The sheikh's chosen wife(24)

           



       

'Come back here, Leona,' he commanded wearily.

'I regret ever agreeing to be here,' she answered huskily.

Husky meant tears. Tears made him want to curse for making a joke of  what they had been talking about when any fool would have known it was  no time for jokes! On yet another sigh he got out of the bed, then trod  in her footsteps and went to squat down in front of her.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'that this situation is so difficult for you. But  my father insisted that the family heads must talk to each other. I have  no will to refuse him because in truth his reasons are wise. You know 1  have no automatic right to succession. I must win the support of the  other family leaders.'

'Stop being so stubborn and just let me go and you would not have to win over anyone,' she pointed out.

'You know...' he grimaced '...I think you are wrong there. I think that  underneath all the posturing they want me to fight this battle and win,  to prove the strength of my resolve.'

She brushed a tear off her cheek. Hassan had wanted to do it for her,  but instinct was warning him not to. Tonight Zafina asked me outright if  I had any idea of the life I was condemning you to if I held onto a  marriage destined to have no children.'

His eyes flashed with raw anger, his lips pressing together on an urge  to spit out words that would make neither of them feel any better. But  he made a mental note that from tomorrow Leona went nowhere without  himself or Rafiq within hearing.

'And I saw your face, Hassan,' she went on unsteadily. 'I heard what  Abdul said to you and I know why he said it. So why are you being so  stubborn about something we both know is-'

He shut her up in the most effective way he knew. Mouth to mouth, tongue  to tongue, words lost in the heat of a much more productive form of  communication. She fought him for a few brief seconds, then lost the  battle when her flailing fingers made contact with his naked flesh.

He had no clothes on, she had too many, but flesh-warmed silk against  naked skin achieved a sensual quality he found very pleasurable as he  lifted her up and settled her legs around his hips.

'You are such an ostrich,' she threw into his face as he carried her  back to bed. 'How long do you think you can go on ignoring what-!'

He used the same method to shut her up again. By then he was standing by  the bed with her fingernails digging into his shoulders, her hair  surrounding him and her long legs clinging to his waist with no  indication that they were going to let go. If he tried for a horizontal  position he would risk hurting her while she held him like this.

So-who needed a bed? he thought with a shrug as his fingers found the  elastic waistband to her pyjama bottoms and pushed the silk far enough  down her thighs to gain him access to what he wanted the most. She  groaned as he eased himself into her, and the kiss deepened into  something else.

Fevered was what it was. Fevered and hot and a challenge to how long he  could maintain his balance as he stood there with his hands spanning her  slender buttocks, squeezing to increase the frictional pleasure, and no  way-no way- would he have believed three nights without doing this  could leave him so hungry. Twelve months without doing this had not  affected him as badly.

'You're shaking.'

She'd noticed. He wasn't surprised. He wasn't just shaking, he was out  of control, and he could no longer maintain this position without losing  his dignity as well as his mind. So he lowered her to the bed with as  much care as he could muster, pushed her hair from her face and stared  blackly into her eyes.

'You tell me how I deny myself this above all things?' he demanded.  'You, only you, can do this to me. It is only you I want to do it with."

The words were spoken between fierce kisses, between possessive thrusts  from his hips. Leona touched his face, touched his mouth, touched his  eyes with her eyes. 'I'm so very sorry,' she whispered tragically.

It was enough to drive an already driven man insane. He withdrew, got  up, swung away and strode into the bathroom, slammed shut the door then  turned to slam the flat of his palm against the nearest wall. Empty  silences after the loving he had learned to deal with, but tragic  apologies in the middle were one large step too far!

Why had she said it? She hadn't meant to say it! It was just one of  those painful little things that had slipped out because she had seen he  was hurting, and the look had reminded her of the look he had tried to  hide from her when she had been cuddling Hashim. Oh, what were they  doing to each other? Leona asked herself wretchedly. And scrambled to  her feet as the sickness she had been struggling with for days now came  back with a vengeance, leaving her with no choice but to make a run for  the bathroom with the hope that he hadn't locked the door.

With one hand over her mouth and the other trying to recover her  slipping pyjama bottoms, she reached the door just as it flew open to  reveal a completely different Hassan than the one who had stormed in  there only seconds ago.                       
       
           



       

'You may have your wish,' he informed her coldly. 'As soon as it is safe  for me to do so, I will arrange a divorce. Now I want nothing more to  do with you."

With that he walked away, having no idea that her only response was to  finish what she had been intending to do and make it to the toilet bowl  before she was sick.



CHAPTER EIGHT

Leona was asleep when Hassan let himself back into the room the next  morning. She was still asleep when, showered and dressed, he left the  room again half an hour later, and in a way he was glad.

He had spent the night stretched out on a lounger on the shade deck,  alternating between feeling angry enough to stand by every word he had  spoken and wanting to go back and retract what he had left hanging in  the air.

And even now, hours later, he was not ready to choose which way he was  going to go. He'd had enough of people tugging on his heartstrings; he'd  had enough of playing these stupid power games.

He met Raflq on his way up to the sun deck. 'Set up a meeting,' he said.  'Ten o'clock in my private office. We are going for broke.'

Rafiq sent him one of his steady looks, went to say something, changed his mind, and merely nodded his head.

Samir was already at the breakfast table, packing food away at a pace  that made Hassan feel slightly sick-a combination of no sleep and one  too many arguments, he told himself grimly.

Leona still hadn't put in an appearance by the time everyone else had  joined them and finished their breakfast. Motioning the steward over, he  instructed him to ring the suite.

'I'll go,' Evie offered, and got up, leaving her children to Raschid's capable care.

And he was capable. In fact it irritated Hassan how capable his friend  was at taking care of his two children. How did he run a Gulf state the  size of Behran and find time to learn how to deal with babies?

The sun was hot, the sky was blue and here he was, he acknowledged, sitting here feeling like a grey day in London.

'Hassan..."

'Hmm?' Glancing up, he realised that Sheikh Imran had been talking to him and he hadn't heard a single word that he had said.

'Rafiq tells us you have called a meeting for ten o'clock'

'Yes.' He glanced at his watch, frowned and stood up. 'If you will excuse me, this is the time I call my father."

To reach his office required him to pass by his suite door. It was  closed. He hesitated, wondering whether or not to go in and at least try  to make his peace. But Evie was in there, he remembered, and walked on,  grimly glad of the excuse not to have to face that particular problem  just now. For he had bigger fish to fry this morning.

Faysal was already in the office. 'Get my father on the phone for me,  Faysal,' he instructed. 'Then set the other room up ready for a  meeting.'

'It is to be today, sir?' Faysal questioned in surprise.

'Yes, today. In half an hour. My father, Faysal,' he prompted before the  other man could say any more. He glanced at his watch again as Faysal  picked up the telephone. Had Leona stayed in their suite because she  didn't want to come face to face with him?

But Leona had not stayed in their suite because she was sulking, as  Hassan so liked to call it. She was ill, and didn't want anyone to know.

'Don't you dare tell anyone,' she warned Evie. 'I'll be all right in a  bit. It just keeps happening, and then it goes away again.'

'How long?' Evie looked worried.

'A few days.' Leona shrugged. 'I don't think I've got anything your  children might catch, Evie.' she then anxiously assured her. 'I'm  just-stressed out, that's all.'

'Stressed out.' Evie was looking at her oddly.

'It's playing havoc with my stomach.' Leona nodded and took another sip  of the bottled water Evie had opened for her. 'Who would not be feeling  sick if they were stuck on this boat with a load of people they liked as  little as those people liked them? You and your family excluded, of  course." she then added belatedly.