Bound to the Sheikh: An ancient debt. A deathbed promise. A marriage of duty and obligation. Desire too strong to control.

by Clare Connelly

  “She was from the hospital?” Laurie asked, enjoying this insight into Elena.

  “Yes. President of the fundraising committee. She was a volunteer like me, married to a top advisor. Her story is a sad one. She lost her son when he was two years old. An infection that passed to his blood; yes, I felt the same,” she murmured, observing the compassionate set of Laurie’s pretty features. “Such a tragedy to lose one so little. Fatima – or Mrs Katabi, as I called her, for she is ancient now – never really leaves the hospital. It’s as though she thinks she might find his ghost in the hallways.”

  “Terrible,” Laurie spoke softly, her eyes shifting to the window that framed a view of the Sheikh’s private golf course. How could there be such inequity in the world? Such dramatic wealth and such suffering?

  “Of course, there’s no reason to think her son would have survived in any circumstances. Yet Fatima has taken it upon herself to become a one-woman crusader for improvements to the hospital.”

  Finally, Afida was free of David. He shifted closer to Laurie, moving slowly so as not to draw their attention.

  “Losing someone you love dearly renders you powerless,” her voice was husked with emotion. “It is difficult to accept that ultimately, no matter how much money or love you have, you can do nothing. To realise that a person’s body can betray them so fundamentally … it is a grief from which one never recovers.”

  Is this why she had refused to help her father? Did she blame him in some way for the loss of her mother? Did she hold David responsible for the death? Every time Afida felt that he was developing an understanding of this woman, he discovered a dozen new questions.

  “You speak from experience,” Elena’s own tone was rich with sympathy.

  Laurie didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The sadness in her eyes spoke volumes when her voice was silent.

  The rest of the event seemed to take forever. On the surface, Laurie appeared to be enjoying herself, but the pleasure had evaporated.

  She could think only of her mother.

  When their guests finally departed, and she sensed that she would be alone with Afida, she prepared herself. Her emotions wouldn’t take another stoush with him. Not in their raw and exposed state. She sent him a look of dismissal and moved from the room without a word.

  She walked fast, and then slipped into her own room quickly and silently, as though she was afraid she might be caught red-handed.

  It was maudlin and indulgent, and she’d sworn years ago that she’d stop reading it.

  But now? On the brink of a loveless marriage to a man such as this, she needed her mother’s counsel and affection more than ever before. Her fingers shook as she lifted the worn leather diary from her handbag and flicked open the flap of the dust jacket.

  The paper was crumpled and frail now, from having been handled so frequently. She pressed it flat with care, holding it against the jacket of the book as she traced her mother’s spidery hand writing. Tears sparkled on her eyes and threatened to fall down her cheeks. Her mother’s penmanship had never been neat. She had been too much of an artist for that. But as her body had weakened, so too had the strength in her hand.

  With a heavy sigh of sadness, Laurie settled herself onto the bed and read the words that she could have said by heart.

  My little fairy,

  I know I’m nearing the end. Soon I’ll be one of those lights in the sky that we call stars yet know to be powered by something much stronger. Soul dust. Soon I’ll be sparkling, forever out of reach of your touch, but always in your life. There are some things I cannot say to you yet, that I would wish you to know as you age.

  You are everything I could have hoped you would be. When I first held you in my arms, I stared at your face, and I saw such greatness in you. You have a power and strength that is all your own. You are not only beautiful and courageous, you are kind and considerate. These are qualities that you must always treasure.

  I have watched you grow in wonder. How did your father and I, both perfectly normal and unremarkable people, make you? As a child you swam in the stream, but you might as well have been charging across the ocean with dolphins at your heels. You climbed trees and were no longer in our own little woodland paradise, but in the depths of the amazon. You see sadness and injustice and you don’t simply cry. You fight. You fight harder than anyone I’ve ever known, and that toughness and strength makes me prouder of you than you can imagine.

