The Sheikh's Secret Child - A Single Dad Romance (The Sheikh's New Bride Book 7)

by Holly Rayner

  “I will lead you,” he said with a grin. “And tomorrow, lessons for Alex.”

  Amia giggled, and Alex laughed with her.

  “See, you aren’t the only one who needs them,” Alex whispered to her.

  “It’s impossible,” Amia whispered back. “Camels are impossible.”

  “Now, Amia, is that a word we use?” Alex admonished gently.

  “No,” Amia said with a sassy tone. “But they are.”

  Alex chuckled, and Zaiman grabbed her camel’s reins. They left through the walls to the rear of the palace, out into the wild desert beyond.

  Having only seen it from the balcony before, Alex’s eyes were big as saucers behind her sunglasses, taking it all in. Mile after mile of glittering sand spread out in three directions, as far as she could see. They rose and fell like the waves on the ocean, frozen in mid-swell. It moved, she knew, when the winds were high or the plates shifted, just like the sea. It astounded her that people had managed to carve a civilization out of these ever-shifting sands, obstinately pushing them back, again and again.

  The high walls around Al-Jerrain suddenly made more sense. She had erroneously assumed that they were there as protection from invaders, much like the Great Wall she had visited in China. Now, though, she saw that was not necessarily the case. These walls were the difference between a lively, blossoming country and a fossil buried in the sand.

  Mirages glistened on the horizon, blurring the line between sand and sky, making her crave a long dip in the pool. More than once she had to glance over her shoulder, just to reassure herself that the palace was still there, that she was not lost in the desert.

  Before long, though, the palace fell out of sight behind the dunes, and a thrill of excitement raced through her. Now they really were in the middle of nowhere and nothing—small, arrogant creatures dancing across the treacherous sea of sand. Before her excitement could turn to panic, though, they happened upon an ornate camp, complete with colorful lanterns and billowing white tents.

  “Are we almost there?” Amia asked, shifting restlessly on her saddle.

  “Almost,” Alex promised her.

  Bassam greeted them silently, grinning with pride and anticipation, and led their camels to a trough of water. The animals folded their legs beneath them, coming to rest on the blazing sand. Zaiman leaped down from his own camel before coming over to hers, reaching up to put his strong hands around her slender waist once more.

  This time, Alex couldn’t keep the blush from her cheeks. She hoped he would assume it was just the sun, but as his eyes met hers through the glasses, his hands lingered on her waist a little longer than they needed to.

  “Are we here?” Amia asked impatiently, breaking the spell.

  “We are,” Zaiman told her. He lifted her off of the camel, and she slid into his arms with a squeal. “Princess Amia, birthday explorer extraordinaire…” He pointed her toward the party tents and untied the blindfold. “Welcome to your secret cove.”

  Amia gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks as she looked around in wonder. Their picnic had been laid out across a stiff cushion in the center of one tent, as softer cushions surrounded it. In the other, treasure chests overflowed with pretty things and dress-up costumes, enough for everyone three times over. The animals that Zaiman and Alex had painted stood around the camp, looking on with cartoonish smiles. Best of all, four saucer-shaped sleds sat at the top of the dune behind them, glittering invitingly in the sun.

  “It’s magic!” Amia exclaimed, clapping her hands. She rushed into one tent and then the other, pointing out all of the pretty and amazing things.

  “Excellent work, Bassam,” Zaiman said proudly, clapping a brotherly hand on Bassam’s ample shoulder. “Excellent work.”

  They hid from the sun in the tents, eating and drinking gaily, letting Amia play leader.

  “So, what kind of adventure is this, Amia?” Alex asked, her eyes sparkling.

  “I am Amia the Terrible!” the little girl declared. “And you are all my bandits. Our chests are filled with stolen treasure from the fairy kingdom. Oh! But Papa, you can’t be a bandit.”

  “I can’t? Why not?” Zaiman asked with a put-on pout.

  “Because,” Amia said, pulling a blue silk gown from the trunk and dumping it in his lap. “You are the fairy princess, come to steal back your treasure!”

  Alex laughed, and Zaiman grimaced in acquiescence.

  Amia managed the dressing up, giving Alex a pirate skirt and a roguish vest, topping the ensemble with an eyepatch. Bassam made a convincing bandit, while Zaiman was surprisingly handsome as a fairy princess. When they were all decked out to Amia’s satisfaction, Zaiman went away to prepare for his role.

  He attacked the bandit’s hideout with a plastic sword, and Amia and her team valiantly fought him to the point of surrender. Once he had taken a knee, Amia informed him that she would be recruiting him to her team.

  “You have convinced me, Amia the Terrible,” he said as he bowed dramatically. “No fairy has ever evoked a more fearsome loyalty. My fairy sword is yours alone.”

  “That girl could sell sand to an Al-Jerrain housekeeper,” Bassam chuckled to Alex in his low, rolling voice.

  “She could,” Alex agreed. “And they would thank her for the opportunity.”

