Читать книгу Captured By A Sheikh - Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 13

Three months later

Harbor View, California

Where had the baby gotten those dark, piercing eyes? Holly Rivers wondered as she gazed down at the child in her arms. Whoever the father was, if he had eyes like those, he must exert a hypnotic appeal.

Little Ben blinked, and the impression of ferocity vanished. When he stretched his tiny arms and yawned, her heart clenched.

She had thought she knew what love was, until the first time this baby was placed in her arms. Then she’d discovered, in a burst of wonder, the true depth of the human heart.

Did he have to be such a chunky fellow at three months, though? Although her arms were beginning to hurt, Holly hesitated to position him any closer against her for fear of spoiling her antique lace wedding dress.

She hoped Alice Frey, her matron of honor and her employer at the Sunshine Lane Salon, would return soon with their flowers. She needed Alice’s help to feed Ben before the four-o’clock ceremony, and they only had half an hour left.

“Hey, can I come in?” The question was followed by a belated knock on the partly open door of the church’s dressing room. Without waiting for an answer, in marched Trevor Samuelson.

Her groom. The man she was to marry for all the kindness and caring he’d shown over the years, and for the secure home he was offering her and Ben.

Although black and white weren’t the most flattering colors for a blond, blue-eyed man, the tuxedo looked handsome on Trevor. “You look terrific,” she said, smiling.

“It’s not exactly comfortable.” With a wry expression, he tugged on the bow tie.

At forty-eight, Trevor, a successful attorney, was eighteen years older than Holly and a longtime friend of her late parents. Until recently, she’d thought of him as a kind of uncle.

Then, during the past year, his friendly manner had shifted into courtship. At first, she’d kept him at arm’s length.

But after her pregnant sister Jazz disappeared, Trevor had been her mainstay, offering emotional support and spending his own time and money on the search. It had been a relief to share her burden.

Just before Christmas, one of Jazz’s scruffy musician friends, Griffin Goldbar, had showed up with Ben. Astonished at being handed a baby, Holly hadn’t questioned him forcefully, especially after Griff assured her that Jazz would return in a few days.

When she didn’t, Holly had worried all through Christmas. She’d begun to fear that her sister might not return at all.

Two weeks ago, when Trevor assured her that his love was big enough to include the child, Holly accepted his proposal. Maybe his kisses didn’t set her on fire, but she needed him.

She was in no shape, financially or emotionally, to raise a child alone. Besides, he made her feel safe and cherished.

His eagerness had persuaded her not to delay the wedding. Fortunately, she already had her mother’s wedding gown.

“Did I mention how stunning you look?” Trevor brushed his thumb across the wing of dark-red hair that fell to her collar. “Honey, I’m just bursting with pride. I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle.”

She blushed. “Have many of the guests arrived?” Holly’s parents were dead, and she had no other close family. Neither did Trevor, whose childless first marriage had ended in divorce five years ago.

The guests included her co-workers and some of Trevor’s colleagues. Many couldn’t attend, however, because courts were in session. The wedding had been scheduled on the salon’s afternoon off, a Monday, which was also one of the few days the church had been available.

“They’re straggling in.” The crease deepened in his cheek. “I’m nervous, can you believe that? It’s not as if I’ve never done this before, but it feels like the first time.”

“For me, too, Trev,” teased Holly, and startled a laugh from her fiancé.

He looped his arm around her and Ben, and angled for a kiss. At that moment, an armful of flowers swept through the door and a penetrating female voice rapped out, “Don’t you know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony? Out! Out!”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a sigh, Trevor executed a mock bow in Alice’s direction, and withdrew.

“How’s our darling?” Alice asked, placing her bouquet on the conference table.

“He said he’s nervous.”

“I don’t mean Trevor! I mean the baby!” Alice clucked at Ben, who cooed back at her. “My goodness, I feel as if you’re my little grandbaby! I wish my son would get married, but it’s beginning to look less and less like he ever will. This may be the only grandchild I ever have, and I don’t want to lose him just because you’re getting married!”

