The Sheikh’s Mail-Order Bride: Halabi Sheikhs Book Three

by North, Leslie

  “Jalal. What are you doing here? Fatima let you off your leash?”

  “Oh, no, we’re over.” He nodded at a blonde woman by the carousel. “I’m here with Tatiana. We met in Chisinau. Hold on—Kamal’s with us, too. The party’s at his later. You’re coming, right?”

  “Not this time. I’m here with someone, myself.” Danny grinned, and Jayne stiffened, afraid he was about to introduce her. She wasn’t sure she liked this man, or his brazen manner. Still, it stung a little when he didn’t even glance her way. “I’ll call you next week,” he said. “We’ll get drinks or something, hit the town.”

  Noah tugged at her skirt. His ice cream was gone, and he was sticky all over, long streaks of sugar down his front. She wiped him up as best she could, frowning as he squirmed. He was doing okay, not whining or sniffling, but Jayne knew the warning signs, the eye-rubbing, that shrill note in his voice. She looked around for Danny, but he’d found another friend. They were chatting about horses, laughing up a storm, and Noah grabbed at her skirt again.

  “Juice,” he said, and that was a bad sign as well. She’d taught him to say please. He only forgot when he was tired, when his patience was starting to fray.

  “I’ll get you a drink in a minute.” She scooped Noah up and wove through the crowd, waving for Danny’s attention. His eyes passed right over her as an older woman called his name, bustling over with her own children in tow. He knelt to greet the kids, and Jayne’s exasperation rose. It was nice he had so many friends, but Noah was spiraling, making discontented noises in her ear. Ten minutes, fifteen tops, and he’d be impossible to handle.

  “You heard right. I’m courting. But what about you?” Danny shifted the focus off himself, smooth as silk. “I heard you’ve a third on the way?”

  “Oh, yes. A daughter, this time.” The woman beamed. She turned to wipe her younger son’s face, and Danny caught Jayne’s eye, smiling twice as brightly. Jayne’s heart fluttered in spite of her annoyance. He had a boyish charm that was hard to resist, and she could hardly blame him for his popularity. He greeted everyone with genuine enthusiasm, and though he ducked any questions that came his way, he always knew the right ones to ask, the ones that won him smiles.

  She followed him at a distance, settling Noah in his stroller when her arms got tired. Her feet were starting to ache, her new shoes pinching her toes. The moon rose overhead, and Noah began to fuss, yanking her skirt till she knelt to check on him.

  “Juice.” He pulled her hair sharply, sticky fingers catching in her curls.

  “Ouch, Noah. We don’t pull hair.”

  He pulled again, harder this time. Jayne stood up and dug through her purse. She always had a juice box for emergencies—apple, Noah’s favorite—but he smacked it out of her hand. It burst on the flagstones, spilling all over her feet.

  “Noddat. Dat.” He pointed at a stand selling neon-colored sodas, melon and rosewater, pineapple and coconut, with candy sprinkles on top.

  “Not tonight. And I told you, no hitting.”

  Noah’s expression turned mutinous, like he was thinking of lashing out again. He crossed his arms instead, pooching out his lower lip. She knew that look, one step from tears. One step from a tantrum. It was time to go, beyond time, but Danny had found yet another friend, and the two of them were deep in conversation.

  “All right,” she said, forcing the words between clenched teeth. “A small one, okay?”

  Noah rallied a little at that, scrambling out of his stroller and racing to the stand. She got him a pineapple drink, no sprinkles, and let him pick out a silly straw. He took one sip and his face crumpled.

  “No.”

  “Not good? That’s okay. We can—”

  “Appah.” He reached for his discarded box, squashed on the pavement. “Appah!”

  He bolted for his juice box, wailing when Jayne grabbed him. She lifted him and rocked him, holding him tight to her chest, but the floodgates were open. There was no going back. His shrieks pierced the air, and he squirmed and kicked, losing a shoe in his frenzy. Jayne bent to retrieve it, and he nearly escaped, knocking their heads together as he did.

  Jayne rose, blinking dizzily, and scanned the crowd for Danny. He came hurrying up, brandishing a lollipop, one of the huge ones she’d steered Noah past earlier.

