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The sheikh's chosen wife(21)

By:Michelle Reid


Glancing outwards, Leona saw Port Said sprawling out in front of them  like a vast industrial estate. It was not the prettiest of views to have  with your breakfast, even though they seemed to have got the best of  the berths, moored way off to one side in a separate harbour that looked  as if it was reserved for the luxury private crafts.

'And the rest of our guests?' she enquired next, aware that she probably should have asked about them first.

'Either still asleep or breakfasting in their suites.'

Mentioning sleep had a knock-on effect on him, and in the next moment  Rafiq was stifling a yawn. It was only then that Leona recalled his  slick retreat from the fray the evening before.

'Up all night?' The spike was back in her voice.

He didn't reply, but the rueful way his mouth tilted suddenly made her  think of Spanish dancers. 'I hope she was good.' She took a tart stab in  the dark.

'Delightful.' He smiled. It was yet another blow to her fragile ego that  her one solid ally had deserted her last night for another woman.  'Here,' he said gently, and began to pour her out a cup of tea. 'Maybe  this will help soothe your acid little tongue.'

Something needed to, Leona silently admitted as she picked up the cup.  She had never felt so uptight and anxious, and it all was down to Hassan  and surprises she did not want and people she did not want to be with  and a marriage she did not-

The slightly sweet scent of Earl Grey suddenly turned her stomach. She  must have gone pale because Rafiq began frowning. 'What is the matter?'  he demanded.

'I think the milk must be off,' she explained, hastily putting the cup back on its saucer then pushing it away.

The sickly sensation left her almost as suddenly as it had hit. Problem  solved in her mind, she wasn't convinced when Rafiq picked up the jug to  sniff at the milk and announced, 'It seems fine to me.'                       
       
           



       

But he rose anyway and went to replace the milk with fresh from the  cartons kept in the refrigerator situated just inside the salon. Then  Hassan appeared and the incident was forgotten because, after dropping a  kiss on her forehead, he went to pull out the chair next to Rafiq, who  was just returning to the table with the fresh jug of milk. For a moment  Leona was held captivated by how much alike the two men were. Even  their clothes were similar, only Hassan wore beige chinos and a black  tee shirt.

Men of beauty no matter what clothes they were wore, she mused a trifle  breathlessly, knowing that she would be hard put to it to find two more  perfect specimens. So why do I love them both so differently? she asked  herself as she watched them sit down. Life would certainly have been a  whole lot simpler if she'd fallen in love with Rafiq instead of Hassan.  No strict calls to duty, no sheikhdom to rule, no onus to produce the  next son and heir to his vast power and untold fortune.

But she loved Rafiq as a brother, not as a lover-just as he loved her as  a sister. Plus, he had his mysterious dancer, she added wryly, as she  poured herself another cup of tea in a clean cup, then reached for a  slice of toast.

'You look pale. What's wrong?' Glancing up, she found Hassan's eyes were narrowed on her profile.

'She hates surprises.' Rafiq offered a reply.

'Ah. So I am out of favour,' Hassan drawled. 'Like the milk and the  butter...' he added with the sharp eyes that should have been gold, like  a falcon's, not a bottomless black that made her feel as if she could  sink right into them and never have to come back out again.

'The milk was off, it turned my stomach, so I decided not to risk it or  the butter,' she said, explaining the reason why she was sipping clear  tea and nibbling on a piece of dry toast.

Keeping dairy produce fresh was an occupational hazard in hot climates,  so Hassan didn't bother to question her answer-though Leona did a moment  later when a pot of fresh coffee arrived for Hassan and the aroma sent  her stomach dipping all over again.

Hassan saw the way she pushed her plate away and sat back in the chair  with the paleness more pronounced, and had to ask himself if her pallor  was more to do with anxiety than a problem with the milk. Maybe he  should not be teasing her like this. Maybe no surprise, no matter how  pleasant was going to merit putting her through yet more stress. He  glanced at his watch. Ten more minutes. Was it worth him hanging on that  long?

'You look stunning,' he murmured.

