Читать книгу One Night with the Sheikh - KRISTI GOLD - Страница 8
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No more kisses...
As Rafiq sat alone in his office, attempting to tie up loose ends, kissing Maysa remained foremost on his mind. Making love to her again did, as well. He could no more resist the fantasies than he could pick up the palace with his bare hands and move it down the mountainside.
“Have you mentally vacated the premises, brother?”
Rafiq glanced up from his desk to discover his youngest sibling standing before him, wearing his usual standard beige flight suit and mocking smile. “I am preoccupied by my duty.”
“Too preoccupied to speak with me, your most loyal supporter?”
Adan rarely supported anyone aside from himself. “Unless you have something important to say, you may return later.”
“I do have something of great importance to tell you,” Adan said as he claimed the opposing chair.
Frustrated over the intrusion, Rafiq tossed his pen aside and leaned back in his seat. “You have found yet another aircraft you are determined to add to our fleet.”
“No. I came to deliver a message.”
“From whom?”
“Maysa Barad.” Adan’s grin widened, as if privy to a secret. “She requests that you arrive before 6:00 p.m., and that you limit your guards if at all possible.”
He could only imagine where his brother’s thoughts had turned. “Duly noted. You may leave now.”
“Not until you explain why you are visiting Maysa, and why she would ask that you not bring along too many guards. Either she feels she does not pose a threat, or she wishes to make certain she has your undivided attention.”
“What business I have with Maysa is not your concern.”
“Perhaps, but I am curious.”
Rafiq resisted telling his brother what he could do with his curiosity, and his British accent. “If you must know, Maysa has agreed to allow me to take a brief respite in her home.”
Adan rubbed his chin. “I see. Will you be spending this respite in her bed?”
He was not at all surprised over the assumption, but he was angered by it. “Rest assured, I will not be attempting to bed her.” Though preventing that possibility would prove to be a great challenge.
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?”
“She deserved far more care and concern than Rafiq afforded her. She deserved the chance to live, and he stole that chance from her.”
“Rafiq had no hand in Rima’s death.”
“You would not agree if you had seen her that night.”
Maysa felt as if they might be hurling toward the truth of what had transpired that evening. What she herself had witnessed. “Perhaps I did see her after all.”
That seemed to momentarily douse Shamil’s wrath. “Where would you have seen her?”
“I drove to the resort earlier that evening and when I saw you embracing a woman on the veranda, I immediately left. Am I correct to assume that woman was Rima?” When he failed to respond, she added, “Shamil, was it Rima?”
His gaze faltered. “She was there for a brief time.”
“And how many times before that?”
“That is not your concern.”
Oh, but it was. “Were the two of you having an affair?”
“Enough!”
She’d obviously struck a nerve encased in the truth. “And Rafiq knew nothing about your liaison with his wife.”
“Rafiq knew nothing about Rima’s life because he chose not to know.” He sent her a steely look. “And he will never know. Is that understood?”
One more threat among many. “He has a right to know what happened in the minutes leading up to her death.”
“He gave up all rights to that knowledge when he discarded her feelings and deprived her of freedom. And if you utter one word of this conversation to the king, then I will see to it you are removed from this house and I will make certain your reputation is ruined beyond repair.”
She clung tightly to the last thread of civility. “You do not have that much power, Shamil. You never have. I can find another place to live, and the villagers respect me not only as their doctor, but as a person. They care not about my past.”
He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Will they be so accepting if they learn their doctor is also the king’s sharmuta?”
She pointed a shaky finger at the SUV parked at the end of the drive. “Leave now and do not return unless you arrive with an apology.”
He released a bitter laugh. “Oh, I will return, yet I will not rescind what I have said. If you reveal any details to Rafiq, there will be consequences.”
With that, he rushed to the waiting SUV and drove away, leaving Maysa standing on the threshold, worrying over how she would tell Rafiq about his wife’s whereabouts that fateful evening. If she decided to tell him.
