Читать книгу The Sheikh's Collection - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 49

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE NEXT MORNING Elena came downstairs with Khalil to find Dimah standing in the centre of the salon. ‘I need to talk to you,’ she said, looking pale and resolute, and Khalil frowned.

‘Dimah, what is it?’

‘I need to tell you something.’ Dimah closed the doors to the salon and turned to them, her fingers knotted anxiously together. ‘I should have told you before, Khalil, a long time before. I never wanted to, but...’ She trailed away, clearly nervous, and Khalil shook his head.

‘I don’t understand.’

Elena felt a sudden, terrible thrill of foreboding. She had a mad impulse to tell Dimah not to say anything. Not to change anything. Last night they’d all chatted and laughed over dinner, and then Khalil had taken Elena upstairs and made sweet love to her for half the night. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, perfectly content. Utterly secure in his feelings for her, and hers for him.

Yet now, standing there, looking at Dimah’s anxious face, remembering her fretful pleas yesterday about Khalil forgetting Kadar, Elena’s stomach knotted. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she flung out one hand.

‘Don’t.’

Khalil turned to stare at her incredulously. ‘Do you know what she’s going to say, Elena?’

‘No, but...’ What could she say? That she had some sort of premonition?

‘But what? What do you know, Elena?’ Khalil rounded on her and Elena blinked up, stunned at how quickly he had become suspicious, even angry. Dimah hadn’t said anything, Elena didn’t even know what she was going to say, yet here was Khalil, glaring at her accusingly.

‘Khalil,’ she whispered and he turned back to Dimah.

‘What do you need to tell me, Dimah?’

‘I should have told you a long time ago, Khalil.’ For once Dimah’s voice was low, certain, which made Elena all the more anxious. What was she going to say? ‘Perhaps even when you were a boy, but I was afraid. Afraid first for you, and how you would take it, and then afraid for me. How you would feel about me keeping such a secret.’

Khalil stared at her, his expression shuttered. ‘You are speaking in riddles.’

‘Only because I am still afraid to tell you the truth,’ Dimah admitted quietly. ‘But I can see you have changed, Khalil. I know you love Elena—’

‘Don’t tell me what I feel.’ Khalil cut her off brusquely and everything in Elena cringed and shrank. What was happening, and how had it all gone so wrong, so quickly?

Because it hadn’t been strong enough to begin with.

‘Khalil.’ Dimah faced him directly, bravely, as if she were facing a firing squad—a death sentence. ‘Hashem is not your father.’

His expression, amazingly, did not change. It did not so much as flicker. He didn’t even blink.

‘Say something,’ Dimah said softly and a muscle in his jaw bunched.

‘Nonsense.’

‘You don’t believe me?’ Dimah blinked, incredulous.

‘Why are you telling me this now, Dimah, after so many years?’ He nodded towards Elena. ‘Is it because of Elena? Because you think I’ve changed?’

Elena flinched; he sounded so contemptuous.

‘Partly. You have more to live for now, Khalil, than being Sheikh.’

He clenched his hands into fists. ‘But you’re lying. Hashem is my father.’

Dimah cocked her head and in that moment Elena imagined the older woman was looking at Khalil as she had when he’d first come to her, wild and angry and so very terrified. ‘Why would I lie, Khalil?’

He shrugged, the movement abrupt, aggressive. ‘You never wanted me to return to Kadar. Maybe my marriage to Elena has given you the opportunity—’

‘What opportunity? To deny you your birthright?’

‘It is my birthright.’

‘No,’ Dimah said with heavy finality. ‘It is not.’

Khalil shook his head. He held himself rigid, his gaze unblinking. ‘No.’

Everything in Elena ached as she realised what he was facing: the loss of his life’s purpose, his very self. No wonder he wanted to deny it.

‘I know it is a terrible thing for you to accept—’

‘How can I accept it?’ he demanded, and for a moment it seemed as if he almost wanted an answer to the question. ‘Why would you not tell me for twenty-five years?’