  “Hey—hey, little man. I got you a present.”

  “Put that away. The last thing he needs is more sugar.” Jayne pushed the candy away, but it didn’t matter. Noah was in full-on meltdown mode, face buried in her shoulder, snot and tears soaking her blouse.

  “How about a stuffed toy? They’ve got lions, tigers—”

  “No.” She searched for a quiet spot, but everywhere she turned were ringing bells and flashing lights, streamers and sparklers and painted faces. The crowd had changed as day turned to night, parents and children giving way to young couples and groups of revelers. Jayne held Noah closer to her chest. “We have to go,” she said. “You can stay if you want, but this one needs his bed.”

  Noah’s wails rose at that, and he beat out a feeble protest, tiny fists pounding on her back. Jayne spun on her heel and jogged back the way they’d come, not waiting to see if Danny followed. Noah was sticky, in need of a bath. By the time she got him tucked in, it’d be almost midnight. He’d be a terror in the morning, all sulky and not wanting to get dressed.

  He stilled for a moment as she buckled him into his car seat, then renewed his howling when he realized there wasn’t any juice. Danny slid in on his other side, wincing as he did.

  “Is he always that loud?”

  “Only when it’s three hours past his bedtime and he’s full up on sugar, surrounded by flashing lights.” She offered him his pacifier, but he flung it across the car. “What did you think would happen? I told you a few minutes. It’s been hours.”

  “It’s a special day. I thought—”

  The car lurched forward. Noah drummed his feet on the upholstery. His screams rose in volume, deafening in the enclosed space.

  “He’s two years old,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the din. “A special day for a two-year-old isn’t staying up till midnight. It’s a picnic, a nice walk, a little treat, and an early night. I told you that, and—”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Not okay. He’s over-sugared. Overstimulated. That means he won’t sleep well, and he’ll be out of sorts tomorrow. You have to think. You can’t keep a toddler up, expect him to—”

  “I’m sorry.” Danny raised his hands in surrender, but he seemed more annoyed than penitent, turning his face to the window as Noah’s cries continued. Jayne shrugged him off and turned her attention to Noah, bouncing his car seat till his screams turned to whimpers and petered out. His eyes drifted shut as the car arrowed through the night. Jayne’s anger ebbed away, and she felt a little guilty, the way she’d gone off on Danny. He wasn’t a father. He’d tried his best.

  “Ah.” Danny shifted in his seat, turning to face her again. “I pretty much blew that, didn’t I?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Jayne smiled, relieved. She’d been fumbling for the right thing to say, and he’d spared her the trouble. “You could maybe have listened better, but I overreacted. It’s just been a lot for him, the move, saying goodbye to his friends. He needs to settle in, get used to his new routine.”

  “The gardens were fun, though.” He smiled, sweetly hopeful. “I had a good time.”

  “I did too. And so did Noah.” A warm surge of affection rose in her chest, and she reached for his hand. “The ducks were the highlight. He’ll be talking about those for weeks.”

  “More animals, less sugar. Got it.” Danny took her hand and twined his fingers with hers. “Next time will be better. You’ll see.”

  6

  Danny squinted at his tablet and reached for his wine glass.

  “Okay. You sit back here, between Yasir and the ambassador. You’ll keep ‘em civil, right?” He dragged the Minister of Finance’s headshot across the screen, p
lopping him down at the second table. “Perfect.” He zoomed out and frowned. “Except, wait a second...”

  He thought back to the spring ball. He’d spotted the minister dancing with a young lady, one he seemed very much enamored with and who’d smiled as if she returned the sentiment. One who was currently languishing all the way back at table six. Danny sipped his wine and frowned. For a party of fifty, the seating arrangements were proving surprisingly complex. “Fine. You drop to table three—” He swiped Yasir to one side and set the Minister’s girl in his place. “And you, Mr. Ambassador...you’ll bore my brother. How do you like that?”