Should she confess, the outcome would still be the same. Rima would still be gone, her secrets following her to the grave. Shamil would be bent on ruining Maysa’s life if she told Rafiq the details. She had very limited loyalty to Shamil, but she possessed enough common sense not to risk losing everything she had worked so hard to build. Yet the thought of keeping such a serious secret from Rafiq fueled her guilt.
Fortunately, she would not be forced to choose which course to take in the immediate future. Right now, her focus would be on making Rafiq feel welcome.
* * *
She seemed uncomfortable. Rafiq noticed that about Maysa during dinner, and now as they relaxed on rattan sofas in the private courtyard beneath the night sky. Regardless that she seemed on edge, she still looked beautiful as she sat with her legs curled to one side, revealing her bare feet and a delicate silver chain circling one ankle that matched the heavy bangles at her wrists. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her slim shoulders, strands of amber highlighted by the moon, and the sleeveless white gauze dress she wore contrasted with the golden cast of her skin. He remembered touching that skin during a time when they had both been completely captivated by one another. So hungry for each other that it seemed they might never be sated—until the one and only night they crossed the forbidden line and made love.
She captivated him still, fed a fire that he had wrongly assumed would be extinguished by time, mistakes and regrets. He wanted to leave the sofa he had claimed and take the space beside her. He wished to do more than only sit with her. Yet her moratorium on kissing left him with only one option—remain where he sat and simply admire her from afar.
Maysa sighed, her attention focused on the jasmine lining the edge of the stone terrace. “I love summer evenings.”
He loved the sound of her voice—soft, lyrical. “You have lost most of your accent.”
She smiled, deepening the dimples creasing her cheeks. “The time I spent in the States is responsible for that.”
“Do you still know how to speak our native tongue?”
She frowned. “Of course I still know how. I have to communicate with my patients here.”
He thought of one question he had wanted to ask. “Why did you return to Bajul to practice medicine knowing how you would be treated following your divorce?”
Her gaze wandered away as she began twisting the bracelets around her right wrist. “Bajul is my home, Rafiq, and since Boutros lives elsewhere, it seemed logical to return. I also missed the quiet pace and the peaceful existence.”
“You do not seem at peace tonight,” he said. “Is something bothering you?”
She shifted slightly and finally raised her gaze to his. “Actually, yes. I’m concerned about the lack of care for the poorest in Bajul.”
“It is my understanding you are an excellent doctor, therefore they are receiving the finest care.”
“But I’m only one person, Rafiq. Other physicians could assist, yet they refuse. They only provide services to those who can pay. It’s a travesty.”
He understood her frustration, yet he had no solution. “I cannot force other physicians to work for no pay.”
“But you could see to it that newer doctors are enticed to come here to fill in the gaps.”
He leaned back and set his glass of mango juice on the adjacent table. “How do you propose I do this?”
“By offering government-sponsored grants.”
“Our current funds are earmarked for the water conservation efforts. We have no surplus to devote to anything else at this time.”
“Then perhaps sell one of the new military planes Adan has recently acquired. It would seem you have more than enough for a country the size of Bajul.”
“At times it seems we do not have enough to bolster our defense. But I will take your suggestions into consideration.”
He noted a spark of anger in her dark, almond-shaped eyes. “That is all you have to say?”
“Maysa, I am only one voice on the council.”
“You are the supreme voice, King Mehdi. You have the last word.”
He had less power than she realized. “I must do what the majority dictates to keep the peace.”
“At the expense of your people?”
“Again, I will consider your concerns and present them to the council when it is time to prepare the next budget.”
She straightened her legs, planted her feet on the ground, and seared him with a glare. “That is over five months away. People could die before then, both elderly adults and children. Mothers with difficult births.”
He did not have the means to accommodate her at this time, yet he could not disappoint her. “I will see what I can do, though I can make no promises.”
