“Think how it’ll be with five of them,” said Jayne. She patted her belly, round with baby number two. “Both of us pregnant at the same time—how do you like that?”
“I like it just fine,” said Fiona. “It’ll be good having their birthdays close together. We can have one big party, like we do for Noah and Graham.”
“Just no more skateboards.” Raina plopped down beside them, smelling of birthday cake. “I’m telling you right now, Halima’s never getting on one of those.”
“Then why’s she on Noah’s right now?” Fiona pointed past the fountain. Sure enough, Noah was pulling her around like the Queen of Sheba, while Graham showered her with rose petals.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Raina’s going to burn those skateboards the moment the kids go to sleep,” said Chadil. He sat down as well, wiping sweat from his brow. “Don’t worry. I have my eye on them.”
“And where’s Edlyn gotten to?” Fiona scanned the terrace, one hand up to shield her eyes. “I haven’t seen her in hours.”
“I think she sneaked off with Yusuf,” said Jayne. “I saw them a while ago, heading inside.”
“Who, Yusuf from your foundation?” Fiona sat up a little straighter. “I thought something was going on, but are they—”
“Courting? They most certainly are.” Jayne leaned in, eyes sparkling. “They met at that fundraiser Danny put together, and she’s been dropping by the office ever since. He took her to the opera last week. I think it’s serious.”
“I knew she seemed extra-bouncy lately.” Raina grinned. “And she borrowed my red dress.”
“You ladies are behind on your gossip,” said Bas, approaching with Danny. “They asked my permission two weeks ago. They’ll be beginning their official courtship next month.” The two of them squeezed in, Bas with Fiona, Danny with Jayne. Jayne leaned in for a kiss, breathing in Danny’s familiar scent.
“You find the sparklers okay?”
“Right where you said they’d be.” He winked. “Oh, and guess who just called?”
“Who?”
Danny snuggled a little closer, getting comfortable. “That foundation your boss mentioned, the one needing funding? Guess who just found him some?”
“You’re amazing.” Jayne kissed him. “So dedicated. The way you’ve kept going, all the outreach you do...”
“You inspire me.” He laid his hand on her belly, laughed when he felt the baby kick. “Whoa. Little footballer.”
“Or a little ballerina.” She smiled. “I was going to save this for later, something special just for us...but I got some news at the doctor’s. It’s a girl.”
“A girl.” Danny took her hand and kissed it, his expression turning to one of delight. “Halima will be thrilled. And so am I.”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t wait to play with her, teach her to ride a bike. Take her to feed the ducks.” He laughed. “She’ll have to stay little forever so we’ll have time to do everything.”
“Or we can have more. A whole army.” Jayne leaned against Danny, warm and content. Graham and Noah were running around the fountain, Halima in hot pursuit. Fiona was conspiring with Bas; Chadil was kissing Raina, brushing her hair back from her face.
“I love you,” said Danny, and Jayne’s heart felt full.
“I wish I could freeze this moment in time, just...hang it in a locket and take it out whenever I wanted.”
He squeezed her hand. “We’ll make a million more like it.”
“Yes, we will.” It was coming up on Noah’s bedtime, and the sun was going down, but ten minutes more wouldn’t hurt.
End of The Sheikh’s Mail-Order Bride
Halabi Sheikh Series Book Three
The Sheikh King’s Ward, 28 January 2021
The Sheikh’s Fake Courtship, 4 February 2021
The Sheikh’s Mail-Order Bride, 11 February 2021
PS: Do you love passionate Sheikhs? Then keep reading for an exclusive extract from The Sheikh’s Marriage Bargain.
Thank you!
Thank you so much for purchasing my book. It’s hard for me to put into words how much I appreciate my readers. If you enjoyed this book, please remember to leave a review. Reviews are crucial for an author’s success and I would greatly appreciate it if you took the time to review the book. I love hearing from you!
About Leslie
Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.
Find your next Leslie North book visit LeslieNorthBooks.com or choose:
PS: Want sneak peeks, giveaways, ARC offers, fun extras and plenty of pictures of bad boys? Join my Facebook group, Leslie’s Lovelies!
