Читать книгу One Night with the Sheikh - KRISTI GOLD - Страница 7

One

King Rafiq ibn Fayiz Mehdi possessed keen intelligence, vast power and infinite riches. Yet none had aided him in preventing a devastating tragedy—a tragedy for which he had been partially responsible.

As the sun began to set, he stood on the palace’s rooftop veranda and peered at the panorama stretched out before him. The diverse terrain he once revered now seemed ominous, inviting disturbing recollections that cut into his composure like a well-honed blade.

A dark, winding road at midnight. Silence and dread. Flashing lights illuminating the bottom of a cliff. The twisted metal wreckage...

“If you believe you’ll move mountains by staring at them, I assure you it will not work.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, Rafiq glanced back to see his brother standing only a few steps behind him. “Why are you here?”

Zain claimed the space beside Rafiq and leaned back against the stone wall. “Is that how you greet the man who so generously handed you the keys to the kingdom over a year ago?”

The same man who had abdicated the throne for the sake of love, an emotion Rafiq had never quite embraced. “My apologies, brother. I was not expecting you for another month.”

“Since I completed my initial preparation for the water conservation project, I felt the timing was right for my return.”

Under normal circumstances, he would appreciate Zain’s company. Lately he preferred solitude. “Did you travel alone?”

“Of course not,” Zain said in an irritable tone. “I do not travel without my family unless absolutely necessary.”

Rafiq had never believed he would hear his womanizing brother utter those words. “Then Madison is with you?”

“Yes, and my children. I’ve been anxious for you to finally meet your niece and nephew.”

Rafiq did not share in Zain’s enthusiasm. Being in the presence of two infants would only serve to remind him of what he had lost. “Where are they now?”

“Madison and Elena are tending to them.”

At least he could temporarily avoid the painful introduction. “I am glad you have finally returned Elena to her rightful place. The household does not run well without her.”

“So I have heard,” Zain said. “I have also heard you are in danger of causing an uprising among the palace staff if you continue to terrorize them.”

Rafiq admittedly had trouble maintaining calm in recent days, but he did not care for the exaggerated accusation. “I have not terrorized the staff. I have only corrected them when necessary.”

“It’s my understanding you have found it necessary to correct them on a daily basis, brother. I’ve also learned you have not been cooperative with the council.”

Rafiq began to question the real reason behind Zain’s surprise appearance. “Have you been speaking with our younger brother?”

Zain’s gaze faltered. “I have been in touch with Adan on occasion.”

His anger began to build. “And you have clearly been discussing me.”

“He only mentioned you’ve been having a difficult time since Rima’s death.”

Rafiq’s suspicions had been confirmed—Zain had arrived early to play nursemaid. “Despite what you and Adan might believe, I do not need a keeper.”

Zain leaned forward, his expression suddenly somber. “We both understand how devastating it must be to lose your wife and your unborn child—”

“How could you understand?” No one would ever understand the constant guilt and regret unless they had experienced it. “You have a wife and two healthy children.”

“As I was saying,” Zain continued, “it’s understandable that you are still harboring a good measure of anger, particularly with so many unanswered questions about the accident. However, your attitude is proving disruptive. Perhaps you should consider taking a sabbatical.”

Impossible and unnecessary. “And who would run the country in my stead?”

“I would,” Zain said. “After all, I prepared many years to assume that responsibility before I gave up the position. Adan is willing to assist me.”

Rafiq released a cynical laugh. “First, Adan has no interest in governing Bajul. He’s only interested in flying planes and seducing women. As far as you are concerned, our people have not forgotten you abandoned them for a second time.”

Barely contained fury called out from Zain’s narrowed eyes. “I still have an abiding love for this country, and I am quite capable of seeing that it runs smoothly, as I promised before I returned with Madison to the States. Do not forget, I alone developed the water conservation plan that will secure Bajul’s future. And I have earned the council’s support.”

Rafiq recognized he had been wrong to criticize Zain. “My apologies. I do appreciate your support, but I assure you I do not need a sabbatical.”

“A sabbatical would allow you to assess your feelings about the situation.”

Rafiq was growing weary of the interference. “My feelings are not significant. My duties to Bajul are of the utmost importance.”