“I suppose that is enough,” she said, her expression somewhat more relaxed. “At least for the time being.”
Fatigue began to set in, yet Rafiq could not force himself to leave her. He also could not rid himself of the slight pain resulting from an injury he’d suffered in his youth. He lifted the shoulder slightly, once, twice, before he settled back against the cushions.
“It still bothers you, doesn’t it?” Maysa asked.
He was not surprised she had noticed. “What bothers me?”
“Your shoulder. The one you fractured in that ridiculous fight with Aakif Nejem.”
“I believe we were fighting over you.” He smiled. “And I came away with two black eyes and a lacerated lip. I would have been unscathed had it not been for my falling against the iron gate.”
Maysa returned his smile, though she appeared to be attempting to keep it at bay. “The very gate you drove through earlier, designed by my father to ward off unwelcome suitors.”
“Yet that gate was not strong enough to keep me from you that night.”
A brief span of silence passed between them, as well as an exchanged glance that Rafiq remembered very clearly. The same knowing look they had given each other when he had laid her down in her bed, cloaked only by the cover of darkness, the threat of discovery heightening their desire.
Maysa broke the visual contact first and turned her focus back on the flowers. “That was a long time ago, Rafiq. We were both young and very foolish.”
“We were consumed by each other.”
She raised a thin brow. “Consumed by lust, you mean.”
Had it only been lust, he would have long forgotten that evening. Forgotten her. “Have you never considered what would have happened had your father come upon us?”
“Would he have forced us to marry?” She shook her head. “He would have sent me away from you.”
In many ways, that is exactly what had happened. The sultan had sent her into another man’s bed. A man who had not deserved her.
When Maysa hid a yawn behind her hand, then stretched her arms above her head, Rafiq suspected she would soon be leaving him again, at least for the evening. “It is time for me to go to bed,” she said, confirming his theory. “I have several early visits to make in the village tomorrow.”
He struggled for some way to keep her there awhile longer, and returned to the issue that had begun their journey into the past. “Would you examine my shoulder before you retire?”
“What do you believe I’d accomplish by doing that?”
She would be closer to him, at least momentarily. He pressed his palm against the spot that always gave him the most pain. “I would like to see what you think about this ridge. Perhaps you can advise me if it is an issue I need to have evaluated further.”
She sighed, rose from the sofa and took the space beside him. “Lean forward.” After he complied, she rested her left hand on his left shoulder and examined the offending shoulder with her right hand.
“Well?” he asked.
She pushed against one spot, causing him to wince. “Does that hurt?” she asked.
“Slightly.” More than he would allow her to see.
“That’s your deltoid muscle,” she said as she continued to knead the area. “You have quite a bit of tension there.”
The tension behind his fly began to increase with every caress of her fingertips. “Perhaps it is only stress-induced?”
“Perhaps, but I cannot tell for certain without an X-ray. You could probably benefit from physical therapy.”
The therapy she was offering him now was quite beneficial in terms of soothing the soreness. He could not say the same for his libido. And when she leaned over and applied more pressure, his palm automatically came to rest on her thigh, immediately above her knee, where he drew small circles with his thumb through the dress’s thin material.
Her hand froze midmotion. “What are you doing, Rafiq?”
“Nothing.” Not presently.
She released a shuddering breath. “We said no touching.”
He inched his palm higher. “You said no kissing.”
“Rule two, no touching.”
Despite her assertions, he did not bother to lift his hand, and she did not bother to shove it away. “Yet you have been touching me.”
“As a physician.”
“And I have reacted as any man reacts to a woman’s touch.”
“For that reason, I should go now.”
Rafiq predicted she would stand and leave, but she remained positioned next to him, both hands still resting lightly on his shoulders. He straightened, bringing their faces close, their gazes connecting immediately. He saw the indecision in her eyes, as well as a spark of need.
And then Maysa did something Rafiq did not expect—she broke her first rule.
