by Jane Toombs
He leaned toward her, concerned, and she looked away from the child, shot him an accusing glance and gasped hoarsely, “She can’t be—she isn’t—she’s not my Yasmin, she’s not my daughter.”
As if understanding every word, Yasmin stared fearfully from one to the other of them. She opened her mouth and screamed, a cry of terrified anguish. Biting her lip, Linnea clasped the girl against her breast once more.
“See what you’ve done!” she snapped at him, then turned her attention to the child, rocking back and forth, holding Yasmin close while she murmured, “There, there, sweetheart. Nothing’s your fault. I won’t let anything happen to you, you’re safe with me, you’ll always be safe with me. Always. No matter what.”
Apparently understanding her meaning, if not the words, Yasmin nestled against her.
Was this woman crazy? Talal asked himself. What had he done other than act as the king’s emissary and bring the child to her? She’d said herself the ring came from her family, and he’d delivered Yasmin’s birth certificate, issued by New York State, clearly stating Linnea Swanson was the baby’s mother and Malik Khaldun the father. This child was exactly the right age, and his great-uncle had assured him the girl was Yasmin Khaldun. The king’s word could be trusted implicitly; beyond any doubt he believed the child was Linnea’s daughter. Had the king been fooled by the man who’d brought the child to him? Talal shook his head—it would be suicidal for any Kholi to hoodwink the king.
He’d seen for himself that mother and child had similar and unusual tawny eyes. Though Linnea’s hair was several shades lighter than Yasmin’s chestnut brown, mother and child both had slightly curly hair. What had led Linnea to suddenly reject the daughter she’d welcomed so lovingly? A child she hadn’t set eyes on since the girl was a three-month-old baby.
“Babies grow and change,” he said, thinking of going-on-two-year-old Danny. “My son—”
Linnea, her cheek pressed against Yasmin’s hair, said, “Shut up. Please just shut up. I don’t want you to upset her again.”
Couldn’t the idiot see that any discussion now might set Yasmin off again? Linnea asked herself. Whatever plot those miserable Kholis had devised, the little girl was innocent. A sweet, lovable innocent. Her warmth and weight felt so good, so right in Linnea’s arms. The child may not be—wasn’t—her Yasmin, but she’d never allow anyone to hurt the poor little thing. Cuddling her protectively, Linnea vowed she wouldn’t give up Yasmin. If she did, the child would undoubtedly be taken back to Kholi—an unthinkable fate for a girl.
Besides, how could she ever part with this waif who needed her so desperately?
Her attention focused on Yasmin, Linnea barely noticed Talal pacing back and forth in her living room, but she sensed his annoyance and impatience disturbing the air around her. At least he had the sense to keep his mouth shut. Other than that, she found nothing in his favor. Kholi men were all alike—domineering, selfish and not to be trusted.
Yasmin relaxed against her, eyes closing, until at last she slept. Rising carefully from the couch, Linnea carried her to the master bedroom, only a few steps down the hall. She eased Yasmin onto the bed and covered her with a quilt. One edge of the bed was against the wall, and she barricaded the open side with bolsters and pillows to prevent the girl from rolling off in her sleep.
For a long moment she stood looking down at the sleeping child in the dim light filtering in from the hall. Rain still pattered against the windows, but gently now. Soothingly. Though the old, familiar ache had returned to her heart, the pain of loss was lessened by the sight of Yasmin asleep in her bed.
I’ll never give up searching for the daughter I gave birth to, she told herself, but this Yasmin is also mine—my gift daughter.
At the door she hesitated, deciding to leave it open. If the girl roused from hearing them talk it would be more reassuring than waking to find herself shut into an unknown room alone.
“She sleeps?” Talal asked in a low voice when she returned to the living room.
Linnea nodded and squared off to confront him. He’d giving up pacing and was now leaning against the mantel as though he hadn’t a care in the world. The scowl on his face, though, belied the casual pose.
“Why did you bring me the wrong child?” she asked bluntly.
“Why do you insist she is?” he countered. “You have the birth certificate and the ring. She exactly matches your description of your daughter.”