“Yet your emotional upheaval has understandably begun to affect your leadership. Grieving requires time, Rafiq. You have not allowed yourself enough for that.”

He had grieved more than anyone would know. “It has been six months. Life must continue as planned.”

Zain whisked a hand through his dark hair. “Plans go awry, brother, and life sometimes comes to a standstill. You have suffered a great loss and if you choose not to acknowledge that, you will only suffer more.”

He could no longer suffer through this conversation. “I prefer not to discuss it further, so if you will excuse me—”

The sound of footfalls silenced Rafiq and drew his attention to Zain’s blonde American bride walking toward them, a round-faced, dark-haired infant propped on one hip. He immediately noticed the happiness reflected in his sister-in-law’s face and the obvious adoration in her blue eyes when she met Zain’s gaze. “I have a baby girl who insists on being with her daddy.”

Zain presented a warm smile. “And her father is more than happy to accommodate her.”

After Madison handed the infant to Zain, she drew Rafiq into an embrace. “It’s good to see you, my dear brother-in-law.”

“And you, Madison,” he said. “You are looking well, as usual. I would never have known you had given birth.” Ironically, only a few days after he had buried his wife.

She pushed her somewhat disheveled hair back and blushed. “Thank you. Elena told me to tell you that she’ll see you as soon as she has Joseph in bed. She seems to be able to calm our son better than anyone, but then after raising the Mehdi boys, she’s had quite a bit of experience.”

Zain moved closer to Rafiq and regarded his child. “Cala, this is your uncle Rafiq. And yes, we do favor each other, except for that goatee, but I am much more handsome.”

Rafiq experienced sheer sadness at the sound of his mother’s name that his brother had given his daughter. The mother he had barely known yet still revered. “She is a beautiful child, Zain. Congratulations.”

“Do you wish to hold your niece?” Zain asked.

If he dared, he risked destroying the emotional fortress he had built for protection. “Perhaps later. At the moment I have some documents to review.” He leaned and kissed Madison’s cheek. “You have honored my brother by giving him the greatest of gifts. For that, I am grateful.”

Needing to escape, Rafiq strode across the veranda, only to be halted by Zain, who handed the child back to Madison and followed him to the door. “Wait, Rafiq.”

He reluctantly faced his brother again. “What is it now?”

Zain rested a hand on Rafiq’s shoulder. “I understand why it would be difficult to discuss anything involving emotional issues with your siblings. For that reason, I believe you should seek out a friend who understands you better than most.”

He could only recall one soul who would currently meet that requirement, and they had not interacted as friends in quite some time. “If you are referring to Shamil Barad, he is away while the resort is being renovated.”

“I am referring to his sister, Maysa.”

The name sent a spear of regret through Rafiq’s heart, and a rush of memories into his mind. He recalled the way her long, dark hair cascaded down her back and fell below her waist. The deep creases in her cheeks that framed her beautiful smile. He remembered the way she had looked that long-ago night when they had made love—their greatest mistake. He also remembered the pain in her brown eyes the day he had told her they could never be together. “I have not spoken with Maysa at length in many years. She severed all ties when—”

“You chose Rima Acar over her?”

He did not care to defend the decision, but he would. “I was not consulted when the agreement between our fathers was made.”

Zain rubbed his shaded jaw. “Ah, yes. I believe Sheikh Acar trumped Maysa’s father’s offer during the bridal bartering. I also recall that you did nothing to plead your case. You never attempted to convince either party that you belonged with Maysa.”

And he had regretted that decision more than once. “In accordance with tradition, it was not within my power to do so.”

Zain’s expression turned to stone. “A tradition that forced me to choose between my royal duty and my wife. An antiquated custom that has done nothing but lead to your misery, and Maysa’s, as well. The choice the sultan made for Maysa resulted in divorce and nearly ruined her, and you were anything but happy with your queen.”

Anger as hot as a firebrand shot through Rafiq. “You know nothing about my relationship with Rima.”

“I know what I witnessed when I saw the two of you together.” Zain studied him for a long moment. “Were you happy, Rafiq? Was Rima happy?”