  Amia overheard them and shot a wicked grin over her shoulder. Outside, the sky glowed crimson in the early evening.

  “If it pleases her Highness, I shall light the lanterns,” Bassam said with a deep bow.

  “It pleases her,” Amia said regally. Excitement struck her, and she was all child again in an instant. “Oh! Does this mean we can sled now?”

  “It does indeed!” Zaiman told her. “If you would allow me to change. I would not want to fill these pretty petticoats with sand.”

  “All right,” Amia said with a calculating nod. “But keep the tiara, if you please.”

  Zaiman did so with good humor, and Alex could have sworn she had never seen a happier birthday girl. She and Zaiman held Amia’s hands between them as they climbed to the cusp of the dune. Alex considered the steep slope and shallow saucers with more than a little doubt.

  “It’s easy,” Amia told her. “You just kneel down…” She demonstrated. “Grab hold…and flop!” The momentum of her little body on the front of the sled tipped her down the dune. She screamed in playful terror as she slipped and spun over the sand.

  Alex shot a glance at Zaiman, who winked at her before following Amia down.

  “Well, it would make an interesting obituary,” Alex murmured to herself as she knelt on the saucer.

  “If I can survive, you can survive,” Bassam said beside her, making her jump.

  “Bassam! You shouldn’t creep up on people that way,” she laughed.

  “How else will I hear what people really think?” Bassam asked with a grin.

  He flopped down on his own saucer and hurtled down the dune, twice as fast as Zaiman. Zaiman and Amia cheered him on from the bottom, then called encouragement up the dune at Alex.

  “All right,” she shouted back. “Here we go!”

  It was as new as it was familiar. Sand hissed beneath her, smooth and slippery, making every tense muscle a trigger which sent her spinning this way and that, skittering across the dune like a smooth stone on water. It felt like sledding on snow, only more intense; the sand didn’t pile up in front of her to slow her down, but instead skittered away ahead of her, making her descent faster and faster until she screamed.

  She came to a sudden stop at the bottom, as the front of her sled buried itself in the sand.

  “Was it fun? Did you like it? Will you go again?” Amia asked all at once.

  “Yes, yes, and yes,” Alex laughed as she caught her breath. “Let’s go!”

  The sky swirled from red to orange to purple as they slid down the dune again and again. Soon, the only lights came from the soft glow of the lanterns around their camp and the rippling blaze of the Milky Way above.

  “C
ome now, adventurers,” Zaiman said as the four of them dragged their sleds to the top of the dune for the last time. “Time to return to civilization before the desert freezes.”

  Amia drooped, which Alex had expected. She had had a long day full of fun, and it was past her bedtime. She hugged her knees to her chest as Zaiman and Bassam packed up the camp, looking sadder and sadder with each passing moment. Unable to let that stand, Alex grabbed a sweet treat from one hamper and slid a lantern wick into it.

  “When I was growing up, no birthday was complete without a birthday wish,” she said, lighting the wick. “Here you are, Amia the Terrible. Make a wish and blow it out.”

  Amia’s lip quivered and her big eyes filled with tears. Zaiman paused what he was doing and watched intently as Amia hesitantly formed words.

  “I…I wish…” Her voice grew husky, falling to a near whisper. “I wish I was a real explorer.”

  She blew the wick out with force, drenching the two of them in darkness. As Alex’s eyes adjusted, she saw Amia scrubbing the tears from her cheeks. She met Zaiman’s eyes over the girl’s head, and he looked away quickly, frowning at the lanterns he was packing away. If guilt had a face, Alex thought, that would be it.

  Their treasures packed on camels and stacked on the sleigh, the four of them traveled back to the palace in silence. Amia leaned heavily against Alex’s chest, and Alex held her firmly. By the time they reached the stable, Amia was nearly asleep. Their camel knelt beside a small bench, and Alex was almost relieved that Zaiman didn’t have to help her down this time—not that she wouldn’t have enjoyed his touch, but she wouldn’t be able to focus on Amia properly if her mind was full of Zaiman’s guilt.

  “Say good night, Amia,” Alex told her as she helped her off the camel.

  “Good night, Papa,” Amia said, kissing him. “Good night, Bassam.”

  “Good night, Amia the Terrible,” Bassam said affectionately, hugging her. “Happy birthday.”

  Zaiman merely kissed his daughter and sent her to bed with a small, sad smile. Alex stuck to an abbreviated version of their routine, struggling to keep Amia awake through the barest necessities of bed time.

  “Did you have a good day?” Alex asked her as she tucked her into bed.

  “It was good,” Amia said unconvincingly.

  “Not great though, huh?”

  Amia shrugged, avoiding Alex’s gaze.

  “When you were growing up, and you made birthday wishes, what did you wish for?” Amia asked.

  “Oh gosh, let me think… I wished for a pony one year. I wished to be a mermaid another year. I think when I turned seven, I wished for a pair of light-up moon shoes.” Alex laughed at the memory. “They were the silliest looking shoes in the world, but all my friends wanted them, and I wanted to be the first to get them.”