A frisson of fear shot through her at his words. The ring had been her baby’s. Where had this man acquired it? And the birth certificate?
As if anticipating her question, Talal said, “The king of Kholi himself gave me the ring and birth certificate. They, with the child, came from someone who swore on his life that the girl was Yasmin Khaldun, an orphan. As the king, my great-uncle’s word is above question.”
Orphan. “Malik is dead?” she asked in surprise, forgetting for the moment that the orphan in question wasn’t the daughter he’d fathered.
“Malik Khaldun was accidentally shot and killed over a year ago,” Talal said. Something in his voice made her doubt the shooting had been an accident, but in her relief at knowing her ex-husband would never menace her again she didn’t question what had been said.
Belatedly she realized what Talal had said—the king was his great-uncle. That would make him a member of the royal family, one of those Zohirs Malik had hated. “You’re a. Zohir?” she asked.
He nodded curtly.
A Kholi prince. Which didn’t change the situation in the slightest. If Malik was dead, their child truly was an orphan as far as having a father was concerned. Still, he had family, and knowing Kholi customs, she was sure the Khalduns would never willingly give up any child related to them by blood. Is that why this little orphan had been substituted?
“Someone in or from Kholi is not telling the truth,” she said, keeping the anger from her voice as best she could.
He smiled thinly. “Then you believe one or all of us is lying. A strong accusation. Yet at first you accepted Yasmin as your daughter. What changed your mind?”
“She isn’t the Yasmin born to me—I could tell by her eyes once I got a good look at them.”
“Eyes so very like your own.”
Linnea shook her head. “Different from mine and from my baby’s.”
His expression showed frank disbelief. “On such flimsy evidence do you expect me to return her to my country and produce another Yasmin for you to inspect?”
“No!” Belatedly aware she’d raised her voice, she glanced over her shoulder, but no sound came from the bedroom. “No,” she repeated in a quieter tone. “Yasmin will never go back to Kholi. You gave her to me and she stays here. I intend to raise her as a daughter. But you can inform your king I still want my own daughter returned to me.”
Talal shook his head, muttering, an Arabic word that sounded vaguely familiar to her. She couldn’t recall what it meant, but she was sure it was an insult.
“Have the courtesy to speak English,” she snapped.
He dipped his head in silent apology. When he met her gaze again, though, she saw the anger simmering in his dark eyes and forced herself not to take a step backward. When Malik grew angry, violence had followed. She had no reason to believe Talal would be any different—wasn’ t he also a Kholi?
“You don’t accept Yasmin as your child, yet you refuse to give her up, is that your position?” Talal’s even voice gave no hint of the rage she knew must be smoldering inside him. Rage at her, a mere woman, who’d dared to question not only his judgment but the king’s.
“I prefer to put it slightly differently,” she said coolly. “She’s not the baby I bore, but I accept her as mine, though not in place of my birth daughter. In addition to. Yasmin needs a mother, she needs me as her mother.”
His hands shot out. Before she could recoil, they’d fastened onto her shoulders, holding her where she stood. “I won’t have that little girl hurt.” He spoke between his teeth.
Linnea blinked in surprise. Was his anger at her actually based on concern about Yasmin’s welfare? Hard to believe he cared that much about a child he scarcely knew. “Yasmin is my gift daughter,” she said. “How can you think I’d harm her in any way?”
He echoed her words. “Gift daughter.” His expression lightened, the dark scowl fading. His tight grip on her shoulders eased, and when he let her go, his hands slipped down along her bare upper arms to her elbows in what was almost a caress before he stepped back.
Annoyingly, his touch tingled through her. She eyed him warily. He smiled, white teeth against his dark skin, a charming smile. Kholi men could be charming when they wished—she knew that. Then why was she reacting to it? Recalling his mention of a son, she reminded herself that a son usually meant a wife.
“We’ll call a truce for tonight,” he announced. “I’ll bring in Yasmin’s belongings, leave her with you and return in the morning for further discussion.”
She was about to agree when a howl from the bedroom froze them both. Recovering first, Linnea dashed down the hall, ran into the bedroom and picked up the sobbing Yasmin. Turning with the child in her arms, she found Talal behind her.