He could not answer truthfully without confirming Zain’s conjecture. “I cared a great deal for Rima. We were friends long before we wed. Her death has been difficult for me, whether you choose to believe that or not.”

“My apologies for sounding insensitive,” Zain said. “As I told you earlier, it’s very apparent you are in great turmoil, which brings me back to my suggestion you talk with Maysa. She will understand.”

Perhaps so, but other issues still existed. “Even if she agreed to see me, which I suspect she will not, any liaison with Maysa would not be considered acceptable. She is divorced and I have been widowed for only a brief time.”

Zain’s frustration came out in a scowl. “First of all, I am only suggesting you speak with her, not wed her. Second, if you are concerned that someone will assume an affair, then steal away in the night to prevent detection. It has always worked to my advantage. Should you need assistance, I will be glad to make the arrangements.”

He had no doubt Zain could. His brother had made covert disappearance an art form. “I do not need your assistance, nor do I plan to see Maysa.”

“Do not dismiss it completely, Rafiq. She could be the one person to see you through this difficult phase.”

At one time, that would have held true. Maysa had known him better than any living soul, understood him better, and she had been a welcome source of support during their formative years. She had also been his greatest weakness, and he had been her greatest disappointment.

For that reason, he should stay away from her. Yet as he left his brother’s company and returned to his quarters, alone with his continuing guilt, he began to wonder if perhaps Zain might be right. Reconnecting with Maysa again, if only for a brief time, could very well be worth the risks.

* * *

As the village’s primary physician, Maysa Barad answered the midnight summons expecting a messenger requesting she tend to an ailing child or a mother in labor. She did not expect to find Rafiq Mehdi, the recently crowned—and newly widowed—King of Bajul. Her childhood friend. Her first love. Her first lover.

The changes in Rafiq were somewhat apparent, but subtle. He was still tall and lean. Still as incredibly handsome as he’d always been, despite that he now chose to wear a neatly trimmed goatee framing his sensual mouth. His eyes and hair were still as dark, much the same as hers, yet maturity had lent him an even greater aura of power. A power that had crushed her resolve on more than one occasion many years before.

She could not remember the last time he had called on her. She couldn’t imagine why he was here now, but she intended to find out. “Good evening, Your Majesty. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need to speak with you.”

His serious tone and intense gaze prompted Maysa to press the panic button. “Are you ill?”

“No. I will explain why I am here as soon as we are in a private setting.”

Maysa glanced around him to see a black car parked in the portico, and surprisingly not one of the requisite sentries. “Where are your guards?”

“At the palace. Only select members of my staff know I am here.”

Being completely alone with him somewhat concerned Maysa. She considered asking him to return in the morning, when she was appropriately dressed, well rested and better prepared. However, he was still the king and his wish would have to be her command, an all too familiar concept. During their youth, she would have done anything he asked of her. One fateful night, she had.

Despite all the concerns racing through her mind, and the threat to her composure, she opened the door wide to allow him entry. “I suppose you may come in for a while.”

After Rafiq stepped into the foyer, Maysa closed and locked the door, then faced him to find his dark, pensive gaze leveled on hers. “I sincerely appreciate your willingness to see me at this hour,” he said without a hint of familiarity.

She sincerely questioned the wisdom in allowing him in her home. “You are welcome. Follow me.”

Maysa led him down the corridor and paused when one of the staff appeared from around the corner. She waved the befuddled woman away and continued past the myriad rooms comprising the expansive house belonging to her father, and on loan to her. The same house where she’d gone from teenager to woman in her childhood bed, courtesy of the man walking behind her.

Once they reached her private living area, she shut the door and gestured toward the settee. “Feel free to be seated.”

“I prefer to stand,” he said as he began to pace the room like a caged tiger, his hands firmly planted in the pockets of his black slacks.

Maysa dropped down onto the sofa, curled her legs beneath her and adjusted the aqua caftan to where it covered her bare feet. She chose to continue to speak in English, should one of the staff decide to eavesdrop. “What can I do for you, Rafiq?”

He stopped to stare out the window overlooking the mountains. “I could not sleep. I’ve had difficulty sleeping since...”

