The Sheikh’s Secret Child: The Karawi Sheikhs Series Book Two

by Leslie North

  “She must have tried to clean it up,” Amy sighed as she pointed to the stain on the bedframe. “Why wouldn’t she tell anyone she was sick?”

  “Aisha doesn’t like to miss out on anything,” Shatha said and shook her head. “We quarantine the sick kids in the guesthouse out back to keep anything from spreading to the other children. It can take a few days for the village doctor to come visit us. We’re not high on the priority list. She’s going to throw a fit.”

  “I’ll keep her company,” Amy volunteered immediately. She hated the thought of Aisha being all alone and miserable. “And I’ll talk to her. See if this is a one-time thing or if she’s actually sick.”

  Shatha smiled. “She’s really taken with you. More so than with me or Natasha.”

  “I’m just someone new,” Amy murmured, but she couldn’t help smiling.

  In a rare show of affection, Shatha reached over and squeezed the younger woman’s hand. “Amy, you must know by now how I feel about outsiders. I didn’t let you come and watch my children so you could study them.” The older woman gave her a tender smile that spoke volumes before releasing her hand. “I could see the pain in your eyes. Your heart is broken, and you’re running away from that pain.” Her smile shifted, and she appeared wistful. “Children are great healers. You should not be ashamed for how much you love them, even if it’s not how you scientists do things. Enjoy being here, and let them mend your broken heart.”

  At a loss for words, Amy swallowed hard and nodded. She’d hoped that her pain wasn’t so obvious. She simply wanted to be an observer and a writer. Not some amateur who let her personal experiences taint her work.

  Shatha returned the nod and turned back to the laundry, and Amy immediately went to find Aisha. The young girl was leading a merry chase, keeping ahead of one of the older boys. A little tall for her age, she was naturally fast and agile. Her dark hair flew behind her as her hijab came undone, and her blue eyes flashed with the thrill.

  Suddenly, the girl came to a stop, clutched her middle, and doubled over, retching loudly.

  “Aisha!” Amy raced to her side, reaching her as the young girl started to dry-heave. The other children scrambled to them, but Amy waved them away. “Go inside,” she ordered with a jerk of her head.

  Muttering among themselves, the boys and girls trailed to the house. Amy knelt down and felt the girl’s forehead. Even though the little girl had been running around, her skin was warmer than it should be, and she looked miserable. “Aisha, how long have you been sick?”

  “I’m not sick!” Aisha protested. “I just ran too much.”

  “We saw the vomit by your bed. You cleaned it up so we wouldn’t know,” Amy admonished gently. “If you’re sick, we need to send for the doctor.”

  “Shatha will make me stay alone in the guest house, and I don’t want to do that!”

  “It’s only a precaution, and you won’t be alone. I’ll come hang out with you as much as possible, okay?”

  Aisha’s eyes widened. “Promise?”

  “I promise.” Amy frowned when she heard the child wheeze. She hadn’t been running around that much. She slowly pulled up the girl’s shirt and probed at her abdomen. There was a small, heart-shaped birthmark above Aisha’s belly-button, and Amy smiled. It seemed right that the girl would be marked with a heart.

  “Does this hurt?” she asked. The abdomen didn’t look distended, but Amy wanted to make sure that Aisha didn’t need to go to the hospital.

  Aisha shook her head, and Amy pulled the shirt down once more and tapped lightly on the girl’s chest. “All right. You head over to the guest house, and I’m going to pack a few things for you and grab some games. How does that sound?”

  “You won’t forget Kedar?” Aisha had a strong attachment to her stuffed octopus. Shatha had said that the toy was the only thing that Aisha had been carrying when she arrived.

  “I won’t forget Kedar. I promise.”

  After sending the girl on her way, Amy stood and sighed. It looked like her first article was going to have to be postponed for a few days.

  3

  “Are you two ever leaving?” Iman growled.

