Christmas Bride for the Sheikh

by Carol Marinelli

  She hadn’t been back since that night when he had first turned her life around.

  According to the gossip columns, neither had Hazin.

  That morning, after the wedding, when she had woken in his bed and they had shared that lovely kiss, had been the last time she had seen or heard from him.

  Flo had found out from Maggie that he hadn’t been back to Zayrinia either.

  It would seem he really did not want to deliver that speech or stand with is brother.

  He was off in the Caribbean, according to the last gossip rag Flo had read.

  Flo let herself into her flat. She pulled off her boots and scarf and refused to cry over a man who clearly had no real interest in her.

  Another one.

  Only with Hazin it didn’t feel the same as it had with other boyfriends, for when she had been with him, his interest in her had felt real.

  Get real! Flo told herself.

  It had been three months.

  She pulled out her laptop, trying not to think about Hazin, and to decide what to get Maggie for Christmas. Flo had left it rather too late to post something, so she’d have to spend a small fortune for a necklace Maggie might not even want.

  Suddenly Maggie messaged her. Great minds think alike, Flo thought.

  Free to chat?

  A few seconds later there was Maggie, smiling from the screen. Her red hair was thick and glossy and she was clearly rocking those pregnancy hormones.

  ‘You look amazing,’ Flo said. ‘Three weeks to go!’

  ‘It feels like for ever,’ Maggie sighed.

  ‘How’s it all going?’

  ‘Very well,’ Maggie said. ‘Well, at least I think so...’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. I just...’ Maggie closed her eyes. ‘Flo, do you remember when you asked if you could deliver me?’

  ‘Yes, and you said that you could think of nothing worse than that.’

  ‘I could think of nothing better now,’ Maggie told her.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Honestly, yes. I’m getting the best care and I really am fine. I’m getting all worked up, though. I have to deliver at the Palace, unless something goes wrong, of course. But as well as the Palace doctor there has to be a Palace elder present at the birth.’

  Flo held in her own thoughts about that.

  Maggie didn’t need them.

  At the end of the day, she was giving birth to the future King. Of course there would be certain customs that had to be adhered to.

  Yet Maggie was a very private person.

  Late pregnancy was often a difficult time, especially given that Maggie was in a new country and didn’t speak the language, and it made sense that she would want someone from home with her.

  But Flo wasn’t sure if she wanted to go.

  Not that she said it out loud; instead she pointed out a fact. ‘Maggie, what happens if the baby’s late? First babies often are and I’m due back at work on the fifth of January.’

  ‘I know. It would just be so nice to have you here for a while.’

  Flo thought about it.

  She wanted to be there for her friend but she loved Christmas, and the thought of not spending it with her family was daunting.

  ‘Flo, it honestly would be a holiday,’ Maggie said. ‘We can go out and you can go off exploring. I’ll take you out to the desert where Ilyas and I met.’

  ‘You’re thirty-seven weeks pregnant.’

  ‘And there are helicopters lined up outside like a taxi rank. Though I do have a couple of functions to attend, so long as the baby’s not here. I just...’ Maggie hesitated. ‘I’m asking too much. I know how much you love Christmas and being with your family.’

  Flo had always loved Christmas—the tree, the scents, the gorgeous dinner—but she had been feeling so low of late.

  Flo needed to think about it, yet she could see the pleading in Maggie’s eyes and she was absolutely useless at saying no, or even asking for some time.

  ‘Of course you’re not asking too much,’ Flo said. ‘I’d love to come.’

  Maggie gave a squeal of delight. ‘When?’

  ‘How soon do you want me?’

  ‘Now!’ Maggie said, and started to speak of arrangements. ‘Don’t bring a thing. I’ve got a wardrobe of robes and I’ll get Kumu to—’ but Flo cut in.

  ‘You’ll have to message me the details. If I’m going to be flying to Zayrinia at short notice then I need to hit the shops now.’

  ‘I just said you don’t have to bring anything.’

  ‘I’ve got my family’s presents to get,’ Flo pointed out.

  * * *

  This was more like it, Flo thought as she entered the huge store that she’d so listlessly walked around just a couple of hours before.

  On the bus ride over, she had thought about it and a working holiday in Zayrinia, and delivering a future King, wouldn’t look too bad on her résumé.

  Hazin might be there; after all, he had that dreaded speech to give.

  He wasn’t the sole reason for her cheery mood. She and Maggie were very close, but the chance to see Hazin again was certainly a factor.

  She simply couldn’t get him out of her mind, though she had to now because Flo had so much to do.

  So much!

  Yet this time around it all happened with ease.

  Her brothers, sisters, parents, nieces and nephews were soon off her list and Flo left the bags at a counter to collect later.

  Ilyas?

  Impossible.

  So he got a box of dark-chocolate-covered ginger.

  A big one, though.

  Maggie had become newly impossible to buy for, but she utterly refused to think like that, so Flo went back to the necklace and bought it, along with a book that she knew Maggie would enjoy.