“The accident,” she said when his words trailed away. The mysterious, single-car accident that had claimed the queen’s life six months ago. “Insomnia and restlessness are understandable. Rima’s death was tragic and unexpected. If you would like me to prescribe a sleep aid, I would certainly be willing to do that.”

He turned toward her, some unnamed emotion in his near-black eyes. “I do not wish a pill, Maysa. I wish to go back to that night and find a way to prevent my wife’s death. I want to find some peace.”

His feelings for his queen apparently were much deeper than Maysa had realized. “It takes time to recover from losing someone you cared about, Rafiq.”

“It has been six months,” he said. “And I did not care enough, which directly contributed to her demise.”

Evidently she had made an erroneous assumption. It seemed Rafiq’s marriage to Rima Acar had been little more than a long-standing agreement between their patriarchs. Yet she didn’t understand why he blamed himself for her death. “You weren’t driving the car, Rafiq.”

He crossed the room and joined her on the opposite end of the small settee. “But I did drive her away that night.”

She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the details, but since he’d decided to take her into his confidence for the first time in years, she chose to listen. “Did you argue before she left?”

He lowered his head and streaked his palms over his face, as if to erase the bitter memories. “Yes, immediately after she informed me she was with child.”

Rima’s pregnancy had been kept from the press, but the revelation came as no surprise to Maysa. Unbeknownst to the king, the queen had come to her for confirmation instead of consulting the palace physician, though she never quite understood why. Rima had always been aware of Maysa’s close relationship with Rafiq, at times pitting them as rivals. “Were you not happy to hear the news?”

“I was pleased to know I would have an heir. She was not at all pleased to be having my child.”

Maysa had witnessed Rima’s distress when she’d delivered the results, but she had attributed that to slight shock. “She told you that?”

He released a rough sigh. “Not in so many words, but I sensed her unhappiness. When I questioned her at length, she did not deny it. She disappeared some time later without my knowledge.”

Maysa experienced a measure of satisfaction that he’d chosen to release his burden and a good deal of guilt over what she’d chosen to withhold from him. She suspected she knew where the queen had been before the accident, though she had no solid proof. “Do you know where she might have been going when she left?”

His expression remained somber. “No, and I most likely will never know. I do know if I had been kinder to her, then perhaps she would not have felt the need to leave.”

She offered him the only advice she could give him at the moment. Advice she had been forced to follow since the day he’d told her he would be marrying another, shattering her dreams of a future with him. “Rafiq, you can spend a lifetime wondering what might have been, or you can move on with your life.”

“I told Zain only hours ago that I intended to proceed with my life,” he said. “I did not admit the difficulty in that. To him, or until recently, myself.”

“It would be nice if your brother were here during this trying time.”

Rafiq kept his gaze trained on the floor. “He arrived in Bajul today with Madison and their children.”

She realized having the children around could be the basis for his lack of enthusiasm and distress. “That must be very difficult for you.”

He finally looked at her. “Why would you believe I would not welcome my brother’s family?”

She laid a hand on his arm. “Of course you would, but being in the presence of two infants might remind you of your recent loss.”

“I can handle that, but I cannot abide Zain’s advice. He is convinced I need a sabbatical.”

“Perhaps he is right. Time away would aid in the healing process.”

He frowned. “He is wrong. I only need time to adjust. I can accomplish that and still tend to my duties.”

As far as she was concerned, he was overestimating his strength. “Does Zain know you’re here?”

“Yes. He insisted I talk with you.”

Maysa’s hopes had been dashed once more. “I thought perhaps you came on your own.”

“I would never have thought to bother you,” he said.

“It’s no bother, Rafiq. I considered visiting you after the funeral, but I wasn’t at all certain I would be welcome.”

He looked at her somberly, sincerely. “You will always be welcome in my world, Maysa.”

The memory hit her full force then. The memory of a time when he’d spoken those same words to her.

No matter what the future holds, you will always be welcome in my world, habibti....

Yet she had not been welcome at all. After his marriage contract had been finalized, they had been expressly forbidden to see each other, yet they had continued to meet in secret. Those clandestine trysts had only fueled the fire between them until one night, they had made love the first—and the last—time.

Maysa wondered if Rafiq remembered. She wondered if he recalled those remarkable moments, or if he had pushed them out of his thoughts. She wondered why she had been such a fool to believe he would have changed his mind about marrying Rima.

