The Sheik's Son(67)

“They want to see you.” There was no need to define “they” as both siblings had seen their parents.

Leila shook her head. “Sebastian, please.” She began to speak in Arabic.

“Leila, come.” He frowned at her refusal. “Now.”

It was no secret that Leila was their father’s favorite daughter, resembling her mother in appearance with a fiery disposition. She had been doted on at the palace and it was thought by many that she had been given too much freedom for a girl.

Once inside the small library, their family reunion   was complete. Outside, the orchestra played and people mingled with champagne and food, but inside the library Leila faced her parents. Katharine was again seated on the sofa as Mohammed stood near the fire.

“Leila,” Katharine began.

“Hello, Mother. Father.”

Mohammed nodded only briefly.

“Leila. We sent you here to receive culture. To enjoy yourself,” her mother said. Although not entirely true with Leila’s mishap in Arabia, Katharine had hoped that Paris would broaden her horizons.

“What has happened?” Katharine asked her.

“Nothing, mother.” She looked at the floor.

Sebastian watched everything as if he had stumbled into an Italian comedy. He felt strange and ill at ease. His sister was behaving strangely and his parents seemed to know something he did not.

“Nothing?” Katharine prodded her and patted the sofa next to her and Leila complied.

“I love him,” she whispered.

“Oh, Allah,” sighed Mohammed but Katharine ignored him.

Sebastian shook his head in confusion. What was going on here?

“And he? Does he love you?” Katharine asked.

“I believe he does,” Leila said.

Mohammed turned sharply and came to stand before the two seated women. “Leila. I sent you here to be with your brother. To see Paris. I always intended for you to come back and marry an Arab.” He spoke quickly in Arabic.

“No.” She shook her head. “I do not care for Arab men. They are too bossy. There are not to my liking.”

Katharine hid a smile while Mohammed looked at his daughter. “How far has this gone?”

“What do you mean?” Leila squeaked.

Mohammed reached down and jerked his daughter up to stand in front of him. “How far?”

Leila pinkened under his gaze as Katharine admonished her husband. “Mohammed, stop it.”

“So you are in love. And no longer a virgin,” Mohammed assessed.

Leila blushed at his words. “Father, please.”

“And what if he doesn’t want you? What if you were just convenient? You know nothing of men. And Frenchmen are the worst.” Mohammed cursed.

Leila felt the tears. “No,” she whispered.

“For God’s sakes! What is going on?!” Sebastian yelled. “Will someone please explain why you are here with no word in the middle of a ball?”

Katharine smoothed her ice-blue silk gown with her hands. “Your sister wrote to me. It seems she is in love. We came to assess the situation. As to the ball, your housekeeper told us where you both were.”

Mohammed released Leila and said. “It seems your sister was getting more of an education than you realized here in Paris.”

“What?” Sebastian asked, astonished.

“Father!” Leila yelped. “I’m in love, Bash,” she told her brother quietly.

“Yes. She’s in love. And she’s given her virginity to him,” Mohammed said angrily.

“How is my falling in love any different than what happened with you two?” she fired back to her parents. “You were a harem girl!” he accused her mother.

Katharine gave her daughter a withering look. “I was never a harem girl! I was a-a bather.”

Mohammed tried to hide his own smile as he well remembered her bathing.

“In love? What?” Sebastian was more confused than ever, trying to catch up with this absurd conversation.

“I’m in love with Etienne,” Leila explained to him.

It took a moment for the words to sink in and then he remembered it all. All the times she had spent with his friend and now his friend had taken advantage of his innocent, sweet sister. He saw red and knew that the family honor must be avenged.

“Jesus,” he swore. In a moment he was out the door while Leila cried out to stop him.

“No.” Her father held her back. “This is how things must be dealt with. You handled everything wrong. Honor is at stake. A man can never dishonor a woman without consequences.”

Katharine agreed. “Sebastian must right your wrong.”

“But it was my fault,” she cried.

“I can well believe that,” Mohammed murmured.