  Bahir responded to his older brother by tapping the pen in his hand even louder on the large mahogany desk. Bahir and Riyad had both remained at the palace after the royal wedding while Iman and Natalie went on their honeymoon. Now that the newlyweds had returned, both younger Karawi brothers were free to head back to their own lives. For Riyad, that meant partying it up in Europe, but Bahir had an international export business to run. He’d been trying to get Riyad on board for the last few months. It was time for his brother to quit drinking his life away and start helping out, but in truth, he wasn’t sure why he and Riyad were still hanging around the palace.

  Part of it was Iris. It had been stunning to discover that Iman had a five-year-old daughter that he hadn’t known about. The girl had the entire Karawi family wrapped around her little finger. Bahir had never seen himself as a father figure, although he knew it was expected that one day, he’d marry and produce heirs.

  Another reason that he hadn’t left was that he’d heard rumors of unrest in the outskirts of the kingdom. Although most of Haamas had fallen in love with their American queen, there had been word of a rising rebellion, people who wanted to dethrone the Karawis. Bahir and Riyad both wanted to be there to protect Iman if needed.

  It also didn’t hurt that he was driving his older brother crazy.

  Two desks dominated the large office. Iman sat at their father’s desk, where he looked over reports from his advisors. Bahir was sitting at their deceased uncle’s desk and trying to focus on the emails from his board members, but he was feeling restless and rattled.

  To divert himself from his uneasy thoughts, Bahir looked up and grinned. “We might stay forever,” he teased. “Although I don’t think there’s enough booze for Riyad.”

  “I thought he was going to start working with you,” Iman grumbled.

  Rapping his knuckles against the surface of the desk, Bahir wrinkled his nose. “We’ve talked about it. Well, I talked. He nodded his head and grunted. Then he talked about flying to France. I don’t really think he got the message.”

  Tapping his way across the desk, he frowned when the solid thunk turned into something else. Hesitantly, he knocked on the wood again. The resulting sound was hollow.

  Pushing his chair back, he looked under the desk and moved his fingers around until he found a groove.

  “What are you doing now?” Iman demanded. “Other than driving me insane.”

  “I think Uncle Salah has a hidden compartment in his desk.” His fingers skimmed across a small hole. “Oh yeah, there’s definitely something here.”

  Iman joined him and knelt down to look under the desk. “That looks like it would fit an Allen wrench. Is there anything like that in the drawers?”

  Bahir pulled the drawers open, one by one, and shuffled through the papers. He was about to give up when he felt something taped to the top of the last drawer he tried. “Got it.” Ripping the wrench free, he inserted it in the hole and twisted. He heard the distinct sound of a lock sliding out, and the flap opened. A small box dropped out from the hiding spot. Long and slender, it was made of simple pine and adorned only with a brass keyhole.

  “Great. Another lock.” Bahir lifted the box and shook it. The brothers could clearly hear the sound of something shuffling inside. “I don’t suppose you remember seeing him with a key?”

  Iman shook his head and pursed his lips. “What do you think he was hiding?”

  “Who knows.” Opening another drawer, Bahir pulled out some paper clips and unbent them. “A little party trick I learned in school.”

  It took a few minutes before Bahir picked the lock.

  Iman eyed him incredulously. “Party trick, my ass. You were the one who kept nabbing Father’s fountain pens, weren’t you?”

  Bahir chuckled. “He used to get so red in the face.”

  “I go
t blamed for that!” Iman roared. “Why would you steal pens?”

  Bahir opened the box. “I wasn’t after the pens. I did it whenever I was mad at you.” Inside, he found a few letters. Tossing them on the desk, he turned the box upside down. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a bunch of papers. What would Uncle Salah want to lock up?”

  Iman pulled the letters out of the envelopes and opened them up. After scanning the writing, his jaw dropped open. “Brother. Do you know an Amalia?”

  At the name of his former lover, Bahir looked up sharply. “Excuse me? How do you know about her?”

