KRISTI GOLD - One Night with the Sheikh

Adan released a cynical laugh. “Ah, that is where we differ. I for one would give up flying before I would not take advantage of being alone with a beautiful woman in close confines. And you should consider doing the same.”

He felt the need to explain his resistance, whether Adan deserved an explanation or not. “First, I have only been widowed a short while—”

“To a woman you did not love.”

“A woman I had known for quite some time before she became my wife. No matter what you believe, I did care for Rima.”

“Yet not as much as you’ve always cared for Maysa.”

His patience was beginning to grow thin, frayed in part by the truth. “Maysa is only a friend who has agreed to accommodate my needs.”

“Which needs would those be, brother?” Adan asked.

“My intentions are honorable.” Though his thoughts and actions the previous evening had not been at all honorable.

“How honorable will you be while spending time with a friend who at one time fancied herself in love with you?”

He could not argue that point. “What Maysa and I shared in the past had more to do with camaraderie than with love.”

“Teenage lust, you mean. And that lust could quite possibly carry over into adulthood.”

He had spent most of the night considering it. “I am older and wiser. I have learned to maintain self-control.”

Adan presented a skeptic’s smile. “You are a Mehdi male, Rafiq, and self-control can and will escape you in the presence of a woman you have always desired. You are not made of steel.”

Rafiq folded his hands atop the desk and glared at his brother. “Do not project your lack of restraint on me. I have not made bedding women my favorite pastime.”

“I have not had as many women as you might believe,” Adan said. “And although you have practiced more discretion, I suspect you were not celibate during the time between your agreement to marry Rima and when you finally did wed her.”

That fact was not up for debate. “If you are finished delving into my private life, you may take your leave immediately.”

“Actually, I’m not quite finished. Did it disturb you that Rima was not a virgin when you wed her?”

Adan’s audacity made Rafiq’s blood boil. “Why would you assume this?”

“Are you denying it?”

Unfortunately, he could not. Yet he did question how Adan would know something so personal about Rima. He was tempted to ask, but he in turn feared the answer. “This topic is not up for discussion.”

“I only wanted to point out that Rima was not destined for sainthood,” Adan said. “Neither are you. In fact, you’re human, and a man with needs.”

The reason behind his brother’s insinuation finally dawned on Rafiq. “If you are worried I will bring scandal upon the Mehdi name by sleeping with Maysa, I assure you that will not happen. And if you are also hoping that I will abandon my duty and pass the crown to you, as Zain did with me, you may set those wishes aside immediately.”

Adan’s expression turned suddenly serious. “I have never possessed any desire to be king, Rafiq. And as far as your relationship with Maysa is concerned, I am an advocate for letting nature take its course. If you and Maysa find you cannot resist each other, then don’t. You certainly have my blessing.”

Adan had failed to weigh the most important fact. If Rafiq took Maysa as his lover again, the liaison could only be temporary since he would be expected to choose a suitable queen. The thought of being with another woman aside from Maysa was unthinkable. The thought of wounding her again, unimaginable. Yet he could very well head down that path if he acted on impulse.

For that reason, perhaps he should consider canceling their arrangement. Perhaps it would be best if he found another location for his sabbatical. “I will take your counsel under advisement. Now if you do not mind, I have work to complete.”

“So much work, il mio bel ragazzo, that you cannot give your former governess a few moments?”

Rafiq turned his attention from Adan to Elena Battelli, who now stood at the doorway, a dark-haired infant balanced on her hip. Her silver hair contrasted with her topaz eyes that at times hinted at mischief, and other times reflected wisdom. She had been the Mehdi sons’ surrogate matriarch since their mother’s death, and always a welcome presence. She had also been free with her opinions, and he expected no less from her now.

Rafiq came to his feet, rounded the desk and accepted her embrace. “I am glad to see you have returned home, Elena. You are looking quite well.”

“You are looking tired, cara,” she said as she handed the baby off to an overtly surprised Adan. “Take your niece to her father and allow me some time alone with your brother.”

Rising from the chair, Adan gripped the child awkwardly and looked as if he had consumed something unpalatable. “What if she begins to cry on the way?”

Elena frowned. “She would not be the first female you’ve made cry, so I suggest you hurry.”

As soon as Adan left with the squirming infant, Rafiq seated himself behind the desk while Elena claimed the chair opposite his. She studied him for a long moment before she spoke. “What is this I hear about you spending time with Dr. Barad?”

He should not be surprised Elena would join his brothers by presenting her thoughts on the matter. Yet her opinion had always mattered most. He also suspected she would side with Zain. “It is not what you might believe it to be.”

“I believe, cara mia, it is a good idea.”

He had not predicted that reaction. “I am beginning to question the wisdom in the plan.”

“Because you fear what others might think?”

Because he feared his possible absence of strength in Maysa’s presence. “I do not wish to add undue stress to her life.”