She turned her head, her wonderful hair floating out around her  sun-kissed shoulders and the perfect heart-shape of her face. Her eyes  were like emeralds, to match the one she wore on her finger, glowing  with a passion she could never quite subdue no matter how low she was  feeling. Kiss me, her small, soft, slightly sulky mouth seemed to say.

'I am de trop.' Rafiq broke through the moment and rose to his feet. 'I  will go and awaken Samir and drag him to the gym for an hour before I  allow him breakfast.'

Neither bothered to answer even if they heard him, which Rafiq seriously  doubted as he went to leave. Then a sound beyond the canvas awning  caught his attention, diverting him towards the rail. A car was coming  down the concrete quay towards them, its long black sleekly expensive  lines giving him a good idea as to who was inside it.

This time he made sure he commanded attention by lightly touching  Hassan's shoulder. 'Your surprise is arriving,' he told him, then left  as Hassan stirred himself and Leona blinked herself back from wherever  she had gone to.

Getting up, Hassan went to capture one of her hands and urged her out of  her chair. 'Come,' he said, and keeping hold of her hand walked them  down the stairs, across the foyer, out onto the shade deck and to the  rail beside the gangway, just in time to watch a beautiful creature with  pale blonde hair step out of the car and onto the quayside.

Beside him he felt Leona's breath catch on a gasp, felt the pulse in her  wrist begin to race. 'Evie,' she whispered. 'And Raschid,' she added as  Sheikh Raschid Al-Kadah uncoiled his long lean body out of the car.

'They're sailing with us?' Now her eyes were shining with true pleasure,  Hassan noted with deep satisfaction. Now she was looking at him as if  he was the most wonderful guy in the world, instead of the most painful  to be around.

'Will their presence make your miserable lot easier to bear?'

Her reply was swift and uninhibited. She fell upon him with a kiss he  would have given half of his wealth for. Though it did not need wealth,  only the appearance of her closest friend and conspirator against  these-arrogant Arabian men, as she and Evie liked to call Raschid and  himself.

'After six years, I would have expected the unrestrained passion to have  cooled a little,' a deep smooth, virtually accent-free voice mocked  lazily.                       
       
           



       

'Says the man with his son clutched in one arm and his daughter cradled in the other,' mocked a lighter, drier voice.

Son and daughter. Hassan stiffened in shock, for he had not expected the  Al-Kadahs to bring along their children on this cruise. Leona, on the  other hand, was pulling away from him, turning away from him-hiding away  from him? Had his pleasant surprise turned into yet another disaster?  He turned to see what she was seeing and felt his chest tighten so  fiercely it felt as if it was snapping in two. For there stood Raschid,  as proud as any man could be, with his small son balanced on his arm  while the beautiful Evie was in the process of gently relieving him of  his small pink three-month-old daughter.

They began walking up the gangway towards them, and it was his worst  nightmare unfolding before his very eyes, because there were tears in  Leona's as she went to meet them. Real tears-bright tears when she  looked down at the baby then up at Evangeline Al-Kadah before, with  aching description, she simply took the other woman in her arms and held  her.

Raschid was watching them, smiling, relaxed while he waited a few steps  down the gangway for them to give him room to board the boat. He saw  nothing painful in Leona's greeting, nor the way she broke away to  gently touch a finger to the baby girl's petal soft cheek.

'I didn't know,' she was saying softly to Evie. 'Last time I saw you, you weren't even pregnant!'

'A lot can happen in a year,' Raschid put in dryly, bringing Leona's attention his way.

The tableau shifted. Evie moved to one side to allow her husband to step  onto the deck so he could put his son to the ground, leaving his arms  free to greet Leona properly. 'And aren't you just as proud as a  peacock?' She laughed, defying the Arab male-female don't-touch  convention by going straight into Raschid's arms.

What was wrong with Hassan? Leona wondered, realising that he hadn't  moved a single muscle to come and greet their latest guests She caught  his eve over one of Raschid's broad shoulder , sent him a frowning look  that told him to pull himself together By the time he was greeting Evie  Leona was squatting down to say hello to the little boy who now clutched  his mother's skirt for safety Dark like his father golden-eyed like his  father The fates had been kind to these two people by allowing them to  produce a son in Raschid's image and a daughter who already looked as if  she was going to be a mirror of her mother.