‘I told you, I was afraid!’ Dimah’s voice rang out, harsh and desperate. ‘The more time passed, the more difficult it became. I did not want you to think badly of me, or your mother. Her memory seemed like the only thing that sustained you.’

‘And you are tainting her memory now!’ Elena saw the agony in his eyes. ‘She was always so gentle with me. How could you do such a thing, Dimah? How could you accuse her of such a crime?’

‘Oh, Khalil.’ Dimah’s voice broke. ‘I’m a pitiful old woman, I know. I should have said something before. Long before. I closed my eyes to your ambition because I thought you would let go of it, in time. When Aziz became Sheikh, at least. I hoped that, in telling you now, I might finally set you free from this fruitless hope you’ve clung to for so long. That you’d be happy with the life you are making with Elena.’

‘Why would my father make his will so open-ended, if I was not his son?’ Khalil demanded.

‘Maybe because Aziz has never seemed interested in Kadar,’ Dimah offered helplessly. ‘I don’t know why, Khalil. But I do know what is true, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.’

Elena stepped forward and reached out one trembling hand. ‘Khalil,’ she began, but he jerked away from her.

‘This suits you, doesn’t it?’ he said in a snarl. ‘Now you’ll have just what you wanted—a puppet prince at your beck and call.’

She blinked, stung. ‘That’s not fair. And that’s not what I want at all.’

‘It’s certainly not what I want,’ Khalil snapped. ‘I’ll never forget Kadar and my birthright and everything that has ever been important to me. Everything I’ve ever been.’ His voice broke on the last word and he turned away from her, his head bowed.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dimah said quietly. ‘I should have spoken before. I knew I had to speak now, since you were intending on returning to Kadar.’

‘How would you even know such a thing as this? My mother—’

‘Told me. She wrote me a letter, admitting everything. She even had a photograph of him, Khalil. Of your father.’

‘No.’ The one word was a cry of anguish and it broke Elena right open. Without even thinking of what she was doing or how Khalil might react, she went to him.

‘Khalil.’ She put her arms around his rigid body. ‘Khalil.’ Tears started in her eyes. What could she say to him? How could she make this better?

‘It can’t be true,’ Khalil said, and she heard then the agonised acceptance in his voice. He believed. He didn’t want to believe, but he did.

‘I can show you the letter, if you like,’ Dimah said quietly. ‘The photograph.’

Khalil gave a little shake of his head, then shrugged out of Elena’s embrace, his back to them both. ‘Who was he?’ he asked, his voice barely audible.

‘One of the palace guards,’ Dimah answered in a whisper. ‘You have his eyes.’

Khalil let out a sound that was almost a moan. Then he shook his head. ‘I can’t—’ He stopped, stared blankly for a moment. ‘I need to be alone,’ he said, and walked out of the room without looking at either of them again.

* * *

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t, it couldn’t, it couldn’t.

He sounded like a little boy, Khalil thought with a surge of fury. Like a terrified little boy, begging for mercy.

Don’t hit me. Please don’t hit me. Where is my mother? My father? Please...

The tears had run down his dirty face and Abdul-Hafiz had just laughed.

Now Khalil swore aloud and slammed his fist against the wall, causing a dent, bruising his hand and bloodying his knuckles.

It couldn’t be true.

Yet he knew it was. And with that awful truth came the even more terrible realisation that everything he’d built his life on had been for nothing.

Every choice he’d made, every hope he’d had, had been for clearing his mother’s name and claiming his legacy. His birthright. It had been who he was, and now that it had been taken away he was left spinning, empty, exposed. He had nothing. He was nothing.

He would not, would never, be Sheikh of Kadar.

Neither, he acknowledged with leaden certainty, would he be Elena’s husband.

* * *

Elena paced the salon of Dimah’s townhouse, her mind spinning, her heart aching. Khalil had left that morning, right after that awful confrontation, and although it was nearing midnight he had still not returned.

