One Night With the Sheikh

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One Night With the Sheikh Page 11

by Kristi Gold


  “Once more, I have brought you to tears, and I am sorry for that.”

  Maysa opened her eyes and tried to smile, a shaky one. “These special moments made me cry, Rafiq. Not you. They’re good tears.”

  “I have never known tears to be good.”

  Spoken like a man who probably hadn’t cried since childhood. “Sometimes they’re necessary. An emotional release of sorts. You don’t need to worry.”

  He brushed a damp strand of hair away from her cheek. “Yet I do worry. I worry about what will happen after we part ways again.”

  So was she. “Let’s not ruin this by talking about that. We still have time. Tomorrow is Saturday, which means I have nowhere I need to be.”

  “I need to be with you,” he said. “The entire weekend. I do not want to be away from you for even an hour.”

  “Then I am yours.” For the weekend. Beyond that, who knew?

  He brought her against his chest and rubbed her arm in a soothing rhythm. “Perhaps we should begin our time together in a real bed.”

  Maysa smiled in earnest. “I agree. I think I’m lying on a tree root, or perhaps a tortoise.”

  He shifted to where they faced each other. “Shall we drive back naked?”

  “Oh, no, let’s walk back naked. If we’re lucky, we’ll stumble upon some hapless reporter and provide a story that will span the ages. I can see it now—King Rafiq Mehdi Plays Doctor with Local Doctor.”

  Their shared laughter echoed over the olive grove, drowning out the night sounds and the inevitable goodbye hanging over them like a guillotine. Maysa wanted more laughter in the time they had left. She would reserve the tears for after he was gone.

  * * *

  Rafiq could not recall a time when he had been consumed by such fierce emotion. As Maysa slept in his arms, he held her as tightly as he dared for fear of rousing her. She needed rest as much as he needed her. He planned to wake her in the morning with kisses and make love to her most of the day. Lose himself in her for as long as possible, until he was forced to leave her behind again. Forced to find a more suitable woman in the eyes of the elders and the country at large. He knew no woman who would be as suitable for him as Maysa. But he would not subject her to the cruelty he inherently knew would exist if he took her as his future queen. He would not risk failing another woman.

  Oddly, the guilt over his role in Rima’s death had subsided over the past few days, yet it once more reared its ugly head. He had selfishly and willingly drawn Maysa into this doomed affair, and now he would suffer the consequences of his actions by losing her a second time.

  Before that happened, he had much he needed to tell her, including all that had transpired the night of Rima’s death. Perhaps then Maysa would understand why he did not deserve her devotion. Perhaps then their parting would be easier. Swift and sure, as it should be. Once he confessed, she would not look upon him the same way. She would not be able to forgive him, as he had not been able to forgive himself.

  In the interim, he would cherish this fleeting fantasy they had created, and he would show Maysa the depth of his feelings by giving her his undivided attention. He dared not put those feelings into words, for to declare them out loud would only wound her further.

  Yet as he gazed upon her beautiful face and saw the girl she had been, as well as the remarkable woman she had become, he whispered those words without thought. With the reverence of a prayer.

  “Ana bahebik.”

  I love you….

  Eight

  Maysa had always looked forward to Monday mornings, a day when she could leave the boring weekend behind to face the challenges of her profession. Today, with a remarkable man sleeping soundly at her side, she hated Monday.

  In a little over an hour, she would reluctantly leave Rafiq to go work after spending a weekend with him that had been anything but uneventful. On the contrary, she’d experienced the best two days of her life to this point. She’d become someone unrecognizable to herself, a woman transformed into a high-voltage mass of sexual energy. She and Rafiq had made love in many different ways, and in many different places. She had done things with him that she’d never dreamed she would do, and the rewards had been phenomenal. He’d guided her into a paradise built on experimentation and a total loss of inhibition. They’d foregone clothing for easy access whenever the lovemaking mood struck them, and it had quite often.

  But during the aftermath, when they’d been temporarily satisfied to only hold each other, they talked about times gone by and the road to her career. They’d discussed world politics and Rafiq’s role in Bajul’s future. They had covered everything but their impending goodbye.

  Maysa had been grateful for that. She preferred to focus on the present and quiet, unforgettable moments such as this. She propped up on one elbow, supported her cheek with her palm and took the opportunity to study Rafiq, now stretched out on his back. He had a perfectly sculpted profile, as did all the Mehdi sons, only one of the reasons their photos had been in high demand and plastered all over the internet. Extraordinarily beautiful men with political power and untold wealth. The pinnacle of masculinity in a package of three.

  But right now, with his eyes closed and his features slack, Rafiq looked more teenage boy than adult monarch to Maysa. More innocent than experienced. The motherless child who had strived to be worthy of his father’s respect. The king of her damaged heart.

  When he began to stir, she smoothed a wayward lock of hair back and kissed his forehead. His eyes opened slowly, followed by a patently sensual smile. The adult Rafiq had returned.

  “I am surprised you are awake,” he said in a sexy morning voice.