  Surround yourself with those who deserve you. It is better to have a single friend of quality than many people who do not appreciate you. Your presence is a gift, and true friends will see that.

  You may meet someone, one day, who you decide you love, and want to spend your life with. Make sure he is good enough for you before you take that step. For most people, and I cannot tell you how greatly I hope you are one of them, life is a lengthy journey, filled with many twists and turns. With the right person by your side, such as I have had with your father, it is an adventure that will never, even over a thousand years, feel long enough. Most importantly, it is a ride, and you know my philosophy on those – they must be fun!

  I will never know your husband. I will never know the grandchildren you might have given me. I will never be able to wrap them up in an extension of the love I feel for you. But I know you! You will be the kind of mother that would make me proud. And when you look at your children, I hope that you see me in their eyes too.

  I will leave you soon; I am ready. My body is failing me and my pain is profound. My heart breaks to leave your father, but I know he will carry on as he ever has. He has his business, and he has you.

  You, my darling girl, I leave knowing that a lifetime with you would never have been enough. I mourn our separation in a way that would undo me if I let it. I have to believe that you will be everything you can be in life. That you will continue to be kind and wise, just and thoughtful, and above all, happy. You deserve happiness, for you give it effortlessly to all you meet.

  Never doubt how much I have loved you, and do not ever let yourself be loved less than this. I will live on in you forever, and I will guide your darkest night. In moments of worry, look up, and you’ll see me. Good night, little fairy.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I think your fiancé would have us both thrown in prison if he found out,” Elon confided seriously, scanning the view purely so that he could encompass Laurie in his gaze. Her running gear alone would have given Afida a heart attack. Skin tight black pants that showed off her shapely legs and pert rear, a tank top that hinted at her cleavage and a loose singlet that was the perfect shade of mauve to flatter her skin; which was displayed with every bounding step she took, as it lifted up over her stomach.

  She skidded her eyes to him, her expression mutinous. “Do you?”

  Two days since that embarrassing moment on the roof terrace and she hadn’t heard a peep from her husband to be. So much for wanting her! She tried not to let her pique show, but she certainly felt buckets of it.

  Elon’s laugh was low. “I know so.”

  She reached the bottom of the steps and stopped, whether taking pity on Elon or just deciding it was time for a break. “Then I think you’re wrong.” She braced her hands on her hips and stared further through the landscaped gardens, towards the desert. “How long have you known him?”

  “Fida? Almost from birth.”

  She frowned. “Have you always been close?”

  “Yes.” Elon fell into step beside her, his manner that of a brother. At least, that was what he consoled himself with, as he felt a stirring of powerful attraction for the woman who would soon be married to his best friend.

  “Why?”

  He laughed at the quickness of her retort. “Why?”

  “He’s a bastard.”

  Elon let out a low slow whistle. “Hey, Laurie,” he murmured, “Afida is someone I am loyal to.”

  “Why?” She pushed, unafraid of having earned his disapproval.

  “Because he’s an excel
lent man. Intelligent, loyal, brave and generous beyond description; he is someone I greatly admire.” She pulled a face that showed her obvious disbelief and Elon smothered a laugh. “You will see these things when you know him better.”

  Laurie shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps.” And Elon was left with the definite impression that she was backing down simply to avoid quarrelling with him. “You ready to run again?”

  Again, he laughed. It was strange to make that sound so often, when he was generally considered serious and sombre. “No. Let us walk back directly. You are getting married later today. The attendants will be waiting for you.”

  Laurie turned wistfully towards the edge of the garden. “What’s that?”

  Elon felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand warningly on edge when she pointed to the dwelling in the distance. “For visiting dignitaries.” The lie came surprisingly easy to his lips.

  “Nice place.” She smiled at him brightly, with no clue that he wasn’t being honest. “I’ll get there another time. Let’s head back to the palace, as you suggest.”