  He allowed himself the tiniest of smirks. It was petty revenge, but it felt good all the same. And his seating plan looked great. Danny powered down his tablet and leaned back in his chair, letting the cool night air soothe his frustration. Today hadn’t gone the way he thought it would. He’d messed up with Noah, which meant he’d messed up with Jayne, and the kicker was he’d known better. He’d spent enough time with Graham and Chadil’s daughter Halima to know the warning signs of a meltdown, but with Noah, he’d missed every one.

  He stood and went to the edge of the terrace, looking out over the garden. He’d been nervous, much as he hated to admit it. Jayne was curious, full of questions, and he’d been down that road before. It happened every time: they laughed at first, fell for his sense of humor, but when it came time to get serious...

  He scowled, picturing that familiar disappointment darkening Jayne’s lovely features. It always came. It was only a matter of when. His friends showing up at the carnival had felt like rescue, a stay of execution. He hadn’t meant to ignore her, and he especially hadn’t meant to ignore Noah, but he’d done exactly that. He’d let things spiral out of control, and—

  “Fiona said you might be here.” Jayne stepped out onto the terrace, luminous in the moonlight.

  “You get Noah down okay?”

  “Fingers crossed, finally.” She held up her phone. “Baby monitor app. I’ll hear if he starts to fuss.”

  “I really am sorry.” He tried a crooked grin, tilting his head to one side. “I guess I got a bit over-sugared, myself. Lost track of time.”

  “And I’m still a tad jetlagged. I might’ve overreacted.” Jayne came around the table to join him. She’d changed into a flowing green dress that fluttered around her as she moved, setting off her generous curves. Danny took her arm as she made her way down the steps.

  “Shall we go for a walk?” He gestured at the rose garden, lit by hanging lanterns. “It’s quiet at night. Feels like your own little world.”

  “That sounds perfect.” Jayne seemed content to let him take the lead, and he took the long way through the rose garden, pointing out his mother’s favorite blooms and the bush Chadil had squashed and blamed on him.

  “Everyone believed him, too. It’s just the sort of thing I would’ve done.” His lips quirked up. “Until Father found a thorn in his hair.”

  “It doesn’t seem any the worse for wear.” Jayne reached out to fondle one of its leaves.

  “Because Chadil was out here every day for the rest of the summer, watering it and spraying for aphids. I think he still does it once in a while.” He continued down the path, past the stone bench, to the fountain. Jayne perched on its edge and trailed her fingers in the water.

  “It really is peaceful here.” She glanced back toward the palace. “The palace, though—it takes some getting used to, doesn’t it? I kept waking up through the night, and there was always something going on, footsteps in the corridor, someone beating a carpet.”

  “A household this big never sleeps. Especially once there’re kids in the picture.” Danny sat next to her and stretched out his legs. “Mother always loved it here. She’d sit right where you’re sitting, with a book or some embroidery. If we wanted to find her, this was the first place we’d look.” He pointed at the other side of the fountain, where a crack spidered the marble. “And right there, that crack, that’s where I had my first wipeout on my skateboard.”

  “You made that crack?” Jayne’s brows shot up.

  “No. My wheel caught on it.” He grimaced and rubbed at his forehead. “This scar right here, down the middle of my brow? This is where I smacked into the stone. I was showing off for my sister, jumping up on the fountain, and that stupid crack...”

  “Ouch.” Jayne traced her own finger along his scar, a jagged line from hairline to eyelid. “How many stitches did that take?”

  “Fourteen.” Danny winced. “And my skateboard went missing right after. I didn’t get another for two years, and that came with a helmet and pads. Not the coolest look for a twelve-year-old.” He thought she’d wag her finger at that, maybe ask if he geared up for parkour, but she offered a sympathetic nod.

  “Yeah. I used to ride one to school. The helmet hair was the pits.” She looked up at the sky, where the stars lay scattered like sequins. “I owe you an apology,” she said. “I went off on you today, and what happened was my fault.”

  “It wasn’t. You told me—”

  “No, it was.” She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m the parent. I should’ve found you much sooner, insisted on Noah’s bedtime. You were just trying to show us a good time.”

  “I should have been more attentive.” He took her hand in both of his. “I got excited, wandered off...”

