The sheikh's chosen wife(19)

       
           



       

Sheikh Hassan ben Khalifa Al-Qadim and his wife the Sheikha Leona  Al-Qadim-bestowed upon her at her request, for the woman of Arabia  traditionally kept their father's name-were ready to formally receive  guests, whether those guests were friends or foes.

Raflq was their guardian, their protector, their most respected brother  and trusted friend. He possessed his own title, though he had never been  known to use it. He possessed the right to wear the gold bands of high  office, but no one had ever seen them circling his head. His power rode  on the back of his indifference to anything that did not interest him.  His threat lay in the famed knowledge that he would lay down his life  for these two people standing in front of him, plus the father he loved  without question.

His presence here, therefore, made its own loud statement; come in friendship and be at peace; come in conflict and beware.

Why? Because the first person to tread the gangway onto the yacht was  Sheikh Abdul Al-Yasin and his wife, Zafina. Hassan and Rafiq knew that  Sheikh Abdul was behind the plot to abduct Leona, but the sheikh did not  know the brothers knew. Which was why he felt safe in taking the bait  handed out for this trip-namely a meeting of the chiefs during a cruise  on the Red Sea, in which his aim was to beat Hassan into submission  about this second wife he was being so stubborn in refusing.

What none of them knew was that Leona suspected it was Sheikh Abdul who  had planned her abduction. Because she knew about Nadira, his beautiful  daughter, who had been held up to her many times as the one chosen to  take that coveted place in Sheikh Hassan's life as his second wife.

'Ah-Hassan!' The two men greeted and shook hands pleasantly enough. 'You  will be pleased to know that I left your father in better sorts than of  late. I saw him this morning before I caught my flight to Cairo.'

T must thank you for keeping him company while we have been away,' Hassan replied.

'No thanks-no thanks.' Sheikh Abdul refused them, it was my  privilege-Leona...' He turned towards her next, though offered no  physical contact as was the Arab way. He bowed instead. 'You have been  away too long. It is good to see you here.'

'Thank you.' She found a smile, wished she dared search for the comfort  of Hassan's hand, but such shows of weakness would be pounced upon and  dissected when she was not there to hear it happen.

'Rafiq.' His nodded greeting was distinctly wary. 'You made a killing with your stock in Schuler-Kleef, I see.'

'My advice is usually sound, sir,' Rafiq replied respectfully. 'I take it you did not buy some for yourself?'

'I forgot.'

Through all of this, Sheikh Abdul's wife, Zaflna, stood back in total  silence, neither stepping forward to follow the line of introduction nor  attempting to remind her husband of her presence. It was such a  quiescent stance, one that Leona had grown used to from the women of  Rahman when they were out in the company of their men.

But it was a quiescence that usually only lasted as long as it took them  to be alone with the other women. Then the real personalities shot out  to take you by surprise. Some were soft and kind, some cold and remote,  some alive with fun. Zafina was a woman who knew how to wield her power  from within the female ranks and had no hesitation in doing so if it  furthered her own particular cause. It was due to her clever  machinations that her son had married another sheikh's most favoured  daughter.

She'd had Hassan marked for her daughter, Nadira, from the day the child  had been born. Therefore, in her eyes, she had every reason to dislike  Leona. And, tranquil though she might appear right now, Leona could feel  resentment flowing towards her in waves.

'Zafina.' She stepped forward, deciding to take the polite stand. 'You  are well, I trust? Thank you for taking time out of your busy life to  join us here.'

'The pleasure is all mine, Sheikha,' the older woman replied. But then  her husband was listening and so was the coveted Sheikh Hassan. 'You  have lost weight, I think. But Sheikh Khalifa tells me you have been  sick?'

Someone had told her at any rate, but Leona suspected it was not  Hassan's father. Thankfully other guests began to arrive. Sheikh Jibril  Al-Mahmud and his timid wife, Medina, who looked to her husband before  she dared so much as breathe.