  And then Flo went to the place she longed to be most—the baby floor.

  Despite seeing, holding and smelling newborns each and every day, it was never too much for Flo.

  Shopping for her friend’s baby was an utter delight, though she would love to be shopping for her own.

  Flo had wanted a baby as far back as she could remember.

  Every doll she had begged for at Christmas and birthdays had proven a secret disappointment when she’d finally held them, for she had longed for them to be real.

  It wasn’t like she was peering into prams and longing to scoop the babies out, it was just that she hoped to be a mother one day.

  Flo knew Maggie was having a little boy but, rather than blue, she loved the more neutral mint greens and pale lemons and she searched for just that.

  And then she found it—a little playsuit in the palest green with the face of a rabbit, or dog, or something of that nature on the front.

  It wasn’t very regal, but it was gorgeous.

  And he got a teddy, because from the little she knew of the al-Razim brothers, they hadn’t exactly been plied with toys as children and a palace could be a cold and lonely place.

  So she splurged and got him a little play mat and a rattle too in the shape of a ladybird.

  Done.

  Not quite.

  Hazin!

  Her mother had trained her well, and of course there must be spare presents for the unexpected and, in this case, much-hoped-for, guest.

  For that was what he was, Flo thought, more a guest in the Palace than a much-loved son.

  Hazin had been born a spare.

  So an extra box of chocolate ginger would not cut it, Flo thought, even as she bought some for him anyway.

  She stood in the middle of the store as that Hazin-shaped wave hit her again.

  It had swamped her on too many occasions of late.

/>   What were you supposed to get for someone you desperately fancied but who might not even be there. What present were you supposed to get a man who could afford absolutely anything?

  Flo couldn’t fight it any more.

  While it might have been sex in a hotel to him, it had been far more than that to her.

  She was crazy about him.

  That night in his arms in the Palace where nothing had happened had been the most amazing of her life.

  She loved sex, but Flo had found out that night just how nice it was to hold someone and be held for no other reason than to hold and be held.

  It had never happened to her before.

  She’d been held before, of course, but there had never been one without the other.

  Until Hazin.

  She had to get a present for him, just in case he was there, but what?

  It had to be light, Flo thought.

  But she wanted more of Hazin, not less...

  And suddenly Flo knew what to buy.

  It could prove an expensive mistake, Flo thought as she grabbed her many bags and headed off to make her purchase.

  And it could prove a rather lonely exercise.

  But then at least she’d know.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ZAYRINIA WAS BEAUTIFUL, Flo thought as the plane came in to land and she got a glimpse of the Palace sitting atop the canyon on the very edge of the desert. She could absolutely see why Maggie had been drawn to the place.

  Flo was nervous, though.

  Last time she had flown here it had been on a private jet and they had landed in the grounds of the Palace. She had been with Maggie, revelling in the bliss of Ilyas’s jet and so excited about the wedding. This time, an itinerary had been sent to her by Kumu. She was being flown first class, which was terribly exciting, although a part of Flo would have preferred to be back in economy and the flight paid for by herself.

  Just a friend visiting a friend.

  Flo’s itinerary stated she would be met at Zayrinia airport and then be taken straight to the Palace.

  It was as impersonal as that.

  But as she stepped into a small lounge area, the first person she saw was Maggie.

  Hugely pregnant and waving to her friend.

  Although it was the VIP lounge rather than the chocolate café of old, immediately they clicked back into familiar ways.

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming to meet me,’ Flo admitted.

  ‘Didn’t Kumu tell you that you would be met? She told me she’d sent you all the details.’

  ‘The itinerary just said I’d be taken to the palace,’ Flo said. ‘It didn’t mention you.’

  ‘Well, Kumu’s super-organised and was no doubt making provisions in case I was in labour. Otherwise, of course I’d be here.’

  The Palace was as beautiful as when Flo had left it and she was shown to her former, now-familiar suite.

  ‘I told you not to worry about clothes,’ Maggie said when she saw Flo’s cases waiting in her suite. ‘It’s all robes here and I have loads.’

  They had always borrowed and swapped clothes. As Maggie had pointed out, it was a bit pointless to fork out for a new wardrobe when she had so many.

  ‘I just didn’t know what to pack.’

  That wasn’t true.

  Flo had packed plenty and had warned the maids that she wanted to unpack the cases herself, because they didn’t contain many clothes—her luggage was mostly filled with presents.

  They went for a walk in the gardens and though cool it was nice to breathe in fresh air and to walk for a while after being on a plane.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Maggie said.

  ‘Nor can I.’ Flo smiled.

  It had all been a huge rush to get here—dropping Christmas presents off to her family as she’d told them of her sudden change of plans.

  Her mother, Flo could tell, while excited for her, had been disappointed that she wouldn’t be there for Christmas, but they had promised they would have a big dinner as soon as Flo got back.