  They walked side by side in silence for a few moments. It was companionable and easy, given they’d only known each other for such a short time.

  “You are a good runner,” Afida said, as they rounded a clump of spiking trees and the palace loomed into view.

  “Thanks.” She smiled at him, and the sun caught her face, casting golden rays across it. “I love it.”

  “I, however, do not.”

  “Aw, and yet you offered to come with me? You’re rather chivalrous, master Elon,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

  He had come to know Laurie far better than he should have, and so he didn’t, for one moment, believe she had any concept of what she was doing to him. He squared his shoulders and ignored the growing feelings he was developing for the British woman. She was taken. And by his friend.

  “Did you sort out your pressing financial obligation?” He asked, as they approached the eastern gate of the palace.

  She lifted her gaze to him curiously.

  “The twenty seven thousand pounds?”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks glowed in a way that matched the sun. “Yes, thank you.” What a relief it had been, to pay off the last of her mother’s medical expenses.

  “Such a specific amount. I presumed, at the time, that it was to finalise your living arrangements?”

  “Living arrangements? Oh, no. Nothing like that.”

  He frowned. His loyalty was to Afida, and if there was any chance she was caught up in something illegal, then surely it was his duty to uncover that. “Do you mind if I ask …?” He queried gently.

  “No.” She shrugged. “It’s no secret or anything.”

  He waited, because he suspected she wanted to disclose the truth. His patience was rewarded. They stepped into the marble corridor that led to her quarters and she stopped walking. Her eyes didn’t meet his. “My mother was very sick.” She cleared her throat. “Though the original diagnosis was of an inoperable tumour, we refused to give up hope. You may imagine how many people in our positions would have felt that … a desperate cloying need to believe there was a chance everything would be okay.” She swallowed back the bite of tears. “Eventually, we found someone who turned that hope into a reality. She entered a very new, very experimental treatment protocol.”

  “It didn’t work,” Elon murmured sympathetically.

  “On the contrary, it gave us time, and it gave her peace. We had another two years with mum. But it cost a small fortune.” She grimaced. “Once mum died, dad came apart at the seams. His business fell into a hole, and he was too distracted to realise that the bills were still piling in.”

  “And so you worked two jobs to cover them.” He closed his eyes against the wave of comprehension.

  “Yes.” She lifted her chin. “And if Afida hadn’t happened along with censorious attitude, I would have found a way to fix all of this.”

  “I am sorry for you, Laurie. So much sadness, and then so much stress.”

  “Yes, well, at least I don’t have that now.”

  “Don’t you?” He wondered, scanning her beautiful face.

  “No.” Her smile was forced. “Haven’t you heard? It’s my wedding day.”

  Footsteps heralded from behind them, and they turned as one, to see Afida strolling through the very door they’d used. He was dressed casually, in a pair of trousers and a shirt that was unbuttoned low enough at the neck to reveal an expanse of dark hair. His expression was troubled, until it landed on Afida and Laurie. Then, it clouded over into something else altogether. He stopped walking just a foot away from them.

  “Is it not bad luck to see my bride before the wedding?” His voice sent ripples of pleasure searing through her abdomen. Even now, dressed casually, he was heaven to look at. And look she did, like a woman in the desert who finally discovers an oasis.

  “I think bad luck is inevitable with us,” she heard herself clip, surprised that she was able to muster such a cool tone when her pulse was raging through her body. She turned her attention back to the comforting face of Elon. “Thanks for the company.” With him, she could be completely herself, and her smile showed that. She spun on her heel and stalked down the corridor, trying not to wonder if her husband was watching her swift retreat.

  He was. Until she disappeared around the corner, his eyes followed her, and then he fixed a rapier sharp glare on his oldest friend. “Well, Elon? Would you care to explain why you have been gallivanting around with my wife? And with her dressed like that?”

  Elon shot his friend a look of mirth. “Is that your way of expressing gratitude?”

