The sheikh's chosen wife(31)

Behind his hands Hassan's brain went still. Behind the hands it suddenly  rushed ahead again, filling him with the kind of thoughts that made his  blood run cold. For Rafiq was right: three weeks was not long  enough-not to achieve what he was suggesting. As any man knew, it took  only a moment to conceive a child. But which man-whose child?

On several hard curses he dragged his hand down. On several more he  climbed to his feet then strode across the room to pull open the door  that connected him with his aide.

'Faysal!' The man almost jumped out of his skin. 'Track down my  father-in-law, wherever he is. I need to speak with him urgently."

Slam. The door shut again. 'May Allah save me from the evil minds of others,' he grated.

'I do not follow you.' Rafiq frowned.

'Three weeks!' Hassan muttered. 'Three weeks ago Leona was sleeping in  the same house as Ethan Hayes! It was one of the problems which forced  me into bringing her to this yacht, if you recall...'

Leona didn't see Hassan until a few minutes before they were due to  arrive in Jeddah. By then most of their guests were assembled on the  shade deck taking refreshment while watching the yacht make the delicate  manoeuvres required to bring such a large vessel safely into its  reserved berth in the harbour.

In respect of Saudi Arabian custom everyone was wearing traditional Arab  daywear, including little Hashim, who looked rather cute in his tiny  white tunic and gutrah.                       
       
           



       

Hassan arrived dressed the same way; Rafiq was less than a step behind  him. 'Hello, strangers.' Leona smiled at both of them. 'Where have you  two been hiding yourselves all?'

'Working.' Rafiq smiled, but Hassan didn't even seem to hear her, and  his gaze barely glanced across her face before he was turning to speak  to Samir's father, Imran.

She frowned. He looked different-not pale, exactly, but under some kind  of grim restraint. Then little Hashim demanded, 'Come and see,' and her  attention was diverted. After that she had no time to think of anything  but the formalities involved in bidding farewell to everyone.

A fleet of limousines stood in line along the concrete jetty waiting to  speed everyone off to their various destinations. Accepting thanks and  saying goodbye took over an hour. One by one the cars pulled up and took  people away in a steady rota. Sheikh Abdul and Zafina first-relieved,  Leona suspected, to be getting away from a trip that had not been a  pleasant one for them, though their farewells were polite enough.

Sheikh Imran and Samir were the next to leave. Then she turned to smile  at Sheikh Jibril and his wife, Medina, who made very anxious weight of  their farewell, reminding Hassan several times that he had complete  loyalty. In Jibril's case money talked much louder than power. He had no  desire to scrape his deep pockets to pay Sheikh Raschid for the  privilege of sending his oil across his land.

Raschid and his family were the last ones to leave. As with everyone  else it would be a brief parting, because they would come together again  next week, when they attended Sheikh Kalifa's anniversary celebration.  Only this time the children would be staying at home with their nurse.  So Leona's goodbyes to them were tinged with a genuine regret,  especially for Hashim, who had become her little friend during their  cruise. So, while she was promising to come and visit with him soon, she  missed the rather sober exchanges between the others.

Eventually they left. Their car sped away. Rafiq excused himself to go  and seek out Faysal, and Hassan said he had yet to thank his captain and  walked away leaving her standing there, alone by the rail, feeling just  a little bit rejected by the brevity with which he had treated her.

Something was wrong, she was sure, though she had no idea exactly what  it could be. And, knowing him as well as she did, she didn't expect to  find out until he felt ready to tell her. So with a shrug and a sigh she  went off to follow Hassan's lead and thank the rest of the staff for  taking care of everyone so well. By the time they came together again  there was only time left to make the dash to the airport if they wanted  to reach Rahman before nightfall.

Rafiq and Faysal travelled with them, which gave Hassan the excuse-and  Leona was sure it was an excuse-to keep conversation light and neutral. A  Lear jet bearing the gold Al-Qadim insignia waited on the runway to fly  them over Saudi Arabia and into Rahman. The Al-Qadim oasis had its own  private runway. A four-wheel drive waited to transport them to the  palace whose ancient sandstone walls burned red against a dying sun.