  * * *

  ‘How’s work?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘It’s great but always too busy,’ Flo said. ‘I seem to spend more time writing up notes than anything.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to write any notes up on me. I’m just so glad there’s a chance you’ll be here when he’s born.’

  ‘I’ll be here whenever he arrives,’ Flo said.

  She had made up her mind.

  Just as she wouldn’t leave a woman in the second stage of labour, neither would she walk away from her friend so close to the end. ‘I told the unit manager that I’m staying until the baby’s here. I’m not officially due back until the fifth but we can work something out if your little man isn’t here by then.’

  ‘Oh, I hope he is,’ Maggie sighed, and finally explained some of what was on her mind. ‘I told you that an elder has to be present at the birth?’

  Flo nodded.

  Since Maggie had asked her to be there, Flo had looked into things and had thought through her approach. Instead of fighting the system and getting Maggie all worked up in the process, she was practical instead.

  ‘Maggie, you are giving birth to the future King. If there wasn’t someone official present, I could well be smuggling him in under my robe.’

  Maggie smiled but Flo could tell she was still concerned.

  ‘I’ll talk to the Palace doctor and find out what has to happen and how we can all work around it.’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ Flo said. ‘You’re going to have a fantastic birth, I just know it.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Maggie’s smile was more relaxed now. ‘And we’re going to have an amazing time. Ilyas has to go to the desert next week and, as long as the baby is behaving, we can spend the day at the tent!’

  ‘Where you two met,’ Flo said.

  ‘Well, not met exactly,’ Maggie said. ‘Where he had me brought to him!’

  They both laughed at all that had happened.

  ‘So what’s been happening with you?’

  ‘Oh, you know,’ Flo said. ‘More of the same.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I’ve just been really busy with work.’

  ‘You’re always busy with work,’ Maggie said. ‘But you still manage to squeeze in fun. Are you seeing anyone?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Flo knew she was being evasive, yet she was also telling the truth. It had been almost a year since she’d gone out with anyone. Hazin had been her only slip-up.

  And they had never really gone out.

  It had been just a one-night stand really, except to Flo it felt so much more than that.

  But instead of talking about her lack of a love life, Flo asked about Christmas plans.

  ‘There aren’t any,’ Maggie said. ‘It’s just another day here. Ilyas and I have to go to Idihr a few days before...’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Flo said. ‘I don’t need a babysitter.’

  ‘And then there’s Hazin’s speech on the twenty-third.’ Flo felt her stomach clench as Maggie mentioned his name. ‘If he gets here.’

  She looked at Maggie as they walked.

  They chatted about a lot.

  A lot.

  Yet Flo simply did not know how to chat about this.

  ‘If he gets here?’ Flo checked.

  ‘It would seem that he’s still doing his best to get disinherited. He was in the Caribbean the last Ilyas heard. No doubt partying hard.’

  Maggie knew no more than her, Flo realised.

  * * *

  No one really knew Hazin.

  Not his parents.

  Or his brother.


  And clearly not the King’s vizier, Mahmoud, who, a few days later emailed the first draft of Hazin’s speech, to be delivered on the tenth anniversary of Petra’s death.

  Hazin lay on top of a bed, drinking iced sparkling water, but it did not cool his building temper as he read through the words.

  The proposed speech belittled the brief joy Petra had brought to the people of Zayrinia and it cited her death as the cause for Hazin’s reckless years.

  It made her into an excuse for him.

  Hazin flung the glass of water across the room and it smashed against the wall. But it brought Hazin no relief.

  He then walked out onto the beach. The water was azure and crystal clear and the beach so white, unlike at home, where the sands were a rusty, beautiful orange.

  Home.

  It had never really felt like Zayrinia was home, but there was no denying that it called to him now, for the commemoration of Petra’s life was just a few days away.

  And he had decided to attend.

  Hazin intended to fly in on the morning of the ceremony and back out that same night, though he had not told Ilyas that, for he knew he would try to coax him into staying longer.

  There was little chance of that.

  As for the speech, Hazin would not be reading from Mahmoud’s draft. He wanted to honour Petra, but to stand there and say such empty words would dishonour her memory.

  Hazin called his brother.

  ‘I write my own speeches, Ilyas.’

  ‘Since when?’ Ilyas clipped. ‘You’re never here to make one.’

  Hazin had no smart reply to that.

  ‘You had better be here,’ Ilyas warned. ‘And sober this time, unlike at my wedding.’

  His brother had no idea that Hazin didn’t drink.

  But Flo did.

  After one night together she had worked it out. But he could not think of that now and so instead he tore the current version of his speech apart. ‘What is this about the black sheep, and grief making a foolish guide?’

  ‘Hazin,’ Ilyas sighed. ‘We’ve thought long and hard and decided that your reckless ways cannot be ignored.’

  ‘So you make Petra’s death into an excuse for me? How dare you use her in that way?’

  ‘No one is using Petra but, for whatever reason, since Petra died you have gone off the rails.’