The sheikh's chosen wife(27)

'Huh.' The short laugh was full of bewildered incredulity. 'What suddenly brought on this change of heart?'

'The heart has always wanted to stay, it was the mind that was causing  me problems. But...look at us, Hassan.' She sighed 'sitting out in the  middle of the sea in a stupid little boat beneath the heat of a noon-day  sun because we would rather be here, together like this, than anywhere  else.' She gave him her eyes again, and what always happened to them  happened when he looked deep inside. 'If you believe love can sustain us  through whatever is waiting for us back there, then I am going to let  myself believe it too.'

'Courage,' he murmured, reaching out to gently cup her cheek. 'I never doubted your courage.'

'No,' she protested when he went to kiss her. 'Not here, when I can feel  about twenty pairs of eyes trained on us from the yacht."

'Let them watch,' he decreed, and kissed her anyway. 'Now I want the  privacy of our stateroom, with its very large bed," he said as he drew  away again.

'Then, let's go and find it.'

They were halfway back to the yacht before she remembered Samir telling  her about the planned meeting. 'What happened?' she asked anxiously.

Hassan smiled a brief, not particularly pleased smile. 'I won the  support I was looking for. The fight is over. Now we can begin to relax a  little.'

As a statement of triumph, it didn't have much satisfaction running  through it. Leona wanted to question him about it, but they were nearing  the yacht, so she decided to wait until later because she could now  clearly see the sea of faces watching their approach-some anxious, some  curious, some wearing expressions that set her shivering all over again.  Not everyone was relieved that Hassan had plucked her out of the ocean,  she realised ruefully.

Rafiq and a crewman were waiting on the platform to help them back on  board the yacht. 'I'll walk,' she insisted when Hassan went to lift her  into his arms. 'I think I have looked foolish enough for one day.'

So they walked side by side through the boat, wrapped in towels over  their wet clothing. Neither spoke, neither touched, and no one accosted  them on their journey to their stateroom. The door shut them in. Hassan  broke away from her side and strode into the bathroom. Leona followed,  found the jets in the shower already running. She dropped the towels,  Hassan silently helped her out of the buoyancy aid that had not been  buoyant enough and tossed it in disgust to the tiled floor. Next came  her tee shirt, her shorts, the blue one-piece swimsuit she was wearing  beneath.

It was another of those calms before the storm, Leona recognised as she  watched him drag his shirt off over his head and step out of the rest of  his clothes. His face was composed, his manner almost aloof, and there  wasn't a single cell in her body that wasn't charged, ready to accept  what had to come.                       
       
           



       

Tall and dark, lean and sleek. 'In,' he commanded, holding open the  shower-cubicle door so that she could step inside. He followed, closed  the door. And as the white-tiled space engulfed them in steam he was  reaching for her and engulfing her in another way.

Think of asking questions about how much he had conceded to win his  support from the other sheikhs? Why think about anything when this was  warm and soft and slow and so intense that the yacht could sink and they  would not have noticed. This was love, a renewal of love; touching,  tasting, living, breathing, feeling love. From the shower they took it  with them to the bed, from there they took it with them into a slumber  which filtered the rest of the day away.

Questions? Who needed questions when they had this depth of  communication? No more empty silences between the loving. No more fights  with each other or with themselves about the wiseness of being together  like this. When she received him inside her she did so with her eyes  wide open and brimming with love and his name sounding softly on her  lips.

Beyond the room, in another part of the yacht. Raschid looked at Rafiq.  'Do you think he has realised yet that today's victory has only put  Leona at greater risk from her enemies?' he questioned.



'Sheikh Abdul would be a fool to show his hand now, when he must know  that Hassan has chosen to pretend he had no concept of his plot to take  her.'

'I was not thinking of Abdul, but his ambitious wife,' Raschid murmured  grimly. "The woman wants to see her daughter in Leona's place. One only  had to glimpse her expression when Hassan brought them back to the yacht  to know that she has not yet had the sense to give up the fight...'



