The Sheikh's Claim

by Olivia Gates

  He said nothing after she stopped talking, just brooded down at her. Might as well take advantage of the temporary interruption in his temptation campaign.

  She moved away on unsteady legs, adding over her shoulder, “I’ll attend what’s left of your ‘celebration,’ for my family’s sake. If you don’t intend to reconsider your intentions about that ‘reinstatement’ and Uncle’s position now that you know mine, you’ll be civil and impersonal with me for the rest of this infernal night. Then I’ll leave and you won’t come after me again.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “I thought you had a reason for pushing me away. Now I’m certain you do. There’s something more behind your refusal to be with me again. And I will keep coming after you until you tell me what it is. I will…”

  “Somow’wak.”

  The quietness of the word sundered the still night. Fadi.

  As much as she hated thinking that Fadi had witnessed Jalal’s near-seduction of her, his appearance had shattered Jalal’s focus. Cursing something under his breath, Jalal turned to him.

  Using his distraction, she strode to the marble steps that glowed with the moon’s silvery light. They led to a vast veranda where open French doors emanated golden light, mellow music and relaxed merriment.

  As she crossed the portico, she looked back at Jalal and Fadi. The two juggernauts were watching her, each with a different brand of intensity that invaded her taxed nervous system with a fresh bout of tremors.

  Suppressing her agitation, and taking one last bracing breath, she stepped over the threshold of a superbly decorated sitting room drenched in soothing illumination and spread in warm earth colors, feeling she was stepping onto a stage.

  She forced a smile as everyone rose to welcome her, and started playing the part that Jalal had cornered her into again.

  * * *

  Jalal watched Lujayn disappear inside the villa, heard voices rise in welcome. Gritting his teeth, he turned his eyes to Fadi.

  Before he could pour some of his frustration and displeasure over him, Fadi preempted him.

  “I might regret telling you this, but you need to know.”

  This was about Lujayn. He just knew it was.

  If it was something that might drive her further away, he didn’t want to know it.

  But Fadi was already talking. Already telling him. And it was too late. Too incomprehensible. Too…impossible.

  Long after Fadi had delivered his report, Jalal stared at him, nothing left in his mind, in the world, but five of the words Fadi had said.

  “Lujayn Morgan has a child.”

  Six

  Jalal walked into the room he’d left half an hour ago to intercept Lujayn. He’d thought he’d walk back in alongside her, with at least a preliminary agreement to resume their intimacies.

  He returned alone now to find her looking relaxed and at home with her family, the center of his guests’ attention. At his entry, as the others showed their pleasure and enthusiasm to have him back, she regarded him as if she’d never seen him before.

  He looked at her in the same way. He did feel as if he was looking at a stranger. A breathtaking stranger with crystal cool eyes who lived inside the body of the woman who’d ruled his thoughts and desires for too long. The woman he’d thought he’d known to the last reaches of intimacy but whom he was finding out that he’d never known. The woman who hadn’t even hinted at the life-changing fact of being a mother.

  This had to be the answer he’d been looking for—why she’d been adamant about pushing him away. Because her life and priorities had changed, she had changed, when she’d had a child.

  The knowledge rocked through him all over again as he watched everyone returning to their seats, all looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to direct what remained of this gathering.

  He looked from Bassel and Faizah, Lujayn’s uncle and his wife—people he’d met for the first time—to Badreyah, her mother. He’d decided getting close to Lujayn would be through those who constituted the major part of her life. He’d been determined that, even if he found nothing about them to like, he’d put up with them. He would have endured anything to have her again.

  To his surprise and delight, they’d stopped being a means to an end within minutes of meeting them. Everything about and from them had felt genuine, heartfelt. It had restored his jaded senses to be shown esteem without fawning, gratitude without groveling. They were good-natured, highly educated, well-spoken. They were dignified, refined. The hours he’d spent in their company had been a pleasure he’d looked forward to repeating on a regular basis.

