The sheikh's chosen wife(28)

Stepping forward, she retrieved her precious contract. 'I have no wish  to see you humibated,' she concluded as she turned towards the door.  'Indeed I give you this chance to save your face. Return to England.  Divorce Hassan,' she advised. 'For, whether you do or not, he will marry  my daughter, at which point I think we both know that your usefulness  will be at an end.'

Leona let her go without giving her the satisfaction of a response, but  as the door closed behind Zafina she began to shake. No, she told  herself sternly, you will not let that woman's poison eat away at you.  She's lying. Hassan would not be so deceitful or so manipulative. He  loves you, for goodness' sake! Haven't you both just spent a whole  afternoon re-avowing that love?

I will deny him nothing... Hassan's own words, exactly as spoken only  days ago. Her stomach turned, sending her reeling for the bathroom. Yet  she stopped herself, took a couple of deep controlling breaths and  forced herself to think, to trust in her own instincts, to believe in  Hassan!

He would not do it. Hands clenched into tense fists at her sides, she  repeated that. He would not do it! The woman is evil. She is ambitious.  She cannot accept failure.

She used your own inadequacies against you. How dare you so much as consider anything she said as worthy of all of this anguish?

You promised to believe in him. How dare you let that promise falter  because some awful woman wants you out of his life and her daughter in  it?

A contract. What was the contract but a piece of paper with words  written upon it? Anyone could draw up a contract; it was getting those  involved to sign it that was the real test!

She would tell Hassan, let him deny it once and for all, then she could put all of this behind her and-

No she wouldn't. She changed her mind. She would not give that woman the  satisfaction of causing more trouble between the families, which was  what was sure to happen if Hassan did find out what Zafina had said.

Trust was the word. Trust she would give to him.

The door opened. She spun around to find Hassan standing there. Tall and  dark, smooth and sleek, and so heart-achingly, heart-breakingly,  precious to her.

'What is wrong?' He frowned. 'You look as pale as the carpet.'

'N-nothing,' she said. Then, because it was such an obvious lie, she  admitted, 'H-headache, upset stomach...' Two tight fists unclenched, one  hand going to cover her stomach the other her clammy forehead. 'Too  much food tonight. Too much water from my dip in the sea, maybe. I...'

He was striding towards her. Her man. Her beautiful, grim-faced man. He  touched her cheek. 'You feel like ice.' He picked up her chafed wrist  between gentle finger and thumb. 'Your pulse is racing like mad! You  need the medic' He spun towards the telephone. 'Get undressed. You are  going to bed...'

'Oh...no, Hassan!' she cried out in protest, I will be okay in a couple  of minutes! Please...' she pleaded as he picked up the telephone.  'Look!' she declared, as he glared at her from beneath frowning black  brows. 'I'm feeling better already. I-took something a few minutes ago.'  With a mammoth gathering together of self-control, she even managed to  walk over to him without stumbling and took the receiver from his hand.

'No,' she repeated. 'I will not spoil everyone's enjoyment tonight. I've  caused enough fuss today as it is.' And she would not give Zafina a  moment's smug satisfaction. 'Walk me back along the deck.' Firmly she  took his hand. 'All I need is some fresh air.'

He wasn't sure. But Leona ignored his expression and pulled him towards  the door. Actually the walk did her more good than she had expected it  to do. Just being with him, feeling his presence, was enough to help  reaffirm her belief that he would never, ever, do anything so cruel as  to lie about a second wife.                       
       
           



       

He's done it before, a small voice inside her head said.

Oh, shut up! she told it. I don't want to listen. And she pasted a  bright smile on her face, ready to show it to their waiting guests-and  Zafina Al-Yasin-as she and Hassan stepped back into the salon.

Zafina wasn't there, which in a way was a relief and in another was a  disappointment, because she so wanted to outface the evil witch. She had  to make do with shining like a brilliant star for those left to witness  it, and she wondered once or twice if she was going to burn out. And  she was never more relieved when it became time to retire without  causing suspicion that this was all just a dreadful front.

