Sarah And The Secret Sheikh. Michelle Douglas
swore it would leave bruises. ‘Then why have you stayed away from your homeland for the last four years?’
He shot out of his seat to stalk across the room. ‘That is not something which I wish to discuss. You have my word of honour, though, that is has nothing to do with fearing for my safety.’
He wanted her to take his word for it? Maybe, if it were only her life at stake here, she would. But it wasn’t. She had a baby to consider. She could no longer afford to be reckless or irresponsible.
Rising, she ran her hands over her blouse in a vain effort to smooth out the wrinkles. ‘I think it’s time I went home.’
Her apartment—Mike’s apartment—was only a couple of blocks away. A walk in the early-morning air might help.
Or not. Probably not. But it wouldn’t hurt.
His nostrils flared. ‘You’ll consider my proposal?’
‘No.’
Not a single muscle moved and yet he seemed to sag. ‘You think the idea too outrageous?’
It was utterly preposterous, yet it wasn’t outrage that gripped her. ‘I’m not going anywhere near Keddah Jaleel when I’ve no idea why you’ve stayed away so long. I know no one there. You’d be my only friend and support, and if I can’t trust you...’
Her stomach churned. ‘I am not putting myself in that position, Majed. My mother taught me better than that.’
He swung away to pace the length of the room before swinging back to face her. Agitation—anger, perhaps?—crackled from him like a force field. ‘An Internet search will provide you with everything you need to know.’
She located her purse and slung it over her shoulder as she made for the door. ‘Goodbye, Majed.’
‘That is not enough for you?’
She swung back. ‘I’m surprised you even need to ask that question. We’re going to have a baby and yet you can’t be honest with me.’ Her hands clenched. ‘If you can’t see the problem with that, then I’m not going to try and explain it to you.’
His nostrils flared. His chest rose and fell. And for a moment he looked so forbidding, her mouth went dry. He’d never hurt her, she knew that, but she could suddenly see the legacy of his heritage—the fierce and fearless warriors who’d fought and won innumerable wars on the ancient sands of Keddah Jaleel. Their blood flowed in his veins and, beneath his veneer of polish, that same fierceness resided in Majed’s DNA.
‘You’re going to do it. You’re going to keep the baby.’
His words were more statement than question. He smiled and she felt as if she were falling. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, realising that she’d come to a decision in spite of herself. Her heart beat hard. She and Majed would be tied to each other always through this child. And, regardless of what happened between them, the thought of the baby could still make him smile. And that mattered.
She rubbed a hand across her chest, trying to dislodge the ache attempting to settle beneath her breastbone. ‘I...’ She pulled herself up to her full height. ‘Yes, I am. I’m going to have this baby.’ If nothing else, this morning had made that crystal clear to her.
And that was something to be grateful for.
He strode towards her, and for a moment she thought he meant to hug her, but he stopped short and she saw shadows gathering in his eyes, ousting the excitement and tenderness that had momentarily lit them.
He dragged both hands through his hair. ‘Four years ago my brother was killed by the rebels.’
The floor bucked beneath her feet. Sarah braced herself against the door, pressing her spine back until the hard wood bit into her.
‘He’d organised a secret assignation with a woman who couldn’t be trusted. It was a reckless and foolish thing to do and he paid heavily for it. Too heavily.’
The anguish in his eyes tore at her. ‘Oh, Majed.’ She reached a hand towards him but he flinched.
‘I loved my brother, Sarah. I’ve not returned to Keddah Jaleel because I cannot imagine living in my homeland without him.’
She wanted to hug him but everything in his posture forbade it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
He nodded, but all she could see in his face was pain and anger. Her stomach churned in a sickening slow roll. Oh, no you don’t. This was not the time to throw up. Closing her eyes, she rested her head back and concentrated on her breathing.
‘Come, Sarah.’
Her eyes sprang open at the touch of warm fingers against her arm.
‘Come take a seat on the sofa.’
She couldn’t fight the nausea and talk at the same time so she let him lead her across to the plump comfort of the sofa. Once seated, she shoved her head between her knees, murmuring, ‘I’ll be right as rain in a moment.’
When she was finally sure she’d mastered the nausea, she lifted her head. ‘I’m sorry about that. I—’
‘I shouldn’t have told you in such a way!’
‘I’m glad you did tell me.’
‘Has it made you more afraid to journey to Keddah Jaleel?’
‘Not more afraid, just sadder.’ And to her surprise she realised she spoke the truth. ‘Your brother...’
‘Ahmed.’
She swallowed. ‘Did Ahmed not follow proper security protocols? I assume you have security measures in place?’
He nodded. ‘It’s necessary for any ruling family. But that night Ahmed gave his bodyguard the slip.’
Nobody deserved to pay such a high price for wanting a single night of freedom.
‘Why did they kill him?’ she whispered. ‘What did they hope to achieve?’
‘My father is a progressive monarch. At some future point, he’d dearly love to introduce democracy to Keddah Jaleel. There are still those in my country, however, who cling to the old ways.’
‘Progressive? Is he working towards gender equality? Will, for example, the daughters of the ruling sheikh ever be allowed to rule?’
For the first time that morning, he smiled—really smiled. ‘Ah, Sarah, we’re progressive...and we’ll continue to work towards a fair and just world for all of our citizens...but change cannot always be introduced as quickly we would like.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Progress takes time. And we must be seen to respect the traditions of our people, even as we move beyond them. If they believe us to view our heritage as worthless, then we would lose their trust and loyalty. If our child is a daughter, and if she shows an interest in politics, then she’ll have some kind of leadership role.’
‘But she won’t be ruler?’
‘I cannot see that happening for the next generation, no. But, if we have a granddaughter, things may be different for her.’
She stared at him and her heart thumped. What a difficult task it must be to lead a country. This man was a prince—one day a ruler by birthright. She had no right telling him what he should and shouldn’t do politically, not when she had no notion of what his people held dear, what they valued and what they hoped for.
She swallowed. ‘Your family have paid a heavy price for their service to your country, Majed. I’m more sorry than I can say about the loss of your brother.’
This time when she reached out to touch his hand he didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned his palm upwards and laced his fingers though hers. The scent of amber and spices—cloves and cardamom—teased her senses as a thick, pregnant silence wrapped about them. It was all