  Until Fadi had detonated that revelation.

  Not that he would renege on restoring their name and honor. Or the position he’d offered her uncle, for which he was more than qualified. But any further personal interaction depended on what he found out about Lujayn’s child.

  He hadn’t even asked Fadi if her child was a girl or a boy.

  He hadn’t asked how old it was. Whose it was.

  Even if Fadi knew the answers, Jalal hadn’t wanted to know them. Not from him. Lujayn had to be the one who answered his questions.

  And he wanted those answers now. Now.

  His head and heart felt they’d rupture with the frustration of not knowing. But no matter how terrible the need to know was, he had to proclaim his commitment to the Al Ghamdis first.

  Forcing a smile on his spastic lips, he looked over to Labeeb, his waseef, his gentleman’s gentleman. Taking his role as seriously as Fadi did his, Labeeb was already enacting the agreed-on sequence, distributing coffee, the stage where Jalal would deliver the evening’s summation and declare his intentions.

  After everyone had filled crystal cups in hand, and the aroma of freshly brewed Arabian coffee and cardamom filled the air, Jalal moved to face the gathering. Apart from the quartet of Lujayn’s family, there were fourteen other people: four men and three women—the supporting players in his campaign—plus their spouses.

  He enveloped them in a glance, avoiding looking at Lujayn. If he looked at her now, he’d forget everything.

  He raised his glass in a toast, waited until everyone did the same, then said, “Thank you for coming to my humble rented abode, and for making this evening far better than anything I could have anticipated. You know what we’re celebrating tonight, but let me make it official.” He turned his eyes to Bassel, found him flushed, eyes sparkling with barely repressed emotion. “It’s my privilege and pleasure to welcome Sheikh Bassel Aal Ghamdi to our campaign. Sheikh Bassel has honored me by accepting the position of my personal liaison within our campaign. He’ll be coordinating your efforts and reporting directly to me or to Fadi.”

  Murmurs of approval buzzed throughout the room as everyone turned to Bassel shaking his hand, patting him on the back and congratulating his family. Bassel and his wife and sister looked too moved to articulate, could only answer with tearful smiles. Jalal ventured a look at Lujayn, found her accepting collateral congratulations. He bet it was only he who could see that her smile was brittle and her eyes were cold with fury. He walked closer, until she raised grudging eyes to his.

  His heart thudded at their inevitable effect as he insisted her family remained seated as he shook their hands again, sealing the deal. “And though Sheikh Bassel was reluctant to flaunt the scope of his expertise, no matter how much I prodded him throughout dinner, trust me when I say we’ve added an invaluable asset to our team today. I’m only thankful for the circumstances that brought his abilities to my attention.”

  Ire sparked in Lujayn’s eyes. She clearly didn’t appreciate those “circumstances.”

  He swerved his focus to the others. “Now with Sheikh Bassel’s contribution, if I don’t get that throne, you’ll know you’ve just bet on the wrong horse.”

  Laughter rose. He had to conclude this before the general good mood snapped the tenuous control he had over his increasingly agitated one. He hated to bring up the touchy subject, but he needed his aides to be absol
utely clear about it.

  His gesture indicated he had more to say. Instant silence fell as every eye turned to him again.

  “But I didn’t only gain an instrumental supporter and adviser today but a valued relative, one who’s totally on my side. Ullah beye’ruff—God knows I don’t have many of those right now, and I need all I can get.” Chuckles were leashed this time, realizing this was no laughing matter even if he made light of it. His lips twisted in concession. “Which brings me to the most important issue at hand. You all now know how Sheikh Bassel and his family have been unjustly stripped of their name and status....”

  “Actually, we don’t all know. I sure don’t.”

  Lujayn. Leave it to her to break her silence only to say something contentious. From the gasps that issued from her family, it appeared her forwardness had distressed them. They evidently thought she might offend him. If only they knew how hard she’d tried and failed to do so.

