The sheikh's chosen wife(35)

'She said I should make sure I tell you. Which I've done.' She turned a  wry smile on him. 'Now I wish that I hadn't because, looking at you, I  have a horrible feeling you are going to give the game away the moment  anyone looks at you.'

Confess all, he told himself. Tell her before the Al-Kadahs tell her  that you already suspected all of this, days ago. A knock at the door  was a thankful diversion. Going to open it, he found Rafiq standing  there dressed very much like himself-only he was wearing his gutrah.

'Our guests are arriving,' he informed him. 'You and Leona should be downstairs.'

Guests. Dear heaven. His life was in crisis and he must go downstairs and be polite to people. 'We will be five minutes only.'                       
       
           



       

'You are all right?' Rafiq frowned at him.

No, I am slowly sinking beneath my own plots and counter-plots. 'Five minutes,' he repeated, and closed the door again.

Leona was standing by a mirror, about to fix her lipstick with a set of  very unsteady fingers. The urge to go over there and stop her so that he  could kiss her almost got the better of him. But one kiss would most  definitely lead to another and another. In fact he wanted to be very  primitive and drag her off by her beautiful hair to his lair and smother  her in kisses. So instead he stepped back into the other room and came  back a moment later wearing white silk on his head, held by triple gold  thongs, to find that Leona had also covered her hair with a  gold-spangled scarf of red silk.

The red should have clashed with her hair but it didn't. It merely toned  with the sensual colour on her lips. She lifted her eyes to look at  him. He looked back at her. A different man, a different woman. It was  amazing what a piece of silk laid to the head could do for both of them,  because neither was now showing signs of what was really going on  inside

His smile, therefore, was rueful. 'Showtime,' he said.

And showtime it was. As on the yacht, but on a grander scale, they  welcomed heads of state from all over Arabia, diplomats from further  afield. Some brought their wives, sons and even their daughters, and  some came alone. Some women were veiled; all were dressed in the exotic  jewelled colours favoured by Arabian women.

Everyone was polite, gracious, and concerned about Sheikh Khalifa's  well-being. He had not yet put in an appearance, though he had every  intention of doing so eventually. This was his night. He had in fact  planned it as much as he could from his sick bed. Today his doctor had  insisted he be sedated for most of the day to conserve his energy. But  he had looked bright-eyed and excited when Leona had popped in to see  him just before she had gone to get ready.

'Rafiq should be doing this with us,' Leona said to Hassan when she realised that his brother was nowhere to be seen.

'He has other duties,' he replied, then turned his attention to the next  person to arrive at the doors to the great hall. A great hall that was  slowly filling with people.

Sheikh Abdul arrived without his wife, Zafina, which seemed a  significant omission to Leona. He was subdued but polite to her, which  was all she could really expect from him, she supposed. They greeted  Sheikh Jibril and his wife, Medina, Sheikh Imran, and of course Samir.

When Sheikh Raschid Al-Kadah and his wife, Evie, arrived, there were  some knowing glances exchanged that made Leona want to blush. But the  real blushing happened every time Hassan glanced at her and his eyes  held the burning darkness of their secret.

'Don't,' she whispered, looking quickly away from him.

'I cannot help it,' he replied.

'Well, try.' A sudden disturbance by the door gave her someone new to  divert her attention, only to have her heart stop in complete surprise.

Two men dressed in black western dinner suits, white shirts and bow  ties. She flicked her eyes from one smiling male face to the other, then  on a small shriek of delight launched herself into the arms of her  father.

Tall, lean and in very good shape for his fifty-five years, Victor  Frayne caught his daughter to him and accepted her ecstatic kisses to  his face. 'What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me? Ethan-' One  of her hands reached out to catch one of his. i can't believe this! I  only spoke to you this morning. I thought you were in San Esteban!'

'No, the Marriott, here.' Her father grinned at her. 'Thank your husband for the surprise.'

Hassan. She turned, a hand each clinging to her two surprises. 'I love you,' she said impulsively.