She rose to her feet and crossed the room to pour a glass of water from a pitcher set out on a side table. She kept her back to Rafiq as she took a few sips, and swallowed hard when she heard approaching footsteps.

“Have I said something to upset you, Maysa?”

His presence upset her. Her feelings for him upset her. She set the glass on the table and turned to him. “Why are you really here, Rafiq? Why have you come to me after all these years?”

His expression reflected confusion. “You are the one person I have always turned to for solace.”

“Not always,” she said. “We’ve been virtual strangers for well over a decade.”

His expression implied building anger. “You were the one who left Bajul for the States, Maysa. I have always been here.”

“I had no choice after I divorced Boutros.”

“A man you should have never wed.”

A heartless, angry sultan who had almost stolen her sense of self-worth and security. Almost. “As it was with you and Rima, my marriage was no more than an edict from my father.”

Rafiq inclined his head and studied her. “Why did you risk your name and reputation to divorce him?”

She did not dare tell him the entire truth. “He refused to allow me to pursue my profession. I refused to allow him to tell me how to live my life.”

He looked as if he could see right through her. “That is the only reason?”

“Isn’t that enough? And what other reason would there be?”

Now he appeared cynical. “Everyone is quite aware of Boutros Kassab’s reputation for suspect business arrangements and questionable connections.”

She would simply allow him to believe that rather than reveal the harsh reality—Boutros was a sadistic, uncaring lecher. “I was eighteen when we married, Rafiq. I had no involvement in his business dealings. I was only required to play the dutiful wife.”

He raised a brow. “In his bed?”

She hesitated slightly. “Do you wish me to lie and say no?”

“He is thirty years your senior. I hoped you would say he had little interest in anything of a carnal nature due to an inability to perform.”

Many nights she had wished that had only been the case, but it had not. “Boutros is a man, and men rarely lose interest in sex, no matter what their age.”

“Did he satisfy you, Maysa?”

She was momentarily stunned. “That is none of your concern.”

He streamed a fingertip down her cheek. “I am only curious if he knew how to please you. If he learned, as I did, how to make you tremble with need.”

She circled her arms around her middle as if that might afford her protection from his magnetic pull. From the memories. “Did Rima satisfy you, Rafiq? Or did you simply go to her for the sake of producing an heir?” The moment the words left her mouth, she silently cursed her thoughtlessness.

Rafiq reacted by turning away, crossing the room and moving to the window to stare at the mountains once more. She approached him slowly and rested a palm on his shoulder. “I am so sorry, Rafiq. I did not mean to be so unkind. I know how much you are hurting over the loss of your child. I also know that you did care very much for your wife, and you were a good husband to her. You would never ignore her needs.”

“And in doing so, I was forced to disregard what I needed most.”

“And that was?”

“You.”

Without warning, Rafiq spun around and crushed Maysa against him. He claimed her mouth with a vengeance, with a touch of desperation. And as she always had, she willingly accepted the kiss.

She hated that he could so easily mold her into a willing, wanton woman, but not quite enough to stop him. She despised herself for wanting to give in to the ever-present desire. To do so could lead to undeniable pleasure, and quite possibly disaster. He didn’t necessarily want her. He only wanted comfort wherever available, as it had been all those years ago. And that made her furious enough to recapture her common sense.

With all the strength she could muster, Maysa moved back, putting some much-needed distance between them. “How many women were there after me and prior to your marriage to Rima?”

Confusion crossed over his expression. “Why does that matter?”

“Perhaps you could call on one of them to provide the escape you so obviously need.”

His handsome features turned to stone. “You truly believe that is all you mean to me?”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Yes, I do. You’re only seeking a temporary diversion, and after you receive it, you will be gone again.”

“I seek the company of someone I trust. Someone I have always cared about.”

“If you truly cared about me, you would not have kissed me.”

“Perhaps the kiss was a mistake,” he said. “Perhaps I should not have come here.”

She released a disparaging laugh. “You’re right. It was a mistake. Someone could find out, and that would not go over well with the elders. I am a scorned woman, remember? A divorcée and to some, the equivalent of a harlot. And let us not forget you are the almighty king.”