Dimah had gone to bed, after reassuring her that Khalil would return soon and things would look better in the morning. Elena had felt like shaking her. Things wouldn’t look any better in the morning, not for Khalil. She knew what kind of man he was, how strong and proud. How he’d built everything on the foundation that the throne of Kadar was his by right. To have it taken away would devastate him...and he would be too proud to admit it.

And how would he be feeling, knowing that the man he’d thought was his father wasn’t? That the truths he’d insisted on believing for so long, that had been sustaining him, were actually lies?

She longed to see him, to put her arms around him and comfort him. To tell him it didn’t matter to her whether he was Sheikh or not. She didn’t care who his parents were, or if he had a title. She wanted to tell him she loved him properly, not just hint at it. She wanted that love to make a difference.

And yet, deep down inside, she was afraid it wouldn’t.

She heard the front door open and the slow, deliberate tread of a person who seemed utterly weary, even defeated. Elena hurried to the door, her heart thumping in her chest.

‘Khalil.’

He turned to face her, the lines of his face haggard and yet his expression strangely, terribly blank.

‘Elena. I didn’t think you would still be awake.’

‘Of course I’m awake!’ she cried. ‘I’ve been worried about you, Khalil, wondering how you are, how you’re coping—’

‘Coping?’ He spoke the single word with contempt. ‘Don’t worry about me, Elena.’

‘Of course I worry about you.’ She bit her lip then took a deep breath. ‘I love you, Khalil.’

He let out a hard laugh and Elena flinched. ‘A little late for that, Elena.’

‘Late? Why?’

‘Because there is no reason for us to be married any more.’

‘What?’ Shock reverberated through her so her body practically vibrated with it. She stared at him in disbelief. ‘No reason? Why is that, Khalil?’

He stared at her evenly, unmoved. ‘You know why.’

‘I know you no longer have a claim to the throne of Kadar. I know you’ve suffered a great disappointment. But I am still your wife. We’re still married.’

‘We’ll get an annulment.’

‘An annulment? How? We’ve made love, Khalil.’

‘It can be done.’

She shook her head slowly, shock warring with hurt. Then both were replaced by a deep, hard anger. ‘You coward,’ she said, and her voice was cold. ‘You selfish, thoughtless coward. You think because you have no need of me and our convenient marriage you can just forget your vows? Forget me?’

‘How is this marriage convenient for you, Elena? I have no title, no claim. I’m the pretender. Do you think your Council will approve your marriage to me? Or will Markos just use it as a reason to depose you, consider it another foolish choice you’ve made?’

She blinked back tears. ‘I don’t care.’

‘You should.’

‘Forget my Council!’ Elena cried. ‘Forget our countries or convenience. You told me you wanted to love me, Khalil. What happened to that? Did you decide you didn’t want to any more? Or were you lying?’ Her voice and body both shook as she demanded, ‘Do you have no honour at all?’

‘This isn’t about honour,’ Khalil retorted. ‘I’m setting you free, Elena.’

‘Setting me free? You haven’t even asked if I want that kind of freedom. Don’t hide behind excuses, Khalil. You’re a better man than that.’

‘Am I?’ he demanded, his voice ringing in the sudden silence. ‘Am I really, Elena? I don’t even know what I am any more, if I am not my father’s son. If I am not—’ He drew a ragged breath. ‘I’ve built my life on something that is a lie. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been...it’s gone. So what am I now?’

‘You are,’ Elena said quietly, ‘the man I love. I didn’t fall in love with the Sheikh of Kadar, Khalil. I fell in love with the man who kissed my tears and held me in his arms. Who protected and encouraged and believed in me. I fell in love with that man.’

‘And that man no longer exists.’

‘He does.’

Khalil shook his head then stared at her openly, emptily. ‘What am I going to do now, Elena? What purpose can I serve? Who can I even be?’

A tear trickled down Elena’s cheek. ‘You can be my husband, Khalil. You can be the Prince Consort of Thallia. You can be the father to our children.’ He didn’t answer, so she continued, her voice rising with determination. ‘You can be the man you’ve always been, Khalil. A man with pride and strength and tenderness. A man who commands people’s loyalty and who works hard for it. Why limit yourself? Why be defined by who sired you, or a title? There is so much more to you than that. So much more to us.’