Elena waved a hand in dismissal. “Maysa is well equipped to handle stress, Rafiq, and perhaps even better equipped to handle you.”

He was taken aback by her assertions. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying she knows you very well.” Elena laid a palm on his hand. “She has always been your touchstone, and I believe you need that right now, more than you need the throne. And if you are concerned that you might succumb to inadvisable urges, I trust you to be the honorable man you have always been.”

If only he could trust himself. “Then you sincerely believe I should continue with my plans?”

“Yes, I do.” She rose with the grace of a gazelle. “Do not forget what I’ve taught you. Chi trova un amico trova un tesoro.”

He who finds a friend, finds a treasure.

As Elena started toward the door, she sent Rafiq a smile over one shoulder. “Maysa is your treasure, cara. Do not squander that gift.”

* * *

Maysa had begun to believe Rafiq had changed his mind. When the doorbell chimed, she hurried down the hall to answer the summons but then slowed her steps so as not to seem too anxious, though she was. Yet when she opened the door, the bearded man on the threshold happened to be her brother, not the king. “What are you doing here, Shamil?”

“I expected a more enthusiastic greeting, considering my recent absence,” he said as he breezed past her and entered without an invitation.

“My apologies,” she said as she faced him in the foyer. “I’m just surprised to see you.”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

She chose to withhold the truth and settled for a change in subject. “Are the resort’s renovations complete?”

“No, and that is why I am here now,” he said. “I will be returning to Yemen tonight, and I would respectfully request you supervise the workers from time to time in my stead.”

The request did not surprise her in the least. Shamil always seemed to have an ulterior motive when he bothered to call on her. He had protested the loudest over her divorce, and had chastised her at every turn—until he wanted something. “I have a medical practice that requires my attention, Shamil. I do not have time to oversee a project that you took on.”

“Need I remind you the resort is partially your responsibility?”

She could not believe his audacity. “Our father handed the keys to the resort to you, not me.”

“And he handed this house to you,” he said as he made a sweeping gesture over the area. “All because he is a generous and forgiving man. I would be remiss if I did not mention that he initially arranged for the hotel’s restoration. I am certain it would please him if he knew you were assisting me. He would not be pleased if he learned you refused to provide that assistance.”

Maysa was beyond trying to please her father, and immune to Shamil’s veiled threats. “I can only promise that I will stop by once a week, provided I find the time.”

“Twice a week, or perhaps three times, would be preferable.”

She would agree to most anything if it encouraged her sibling’s speedy departure. “I will try. Is that all you wish from me?”

“For the moment. I will notify the staff you will be periodically stopping by.”

“All right.”

When Maysa moved toward the door and yanked it open, she heard the sound of a car pulling into the portico.

“What is he doing here?” Shamil asked, both his tone and expression balanced on the brink of contempt.

She ventured a backward glance to see Rafiq emerging from the sedan with a heavily armed guard standing nearby. “First of all, he is the king, and he is allowed to go anywhere he pleases. Second, he is a friend, and at one time, your best friend.”

“He no longer holds that distinction.”

Maysa’s attempt to question her brother further was thwarted when Rafiq joined them at the doorstep.

Rafiq smiled at Maysa and briefly nodded at Shamil. “As-salam alaikum.”

“Wa alaikum as-salam,” Shamil replied in a voice that heralded indifference along with a touch of disdain. “Have you forgotten the way to the palace, Sayyed?”

“Not at all,” Rafiq replied. “I am here by invitation.”

Shamil sent Maysa a lethal look before returning his attention to Rafiq. “If you are here to discuss health care issues with my sister, it would be appropriate to do so in a less private setting.”

Concerned over her brother’s caustic demeanor, Maysa stepped aside to allow Rafiq entry. “The staff will show you to your quarters, Your Highness.”

“As you wish,” he said without offering Shamil even a passing glance.

She sensed her brother’s glare before she actually contacted it. She turned and gave him a glare of her own. “How dare you be so ill-mannered.”

“How dare you invite him into our father’s house.”

“Our father has always had close ties to the Mehdi family,” Maysa said. “He would not be opposed to having a member as a houseguest, particularly if that member happens to be the sovereign ruler of Bajul. A king who is in need of a respite, which is why he will be staying here for a time.”

“Our father would be opposed to you becoming the king’s mistress.”

Her fury simmered just below the surface of her feigned calm. “You have no right to speak to me this way, nor do you have any reason to hate Rafiq. Or do you still envy his marriage to Rima?”

He looked as if he might strike the wall, or worse, his sister. “Rima meant nothing to Rafiq,” he growled. “He did not deserve her.”

Clearly Shamil had not moved beyond the past, or his desire for a woman he could never have. But hadn’t she been guilty of the same with Rafiq? No. She had moved on, and would continue to do so. “How would you know what privately transpired between the king and queen, Shamil?”