  He turned his eyes to her, turmoil seething with challenge. “You mean no one shared the details with you?”

  Her eyes raised his annoyance. “Apart from ‘long story’? No.”

  “And this is not the time to recount it.” Bassel put a hand on his niece’s, a gesture imploring her to leave it.

  She didn’t. “When is a better time than now, with all relevant parties present, so this new beginning would be built on a solid ground of full disclosure?”

  At this moment he wanted to roar for everyone to get out, leave him alone with her so he’d have that full disclosure. Whether it led to a new beginning or a final end, he had no idea.

  “Prince Jalal, please excuse Lujayn,” Badreyah said, a tremor traversing her soft voice. “This has been quite a shock for her, to find out we’ve hidden something of this nature all her life....”

  He raised his hand, unable to bear having this gentle lady apologize to him when he would never be able to offer enough amends. “No need to explain, ya Sheikha Badreyah.”

  The woman lurched, those near-tears filling her eyes again.

  Jalel could see that she’d accepted her brother would have his sheikh title once again, but hadn’t expected to hear the title applied to herself. But that was what she was, and that was what he’d always call her.

  “Wow, does this make me a sheikha, too?”

  Lujayn again. Lujayn always.

  “If it does, I’m giving you all license to never call me that.”

  No longer pretending that anyone else had his attention, he approached her. “So what will you answer to?”

  Those silver eyes narrowed, their ebony lashes that he’d once told her were thick enough for him to lie down on intensifying the light they seemed to emit. “My name has been known to work just fine.”

  He almost touched her legs as she sat on the couch, could see himself going down between them, dragging them over his shoulders, bearing down on her to crush those rose-petal lips and swallow those contentious words. He could feel everyone’s eyes clinging to them, no doubt sensing the field of tension they generated between them now that they were no longer harnessing their emotions.

  “So…Lujayn.” He stressed each syllable as if tasting it, felt a rev of satisfaction as her pupils fluctuated, that sure sign of response. “In the name of full disclosure, let me tell you the whole story. This mess happened in the time of your grandfather. And my grandmother.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean your grandmother was involved?”

  “Involved?” He gave a bitter huff. “You could say that. She was the one who accused your grandfather of a very potent mixture of theft and treason. But never fear. She was merciful in her righteousness and when he was convicted, she asked for a compassionate demotion in lieu of banishment or imprisonment. When your uncle was fifteen and your mother was twelve, their family lost a tiny bit of their name, becoming Al—instead of Aal—Ghamdi, and stumbled from a high branch of nobility into dishonor. Your grandfather had been my grandfather’s kabeer’l yaweraan—head of the royal guard, but after his conviction, neither he nor any of his family could find a position in the kingdom. Again, only my grandmother was humane enough to employ them, as her servants. Also as per her clemency, your grandfather’s transgression along with his family history was to never be talked of again. At the threat of some very creative penalties. It was, of course, so your family wouldn’t relive the disgrace, being reminded of what they lost. Needless to say, no one, starting with your family, brought it up again ever since, and the whole debacle has been suppressed or forgotten.”

  Silence rang in the wake of his searingly blunt account.

  Lujayn gaped up at him, the shock reverberating inside her buffeting him in waves of furious incredulity.

  Suddenly, she heaved up, almost sliding against his body on her way to her feet, sending awareness roaring inside him in spite of everything.

  She glared at him, antipathy crackling silver bolts in her eyes. “I should have known your family had something to do with this. But they had everything to do with it. Your mother fell right off her mother’s tree, didn’t she?”

  “Lujayn! Stop it!”

  Her mother’s mortification barely registered on Jalal’s inflamed senses. All he felt was this mass of incendiary passion seething at him. He was a hairbreadth from forgetting everyone surrounding him, and the questions eating at him.

  “Your grandmother framed my grandfather, didn’t she? Over something personal, right? And with the only evidence being her word? You discovered his innocence easily enough, after all, when you bothered to scratch the loose dirt she buried my family under, right?”

