Susan Stephens – The Sheikh Who Claimed Her: Master of the Desert / The Sheikh's Reluctant Bride / Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife (страница 13)

He strode inside, greeting people by name as they bowed to him, lifting them to their feet when they knelt in front of him. He loathed the deference some of his fellow sheikhs actively courted, and lived austerely considering his fabulous wealth. He valued all the treasures history had granted him, but he valued his people more.

He bathed and then clothed himself in the costume of power, adopting the shackles of responsibility with each new item. The heavy silk robe reminded him of the weight of duty, while the headdress spoke of the respect in which he held his country and its people. The golden agal holding that headdress in place was his badge of office, like the jewelled sash he wore at his waist. The sash carried his emblem, which he had personally designed as a representation of his pledge to Sinnebar. The rampant lion picked out in flashing jewels was a warning to anyone who threatened his land, and the cold, blue sapphire clutched in its claws was the heart he had given to his country and his people. On the day of his coronation, he had vowed that nothing would alter the pledge of that heart, or disturb the order he had returned to Sinnebar following his father’s chaotic rule. That history had come back to haunt him in the form of a woman long dead, his despised stepmother Helena, something he intended to deal with without delay.

While he was away it appeared a letter had been found in Helena’s room. Written before her death to an elderly maidservant, it contained a photograph of Helena holding a tiny baby girl in her arms. That was why they had called him back so urgently. Trusted advisors could be relied upon to keep this revelation under wraps, but not for long in a palace so heavily populated it was almost like a city in its own right.

The baby wasn’t even his father’s child, but the Italian Ruggiero’s, and should have had no entitlement to land in Sinnebar. But when Helena had died the land had passed in equal part to her children. His father had paid her off, because Helena was the mother of his son. Razi ruled his own country and had returned the land to Sinnebar. Helena’s daughter had not. It enraged him beyond belief to think that a woman long dead, a woman who had brought so much grief to his family while she was alive, could reach out even now from the grave to threaten his land.

He shouldn’t be surprised to find his father had left him one last problem to overcome, Ra’id reflected grimly, checking his royal regalia before leaving the room. They had never seen eye to eye on matters of duty versus the heart.

He left the robing room with a purposeful stride, mentally preparing for the task ahead of him. The prospect of encountering anything connected to Helena was distasteful to him. It was an excursion into a world he had no wish to go to. Helena’s heir should be clearing out her belongings, but the identity of the baby in the photograph had not yet been established. He would read through the documents and see what he could glean. At least it should prove a distraction, he conceded grimly, for a man tormented by the memory of a dancing girl invoking the moon, as he listened in vain for the sound of her voice.

He would never forget his desert-island castaway, Ra’id realised as he paused to admire the elegance of one of the inner courtyards. With its mellow fountains and counterpoint of singing birds, it was possible to hope that there were enough distractions here in Sinnebar, so that in time her voice would fade and her face would slip out of focus, until one day she would be just The Girl—a memory consigned to history along with all the rest. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, breathing in the heavy perfumes of the East, waiting for them to blank out the girl’s fresh, clean scent. When that didn’t happen, he frowned and turned away. The courtyard, with its fretwork screens and carved stone palisades, was made for the type of romance he had no time for. He didn’t even know why he’d stopped here.

His robes rustled expensively as he strode away, the sound of them reminding him at all times of duty. When he reached his office he would read the letter again and study the land deeds. He would not tolerate part of Sinnebar being casually handed over to someone who cared nothing for the land of his birth and who didn’t even live in Sinnebar. He would soon put an end to this outrageous claim and bury Helena’s legacy of turmoil once and for all.

Before transferring Antonia to a luxury hotel, they had advised her to stay in a private clinic for several days, to check for concussion. She’d wanted to say she’d had a blow to the heart, not to the head, but the nurses and staff had been so friendly, and she had welcomed the chance to rest and regroup in such a clean and efficient place.

Her bills were covered, the staff had explained when she’d started to fret about expenses. She’d had no need to ask by whom, Antonia reflected, wandering out onto the balcony of the luxury hotel suite where she had just been transferred to. All of this had been paid for by Saif. It had to be Saif. Who else knew she was here?

Knowing Saif had paid for her care did nothing to ease Antonia’s heartache. The fact that he hadn’t tried to contact her once only rubbed salt in a wound she doubted would ever heal. How could it heal when there was no cure for her feelings for Saif?

The light of another day was fading, coating the city in a honeyed glow. The pink marble walls of the palace were tinted a deeper red as the sun drooped wearily towards the horizon. Leaning over the cool stone balustrade, Antonia pictured her mother catching sight of this same palace for the first time. Surely Helena must have seen the palace? It was impossible to miss the magnificent building on a visit to Sinnebar’s capital, where the palace dominated the cityscape.

Knowing so little about her mother, Antonia could only guess that she was following in Helena’s footsteps. She had to believe that whatever she found in Sinnebar would bring them closer in some small way. She wanted to understand her mother’s early life. She knew that Helena had been very young when she had come to the Gulf, so it was easy to work out that she had probably been a student, backpacking her way across the world. Having discovered this beautiful desert kingdom, she hadn’t found the will to leave. It would be easy to give your heart to a country where gilded cupolas and cream minarets stood proudly against a vivid electric-blue sky, Antonia mused. She thought the vista over the elegant city squares to the palace beyond was the most astonishing sight she had ever seen.

The second-most astonishing sight, Antonia amended, remembering the moment a sexy brigand had confronted her on board his yacht.

She must forget Saif, Antonia told herself firmly, staring at the palace again. She had work to do, and must devote herself to that. The hotel housekeeper had explained that the palace she could see was now called the Ra’id al Maktabi palace, after their new leader. The woman had excitedly gone on to confide that Ra’id al Maktabi’s stated aim was to bring Sinnebar into the twenty-first century, which included equal rights for women for the first time in the country’s history.

Antonia hadn’t failed to notice how the woman’s face had lit up when she spoke of the ruling sheikh, and had gathered that the hopes of the people were invested in their new leader. No wonder Saif had been offended when she had teased him about his sheikh. She understood now that Ra’id al Maktabi was looked upon as the saviour of his country.

Before he could deal with the Helena problem, he wanted to make sure that arrangements for the girl’s safe passage home had been made. The sooner she went, the better. Reports on her progress were brought to him daily, which made it impossible to close that chapter until she was gone.

He rang his secretary to check that everything was in place, and, having been reassured that all the travel details were in order, he was reminded of an appointment that evening, a charity event he must attend. It was an event in the old style with no women present. He was in the process of putting an end to this segregation of the sexes, before any more good brains were wasted—a thought that immediately brought a flashback of a very determined young woman. What would Tuesday make of an event where she wouldn’t be allowed past the door?

There was a smile on his lips as he shook his head at the thought of her reaction, but the event was for charity, and had been organised during his father’s reign, so he would make time for it. Whatever his personal feelings, he could put up with one more evening of wall-to-wall men. When he returned from the event he would set about reclaiming the land that had been stolen from his people, and would be relentless in his pursuit of the missing heir.

She wasn’t going to waste a second regretting things that couldn’t be changed, Antonia decided as she came in from the balcony to her sumptuous hotel room. Everything was so beautiful in Sinnebar; how could she not be filled with a sense of optimism? And what else could life throw at her? She had to be over the worst now.