The sheikh's chosen wife(32)

Strange words, fierce, dark, compelling words that sealed her inside a  coating of ice. What was he saying? What did he mean? Was he telling her  that Nadira was still Hassan's only real option if he wanted to  continue in his father's footsteps?

But before she could ask him to elaborate, as after most brief bursts of  energy, Sheikh Khalifa suddenly lay back exhausted against the cushions  and, without really thinking about it, Leona slipped back into her old  routine. She picked up the book lying face down on the table beside him  and began reading out loud to him.

But her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was filling up with contracts and  Hassan's method of feeding her information on a need-to-know only basis.  She saw him as he had been that same morning, relaxed, at peace with  both her and himself. Then Raschid had begged a private word. When he'd  eventually reappeared later it had been as if he had changed into a  different man-a tense, preoccupied and distant man.

A man who avoided eye contact, as if he had something to hide...

The old sheikh was asleep. Leona put down the book.

Doubts; she hated to feel the doubts return. It was no use, she told  herself, she was going to have to tackle Hassan about what Zafina had  said to her. Once he had denied everything she could put the whole  stupid thing away, never to be dredged up again.

And if he didn't deny it? she asked herself as she left the old sheikh's  room to go in search of the younger one. The coating of ice turned  itself into a heavy cloak that weighed down her footsteps as she walked  in between pale blue walls on a cool, polished sandstone flooring.

She didn't want to do this, she accepted as she trod the wide winding  staircase onto the landing where pale blue walls changed to pale beige  and the floor became a pale blue marble.

She didn't want to reveal that she could doubt his word, she thought  dully as she passed between doors made of thick cedar fitted tightly  into wide Arabian archways, the very last one of which led through to  Hassan's private suite of offices.

Her head began to ache; her throat suddenly felt strange hot and tight.  She was about five yards away when the door suddenly opened and Hassan  himself stepped out. Slender white tunic, flowing blue thobe, no  covering on his raven-dark head. He saw her and stopped, almost  instantly his expression altered from the frowningly preoccupied to...  nothing.                       
       
           



       

It was like having a door slammed in her face. Her doubts surged upwards  along with her blood pressure; she could feel her pulse throbbing in  her ears. A prickly kind of heat engulfed her whole body-and the next  thing that she knew, she was lying on the pale blue marble floor and  Hassan was kneeling beside her.

'What happened?' he rasped as her eyes fluttered open.

She couldn't answer, didn't want to answer. She closed her eyes again.  His curse wafted across her cheeks. One of his hands came to cover her  clammy forehead, the other took a light grasp of her wrist then he was  grimly sliding his arms beneath her shoulders and knees and coming to  his feet.

'Ouch,' she said as her breasts brushed his breastbone.

Hassan froze. She didn't notice because from absolutely nowhere she  burst into tears! What was the matter with her? she wondered wretchedly.  She felt sick, she felt dizzy, she hurt in places she had never hurt  before! From another place she had never known existed inside her, one  of her clenched fists aimed an accusing blow at his shoulder.

Expecting him to demand what he had done to deserve it, she was thrown  into further confusion when all he did was release a strained groan from  deep in his throat, then began striding back the way from which she had  come. A door opened and closed behind them. Lifting her head from his  shoulder, she recognised their old suite of rooms.

Laying her on the bed, he came to lean over her. 'What did my father say  to you?' he demanded, i knew I should not have left you both alone! Did  he say you should not have come back, is that it?'

Her eyes flew open, tear-drenched and sparkling. 'Is that what he thinks?'

'Yes-no!' His sigh was driven by demons. But what demons-? The demons of  lies? 'In case you did not notice, he does not think so clearly any  more,' he said tightly.

'Sheikh Abdul was behind the plot to abduct me; there is nothing unclear about that, as far as I can see.'

'I knew it was a mistake.' Hassan sighed, and sat down beside her.

He looked tired and fed up and she wanted to hit him again. 'You bed to me again,' she accused him.

'By omission,' he agreed. 'And Abdul's involvement cannot be proved,' he  added. 'Only by hearsay which is not enough to risk a war between  families.'

'And you've always got the ready-typed contract involving Nadira if things really do get out of hand...'

This time she saw the freeze overtake him. This time she got the answer  she had been desperately trying to avoid. Sitting up, Leona ignored the  way her head spun dizzily. Drawing up her knees, she reached down to  ease the straps of her sandals off the backs of her heels, then tossed  them to the floor.

'He told you about that also?' Hassan asked hoarsely.

She shook her head. 'Zafina did.'

'When?'

'Does it really matter when?' she derided. 'It exists. I saw it. You  felt fit not to warn me about it. What do you think that tells me about  what is really going on around here?'

'It means nothing,' he claimed. 'It is just a meaningless piece of paper  containing words with no power unless several people place their  signatures against it.'

'But you have a copy.'

He didn't answer.

'You had it in your possession even before you came to Spain to get me,'  she stated, because she knew it was the truth even though no one had  actuaUy told her so. 'What was it-firm back-up in case Raschid failed to  bail you out of trouble? Or does it still carry a lot of weight around  with it?'

'You could try trusting me,' he answered.

'And you, my lord sheikh, should have tried trusting me, then maybe it  would not be the big problem it is.' With that, she climbed off the bed  and began walking away.

'Where are you going?' He sighed out heavily. 'Come back here. We need to-'

The cold way she turned to look at him stopped the words; the way she  had one hand held to her forehead and the other to her stomach paled his  face. 'I am going to the bathroom to be sick,' she informed him. 'Then I  am going to crawl into that bed and go to sleep. I would appreciate it  if you were not still here when I get to do that.'

And that, Hassan supposed, had told him. He watched the bathroom door close behind her retreating figure.

He got up and strode over to the window beyond which an ink dark evening  obbterated everything beyond the subtle lighting of the palace walls.

So where do we go from here? he asked himself. When Zafina Al-Yasin had  picked her weapon, she'd picked it well. For Hassan could think of  nothing more likely to shatter Leona's belief in his sincerity than a  document already drawn up and ready to be brought into use should it  become necessary. She would not now believe that he had agreed to the  drawing up of such a document merely to buy him time. Why should she  when he had refrained from telling her so openly and honestly before  she'd found out by other means?

Sighing, he turned to leave the room. It was simpler to leave her alone  for now. He could say nothing that was going to change anything, because  he had another problem looming, he realised, One bigger and more  potentially damaging than all that had tried to damage his marriage  before.                       
       
           



       

He had a contract bearing his agreement to take a second wife. He had a  wife whom he suspected might be carrying his first child. Leona was  never going to believe that the former was not an insurance policy to  protect him against the failure of the latter.

'Faysal,' he said as he stepped into his aide's office, which guarded  the entrance to his own, 'get Rafiq for me, if you please...'

'You look pale like a ghost,' the old sheikh remarked.

'I'm fine,' Leona assured him.

'They tell me you fainted the other day.'

'I still had my sea legs on,' Leona explained. 'And how did you find out  about it?' she challenged, because as far as she knew no one but  herself and Hassan had been there at the time!

'My palace walls are equipped with a thousand eyes.' He smiled. 'So I  also know that when he is not with me my son walks around wearing the  face of a man whose father is already dead."

'He is a busy man doing busy, important things,' Leona said with a bite that really should have been resisted.

'He also has a wife who sleeps in one place while he sleeps in another.'

Getting in practice, Leona thought nastily. 'Do you want to finish this chapter or not?' she asked.

'I would prefer you to confide in me,' the old sheikh murmured gently.  'You used to do so all the time, before I became too sick to be of any  use to anyone...'