  His jaw muscles bunched. “That just about sums it up.”

  She snorted. Gasps rang from around the room this time.

  “So why didn’t the truth come out after she was dead? Because your mother picked up the torch after her? And why not when she was exiled? Then when your uncle and cousins were ousted? Why did everyone remain silent including my martyred family? Why did it take your so-called accidental digging for some other irrelevant purpose to uncover this piece of gratuitously evil art?”

  “B’Ellahi, Lujayn, what’s gotten into you?”

  Lujayn tossed her distraught uncle a glare before swinging her gaze back to Jalal, slamming him with the force of her outrage. “Do you think I’m crossing a line here, Your Highness? You think I shouldn’t be angry for a few minutes for the decades of my family’s disgrace and oppression at the hands of yours?”

  Bassel surged, caught her arm, agitation blasting off him. “Lujayn, you are way over the line here.”

  Badreyah placed a trembling hand on Lujayn’s other arm. “Whatever happened between our family members in the past has nothing to do with Prince Jalal or his mother.”

  Lujayn rounded on her, her scowl spectacular, her voice a magnificent snarl, one worthy of a lioness. “Really? You mean she had to show you her compassion and employ you, of all people, as her head slave and punching bag? She had to deprive you of continuing your education at only fourteen so you can fetch her slippers and be the lab rat on which she perfected her cruelties? Excuse me as I don’t think so.”

  Jalal’s heart twisted with the force of shame. He felt sullied by yet another permanent taint inflicted by his family and his mother. By guilt for never bothering to find out Lujayn’s real history, or the extent of the abuse of her mother by his.

  “It’s in the past,” Badreyah insisted. “And the moment Prince Jalal found out the truth, he not only took the necessary steps to reinstate our family, he offered your uncle a prestigious position he offers only to those he considers most trustworthy.”

  “So we’re supposed to bend backward and yodel his praises?” Lujayn growled. “Then prostrate ourselves forehead-first in thanks? Or do we even need to go further and…”

  “Lujayn!”

  Her uncle’s soft admonishment finally brought her tirade to a halt, though she still vibrated with affront and anger.

  Any other time, an hour ago, before he’d found
out about her child, he would have reveled in the sheer magnificence of her fury and antagonism. He would have only invited her to hit him with more, vent all the justified ferociousness of her rage.

  But he’d expended the last vestiges of his restraint. He had to end this, now.

  He moved away from her, stood facing the others who looked like they’d rather the ground split and swallowed them.

  Unable to agree more with the sentiment, he drew in a deep inhalation, unlocked his jaw. “Thanks everyone for coming and helping me celebrate Sheikh Bassel joining our team. We’ll have another meeting soon to discuss our future structure and strategies in depth. But I think we’re all ready to end this evening now.”

  He thought he heard Lujayn mutter, “Boy, am I,” could almost hear the collective sigh of relief that issued from the group, venting their rising tension.

  His lips twisted wryly. “Yes, everyone, if you’re waiting for me to spell it out, you can go.”

  Lujayn was the first one to move, not sparing anyone another look, as if it would be too soon if she never saw anyone present again, maybe even including her family.

  Everyone else gave him uneasy smiles and handshakes, relieved to escape the embarrassing situation. Her family seemed mortified and sounded like they’d never regretted anything as much as insisting that she come.

  He stopped their attempted apologies, assuring them that ending the evening was for their sake not his. Looking marginally reassured and even more grateful, they followed Lujayn.

  As everyone cleared the doors, he called out after them, “I said everyone can go. But ‘everyone’ does not include Lujayn.”

  * * *

  Lujayn shook under wave after wave of outrage.

  She would have marched out and handed Jalal his head if he’d tried to stop her. Too bad it had been her family who had, with nothing but the force of their mortification. Even as fury disabled her brakes, her innate desire to please them had won. Jalal had won. He’d known exactly what buttons to push to get what he wanted from her.