  “I have to go into the clinic in a bit.”

  He turned toward her and outlined her lips with a fingertip. “Can I persuade you to take another day off to spend with me?”

  He could, if she let him, but she wouldn’t. “This is my life, Rafiq, taking care of people. I have a responsibility to my patients to show up and…”

  Her words trailed off the minute Rafiq’s hand landed on her breast. She should move it immediately, before he moved that hand significantly lower. But as he began that predictable downward trek, his cell began to ring, momentarily keeping Maysa from throwing caution and obligation to the desert winds.

  Rafiq fell back against the pillow, snatched the offending phone from the nightstand and answered with a gruff, “What do you want, Zain?”

  Maysa settled her head on his shoulder, her palm resting on his sternum. She listened to the steady beat of his heart, as well as the one-sided conversation that seemed somewhat tense.

  “I will be preoccupied for the next hour,” he said. “But you may call after that if any issue arises.”

  Then out of the blue, Rafiq guided Maysa’s hand beneath the sheet to show her exactly what had arisen. She attempted to ignore his personal “issue,” not by taking her hand away, but by leaving it still.

  Rafiq caught her gaze, smiled and winked at her before he continued. “I trust you can handle it.” Maysa stifled a laugh when he added, “No, I was not speaking to you, Zain,” followed by a long pause when Maysa could no longer resist the temptation to drive him crazy with a few practiced touches.

  “What am I doing at the moment?” Rafiq drew in a broken breath and let it out slowly. “I am considering a long morning ride. I will see you this afternoon.”

  After he hung up, Rafiq immediately tossed the phone aside, while Maysa threw back the covers. After that, everything happened very quickly—fumbling for a condom, touching with abandon, making love as if tomorrow would not arrive. After the frantic session was over, they remained in each other’s arms while their bodies calmed and their breathing returned to normal.

  Yes, these were the moments she appreciated the most. She would take them to memory and bring them out when they were al
l she had left of him.

  The shrill of the alarm forced Maysa out of the fantasy world and back into reality. She reluctantly left him and sat up. “I have to get ready for work.” When Rafiq didn’t respond, she glanced to her right to find him staring at the ceiling. “Is something wrong?”

  “A complication with one of the council members,” he said without looking at her. “I must return to the palace this afternoon.”

  “Permanently?” She despised the disappointment in her voice, but she wasn’t prepared for their parting.

  “I am not certain,” he said. “It will depend on the outcome of the meeting.”

  She rose from the bed, grabbed the robe from the nearby chair and slipped it on. “I hope it goes well.”

  “As do I.”

  On the chance this could be the final time they would be together alone, she decided to make an offer he wouldn’t refuse. “I’m going to shower now. Would you like to join me?”

  He moved up against the wood headboard and raked both hands through his hair. “I will shower in the secondary bath. After you are dressed, meet me in the living area. We have a few things to discuss.”

  A strong sense of dread shot all the way to her soul. “All right. I will see you in a while.”

  As she bathed, Maysa tried to tell herself this could only have to do with Rafiq’s duty, and not their relationship. She had little luck in convincing herself that was the truth. By the time she was finished dressing and out the bedroom door, she was resigned to hearing goodbye.

  When she entered the living room, Maysa discovered Rafiq leaning forward on the edge of the small divan, his head lowered and his hands laced together between his knees. When he looked up, she immediately noticed the weariness in his eyes.

  She swallowed around the knot in her throat and took the space beside him. “I am fairly certain I know what you are about to say.”

  He sighed and leaned back against the magenta cushion. “You have no way of knowing what I am about to say until after I say it. And once the words leave my mouth, you will never view me in the same light again.”

  She clasped his hand to reassure him that nothing he said would ever change her mind about him. “Rafiq, we’ve both known our time together would eventually come to an end sooner than later.”

  “You misunderstand,” he said. “This is not about us.”

  Now she was sincerely confused. “Did something happen at the palace in your absence?”

  “No. I need to tell you what transpired the night Rima died. I have been carrying the burden far too long.”

  Relief washed over her, though she was still concerned. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  He hesitated a few moments before he continued. “Shortly after dinner that evening, she came into my study and told me of the pregnancy. I was pleased with the news and hopeful that having a child together would restore our civility, if not our friendship. She did not agree.”

  “Then she wasn’t even the least bit happy about the baby?” Maysa asked, though she had seen indications of that unhappiness when Rima had come to her for confirmation.

  “No, she was not happy. I requested we make a formal announcement, yet she refused. She said she did not want anyone to know until she was more than two weeks along in the pregnancy.”

  Warning bells rang out in Maysa’s head. “Are you certain she wasn’t further along?”

  “I am certain. Why would you believe otherwise?”

  She had no one to blame but herself for walking into this snake pit. Still, she was trapped between upholding patient confidentiality and being up front with Rafiq. She chose the former for the time being. “I apologize. You were her husband and you would most likely know when she conceived.”