Yasmin reached for him, grasping the hand he held out to her, but when he would have taken her into his arms, she shook her head. “Mama,” she sobbed, still clinging to Linnea. “Talal,” she added, gripping his hand fiercely. Yasmin jabbered other words in Arabic, hanging on to both of them for dear life.
“She’s afraid I’m going to leave her,” he said to Linnea. “But she also wants to stay with you.”
“Hadn’t we decided she would?”
He half smiled. “It’s more complicated than that. Yasmin doesn’t want me to go. She insists on me staying here, too.”
Chapter Two
Standing in her bedroom holding Yasmin, Linnea stared unhappily at Talal. The last thing she wanted was to have him sleep overnight at her place. If she could go by the expression on his face, he seemed to feel the same way. Yet how could they disappoint Yasmin? From the child’s point of view, Talal must be the only familiar person in a world full of strangers whose talk she didn’t understand.
“I do have a guest room down the hall,” Linnea said reluctantly. “You could sleep there.”
He shrugged. “It appears we don’t have a choice.”
By the tone of his voice he’d apparently noticed she hadn’t exactly welcomed him to spend the night. Well, it was true she didn’t want him to stay. The sooner he was out of her house—and her life—the better. She didn’t trust any Kholi male.
To be fair, he hadn’t actually done anything to offend her. Not yet, anyway. And Yasmin obviously trusted him—a point in his favor.
“Please tell Yasmin you’re not leaving,” she said.
He spoke to the child and Yasmin answered with a spurt of Arabic, at the same time releasing Talal’s hand.
“She wants a drink of milk,” he said. “Chocolate, if you have any.” He smiled one-sidedly. “I’m afraid that’s my fault—I introduced her to chocolate milk, one of my vices.”
“I’ve got milk and I think there’s some chocolate syrup left. I’m sort of a chocolate freak myself.” Still carrying Yasmin, Linnea started for the door and he stepped aside to let her pass.
As she entered the kitchen, with Talal behind her, she smiled to herself. Some vice, chocolate milk. What, she wondered, were his others? Undoubtedly she was better off not knowing.
“Let me take Yasmin,” he said, plucking the girl from her arms and perching on one of the counter stools with Yasmin on his lap.
“I never thought to ask if you two were hungry,” Linnea said, chagrined it hadn’t occurred to her earlier. The unexpectedness of Yasmin’s arrival, the shock of believing she’d recovered her long-lost baby only to find she was wrong, still had her off balance.
Anger at Talal no longer seemed appropriate. In ancient times emperors tended to kill the messenger who brought bad news—isn’t that sort of what she irrationally had wanted to do to Talal? To be fair, it was entirely possible, wasn’t it, that he could be innocent of any deviousness?
She shouldn’t assume he was guilty simply because he’d been chosen to bring the little girl to her. Maybe he wasn’t a part of the conspiracy, maybe he actually believed the child was her birth daughter. Glancing at Yasmin, Linnea smiled at the solemn expression on the child’s face as she watched every move “Mama” made. There was no question in her mind—or her heart—that a bond had formed between them when she first took Yasmin into her arms.
I’ll be your mama, she vowed. I am your mama. None of this is your fault, and I won’t let you suffer because of those uncaring, cruel villains back in Kholi.
“We stopped to eat at several fast-food places on the way,” Talal said. “Yasmin’s fascinated with their children’s play equipment. She’s never seen anything like that before.”
Since the child couldn’t understand and therefore wouldn’t be upset by her questions, Linnea decided to ask him if he knew where Yasmin had been living before she’d been produced for the king. She didn’t recall seeing any orphanages when she’d been in Kholi.
“Was Yasmin in a foster home?” she asked.
“Sorry. I know nothing of how or where she lived before we were introduced. It didn’t occur to me to ask.”
Yasmin twisted in his arms, pointing to the banana hanger on the counter. “Mooz,” she said.
“Bananas,” Talal said. “Mooz—banana.”
“Do give her one.”