'She desires to make me blush.' Hassan remarked, and stepped forward,  took his wife by her waist, then offered his hand to his father-in-law  and to Ethan Hayes. 'Glad you could make it,' he said.

'Happy to be here,' Ethan replied with only a touch of dryness to his  tone to imply that there was more to this invitation than met the eye.

Leona was just too excited to notice. Too wrapped up in her surprise to  notice the ripple of awareness that went through those people who had  dared to believe rumours about her relationship with her father's  business partner. Then, with the attention to fine detail which was  Hassan's forte, another diversion suddenly appeared.

People stopped talking, silence reigned as Rafiq arrived,

pushing a wheelchair bearing Sheikh Khalifa ben Jusef Al-Qadim.

He looked thin and frail against the height and breadth of his youngest  son. A wasted shadow of his former self. But his eyes were bright, his  mouth smiling, and in the frozen stasis that followed his arrival,  brought on by everyone's shock at how ill he actually looked, he was  prepared and responded. 'Welcome...welcome everyone,' he greeted.  'Please, do not continue to look as if you are attending my funeral, for  I assure you I am here to enjoy myself."                       
       
           



       

After that everyone made themselves relax again. Some who knew him well  even grinned. As Rafiq wheeled him towards the other end of the room the  old sheikh missed no one in reach of his acknowledgement. Not even  Leona's father, whom he had only met once or twice. 'Victor,' he greeted  him. 'I have stolen your daughter. She is now my most precious  daughter. I apologise to you, but I am not sorry, you understand?"

'I think we can share her,' Victor Frayne allowed graciously.

'And...ah...' he turned his attention to Ethan '...Mr Hayes, it is my  great pleasure to meet Leona's very good friend.' He had the floor, as  it should be. So no one could miss the messages being broadcast here.  Even Leona began to notice that something was going on beneath the  surface here. 'Victor...Mr Hayes...come and see me tomorrow. I have a  project I believe will be of great interest to you... Ah, Rafiq, take me  forward, for I can see Sheikh Raschid...'

He progressed down the hall like that. As Leona watched, she gently  slipped her arm around Hassan's waist. She could feel the emotion  pulsing inside him. For this was probably going to be the old Sheikhs  final formal duty.

But nothing, nothing prepared her for the power of feeling that swept  over everyone as Rafiq and his father reached the other end of the hall  where Sheikh Khalifa's favourite divan had been placed upon a raised  dais, ready for him to enjoy the party in reasonable comfort.



Rafiq bent and lifted his father into his arms and carried the frail old  man up the steps then gently lowered his father down again. As he went  to straighten, the sheikh lifted a pale bony hand to his youngest son's  face and murmured something to him which sent Rafiq to his knees beside  the divan and sent his covered head down.

The strong and the weak. It was a painful image that held everyone in  its thrall because in those few seconds it was impossible to tell which  man held the strength and which one was weaker.

'Hassan, go to him,' Leona said huskily. 'Rafiq needs you."

But Hassan shook his head. 'He will not thank me,' he replied. And he was right; Leona knew that.

Instead Hassan turned his attention to causing yet another diversion by snapping his fingers to pull a small army of

They came bearing trays of delicately made sweets and Arabian coffee and  bukhoor burners, which filled the air with the smell of incense. The  mood shifted, took on the characteristics of a traditional majlis, and  the next time Leona looked the dais was surrounded by the old sheikhs  from the desert tribes sitting around on the provided cushions while  Sheikh Khalifa reclined on his divan enjoying their company.

Hassan took her father and Ethan with him and circulated the room,  introducing them to their feUow guests. The timid Medina Al-Mahmud  attached herself to Leona's side like a rather wary limpit and, taking  pity on her, Leona found herself taking the older woman with her as they  moved from group to group.

It was a success. The evening was really looking as if it was going to  be a real success. And then from somewhere behind her she heard Sheikh  Abdul say, 'A clever ploy. I am impressed by his strategy. For how many  men here would now suspect Mr Hayes as his lovely wife's lover?'