  “I knew the exact night she became pregnant,” he said. “I had recently returned from a diplomatic mission encompassing several countries. It was the first time she had allowed me in her bed for several months, and that was only after I pursued the matter of producing an heir.”

  The tangled web of deceit had now grown, wrapping Maysa in its clutches. If he had been traveling during the time of Rima’s actual conception, that left only one probability—Rafiq had not fathered the child she’d been carrying at the time of her demise. “You said something else happened that night. What was it?”

  “We debated the announcement for a time,” he continued, “and then she informed me she did not care to be pregnant with my child, but she did want out of the marriage. I told her that was impossible and I would not divorce her.”

  Having heard that from her own husband, Maysa experienced a fleeting moment of sympathy for Rima. “I’m sure that upset her further.”

  He released a rough sigh. “Yes, but not as much as when I told her if she left the country after the birth, I would seek her out and bring the baby back to the palace. I would see to it she would have no contact with our child. She said she would see me in hell before she allowed that to happen. That is when I ordered her out of the palace. I arranged for the car she was driving that night.”

  And Maysa knew exactly where she had gone—ironically the resort where they were now having this disturbing discussion. “No one knows about this?”

  “Only my assistant, Mr. Deeb, who had the car delivered to the palace.” He turned his weary gaze on her. “And now you know everything.”

  She did, but he did not. She could fill in the blanks, and possibly annihilate everything she had worked so hard to gain, because of one man who had played in integral part in this twisted triangle. Her own flesh and blood.

  Rafiq streaked a hand over his jaw and sighed. “I would not blame you if you choose to leave now and never look back.”

  She rested a hand on his arm. “If you are expecting harsh judgment from me, you won’t find it. You’re human and not infallible. Neither am I. We all make mistakes, and we can only move on and learn from those mistakes if they cannot be rectified.”

  He appeared stunned by the comment. “I deserve no less than your condemnation. What honorable man threatens to tear a mother away from her child, then arranges to send that distraught woman to her death?”

  “An angry man,” she said. “And you had no way of knowing Rima would have an accident. Her death wasn’t your fault any more than your mother’s death was your father’s fault.”

  He sighed. “I cannot believe you would forgive me so easily.”

  “Yet I do, Rafiq. More important, it is past time for you to forgive yourself.”

  The time had also come to tell him the truth about Rima’s relationship with Shamil, and the result of that relationship. But after she consulted the clock on the wall, she decided to wait until she wasn’t facing a clinic full of patients in less than twenty minutes. As it stood now, she would probably arrive late.

  She came to her feet, leaned over and kissed his cheek. “When I return here tonight, we’ll continue this discussion, provided you decide not to end your sabbatical immediately.” She held her breath while waiting for his answer.

  “I will be here,” he said. “I cannot stand the thought of leaving you today.”

  She couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving her ever. But he might not be so willing to stay once she revealed the truth, as well as how long she had kept it from him. “I have to go now, and I’ll see you this evening.”

  Rafiq rose from the sofa, took her hand and walked her to the door where he kissed her soundly and said goodbye. She hoped it wasn’t the final one.

  After she was well on her way to the clinic, Maysa mulled over everything Rafiq had told her, particularly the part about Rima lying about the length of her pregnancy. She was without a doubt certain of one thing—Rafiq had not been the father of Rima’s child. Her instincts told her she knew the responsible party. And as soon as she had a break at work, she planned to track him down and
confront him by phone.

  When her cell began to ring, Maysa fished it from her bag to find her brother’s name on the screen, as if she had somehow willed him to contact her. “Hello, Shamil,” she answered with feigned composure.

  “Hello, my dear sister. Are you enjoying your status as the king’s whore?”

  Evidently the rumors had traveled all the way to Yemen. “It’s not like you to listen to idle gossip, Shamil.”

  “True, but I do tend to believe what I have seen with my own eyes. That was quite a passionate kiss the two of you shared at the door of my finest villa only minutes ago.”

  Utter panic settled over Maysa. “Where are you now?”

  “I am staring at two armored cars, but I am about to pay His Excellency a long overdue visit. I have done some soul-searching during my time away and I have decided the bastard should hear the truth.”

  Unable to concentrate on driving, Maysa pulled onto the shoulder. “The guards will never let you near him.”

  “That is where you are wrong. I have already notified the king I will be there soon, and he was more than happy to welcome an old friend.”

  She highly doubted that. “You call yourself a friend when you have betrayed his trust by sleeping with his wife?”

  “You are not one to judge after you have spread your legs for him in my resort. I will derive great pleasure from demanding he leave at once.”

  A sense of dread prompted Maysa to tighten her grasp on the steering wheel. “Shamil, please, think about what you are about to do.”

  “I have thought about it, and nothing you can say will stop me from exacting the revenge the king so deserves.”

  When the line went dead, Maysa jumped into action. She executed a U-turn in the middle of the road and depressed the accelerator, spewing gravel in her wake. If Shamil made good on this threats, she refused to allow Rafiq to face the truth alone—provided she wasn’t already too late.

 

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