Читать книгу His Royal Prize - Debbi Rawlins, Debbi Rawlins - Страница 13

Sharif cursed as the ice-cold water ran down his neck and spine. He jerked back and nearly toppled over. Rose stared at him with a hand over her mouth, shock widening her light blue eyes. His father remained expressionless.

Behind Sharif, the door swished closed. The coward had left.

“I don’t know what happened. Livy is usually such a sweet, sweet girl,” Rose began, waving helplessly. “I—I…”

His father lifted a silencing hand and Rose promptly obeyed. He looked directly at Sharif. “Do you know what provoked the woman?”

Sharif snatched the napkin off his lap before it absorbed any more water, and used it to dry his face. And to avoid his father’s probing eyes. “Why would I know about this crazy person? She is nothing more than a…”

After an awkward silence his father asked, “A what?”

He could not finish his initial thought aloud. Sharif’s reluctance had nothing to do with his father’s stern tone or the warning issued in his disapproving eyes. It was the recollection of the hurt in Olivia’s face that stopped him.

Shamed him.

Angered him.

Surely the vixen did not regard their playfulness yesterday as anything significant. He was merely passing the time, looking for a distraction. So what had prompted her outrageous behavior?

The hurt in her violet eyes echoed in his head.

To her mind, it was apparent he had done something wrong.

“Sharif?”

His father’s voice was quieter now, not so stern, making Sharif fear his expression had given away his self-doubt. He straightened and silently met the king’s eyes in subtle defiance.

“Tell me, Sharif. What do you think the woman’s punishment should be?”

“Oh, please, I’ll talk to her—” Rose began in a pleading tone, but again King Zak lifted a hand and again she fell silent.

Sharif stared at her subdued face, unnerved by the oddest desire to tell her to stand up to King Zak, to not be so docile.

Which was absurd. Women in his country, and where Rose once was queen, were taught subservience from an early age. Sharif liked it that way.

He turned to his father’s expectant face. “I will deal with her myself.”

“In what manner?”

Sharif saw the amusement lurking in the king’s eyes, and anger seized him once more. He would not be made the fool. Throwing down his napkin, he stood, heedless of his chair scraping the hardwood floor as it flung back.

Before he could say anything, a loud noise coming from outside drew their attention. Angry shouts, the slamming of car doors, the blare of a horn all sounded from somewhere in front of the house. King Zak and Rose both left the table and hurried toward the living room for a look through the expansive glass windows.

Sharif followed close behind, knowing deep down his nightmare was coming true. He had lain awake half the night, planning a counterattack if reporters were to show up again. He had no doubt the man yesterday was from the media, looking to publicize the shame of Sharif’s heritage. The problem was, he had no plan, no defense. He was, in fact, not the blood heir to the throne of Balahar.

“Oh, no.” Rose was first to the window, the sudden slump in her shoulders foretelling. “Reporters.”

Sharif looked away from the comforting hand his father pressed to her lower back, and stared out at the same dark sedan he had seen yesterday. Two men stood face-to-face with one of the ranch hands, all of them gesturing wildly.

“There’s Alex,” Rose said, straightening, a trace of pride in her voice. “He’ll take care of it.”

With a mixture of admiration, envy and relief, Sharif watched his eldest brother approach the men. Rose was right. Alex probably would take care of everything. From what Sharif had witnessed, he was the most sensible and responsible of the four brothers.

As soon as Alex joined the group, the shouting stopped. Moments later, the two strangers got in their car and left.

Alex stood watching until the car disappeared out the front gate. Their other brother, Cade, rode up on a black gelding, then climbed down to confer with Alex and the ranch hand. All three men glanced toward the house, and tension cramped Sharif’s shoulders.

Of course the commotion was about him. And, to a lesser degree, King Zak. And possibly Rose. Sharif had to face public scrutiny sooner or later.

Alex and Cade started toward the house while the third man led the gelding toward the barn. Rose sighed as she watched her two sons approach.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” she said, smiling.

