she's the only mother he's ever  known.'

The cook's words were unwelcome, and Zahir's frown  deepened, but when   he glanced up his features were schooled into a  disarming smile. ‘I   understand that Erin married my brother a year ago,  but that she worked   for him before that?'

‘Yes. The master  employed her as Kazim's nanny soon after he moved into   Ingledean,' Alice  confirmed, opening up like a flower beneath Zahir's   full-on charm. ‘She  lived at the gate lodge with her foster parents,   but when they retired  and moved south to be near their son Erin moved   in here. She always  loved this house.' Alice's voice dropped. ‘After   Faisal died there was  some unpleasant gossip in the village that Erin   had persuaded him to  marry her by promising to take care of Kazim   because she wanted to  inherit Ingledean.' She snorted. ‘All rubbish, of   course-Erin doesn't  have a mercenary bone in her body-but some folk   are so mean-minded, and  they dug up all that about her past … '

The cook looked suddenly uncomfortable, and Zahir demanded sharply, ‘What about her past?'

‘Oh,  it was nothing,' Alice assured him quickly. ‘Erin had an unhappy    childhood, and as a teenager she ended up in trouble with the law. It    was a minor offence, I understand. I don't know much about it.' Alice    trailed to a halt, clearly embarrassed that she had allowed her tongue    to run away with her. ‘What I do know is that Faisal trusted Erin,'  she   said firmly, as she got to her feet and threw a log on the fire.  ‘And   although they might not have had a normal marriage, they were  very fond   of each other.'


In what way had his brother's marriage not  been normal? Zahir wondered   curiously. He wanted to force some more  answers from the cook, but   Alice was looking pink-cheeked and flustered,  and with an effort he   restrained his impatience. He would phone his  personal assistant,   Omran, as soon as possible, and instruct him to  research Erin's   background. He had grown up in a royal palace where  intrigue and gossip   were rife, but he knew from experience that even the  wildest rumours   often contained grains of truth. Omran's diligence was  next to none,   and if there were any skeletons in Faisal's widow's  cupboard they would   soon be revealed, he thought grimly.