  “Because these letters are to you. And they’re from her.” Slowly, Iman handed the papers over. Bahir could see the look of disbelief on his brother’s face, and he had a feeling that these weren’t love letters. Scanning over the writing, he felt his whole world darken.

  Letter after letter. Dated seven years ago, they were all the same. Pleading for him to help her, to marry her, because their last liaison had ended in pregnancy.

  “I met her eight years ago in Que’Harabi when I was with Uncle Salah during a business trip. I was young and stupid and bored. She was the daughter of an associate. She seduced me.”

  “Bahir,” Iman slowly. “Don’t lie to me.”

  Chuckling, the younger brother shook his head at the memory. “I’m not. I don’t really know what her motives were, and I honestly didn’t even ask. I continued the affair for a few months while Uncle finished up business. She told me that she’d met someone, and she wanted to end it. We weren’t in love, but I did miss her and think of her often.”

  Iman pressed his lips into a thin line. “I guess whoever she fell for didn’t take too kindly to her being pregnant.”

  “Her father was a traditional man. They would have disowned her. They did disown her.” Bahir swallowed hard as he read over the letters. How could Uncle Salah have kept this from him? His blood had begun to boil with anger as he shifted to the final letter.

  It wasn’t from Amalia, and it was dated three years later.

  * * *

  Addressed to His Highness, Sheikh Bahir Karawi of Haamas. I’m writing to inform you of the death of my niece, Amalia. She is survived by your daughter… While I have tried to keep in touch with Amalia, she was shunned by her family, and my husband will not allow me to take in her child. If you wish to right the wrongs that you made all those years ago, I beg of you to claim your daughter, protect her, and raise her. I’ve left her at the orphanage that borders our two kingdoms. She has her mother’s blue eyes and a heart-shaped birthmark on her abdomen. Her mother died with nothing, and I carry nothing but hatred in my heart for what you’ve done to her, but I know that Amalia forgave you, and I hope that you will honor that forgiveness and do what’s right.

  * * *

  “She survived,” Bahir whispered in a thick voice. “My daughter. She’s still alive.”

  Iman leaned over and took the letter from his hand. After scanning it, he shook his head. “The ink with her name is smeared.”

  “Tears,” Bahir said dully. “The woman was crying when she wrote it. I can’t believe Uncle Salah would keep this from me.”

  Iman closed his eyes. “He did what he thought he was right. Protecting this family. He kept Natalie and my daughter from me.” He shook his head. “It looks like he’s done the same to you.”

  Seven years. For seven years, his daughter had lived in shame and poverty, and Bahir had done nothing. Amalia must have thought that he had abandoned her. How could she have forgiven him for that? “I will never forgive him for this, Iman. Never,” he said, his voice shaking.

  Iman reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “No one understands more than I do. When I think of all those lost years.” The older brother’s voice cracked uncharacteristically, and he stepped back. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Find her,” Bahir said grimly as he stood. “I’m going to find my daughter.”

  “There are several orphanages along that border, Bahir, and after four years, you have no guarantee that she’s going to be there.” Iman held up a staying hand as Bahir opened his mouth to speak. “I’m not trying to stop you, but I need you to understand that this might not end the way you want. You don’t even know her name.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Bahir clenched his fists and stared at his older brother. “Nothing will stop me from finding her. Nothing.”

  “You may not be welcome that far away from the palace. You’ll need protection.”

  In that moment of heartbreak and rage, he’d forgotten about the rebels, but they weren’t going to stop him, either. Bahir had let his daughter down all those years ago. He wouldn’t let any more time pass without a reunion.

  “However many guards you can spare. I’m going to start my search in the morning.”

  Collecting the letters, he clutched them in his hands as he headed to his suite.

  One of the palace maids was cleaning the bedroom when he entered. Her eyes widened, and she bowed her head. “My apologies, Sheikh Bahir. I’ll come back.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m not staying,” Bahir said roughly as he placed the letters in the drawer by the nightstand and turned toward the door. “Go back to your work,” he said sharply, not waiting to hear her acknowledgement as he strode from the room. He needed to take a walk to clear his head, and then he needed to plan his search.