Yasmin did her best to pronounce the unfamiliar syllables, and as Talal broke a banana free of the bunch and began to peel it for the little girl, it dawned on Linnea that this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to teach the child English equivalents for Arabic words. His thoughtfulness in looking ahead for Yasmin impressed her against her will.
“I wonder if all kids like bananas,” he said. “My son, Danny the Tiger, would eat his weight in them if allowed to.”
Linnea stirred chocolate syrup into the milk she’d poured into a small glass, thinking this was the second time he’d mentioned the boy. It occurred to her that Danny wasn’t the usual Kholi name. “How old is your son?” she asked.
He smiled. “Almost two. I can’t wait to see him.”
Something about his last few words puzzled her. Hadn’t he just come from Kholi? From home? Therefore, he must have last seen his son no more than a week ago. Well, it was none of her business—what did she care about Talal?
Yasmin, having taken several bites from the banana, held it up to Talal’s mouth and he obligingly bit off a chunk. Yasmin then offered the banana to Linnea. She hesitated, not so much from fear of germs as from the intimacy of putting her lips where his had just been. As if reading her mind, he grinned challengingly at her.
She couldn’t refuse without hurting Yasmin’s feelings. Stepping closer, she took a bite of the banana, murmured her thanks and was rewarded by the girl’s shy smile.
“You’re the lucky recipient of her first smile,” Talal told Linnea.
Yasmin finished the banana and handed the empty peel to Talal. Then she drank the chocolate milk Linnea had mixed for her. When she was through, Talal spoke to her in Arabic, got up from the stool and set her on her feet. Yasmin trailed him from the kitchen to the front door, where he said one word to her in a firm, no-nonsense tone.
Yasmin stopped by the door, sliding the knuckle of her right forefinger into her mouth. Linnea came up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. Together they watched from the open door while he crossed to the parking lot and disappeared around a corner. The rain, now no more than a fine mist, must be distorting her vision, Linnea decided, because he appeared to have a slight limp she hadn’t noticed earlier.
“He’ll be back,” she said, hoping the girl would be reassured by the tone of her voice. “He’s gone to get your things.”
When he came into sight again, Yasmin took her finger from her mouth and murmured, “Talal,”
as though his name was a talisman.
After he set a large suitcase and a little traveling case in the master bedroom, Linnea showed him where the guest room was, just down the hall. He carried a small case with him into the guest room, Yasmin pattering at his heels.
When he set the case onto the floor, Yasmin stared from him to the bed, grasping his hand and pulling until he followed her.
She led him into the master bedroom, jabbering away as she pointed to the bed and then to herself, lastly to Linnea. Though Linnea didn’t understand the words, the meaning was very clear. Yasmin wanted all three of them to sleep together.
“We’ve been sharing rooms on the trip, though not beds,” he explained. “I suppose that’s confused her.”
“She’s afraid to let you out of her sight. And no wonder. You’re the only one who understands what she’s saying.”
“Your Arabic will come back to you,” he said. “And Yasmin’s already learning English.”
Linnea shook her head ruefully. “She’ll be chattering away in English long before I recall enough Arabic to form a coherent sentence. Meanwhile, we have a more immediate problem to solve.”
He slanted her a look that made her catch her breath, a look that suggested he wouldn’t mind the three of them sleeping in one bed.
“No way,” she muttered.
He raised his eyebrows inquiringly, but she didn’t explain, instead saying, “I’ll put Yasmin to bed here and we’ll both stay with her until she falls asleep. Then you can retire to the guest room.”
Talal hadn’t expected anything else, but that didn’t stop him from imagining Linnea in bed with him. Minus Yasmin, that is. He wondered what she wore to sleep in. American girls were fond of sleep-Ts, but perhaps she preferred sheer gowns. Or nothing at all. She had such pale, lustrous skin, he could imagine its smoothness under his fingers....
Enough! This was not the time. Or the woman. Definitely not the woman. They would do as she suggested, remain with the child until sleep claimed her. But then, he and Linnea must settle this nonsensical notion of hers. Of course Yasmin was her daughter. It must be the suddenness of his arrival that had, as they said here, rattled her cage, jarring her mind somewhat askew. He really should have called ahead. That wasn’t why she was wary of him, though.