CHAPTER NINE

Leona was thinking much the same thing when she found herself faced by Zafina later that evening.

Before the confrontation the evening had been surprisingly pleasant.  Leona made light of her spill into the sea, and the others made light of  the meeting that had taken place as if the battle, now decided, had  given everyone the excuse to relax their guard.

It was only when the women left the men at the table after dinner that  things took a nasty turn for the worse. Evie had gone to check on her  children and Leona used the moment to pop back to the stateroom to  freshen up. The last person she expected to see as she stepped out of  the bathroom was Zafina Al-Yasin, standing there waiting for her.

Dressed in a traditional jewel-blue dara'a and matching thobe heavily  embroidered with silver studs, Zafina was here to cause trouble. It did  not take more than a glance into her black opal eyes to see that.

'You surprise me with your jollity this evening.' The older woman began  her attack. 'On a day when your husband won ail and you lost everything I  believed you stood so proudly for, I would have expected to find you  more subdued. It was only as I watched you laugh with our men that it  occurred to me that maybe, with your unfortunate accident and Sheikh  Hassan's natural concern for you, he has not made you fully aware of  what it was he has agreed to today?'

Not at all sure where she was going to be led with this, Leona demanded  cautiously, 'Are you implying that my husband has lied to me?'

'I would not presume to suggest such a thing,' Zafina denied with a  slight bow of respect meant in honour of Hassan, not Leona herself. 'But  he may have been a little economical with some of the details in an  effort to save you from further distress.'

'Something you are not prepared to be,' Leona assumed.

'I believe in telling the truth, no matter the pain it may course.'

Ah, Leona thought, the truth. Now there was an interesting concept.

'In the interest of fair play, I do feel that you should be fully  informed so that you may make your judgements on your future with the  full facts at hand.'

'Why don't you just get to the point of this conversation, Zafina?' Leona said impatiently.

'The point is...this...' Zafina replied, producing from inside the  sleeve of her dara a piece of paper, which she then spread out on the  bed.

Leona did not want to, but she made herself walk towards it, made  herself look down. The paper bore the Al-Qadim seal of office. It bore  the name of Sheikh Khalifa.

'What is it?' she asked, oddly unwilling to read the closely lined and detailed Arabian script that came beneath.

'A contract drawn up by Sheikh Khalifa himself, giving his blessing to  the marriage between his son Sheikh Hassan and my daughter Nadira. This  is my husband's copy. Sheikh Khalifa and Sheikh Hassan have copies of  their own."

'It isn't signed,' Leona pointed out.

'It will be,' Zafina stated certainly, 'as was agreed this morning at  the meeting of the family heads. Sheikh Khalifa is dying. His loving son  will deny him nothing. When we reach Rahman the signing will take place  and the announcement will be made at Sheikh Khalifa's celebration  banquet.'                       
       
           



       

He will deny him nothing... Of everything Zafina had said, those words  were the only ones that held the poison. Still, Leona strove to reject  them.

'May be,' she said. 'No matter what this piece of paper says, and no  matter what you imply I know Hassan. I know my father-in-law, Sheikh  Khalifa. Neither would even think of deceiving me this way.'

'You think not?' She sounded so sure, so confident. 'In the eyes of his  country. Sheikh Hassan must prove his loyalty to them is stronger than  his desire to pander to your western principles.'

More certain on having said it, Leona turned ice-cold eyes on the other  woman, I will tell Hassan about this conversation. You do realise that?'  she warned.

Zafina bowed her head in calm acquiescence. 'Face him,' she invited.  'Tell him what you know. He may continue to keep the truth from you for  his father's sake. He may decide to confess all then fall on your mercy,  hoping that you will still go to Rahman as his loyal first wife to help  save his face. But mark my words, Sheikha,' she warned, 'my daughter  will be Sheikh Hassan's wife before this month is out, and she will bear  him the son that will make his life complete.'