Raschid and Imran had collared Hassan. So she was free to droop the  moment she hit the bedroom. Within ten minutes she was curled up in bed.  Within another ten she was up again and giving in to what had been  threatening to happen since Zafina's visit. Fortunately Hassan was not  there to witness it. By the time he came to bed she had found escape in  sleep at last, and he made no move to waken her, so morning arrived all  too soon, and with it returned the nauseous sensation.

She got through the day by the skin of her teeth, and was pleasant to  Zafina, who was not sure how to take that. She spent most of her morning  with Evie and her children, taking comfort from the sheer normality of  their simple needs and amusements. It was while she was playing with  Hashim that the little boy inadvertently brushed against her breasts and  she winced at their unexpectedly painful response.

Evie noticed the wince. 'You okay?' she enquired.

Her shrug was rueful. 'Actually, I feel a bit grotty,' she confessed. 'I  ache in strange places after my fight with the fishing net yesterday,  and I think the water I swallowed had bugs.'

'The same bugs that got you the day before that?' Evie quizzed.

'Okay,' she conceded. 'So I'm still stressed out.'

'Or something,' Evie murmured.

Leona's chin came up, 'What's that supposed to mean?' she demanded.

It was Evie's turn to offer a rueful shrug, then Raschid walked into the  room and the conversation had to be shelved when he reminded them that  lunch was being served.

After lunch came siesta time. Or, for those like Hassan and Raschid,  time to hit the phones and deal with matters of state. Leona had never  been so glad of the excuse to shut herself away in her room because she  was really beginning to feel ill by then. Her head' ached, her bones  ached, her stomach was objecting to the small amount of food she had  eaten for lunch.

Maybe it was a bug, she mused frowningly as she drew the curtains across  the windows in an effort to diffuse the light that was hurting her  eyes. Stripping off her top clothes, she then crawled into the bed.

Maybe she should have steered well clear of Evie's children just in case  she had picked up something catching, she then added, and made herself a  promise to mention it to Evie later just before she slipped into a  heavy sleep.

She came awake only as a scarlet sunset seeped into the room. The last  sunset before they reached Jeddah, she recalled with relief. And found  the reminder gave her a fresh burst of energy that she took with her  into the bathroom where she indulged in a long leisurely shower then  took her time getting ready for dinner. She chose to wear a calf-length  tunic made of spearmint-blue silk with a matching pair of slender-cut  trousers.

Hassan arrived in the room with a frown and his mind clearly preoccupied.

'Hello stranger,' she said.

He smiled. It was an amazing smile, full of warmth, full of love-full of  lazy suggestions as he began to run his eyes over her in that dark  possessive way that said, Mine, most definitely mine. It was the  Arab-male way. What the man did not bother to say with words he could  make up for with expressive glances.

'No,' Leona said to this particular look. 'I am all dressed up and ready  to play hostess, so keep your lecherous hands to yourself.'

'Of course, you do know that I could easily change your mind?' he posed confidently.

Jokes. Light jokes. Warm smiles and tender communication. Would this man  she knew and loved so well look at her like this yet still hold such  terrible secrets from her?

No, of course he would not, so stop thinking about it! 'Save it until  later,' she advised, making a play of sliding the silk scarf over her  hair.

His eyes darkened measurably. It was strange how she only now noticed  how much he liked seeing her dressed Arabian style. Was it in his blood  that he liked to see his woman modestly covered? Was it more than that?  Did he actually prefer-?

No. She stopped herself again. Stop allowing that woman's poison to get to you.

'Wait for me,' he requested when she took a step towards the door. 'I  need only five minutes to change, for I showered ten minutes ago, after  allowing that over-energetic Samir talk me into a game of Softball on  the sun deck.'                       
       
           



       

'Who won?' she asked, changing direction to go and sit on the arm of one of the chairs to wait as requested.