“Don’t worry, Alice. You’re as close to Ben as any grandmother could be.” Holly meant every word.

The short salon owner, who at fifty fought a never-ending battle against gray hair and a thickening waist-line, had adored Ben from the first moment she saw him.

When Holly’s finances were strained by the search for her sister, the salon owner had even offered to let the two move into her small house. Thanks to Trevor, however, that wouldn’t be necessary.

“You know I like Jazz,” said Alice, who had put up patiently with the aspiring singer’s occasional absences from her manicure duties. “But if she doesn’t care enough about this baby to come and get him, she’s an idiot.”

“If only she’d told me who the father is!” Holly said. “Maybe he knows where she went.”

“Yes, well, it’s your wedding day, Holly Jeannette Rivers-almost-Samuelson, so let’s forget Jazz, for once.” Lifting a circlet of flowers, Alice placed it expertly atop Holly’s thick hair. A gauzy veil turned the world blurry until the salon owner tipped it upward. “It’s hinged, thank goodness. So you don’t have to stumble around until your final march.”

“You make that sound like the march of doom!” Yielding her nephew to Alice, Holly picked up her bouquet. The tightly bound flowers had a light, refreshing smell.

“Oh, I like Trevor,” said her friend. “I just think he’s too old for you. And too much like a familiar pair of shoes. Where’s your romantic spirit? Don’t you want to meet someone exciting?”

“Apparently my sister met someone exciting, and a lot of good it did her!” Holly rejoined. “Oh, Alice, I miss her so much. What if something bad’s happened to her? She’s so talented, so intense—”

“And so unreliable,” her employer pointed out as she retrieved a bottle of formula from the diaper bag. “Any day now, she’ll breeze back as if she’d never been away.”

“I hope so.”

The older woman settled onto a chair and positioned the baby for feeding. “Why don’t you get a breath of fresh air? Just make sure Trevor isn’t lurking around stealing glances at his bride.”

“I think that’s romantic,” Holly returned. “He loves me, Alice. He may be an old friend, but he’s got all the qualities of an ideal husband.”

“Rich, handsome and boring.” Her friend sniffed.

Suddenly Holly did need a breath of fresh air. Anyway, it was obvious her friend wanted to be alone with the baby.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and went out through a short hallway into the courtyard. It separated the Sunday school building, which housed her dressing room, from the Spanish-style stucco chapel.

The air was January-crisp, with thin sunshine straggling through the clouds. Last night’s drizzle had darkened the high stucco wall that blocked her view of the street.

In back, an alley separated the chapel courtyard from a vacant lot filled with wildflowers. In the courtyard, the flowers were more refined: rose-colored camellias, pale pink azaleas and white calla lilies. Still, the predominant fragrance was wet earth.

As usual when she was alone, Holly’s thoughts returned to her sister. People said the two of them looked alike, but she knew better. Jazz was more dramatic in every way: two inches taller, with brighter red hair, darker brown eyes and a more vivacious manner.

Abruptly, she realized she was being watched. Startled, she stared at the man standing across the alley. Where had he come from? The fact that she hadn’t seen or heard him approach gave her a creepy sensation.

He stood motionless, regarding her the way a cat watches its prey. Tall and dark, with a short beard and mustache, he had a muscular build beneath his sweatshirt and jeans. He wore a California Angels baseball cap, turned backward.

The most striking thing about the man was the intensity of the eyes. They burned at her from his chiseled face, disturbing her with their open expression of dislike.

Annoyed, Holly reached up and lowered her veil. Not a twitch of the stranger’s lips betrayed a reaction.

She hurried inside, but an impression of alert tension stayed with her. And of fierce eyes that seemed oddly familiar.

“YOU ARE certain it is she?” asked Zahad. To Sharif, the turtleneck sweater and cap gave his cousin a collegiate air.

“She covered her face when she saw me, but yes,” the sheikh replied. “I am certain.” The resemblance to the photograph of H. J. Rivers was unmistakable.