BLURB
Laila Tindall is only in Raihan to hone her pottery skills and visit her ailing grandfather. Marriage was never in the picture. But when her grandfather is tricked into signing a binding marriage contract to a man she finds repugnant, she has one choice: Run away. Her flight ends with a fortuitous meeting with Zayid Hasan, Crown Prince of Raihan, who offers the perfect solution to Laila’s predicament: marry him and solve both their problems. Zayid’s younger brother must marry his pregnant fiancé, and ancient laws dictate the oldest brother is required to marry first. Desperate for a way to protect both her grandfather and herself, Laila agrees. After all, their marriage will last only until Zayid’s brother can marry—and her marriage to the brooding, handsome prince isn’t much of a sacrifice. It’s not like she’s going to be foolish enough to fall in love…
Zayid doesn’t know what to think about his new half-American wife. He doesn’t really want to think about her at all, but for some reason, he can’t stop himself. Strangely enough, all the royal functions that used to bore him silly are now entertaining with Laila by his side—even though he knows she’d much rather be alone creating her art. Though the marriage of convenience was his idea, he can’t help but start to wish it was the real deal. No way can he ignore the simmering chemistry that’s driving them both a bit crazy. He’s much better at ignoring what’s in his heart—until he realizes it just might break if he can’t convince Laila to stay with him forever…
Grab your copy of The Sheikh’s Marriage Bargain (Hasan Sheikhs Book One) from
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
* * *
EXCERPT
Chapter One
Laila looked down on the city of Raihanabad, the capital city of Raihan, and drank it in. The colors. The evening sunlight pouring down on ancient stucco buildings snugged up next to modern glass structures. None were higher than the palace in the center, surrounded by its green gardens. What would it be like, to trace the shapes of the city in clay? She could feel those edges beneath her fingertips. An arch here, a rough corner there, and a gleaming palace at the heart with all the swoops and falls of Spanish architecture.
Her grandfather’s house had an amazing view. Part of her wanted to stand here forever, looking across a perfect morning in Raihan. The house hugged a tiny vineyard on one side and a custom fountain in the back. She took another long, deep breath and listened to the water burble in that fountain. The sound moved through the house on the breeze. So peaceful.
“Papa?” she called, splitting the silence. “I have to get back to the city.” How long had she been standing at the window? She turned away and scanned the large living room, which led into a spacious kitchen and dining room, with a den on the other side. A hall on the left led to two guest bedrooms and the master suite. All of it had been done in a shade of white that made her think of chalk, if chalk were the most elegant thing in the world. Simple, yet high quality. That was her grandfather’s style. But where was the man himself?
A car door slammed in the back, and she moved into the kitchen and toward the noise without thinking. He couldn’t have left and come back. Could he? If
he’d needed something from the city, it wouldn’t make sense to go in the middle of her visit. Although his dementia made him forget the teakettle and sometimes call her by her mother’s name, she hadn’t known him to wander off without telling anyone. Yet. The hairs on the backs of her arms pointed up and away. No, she thought. Let this all be all right. It would probably be fine. She did a quick breathing exercise to calm her nerves.
“Papa?” The door at the back of the kitchen swung open, letting the orange sunlight in along with her grandfather. “There you are,” she said. “I thought you might have gone to the city without me.”
Labeeb, her grandfather, came around the kitchen island and gave her a smile. “Gone to the city? Not when it’s time for the ceremony, no.”
“What ceremony? I didn’t plan on any ceremonies today. I have to get back to the studio.” Her pottery studio was a rented space in the center of the city. Tiny, no air conditioning, a postage stamp of a courtyard, but it had everything she needed while she was in Raihan. She stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “I’ll come visit next week.”
“No, you’ll stay.” He put his wizened hand on her elbow. “It’s time. Harb, come in.” A confused look flashed across his face and was gone. “It’s almost dinnertime.”
“That’s right, but I have plans.” And Harb—she did not want to see Harb. The man was a creep. He’d shown up at dinner with her grandfather her first week in the country, and he’d made her stomach turn. He always looked like he was plotting something when he looked at her—something she knew she would not enjoy.
The man himself stepped into the doorway. The smug smile on his face threatened to unseat her lunch.
“Hello,” she said. “See you next week, Papa.”
“Don’t go just yet, my dear.” Harb stepped fully inside, and Laila backed into the living room. Harb laughed. “No need to be shy. In a few minutes, we’ll be married, and you’ll have no time to be bashful.”
A terrified laugh bubbled up into her throat, but she swallowed it back. “I promise, you’re wrong about that. I’m not marrying anyone, least of all you.”
Herb raised his eyebrows at her grandfather. “You didn’t tell her? Labeeb, you’re losing your edge.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from the back pocket of his linen pants. “I’ve come to claim you as my bride. The deal is set.” Harb handed her the paper. Laila willed herself not to throw any punches.