  By the end of the week, he would have his daughter in his arms.

  4

  Aisha’s vomiting was only the beginning. Two days later, the diarrhea set in, and she was still feverish. Late that night, Amy held her close while she read the little girl a story. The doctor couldn’t make it until the end of the week, and the orphanage had no funds to take the child to the hospital. Shatha was almost certain that it was rotavirus, and so far, none of the other children were sick. Hoping for the best, they’d wiped everything down with disinfectant, and Amy was diligently using hand sanitizer.

  A coughing fit wracked Aisha, and Amy stopped reading and reached for the honeyed tea.

  “No.” Aisha wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Too hot.”

  “I know that it’s hot, baby, but it’ll help with the coughing. We’re going to finish the story and try to go back to bed, okay?”

  Nodding, Aisha sipped at the hot liquid. It was nearing midnight. The rest of the children had gone to bed hours ago, and Natasha and Shatha were finishing up the chores for the day along with another round of wiping everything down in the children’s play area with disinfectant. Shatha had checked in on Aisha an hour ago, but Amy wanted to spend the night with the child.

  After finishing the story, she tucked Aisha back in bed and kissed her forehead. She was almost out of the children’s cough medicine, and she’d need to make a run in the morning to get more. She also wanted to get more children’s aspirin to keep the fever down.

  Heading to the main house to grab a pillow and blanket, she took a moment to appreciate the night sky. The lack of city lights meant the night sky sparkled overhead. A few weeks ago, the full moon had been brilliant, but it had waned to a sliver, and the stars now stole the show.

  She felt small. So very small. After graduating, she’d put in her application to the Miami Herald. She’d had a plan. Put in a few years at a city paper. When James finished his dissertation, they were going to travel the world. She was going to make a difference.

  Then James dumped her, and she started to wonder what kind of impact she could make at all. She’d grown up in the foster care system, so there was no family to encourage her, and James’s words had hurt her more than she could say.

  You’re not really mother material, are you?

  The truth was that Amy couldn’t have kids, and James knew that. He’d never talked about wanting children, assuming that their life together would be filled with adventure and romance. It wasn’t until he’d left her, alone and humiliated, that she’d felt real pain about her infertility.

  Maybe that was
why she’d latched on to Aisha. She saw some of herself in the girl. A fighter, alone in the world.

  Quietly pulling open the door to the back of the house, she tiptoed in so she wouldn’t wake up any of the children. When Shatha had converted the house to an orphanage, she’d had some of the inner walls knocked down to make two sleeping dormitories, one for the boys and one for the girls. While they were a bit Spartan, the rooms were so clean they shone, and each child had a comfortable bed and space to keep their clothes and a few possessions.

  Not wanting to wake either of the women in case they’d gone to bed, Amy crept to the closet at the end of the hall and grabbed a pillow and a blanket.

  As she started to leave, she heard voices near the front door. Hugging the pillow and blanket to her chest, Amy went to see what was going on. Leaning up against the wall in the darkened interior, she peeked around the corner to see Shatha arguing with two men at the front of the house. When she glimpsed the guns holstered around their necks, she slammed her back heavily against the stucco wall and let out a small gasp.

  “We don’t know what you call her,” one of the men snapped. “She has blue eyes and a heart-shaped birthmark. She’s my sister’s child, and I demand that you bring her to me now.”

  Aisha! Amy hugged the pillow and blanket tighter. Did the young girl really have family?

  The older woman’s voice was calm but firm. “I’ve already told you that I cannot divulge personal information about any of the children here. You have to go through the proper channels. If you have a problem with that, you can return with the authorities at a decent hour.” Shatha stood her ground. There wasn’t the slightest trace of fear in her voice, although Amy’s heart was pounding in her chest. What was going on?

  “We will be back,” the spokesman threatened. “Don’t think this is the end of it.”