***
Sebastian looked down the ballroom length and didn’t see Etienne. Suddenly he spotted him speaking with Luc in a far corner of the ballroom.
He moved quickly and even as Etienne acknowledged something that was being said, Sebastian drew back and slammed his fist into his friend’s face. There was a cry and many astonished glances, and the orchestra grinded to a halt. There were murmured cries as people nearest them turned to stare at the two men.
Etienne had seen his friend coming toward him and knew by the speed and his face that something was not right. When Sebastian drew back, he knew with certainty that Leila had told him everything.
He fell back into the wall and tasted blood and knew his lip had been split.
For several moments the two men stared at each other. Sebastian flexed his hand, knowing he was bleeding. Etienne licked his lip and tasted blood.
“My parents are here and my father wants to speak with you.” He growled at him.
Etienne looked around him and apologized before he followed his friend to the library, while the orchestra began again amidst the many whispers and glances turned their way.
As Etienne entered the library, he held a handkerchief to his lip. When Leila saw his bleeding mouth she sprang up from the sofa.
“You animal!” she cried out to her brother.
“Be quiet, Leila,” Katharine admonished her daughter.
Etienne saw Leila and felt nothing but pure relief, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He almost smiled. There would be no more deceit and no more pretend.
“I am Sheik Mohammed Aksam Al Sabid. This is my wife, Katharine,” Mohammed said, introducing himself to the young man.
“I am Etienne Pousson. Madame, monsieur.” He greeted Leila’s parents and admired them for their regal bearing.
“We have a problem, Monsieur Pousson. I sent my daughter to Paris for culture and she has received a little too much, oui?” Mohammed began in French.
Sebastian and Katharine kept out of the conversation while Leila watched everything intently.
“Monsieur. I am to blame completely. You must be aware of how beautiful Leila is. I quite lost my head,” he explained.
“No! That’s not true.” Leila interrupted. “It was me—”
In rapid Arabic, everyone began speaking at once.
Katharine and Mohammed both told Leila to be quiet while Sebastian helped himself to a large brandy. Leila in turn responded again that she loved him, but kept silent.
Etienne did not understand the language and waited until everyone settled.
“My daughter has been spoiled, I fear.” Mohammed spoke quietly.
“She is all things lovely,” Etienne whispered as he placed his handkerchief in his coat pocket.
Leila smiled as Katharine watched the two together. She knew her daughter was in love, but what of the Frenchman?
“So we come to your intentions, monsieur.” Mohammed began. “I know what my daughter has told me. I know what she wants. And you?”
Etienne looked over at Leila sitting upon the couch and smiled. This time he allowed his wide smile.
“I love her,” he told Mohammed as his eyes met hers. “I love you, Leila. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid. But I do.”
Leila jumped up and went into his arms. “I love you too, Etienne.”
Mohammed looked over their heads at his wife. He shook his head and pointed at her and mouthed the words “your fault” to her.
She rolled her eyes.
“I must speak with your father. Together we will decide on the next step,” Mohammed informed him. “But I am not against marriage if that is what everyone desires.”
“Thank you, Baba,” Leila told her father quietly.
She smiled at Etienne and Katharine was content. They were in love.
Etienne reached out his hand to Sebastian. “Merci, mon ami. I don’t think I ever would have been happy in this life without her. I have you to thank.”
Sebastian shook his hand and followed the couple out. If his parents were happy and Leila was to be married, what could he do but be happy as well?
“I entirely blame your side of the family for this mess,” Mohammed told his wife as he sat beside her.
“Our daughter Margaret is married and has a family in England,” Katharine replied. “There was no mess there.”
“Perhaps.”
“And if all goes well, our daughter Isabelle will take vows with the religious order here in France,” Katharine said.
“Hmmm.” Mohammed said. He was not at all certain that a religious life was the best path for his very serious and lovely middle daughter.
“If Leila is happy and in love and he loves her, that is all that matters,” Katharine told her husband.
“Yes, princess. But Leila was never the one I worried about,” he said, shaking his head.