She read the words printed there, which spelled out the marriage contract—including a bride price, of all things—but the signatures at the bottom dealt the final blow. Harb’s and her grandfather’s.
He was already talking.
“—perform the ceremony.” She looked up to find a third man in the room. The imam. “We’re ready to begin.”
The imam cleared his throat. “Stand together, and the ceremony will commence.”
“You’re joking.” Laila couldn’t get a breath. “This isn’t a valid contract.”
“It’s signed and witnessed. It’s valid.” Harb stood next to her. “Proceed,” he said to the imam.
“My grandfather has dementia. He wouldn’t have signed this if he were in his right mind.” It hurt her, saying it in front of him, but what did they think they were doing? “You can’t possibly believe this valid.” Even as she said the words, she could see her grandfather nodding from the corner of her eye.
“Perfectly valid,” he said. “My child, it’s past time you married.”
“That’s right, Labeeb.” Harb patted the old man on his arm. “You have every right.”
“I have every right.”
Horror clawed its way up from the pit of her gut to her throat and clenched her airway in its fists. The imam shuffled from one foot to the other and pulled out a battered prayer book. She had to get herself some time to think.
“I need the bathroom.”
“Fine.” Harb cut a glance at her. “Then you’ll come right back here and marry me.” Laila turned to go, but Harb caught her arm. “Right back here,” he purred. “Or I’ll come for you.”
Bile stung her throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth and ran for the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and locked it, her breaths coming hard and fast.
No time to be sick—she had to get out of whatever this awful situation was. A marriage contract? To Harb? Laila put her hand on the door handle. Maybe she should go back out. Could she really leave her grandfather with him? But after a moment she dropped it to her side. She had to leave him here. Harb wouldn’t hurt Papa as long as he could be used to lure her back. And his friends in the neighborhood would continue to check on him, just as they’d done before she arrived in Raihan. Especially Mara, the next-door neighbor who cooked all his meals and kept the house tidy.
“She’ll come around to it.” Harb’s voice came to her muffled by the door. “She’ll make me a very happy man.”
Laila jerked away from the door as if it had shocked her, her heart a miniature earthquake. She hopped up on the linen chest, knocking a basin off balance as she did. She grabbed the ceramic hard enough to crack it. At least it stopped the noise. It took both hands to force open the window. Laila squeezed painfully through the too-small opening and dropped to the ground outside.
Just move. This was no time to get scared and freeze. She sprinted around the house to the driveway, yanking her keys from her pocket as she went. The little car—bought off Raihan’s version of Craigslist when she arrived—didn’t have much life left in it. God, had she remembered to fill the gas tank?
The door stuck, then flew open, and she jumped in so fast she slid into the gear shift. Laila allowed herself one look at the house. Nobody had come out. The car hummed to life when she turned the key, and she forced herself to keep her hands calm on the wheel. A smooth drive out. Like nothing was happening. She kept stealing glances in the rearview mirror, but the door stayed closed.
She didn’t release her breath until she rounded the corner at the end of the road.
Home free—for now.
At the next crossroads she took a right, heading away from the city center. The apartment she rented above the studio probably wasn’t safe. If Harb was really determined, he could get that information from her grandfather, and then...
She couldn’t go back there now.
Laila rounded the city on the western side, through a hilly area that gradually climbed into mountains. The sun threw itself beneath the horizon as if it was hiding, just like she was. There was no going back. She wrenched the wheel to the right, heading deeper into the foothills, and gunned it. Panic filled her head, clouded her thoughts, and the miles slipped away under the wheels of the car,
Until the engine sputtered and stopped. Laila sucked in a breath. No, no, no. The gas gauge slipped below empty. Her only option was to guide the car to the side of the road.
In the foothills of Raihan.
With nobody to call and a man after her with a marriage contract, which was apparently enforceable.
She got out of the car.
The breeze still held a bit of warmth from the day, and it ran its fingers through her hair. Laila took a deep breath. Far to the east, the city of Raihanabad glowed. She had no idea how far she’d driven.
She patted her pocket for her cell phone and reached back into the car to grab her purse. And then Laila started to walk.
Grab your copy of The Sheikh’s Marriage Bargain (Hasan Sheikhs Book One) from
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
nter>
The Sheikh’s Mail-Order Bride: Halabi Sheikhs Book Three Page 11