  “It wasn’t just you.” Jayne’s smile turned sheepish. “I got caught up as well. It’s beautiful here, like a storybook, and Noah was so excited. He’s right at that age where he’s making his first memories, getting a taste of the wide world. It’s hard to say no to that, even when I should.”

  “I still feel bad I made him cry. You never want—oh.” His grip tightened on her hand. “Up there. A falling star.” He pointed, and Jayne followed his gaze past the tall trees, over the hilltops, where a bright trail of light streaked across the sky.

  “We have to make a wish,” she said.

  Danny closed his eyes. He didn’t want for much. A childish thought flashed through his head, bright as the stars themselves—a happy ending—but he blinked it away. That could mean anything, and it didn’t do to waste a wish. He glanced at Jayne. She’d closed her eyes to make her own wish, and her expression made his heart stutter. Her lips were slightly parted, her lashes dark on her cheeks, her brow slightly knit in concentration. He locked his wish away for later and watched her instead, drinking in the moment.

  “There.” Her eyes flew open, and she gasped. “When’d you get so close?”

  Danny’s breath caught. He hadn’t been aware of moving, but it was true. His lips were inches from hers, and he’d dropped her hand. He smiled, wide and cocky, and leaned even closer.

  “When I decided to kiss you,” he murmured, and he did just that, fire kindling in his belly as she kissed him back. Her lips were sweet with honey, bitter with tea, and he wanted more. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she mirrored his touch. Her nails scraped against his scalp, and he gasped. A chill ran through him, though the night was warm, and he sought out her warmth. She felt perfect in his arms, warm and yielding.

  “Jayne...”

  She kissed him again, nipped at his lower lip. The sensation was electric, and the desire rose in his chest.

  “Oh.” Jayne pulled back suddenly, and his stomach turned over.

  “I’m sorry. I was—”

  “It’s not you.” She held up her phone. The baby monitor had kicked on, Noah’s soft snuffling coming through. “Duty calls,” she said, but she leaned close one more time, close enough to whisper in his ear. “I got my wish, though. Thanks for that.”

  Danny reached for her, but she’d already slipped his grasp. He watched her go, that silky dress streaming behind her, and try as he might, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. She’d wished for him. For a kiss. He licked his lips, and he could taste her still. He hadn’t dreamed it.

  He stood up to go, and it occurred to him he hadn’t reached for a joke to stave off her curiosity,
not even when she asked about his stitches. She got him, or it felt like she did, laughing along with his stories, touching his scar without judgment.

  His smile widened, and he headed back to the palace with a spring in his step.

  He had the perfect idea for their next date.

  7

  Jayne shaded her eyes at Danny pointed up to the sky.

  “That’s where I slipped,” he said. “Where they’d just painted the railing. That building’s abandoned, so I guess I assumed they both were.”

  “Oh my God.” Jayne swallowed hard, her heart fluttering in her throat. She’d pictured him skipping from one balcony to the next on the same building, but though the alley was narrow, the leap was still wide. She looked down, and there were the rosebushes, one of them notably damaged, sprawling in all directions. “And that’s where you landed.”

  “It is.” He pointed at a red door next to a washing line. “And that’s where the old lady ran out with her broom, ready to sweep me away.”

  “She didn’t!”

  “Not when she saw I was hurt.” He winked. “She was actually pretty nice about it, considering those were her roses.”

  “I might’ve broomed you just a little,” said Jayne, elbowing him companionably in the ribs. “Your feet, maybe. Or your good arm.”

  “And I’d have deserved it.” He led her past the rosebushes, where the alley opened on a wide, airy plaza. “And right across there, that’s where we’re headed.”

  Jayne squinted to read the faded sign. “Al-Mifadhir Archaeological Museum? How did you know?” She started forward, delighted. She’d always loved history, especially the kind you could see right in front of you, artifacts that evoked another age.

  “I was watching you last time,” said Danny. “You kept stopping to look at everything, and I noticed you love the old stuff.” He waved his security detail back as they passed under the arch. “I do as well, always have. It’s like my father used to say: a city like this, time tends to linger. There are places you can squint a little, and it could be now or a thousand years ago, and the only way you’d know is the cell phone in your pocket.”