She did not have to say her reassurance was due to Alex, and Sharif experienced a sting of jealousy. Absurd. These people meant nothing to him. He did like Alex. He seemed to be a good man, and Sharif was grateful to him for banishing the reporters. At least for now.

In fact, he liked all three of his brothers, and he hoped in time, they would become friends. But Rose could never replace his mother.

He saw the pride shining in her eyes as she watched Alex, and Sharif felt empty suddenly. He had seen how they interacted, as though they had never been separated. As though she had been the one who had dried his boyish tears and sung him to sleep. Sharif did not understand.

Perhaps they had a special bond because Alex remembered her. He had been four when Rose was torn from them. Cade and Mac were barely three and had no memory of her. Sharif had been the only one who had gone with her. Until he had outgrown the inside of her belly.

Sharif stepped back from the window, away from Rose, shaken by the sudden realization that they did have a bond, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. But in his heart, Queen Nadirah would always be his mother. Even though she had been ripped too early from his life. Her death still pained him.

His gaze automatically drew to Rose. Had she felt the same razor’s edge slicing through her body when he had been torn away from her?

Sharif pushed the crippling thought out of his mind. He could not afford sympathy or regret or any other emotional obstacle. Not now. His future was at stake.

His brothers neared the house just as Olivia walked outside, and they all stopped to talk. At the sight of her, Sharif’s chest tightened, oddly not from anger, but from something else. Something strange, foreign…something that made the hair at the back of his neck stand. As though she were some kind of primal threat to him.

He dismissed the ridiculous notion. Standing next to Alex, she looked small and fragile, like a child’s doll. She could not be much over five feet, and her wrists and hands were so tiny, Sharif had been concerned about hurting her yesterday. But she was no wilting desert flower. She had not cowered before anyone’s wishes as Rose had done.

Admiration dented his annoyance as he watched her with his brothers. Alex gestured toward the barn, and Olivia straightened. Shaking her head, she stuffed her hands into her pockets, her shoulders rolling slightly forward before she backed away and headed toward the stables.

Sharif wondered if their exchange had anything to do with yesterday. Olivia had done nothing wrong, and if Alex was upset, Sharif would speak to him.

“If you want to go change your shirt, I’ll get the boys some coffee,” Rose said as she headed toward the kitchen. “Then we can all sit down and find out what the ruckus was about.”

Sharif had totally forgotten about his shirt and wet hair. And he had never before heard the word ruckus, but he figured he knew what it meant. His shirt would have to wait.

A moment after Rose disappeared, Cade pushed through the dining room door just ahead of Alex. They both eyed Sharif’s wet soggy condition but said nothing as they took seats at the table.

“We have a problem.” Cade pushed a hand through his dark hair, concern etching lines across his forehead as he looked from Sharif to King Zak. “A couple of reporters know you’re here.”

“Sharks always smell blood. I only wish we had had more time.” King Zak sighed. “Your mother is—”

“Yeah, we saw her in the kitchen, but we haven’t told her anything yet.” Cade grunted in disgust. “I’d better call Rena and warn her before the vultures start knocking on our door.”

“Do not worry. My daughter is used to dealing with the press,” King Zak said. “But, yes, it would be wise to warn her.”

“Go call your wife.” Alex motioned with his chin. “I’ll fill them in.”

Sharif watched Cade head toward the hall, struck again by the staggering changes in all their lives. Cade was not only his newfound brother, but his marriage to Sharif’s adopted sister, Serena, made Cade his brother-in-law, as well. Although Serena was no blood relation to Rose, as a member of the royal family of Balahar and as Cade’s wife, she would also be affected by any press releases.

When Sharif turned back to his father and Alex, he immediately met his brother’s eyes. They were dark and intense, full of questions or, perhaps, disapproval.

“We have to make a decision,” Alex said. “They know you’re here, and denying it will probably just make matters worse. I say we make a joint statement, telling them the truth.”