Home, Leona thought, and felt a lump form in her throat because this was  home to her. London...England-both had stopped being that a long time  ago.

They swept through the gates and up to the front entrance. Hassan helped  her to alight. As she walked inside she found herself flanked by two  proud males again and wanted to lift her head and say something teasing  about abayas, but the mood didn't allow for it somehow.

'My father wishes to see us straight away.' Hassan unwittingly explained  the sombre mood. 'Please try not to show your shock at how much he has  deteriorated since you were last here.'

'Of course,' she replied, oddly hurt that he felt he needed to say that.  Then she took the hurt back when she saw the old sheikh reclining  against a mound of pillows on his favourite divan.

His sons strode forward; she held back a little to allow them the space  to greet him as they always did, with the old sheikh holding out both  hands and both hands being taken, one by each son. In all the years she  had known Sheikh Kalifa she had never seen him treat his two sons less  than equal. They greeted each other; they talked in low-toned Arabic.  They touched, they loved. It was an honour and a privilege to be allowed  to witness it. When the old sheikh decided to acknowledge her presence  he did so with a spice that told her that the old spirit was still very  much alive inside his wasted frame.

'So. what do you think of my two warriors, huh?' he asked. 'They snatch  you back with style and panache. A worthy woman cannot but be  impressed."

'Impressed by their arrogance, their cheek, and their disregard for my  safety,' Leona responded, coming forward now that he had in effect given  her permission to do so. 'I almost drowned-twice-and was tossed down a  set of stairs. And you dare to be proud of them."                       
       
           



       

No one bothered to accuse her of gross exaggeration, because he laughed,  loving it, wishing he could have been there to join in. Reclaiming his  hands, he waved his sons away and offered those long bony fingers to  Leona.

'Come and greet me properly,' he commanded her. 'And you two can leave us. My daughter-in-law and I have things to discuss.'

There was a pause, a distinct hesitation in which Hassan looked ready to  argue the point. The old man looked up at him and his son looked down; a  battle of the eyes commenced that made Leona frown as a strange kind of  tension began to sizzle in the air. Then Hassan conceded by offering a  brief, grim nod and left, with Rafiq making the situation feel even  stranger when, as he left with him, he placed a hand on Hassan's  shoulder as if to reassure him that it would be okay.

'What was all that about?' she enquired as she reached down to brush a kiss on her father-in-law's hollowed cheek.

'He worries about you,' the old sheikh answered.

'Or he worries about you,' she returned.

He knew what she was referring to and flicked it away with a sigh and a  wave of a hand. 'I am dying,' he stated bluntly. 'Hassan knows this-they  both do. Neither likes knowing they can do nothing to stop it from  happening."

'But you are resigned?' Leona said gently.

'Yes. Come-sit down here, in your chair.' Discussion over, he indicated  the low cushion-stuffed chair she had pulled up beside his divan years  ago; it had remained there ever since. 'Now, tell me,' he said as soon  as she was settled, 'have you come back here because Hassan bullied you  into doing so, or because you still love him?'

'Can it be both?' she quizzed him.

'He needs you.'

'Rahman doesn't.'

'Ah,' he scathed, 'that stupid man, Abdul, thought he could force our hand and soon learned that he could not.'

'So it was Sheikh Abdul who plotted to take me,' Leona murmured ruefully.

Eyes that were once a rich dark brown but were now only pale shadows  sharpened. 'He did not tell you,' he surmised on an impatient sigh. 'I  am a fool for thinking he would.'

'Maybe that is why he didn't want to leave me alone with you,' Leona  smilingly replied. 'Actually, I had already guessed it,' she then  admitted, adding quietly, 'I know all about Nadira, you see."

The name had a disturbing effect on Sheikh Khalifa: he shifted  uncomfortably, pulled himself up and reached out to touch her cheek.  'Rahman needs my son and my son needs you. Whatever has to happen in the  future I need to know that you will always be here supporting him when I  can no longer do so.'