She took a step towards him, her hands outstretched. ‘Kadar is in your blood, Khalil. It’s still your country, and you are still Sheikh of your own tribe. You told me you wanted to repair your country, and you still can. Aziz will need you to help him. Kadar needs you. People will look to you for the way forward, for peace.’

Khalil didn’t talk for a long moment. Elena held her breath, hardly daring to hope, to believe...

To trust.

Now, more than ever, she needed to trust him. ‘Khalil,’ she said softly, his name a caress, a promise.

‘Don’t you even care?’ he asked after an endless moment. ‘Doesn’t it matter to you that I’m no one now? I’m just some nameless bastard.’

And then she realised he needed to trust her as much as she needed to trust him. To trust her to love him, even now. Especially now. ‘I told you, you’re my husband, and I am your wife. It doesn’t matter, Khalil. It doesn’t matter at all.’

She saw a flicker of hope in his eyes, like the first light of dawn, then he shook his head. ‘Your Council—’

‘You told me I didn’t need a husband to stand up to my Council, and I don’t. I’m stronger now, Khalil. You’ve made me strong.’ Another step, and she was touching him, her hand curling around his arm. ‘But I need a husband to be my helpmate and equal. Someone I can love and support, who will love and support me. Standing side by side with me.’

Khalil closed his eyes briefly. ‘I feel as if everything I’ve ever known, everything I’ve counted on, has been ripped away from me. Destroyed.’

‘I haven’t,’ Elena said softly. ‘I’m still here.’

He reached for her hand. ‘After so many years of anger, I don’t know what to feel now. My father had a right to banish me.’

‘Did he? He could have treated you far more kindly than he did.’

‘And my mother...’

‘You don’t know what her situation was, Khalil. How unhappy she was, or what drove her to it.’

He nodded slowly. Elena knew it would take a long time for him to find peace with these revelations,, but she wanted to help him

He turned to her, his eyes wide and bleak, his voice raw. ‘I love you, Elena. I didn’t think I even knew what love was, but you’ve showed me in so many ways. You’ve believed in me, trusted me even when I didn’t deserve to have that trust. I still don’t know if I do. I don’t know what the future can look like,’ he told her, a confession. ‘I don’t know how to be.’

‘We’ll figure it out together.’ She stood in front of him, letting all her hope and love shine in her eyes. ‘I love you, Khalil. And you love me. That’s all that matters.’

His face crumpled for a second and then he pulled her into his arms. ‘Oh, Elena,’ he said, and he buried his face in her hair. ‘Elena. I love you so much. I’m sorry for being a fool. For being afraid.’

‘You think this doesn’t scare me?’ Elena answered with a wobbly laugh, and she felt Khalil’s smile against her hair.

‘Then maybe we’ll be scared together.’

‘That sounds good to me.’

Khalil’s arms tightened around her. ‘I don’t deserve you.’

‘I could say the same thing.’

He kissed her then, softly, and it was a kiss that held so much tenderness and love that her heart swelled. ‘I still don’t know what will happen. What—what the future looks like. I’ll have to talk to Aziz, renounce my claim...’

‘I know.’

‘You’re right. I can still help Kadar. I want to.’

‘They need you, Khalil. I need you.’

He pressed his forehead against hers, his hands framing her face. ‘I love you.’

She smiled against his palm. ‘You told me that before, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.’

‘Me neither.’

‘I love you, Khalil.’

He closed his eyes. ‘I never thought I’d ever hear anyone say that to me.’

‘I’ll say it. I’ll keep saying it.’

He kissed her again, pulling her even closer to him. ‘Don’t ever stop saying it, Elena. And I won’t either. No matter what happens.’

‘No matter what happens,’ she promised.

Neither of them knew just what the future held. Khalil would need to grieve; they both needed to grow. And their love, Elena knew, would keep them strong.

* * * * *