“You have never been a harlot in my eyes,” he said adamantly. “And at times I wish to forget I am the king.”

The sudden dejection in his tone tugged at Maysa’s heartstrings. “It sounds as if you could use a sabbatical.”

“I have nowhere to go where I would be left alone.” He fixed his gaze firmly on hers as his lips curled into the familiar teasing smile. The one that had always crushed her determination. “Unless, of course, you would be willing to open your home to me. I would keep to myself. You would not know I am here.”

She would know he was there every moment of the day, whether in his presence or not. “I question the wisdom in that plan.”

He took her hands into his. “I only wish for time away from my responsibilities, and to become reacquainted with a friend.”

How very easy it would be to agree to his request, but... “You have no wish to become reacquainted in bed?”

“I would never ask anything of you that you are not willing to give.”

That alone presented a problem—she could find herself willing to give him everything, receiving nothing in return aside from nights of pleasure and more good memories to temporarily overcome the bad. He could also break her heart once more.

Maysa tugged out of his grasp and strolled around the room, all the while weighing the pros and cons. Then something suddenly occurred to her. She could use his presence to her advantage. She could finally show him that improvements to health care for the poor should be paramount during his reign. She could introduce him to exactly what his people endured in the face of illness. And she would do so while keeping her wits about her.

After all, the guest wing was far removed from her private suites, allowing them physical distance. Aside from that, she was a strong, independent woman. She had superb skills honed at the best medical facilities in the United States. She had survived and divorced a known tyrant. She could handle a king—or so she hoped.

On that thought, she faced Rafiq again, lifted her chin, and centered her gaze on his. “All right. You may stay.” When he began to speak, she held up a finger to silence him. “As long as you abide by my rules.”

He sent her a suspicious look. “What would these rules entail?”

“I prefer to reserve the details for later.” When she actually knew what they were.

“All right,” he said. “Is there anything else you require of me tonight?”

One response vaulted into her brain. An inappropriate response that she shoved aside. “Not at this time.”

Rafiq regarded his watch before bringing his attention back to her. “I must return to the palace now. We shall continue this discussion when I arrive tomorrow to begin my respite.”

Tomorrow? “I thought perhaps you would need more time to make arrangements.” Or to change his mind.

“I have complete control over when I stay or when I leave the palace. After all, I am—”

“The king. I know.” All too well. “I’ll see you out.”

They walked side by side to the door where Rafiq paused and regarded her earnestly. “I am forever in your debt, Maysa, and I assure you I will give you no cause to distrust my motives.”

That remained to be seen. “I’m pleased to know that. And I reserve the right to add conditions should your motives come into question.”

“I will strive to win back your trust. The way you once trusted me before our lives intruded on our relationship.”

Maysa wanted to believe him. More important, she wanted not to be so drawn to him. Wanted not to feel so lost when he looked at her as he looked at her now—with a heated gaze that traveled from her forehead to her mouth.

They stood for a few long moments, face-to-face, the tension as thick as the mountain mist. Maysa recognized that it would only take a slight move toward him before they found themselves lips to lips. Body to body.

She finally cleared her throat and stepped back before her resolve shattered. “Have a good night, King Mehdi. I will see you tomorrow.”

“I will be here before day’s end, Dr. Barad.”

The formality surprised Maysa and sounded false to her ears. Yet if that formality kept her grounded, she would avoid calling him by his given name. Avoid touching him altogether. Avoid any circumstance that could lead to risks neither could afford to take. But when he leaned and brushed a soft kiss across her cheek, and presented a soft, sensual smile, she worried danger could lurk around every corner when he returned to her home.

After Rafiq opened the door and strode out of the house toward the awaiting car, Maysa considered the first rule. An important rule that could save her from herself. “Rafiq,” she called before he could settle into the seat. “I have one more thing to say before you go.”

He turned with a wary look on his face. “You have reconsidered?”

She hadn’t, though she probably should. “No. I have thought of one rule that we both must follow.”

“And that is?”

“There will be no more kisses.”

He sent her a knowing smile before he slid into the car. And as Maysa watched the taillights disappear, she worried that King Rafiq Mehdi could convince her to break all the rules.