Sheikh Imran Al-Mukhtar and his youngest son, Samir, arrived next. Like a  light at the end of a tunnel, Samir put the first genuine smile on  everyone's face because he broke right through every stiff convention  being performed in the yacht's foyer, and headed directly for Leona. 'My  princess!' he greeted, picked her up in his arms then swung her around.

'Put her down,' his father censured. 'Rafiq has that glint in his eye.'

'Not Hassan?' Samir questioned quizzically.

'Hassan knows what belongs to him, Raflq is merely over-protective. And everyone else simply disapproves of your loose ways.'                       
       
           



       

And there it was, tied up in one neat comment, Hassan noted as he  watched Leona laugh down into Samir's handsome young face. Al-Qadim and  Al-Mukhtar set apart from Al-Mahmud and Al-Yasin. It promised to be an  interesting trip. For the first time in two weeks they used the formal  dining room on the deck above. White-liveried stewards served them  through many courses, and the conversation around the table was pleasant  and light, mainly due to Samir, who refused to allow the other men to  sink into serious discussion, and even the other women unbent beneath  his boyish charm.

But Leona was quiet. From his end of the table Hassan watched her speak  when spoken to, smiling in all the right places. He watched her play the  perfect hostess in that easy, unassuming way he remembered well, where  everyone's needs were predicted and met before they knew they were  missing something. But occasionally, when she thought no one was  attending her, he watched the corners of her mouth droop with short  releases of the tension she was experiencing.

Sad. Her eyes were sad. He had hurt her with his dripping-tap method of  feeding information to her. Now here she sat, having to pretend  everything was perfect between them, when really she wanted to kill him  for waiting until the last minute to spring all of this.

His heart clenched when he caught sight of her impulsive grin as she  teasingly cuffed Samir for saying something outrageous. She had not  laughed with him like that since the first night they'd been together  again. No matter how much she had smiled, played, teased-loved  him-during the last two weeks, he had been aware of an inner reserve  that told him he no longer had all of her. Her spirit was missing, he  named it grimly. It had been locked away out of his reach.

I love you, he wanted to tell her. But loving did not mean much to a  woman who felt that she was trapped between a rock and a hard place.

A silence suddenly reigned. It woke him up from his own thoughts to  notice that Leona was staring down at the plate in front of her and  Samir had frozen in dismay. What had he missed? What had been said?  Muscles began tightening all over him. Rafiq was looking at him for  guidance. His skin began to crawl with the horrible knowledge that he  had just missed something supremely important, and he could not think of  a single thing to say!

His half-brother took the initiative by coming to his feet. 'Leona, you  will understand if I beg to leave you now,' he petitioned as smooth as  silk, while Hassan, who knew him better than anyone, could see him  almost pulsing with rage.

Leona's head came up as, with a flickering blink of her lashes, she made  the mammoth effort to puD herself together. 'Oh, yes, of course,  Rafiq,' she replied, having absolutely no idea, Hassan was sure, why  Rafiq was excusing himself halfway through dinner, and at this precise  moment she didn't care. It was a diversion. She needed the diversion. It  should have been himself who provided it.

'I need a word before you leave,' he said to Rafiq, and got to his feet.  'Samir, do the honours and replenish my wife's glass with wine.'

The poor young man almost leapt at the wine bottle, relieved to have  something to do. As Rafiq walked past Hassan, with a face like fury,  Hassan saw Leona reach out and gently touch Samir's hand, as if to  assure him that everything was all right.

'What did I miss in there?' he rapped out at Rafiq as soon as they were out of earshot.

'If I did not like Samir I would strangle him,' Rafiq responded harshly.  'Leona asked him how his mother was. He went into a long and humorous  story about her sitting in wait for his sister to give birth. Leona  dealt with that. She even laughed in all the right places. But then the  fool had to suggest it was time that she produced your son and heir.'

'He cannot have known what he was saying,' Hassan said.

'It was not the question which threw Leona, it was the resounding  silence that followed it and the bleak expression upon your face! Where  were you man?' Rafiq wanted to know. It was so rare that he used that  tone with Hassan, that the censure in it carried twice the weight.