Sharif snorted in disagreement. “Those jackals will not be content until they have sniffed out every hint of scandal. I say we tell them nothing.”

“The sooner we give them a story, the sooner they’ll quit digging. They’ve already exploited every detail about Cade, Mac and me being long-lost royalty. The rest is bound to come out anyway.” Alex’s gaze held steady. “I assume you don’t have anything to hide.”

Sharif stiffened. Of course he did not, but he did not care for his brother’s tone. “You think the story of Rose’s wrongful imprisonment at the hands of her own sister-in-law, or the secret of my heritage are not scandals?”

“Our mother was the victim. When the news does break, and it will, the only person who’s going to look bad is good ol’ Aunt Layla.”

Sharif turned away. Alex did not understand. How could he? They shared the same blood, but they did not share the same culture. He was more American in beliefs and attitude. Alex could not know how it felt to suddenly have both the past and future shattered.

“King Zak? What’s your position on this?”

Sharif stared out the window as he waited for his father to answer Alex. He did not have to look at the older man to know that he thoughtfully stroked his chin as he considered his answer. King Zak was the wisest man Sharif had ever known, and in the end, he would abide by his father’s wishes.

“How much do these men know?” King Zak finally asked, just as Rose carried in a tray of coffee.

Alex hesitated a moment. “These are the same guys who broke the story about Mother being kept drugged in the sanitarium in Europe while Mac, Cade and I were sent here.” He slid a look at Rose, and her lips curved in a reassuring smile. “And of course they covered Cade and Serena’s wedding. Now, they know you two are here.” Alex looked pointedly at Sharif. “And they claim that my dear brother is having an affair with one of our ranch hands. Absurd, isn’t it?”

Everyone in the room turned toward Sharif. Disapproval and annoyance darkened his father’s face, while confusion furrowed Rose’s eyebrows. Cade had just returned, his grim expression focused on Sharif.

“An affair?” Sharif made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I have been here only twenty-four hours and already they claim I am having an affair. This is why I see no point in supplying them with information.”

Alex shrugged, his unwavering gaze a clear indication he did not completely believe Sharif. “By the same token, what we don’t give them, they make up.”

“What is it you suggest we tell them?” King Zak asked.

Alex looked at Rose. “This may not be easy.”

She did not react. Her attention was focused on Sharif’s wet shirt. When her gaze rose to meet his, Sharif saw comprehension dawn in her eyes. She knew about him and Olivia.

Guilt nudged him. Which was ridiculous. A couple of kisses did not constitute an affair. And Olivia had been a willing participant. He would not have acted, otherwise.

“Mother?” Alex frowned at her before his eyes again found Sharif.

“You’re right, Alex.” She abandoned the tray of coffee and sank into a chair. “Let’s tell them what we know.”

He nodded. “Okay, let’s discuss the wording and who’ll be the spokesman.”

To Sharif’s amazement, Rose leaned forward, and resting her elbows on the table, said, “I’ve been thinking about this, and I think we should go ahead and give them a brief, factual chronological list of events.”

Everyone nodded, no one looking the least surprised at the assertiveness in her voice or the sudden strength in her face. Fascinated by this other side of her, Sharif remained silent.

“First, we tell them about Ibrahim’s assassination.” She paused at the mention of her husband, a brief sadness touching her face and finding a soft spot in Sharif’s stubborn heart. “How it was Azzam’s wife, Layla, who had arranged for my imprisonment. And Ibrahim’s murder.” She briefly closed her eyes. “I was wrong in accusing my husband’s brother and trying to retaliate. This is my chance to set the record straight.”

Silence descended. It had been a shocking and ugly thing to learn that a twisted, sick thirst for power had resulted in the death of a king, and the ruin of his family. So many casualties. So many lies.

Sharif stared at Rose with grudging respect. Thirty years in a sanitarium, drugged and separated from her children, while still grieving for her husband. Yet she had survived.