The two men sat in the front seat of a rented sedan, next to a small shopping center on the far side of the vacant lot. Through binoculars, they had been watching the churchyard for more than an hour.

Although, following Zahad’s advice, the sheikh was dressed in casual American fashion, something about him had distressed Holly Rivers. He should not have stared so hard, he supposed, but he had wanted to see her face clearly.

How innocent she looked, and how lovely, her youth and vivid coloring flattered by the ivory gown. He knew her true nature, however. She had stolen his money, and now she was trying to steal his child.

“They are all snakes,” he muttered. “Her, and those people at the clinic.”

Beside him, Zahad nodded. “I am sorry I steered you to that place. It received many recommendations on the Internet, so I trusted Mrs. Wheaton, but she has deceived us. I am only glad we had not yet paid her the full amount.”

A month ago, the clinic owner had stopped returning Zahad’s phone calls. When he finally reached her, she had nervously declared that there were some unforeseen complications but that they could be handled. Any precipitous action might create legal problems, she had said.

With his usual thoroughness, the aide had checked recent legal records concerning H. J. Rivers. That was how he’d learned that Holly Jeannette Rivers had taken out a marriage license with Trevor Samuelson, an attorney.

Amy Haroun, who had grown up as more of a sister to Sharif than a cousin, had surmised that Holly Rivers must have decided to keep the baby. A poor manicurist couldn’t afford a legal battle, but marriage to an attorney would guarantee her an inside track. No doubt the older man had been bedazzled by this manipulative young woman.

Zahad had flown to America at once. Sharif, who’d arrived yesterday, didn’t know the full extent of his aide’s preparations, but there was a safe house, and this car had been rented through a business subsidiary. Zahad had also stashed a backup vehicle somewhere.

They had brought no weapons, at the sheikh’s orders. He didn’t want to risk being arrested with a gun.

The plan was to snatch his son and fly him back to Alqedar, using any of several sets of tickets purchased from different airlines. Then let Holly Jeannette Rivers twist and scheme as she might. American custody orders were not recognized in his country.

It had not been easy to catch Ms. Rivers alone with the baby, however. That short woman, who must be her older sister, seemed to be with her whenever the fiancé was absent.

But they had to make their move soon. The Rivers woman had seen him. Even if she didn’t already suspect Sharif’s identity, any further sightings of him would raise the alarm.

Adrenaline surged through him. Despite the gravity of the situation, this was the moment when he felt most alive: on the verge of action.

“Let us take our positions,” said Zahad.

The sheikh nodded. His palms itched and sheer energy pumped through his arteries. To strike at last, after so much delay, would be a pleasure.

INSIDE HER dressing room, Holly found the baby watching wide-eyed as Alice mopped a white milky stain from the shoulder of her blue dress. “The receiving blanket slipped while I was burping him. What a mess!”

“I’ll take him.” After pushing up her veil, Holly reached for the warm bundle. “You go put some soap and water on it.”

“How could I be so clumsy?” fussed her friend as she hurried away.

In Holly’s arms, Ben yawned, ready for a nap. She decided to go in search of Marta Vasquez, the salon’s other manicurist, who had volunteered to hold the baby during the ceremony.

When she stepped through the outer door, a sharp breeze tugged at her veil. With her bouquet tucked in the crook of her arm and Ben in the other, she didn’t have a hand free to steady the veil.

She forgot about the wind, however, when the baby gurgled happily. Holly beamed down at his small pink face.

A scuffing noise, very close, startled her into looking up. It was the dark-haired man. Right there, towering over her, so close she could see the hard purpose in his face.

“Wh-what do you want?” The words came out in a whisper.

She hadn’t realized anyone else was present until, from the other side, a pair of hands seized Ben. The second attacker frightened her even more. His marked face and cold expression were terrifying.

Things were happening too fast. It took forever to reach out for little Ben, and when she did, he had already been snatched out of reach. She tried to scream for help, but her throat clamped down.

Where was everybody? Why didn’t Trevor come? What did these men want with her baby?

They turned to flee. With a sob, Holly leaped after them.