  “Gratitude?” Afida dragged a hand through his hair. He was in no mood to tolerate cryptic statements.

  “Or would you have preferred your bride-to-be to scamper about the palace gardens on her own?”

  “She has servants,” Afida pointed out darkly.

  “Would servants have prevented her from going to May’s cottage, as she was intending to?”

  Afida’s cheeks slashed with dark colour. “Was she indeed? Does she know?”

  “No. I told her it is a diplomatic residence.”

  “In some ways, not such a stretch.”

  Elon’s glowering face showed disapproval. “She deserves better.”

  “Careful, friend, or I will start to think you have some interest in my fiancé.”

  Elon’s gaze sparked with irritation. “Any man who spent time with her would be foolish not to have an interest in her.”

  Afida had a wholly unfamiliar emotion burst through him. Was it envy? Anger? Betrayal? He couldn’t have said, but it tinged his mouth with the taste of metal. “What the hell are you saying?” He demanded. And though his voice was low and his words even, his temper was a fire burning in his soul.

  “That you are being a fool.”

  “Speak with care, old friend. You are treading a dangerous path now.”

  Elon slashed a furious hand through the air. “Laurie is worth a thousand Mays, and yet still you go to that woman?”

  Afida’s hand was forming into a fist by his side. He couldn’t believe he was actually fantasising about crashing a punch across Elon’s face. He sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to think rationally. “May is none of your business. Come to think of it, nor is Laurena.”

  Elon eyed the Sheikh with anger. “She deserves better than this union.”

  “So what? Are you saying you are in love with her? That you want to marry her?”

  “No.” Elon turned away from his friend. “She is to be your wife. If she were not engaged to you, I would have found it impossible to resist her, though.”

  Afida had a rolling sense of presentiment in his gut. The day had started badly, and was now going from bad to worse. Caught off guard, he stumbled into a defensive posture. “She is marrying me this afternoon. Decide if you wish to attend or not, but do not make trouble for me, Elon.”

  Afida stalked away, his tem
per through the roof. And while it might have been wiser to leave her be, he found himself moving through his own apartment and into Laurie’s, without so much as a tap on her door to warn her of his arrival.

  And so he caught his fiancé completely unawares.

  The sight of her knocked the wind out of his sails though. The fiery temper he felt evaporated into helplessness, as he took stock of the picture she made. Dressed in only her underwear, her long hair cascading like a silky shadow down her back, she was clutching that damned robe she wore constantly to her chest. Tears had saturated her pink cheeks, and her long legs were crossed beneath her, on the cold tiled floor.

  “Zivzel,” he murmured, squatting down in front of her and studying the face that had been haunting his dreams. “What is it? Why are you crying?”

  She shook her head stubbornly, her green eyes mistrustful.

  That lurching sensation Afida was becoming used to rocked through him. “Is it the wedding? You do not wish to go through with it?”

  Her lips pulled into a bitter twist. “Even if I didn’t, I’m bought and paid for, remember?”

  He dipped his head forward, his heart beating loudly in his muscular chest. “Is that it?”

  “No.” She bit down on her lip. “I made a commitment to you, and you were right the other day anyway. You’ve done your part. Now I have to do mine.”

  They were words that he never imagined would be uttered in the same context as marriage to him. “So why do you cry?” He pushed, his temper briefly spiking as he saw again the fantasy-worthy figure that had been on display for Elon’s gaze all morning.

  “It’s just hit me that I’m doing this without my mum.” Her sob was mingled with a valiant attempt at a laugh. “That’s ridiculous, I know. She died two years ago. But I guess I’d always imagined she’d be here.” She stroked the fabric gently, her fingers running over it with reverence. “She gave this to me. Years ago. I left it at home when I moved out. And then, when she … passed … I was going through her things and rediscovered it.” Her green eyes pierced his very soul. “She wore it. After I moved out. When she missed me. And now I wear it because I miss her.”