At the Sheikh's Bidding. Chantelle Shaw
imagination.
His gaze locked with hers, and for a second something flared between them, some indefinable chemistry that clearly shocked her as it shocked him. But almost instantly the flash of awareness in her eyes dulled and was replaced with confusion. The silence in the room was broken by the solicitor’s discreet cough. The sound reminded Zahir that he was not here to eye up members of the domestic staff. Smothering a curse, he strode over to the desk, seized a chair and sat down, at the same time as the maid subsided into the seat next to him.
Gordon Straker cleared his throat and began to read. ‘I, Faisal bin Kahlid al Muntassir leave my entire estate, including Ingledean House and all its contents, to my wife.’
From the corner of her eye Erin saw the unknown man jerk even more upright in his chair, and his voice was sharp with impatience when he spoke. ‘I understand that my sister-in-law died three years ago. This will is invalid. There must be another updated one,’ he snapped haughtily.
Gordon Straker glanced at him steadily over the wire rims of his spectacles and said, in a wintry tone, ‘I assure you that this is the most recent will. My client asked me to draw it up ten months ago.’ The solicitor hesitated, his gaze moving between the two shocked faces staring at him across the desk. Comprehension slowly dawned, and he shook his head.
‘Forgive me. I did not introduce you because I assumed that the two of you already knew each other…that you had met… at the wedding.’ His confusion and embarrassment deepened. ‘But clearly not,’ he added slowly, when they continued to stare blankly back at him. ‘My apologies…it never occurred to me that you were unaware of each other’s identity… Erin, may I introduce Sheikh Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir—Faisal’s brother. Sheikh Zahir, this is Erin—Faisal’s second wife.’
The book-lined walls of the library seemed to tilt alarmingly, and Erin gripped the edge of the desk as she struggled to comprehend Gordon Straker’s words. ‘But Faisal told me he had no family,’ she mumbled, her gaze swinging frantically from the solicitor’s genial face to the man beside her, whose expression was so coldly arrogant that ice slithered down her spine.
‘There must be some mistake.’ Zahir addressed the man seated opposite him, his clipped tones shattering the tense silence. Shock ricocheted through him, and with it a fierce and inexplicable bolt of fury that overrode the grief that had consumed him since he had learned of Faisal’s death.
What bitter irony that once again he had lost out to his brother—just as he had done six years ago, he brooded grimly. This woman, with her slumbrous, woodsmoke-coloured eyes and sensual, pouting mouth, had been Faisal’s wife. Faisal must have released her glorious hair and watched it tumble down her back. He would have stroked his hands over her milky-pale naked flesh…just as he, Zahir, had fantasised about doing from the moment he had laid eyes on her.
And even the knowledge that she had been his brother’s widow for little more than two weeks did not lessen his awareness of her, or diminish the primitive urge he felt to crush her mouth beneath his and then strip the clothes from her body and spread her across the desk, ready for his possession.
His lip curled in self-disgust, and he could not bring himself to look at her while he exerted iron will-power over his rampaging hormones. What did it matter who she was or what her relationship had been with Faisal? he asked himself impatiently. His wealth, combined with the good-looks that he acknowledged were a fortunate accident of birth, meant that he could take his pick from a limitless supply of beautiful women—and he did so, frequently. He did not need his brother’s leftovers. There was only one reason why he was here, only one thing he was interested in.
He stood up and walked back over to the window, needing to put some distance between himself and the woman who was having such a disturbing effect on him.
Erin jumped to her feet and glared at him. ‘It’s no mistake, I assure you,’ she said hotly. ‘I was Faisal’s wife, and I have a marriage certificate to prove it.’
Zahir’s brows lifted. ‘My apologies—I had no idea. Your attire hardly befits your position as the wife of a sheikh. I assumed you were a menial domestic.’
Hot colour flooded Erin’s face as she felt his eyes trail over her in a scathing assessment of her appearance, and she silently cursed the fact that she hadn’t taken the trouble to change into more presentable clothes for her meeting with Gordon Straker. But, to be fair, she had not expected to be confronted by an arrogant, devilishly sexy sheikh who, astoundingly, happened to be Faisal’s brother.
Her temper, which had been simmering ever since he had spoken to her so dismissively when she had brought in the tea tray, flared into life. She recalled how he had looked at her when she had first walked into the library, the way his eyes had slid boldly over her as if he were mentally undressing her. Presumably he thought it acceptable to take a servant to bed, but not for her to marry his brother, she thought furiously.
She lifted her chin and met Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir’s gaze, her grey eyes stormy and belligerent. But the undisguised sexual heat in his dark depths sent an answering quiver of awareness down her spine, and it was only when he finally broke eye contact that she realised she had been holding her breath.
‘My brother was estranged from his family for the past six years,’ he explained coolly.
Erin’s insides churned at the word ‘family’. What family? Faisal had insisted that he had no relatives, and yet not only did it seem that he had a brother, but from the sound of it other family members also existed. Why had he lied to her? And if Faisal had been estranged from his family how had his brother known about his death? Her unease intensified, and solidified into fear when Zahir spoke again.
‘I was unaware, until I received the letter Faisal instructed Mr Straker to send after his death, that my sister-in-law died three years ago. Faisal made no mention in that letter that he had remarried,’ he added pointedly, his eyes flicking briefly over Erin. ‘I was also unaware until two weeks ago that my brother had a son—a child who is now an orphan.’
He flicked his gaze to Erin once more, his eyes as black and hard as polished jet. ‘As Faisal’s sole beneficiary, you are now a very wealthy woman,’ he drawled. ‘But I am not interested in the money, and you are certainly welcome to this draughty monstrosity of a house,’ he added disparagingly, casting a brief glance around the library, where the fire burning in the grate did little to raise the temperature of the room.
‘My only interest is in my nephew, Kazim. I assume he has been well cared for since Faisal’s death?’ He overrode Erin’s attempt to speak and announced coolly, ‘I have come to take him to his father’s homeland, Qubbah, so that he may be brought up by his family. Please inform his nanny, or whoever is in charge of him, that I wish to meet him, and ask them to pack his personal possessions as quickly as possible. I want to leave before the weather gets any worse.’
Erin gaped at him, her heart thumping erratically in her chest. ‘You’re not taking Kazim anywhere,’ she snapped, disbelief and outrage at his high-handedness causing a red mist of anger to swirl in front of her eyes. ‘When I married Faisal, I adopted Kazim as my own child. I am his legal parent, and he is staying right here at Ingledean. This is his home,’ she finished fiercely, refusing to feel intimidated by Zahir’s furious expression.
Black brows lowered in a slashing frown. ‘Is this true?’
Once again he’d addressed the solicitor, but Erin was fed up with being treated as if she was part of the furniture, and she glared at him, her hands on her hips and her eyes blazing.
‘Damn right, it’s true. Kazim is legally my son, and I won’t allow you to take him. You have no rights to him.’
‘We’ll see about that—or rather my lawyers will,’ Zahir snapped icily.
His jaw tightened. In all his thirty-six years he had never been spoken to in such a disrespectful manner—and certainly not by a woman. Under his father’s rule Qubbah had gradually become a more liberal kingdom, and he himself had spent much of his life in the