  “Did you?” Amia asked.

  “I sure did! They were the very first present I opened. My friends were so envious, they were absolutely green.”

  Amia smiled briefly, and Alex had the distinct impression that she was being indulged by the tiny person.

  “I had friends one time,” Amia said sadly. She yawned, making her eyes water. “I wish I had friends at my party.” Her eyes fell closed a moment later, and as she drifted off to sleep, she blew out an imaginary candle.

  Alex’s throat tightened as tears prickled the corners of her eyes. She dropped a kiss on Amia’s forehead.

  “I wish you did, too,” she whispered.

  Turning off the light, Alex crept out of the room, her heart hurting. No kid should have to live like this, with no one but adults to play with. It struck her suddenly that this was why Zaiman was so good at being playful; he and Bassam were the only friends Amia had. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t healthy, and as the girl’s caretaker, it was Alex’s responsibility to address it.

  “Even if it upsets him,” she told herself firmly.

  To boost her confidence, Alex recalled the last time she was forced to call an employer out on the way they chose to raise their kids. Eustace, the eldest terror of her last position, had been utterly undisciplined. That didn’t bother her so much; she was skilled at the art of subtle attitude correction. It was his unfettered access to sugar which rankled her. The boy would eat dessert five times a day, and every time he did, he would be in a terrible mood within an hour. The one time that his parents were gone on holiday for the week and she restricted his sugar, his mood and behavior drastically improved.

  “This is more complicated than a little sugar,” she murmured as she walked through the palace toward the drawing room. “But no less important.”

  She found Zaiman alone in the dark drawing room, sitting alone beneath a single dim lamp, gazing pensively into the dark. He looked up when she came in, and straightened.

  “May I have a word with you?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he said, rising to his feet. “I was just about to get some air. Join me?”

  The moon was gloriously full, washing the garden in cool blues and brilliant whites. Alex breathed the clean air for a moment, steadying her nerves.

  “Can—”

  “I—”

  They both spoke at once, and Alex laughed uncomfortably.

  “I’m sorry, go ahead,” she said.

  “I was going to ask if I could offer you a drink,” he told her. “I find myself craving a nightcap this evening.”

  “In a moment, yes,” she said hesitantly. “I want a clear head to say what needs to be said.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “About as serious as sitting in the dark lost in thought,” she teased gently.

  “Ah,” he breathed. “And for the same reason, I suppose.”

  “Probably,” she admitted. “I want to talk to you about Amia.”

  The Sheikh nodded, silently inviting her to continue.

  “First, I…I understand why you have decided to raise her this way. If you were disowned by your family, it would hurt her as much as it would hurt you.”

  “Yes,” Zaiman agreed. “Along with losing all contact with the family, we would be cast out of the palace. I would have my own wealth to live on, but Amia would be uprooted. We would lose Bassam—he is like a grandfather to her, but he is employed by the family, and is bound to do their bidding.”

  Alex winced.

  “That does make things more difficult. Your heart is obviously in the right place, Zaiman. You want the best for your daughter; that much is clear. But…having said that…” She trailed off, sucking in a deep breath.

  “Please, continue,” he said softly.

  “She needs freedom,” Alex blurted out in a rush. “She needs friends. She needs to see the world, to explore, to satisfy her curiosity about the world. She sees all of these wonderful things in movies, and she hears about all of these adventures that other people have. I mean…do you realize that, to her, simply going to school sounds like an adventure? To be taught in a class with kids her own age, to share experiences with her peers, to…live?”

  Alex paused for a moment, collecting herself. She turned to meet his eyes directly, and injected a firmness into her tone.

  “She needs that, Zaiman. The energy she’s building up bouncing off the palace walls is going to come to a head someday, and you will lose all control of her. I’ve seen it happen, and it’s tragic for everyone involved.”

  “Tragic?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Yes,” she replied firmly. “Kids who don’t see how other people interact with the world have no frame of reference when they inevitably find themselves out in it. They’re like children in teen bodies, unaware of how society works on a ground level. They’re like lambs in a wolf den, defenseless and oblivious. They are chewed up and spat out in the blink of an eye, and they spend the rest of their lives trying to pull themselves back together.”

  Her voice trembled with her conviction, earning her a sharp look from Zaiman.

  “You speak from experience,” he said.

  “My uncle,” Alex
told him, shaking her head. “My grandparents were very strict. Incredibly strict. They raised my mom and her siblings on a farm in the middle of nowhere, worked them from dawn to dusk, and taught them how to read and write. They never left. My uncle was the oldest, and when he was eighteen, he decided to strike out on his own.”

  She shook her head miserably.

  “He struck out, all right. He was addicted to something nasty within a month. When he didn’t come back, my grandparents fell apart. They lost the farm, moved to the city, and sent my mother and aunts to public school. It was a culture shock, apparently, but my mother was the youngest and was better able to adjust than her older siblings.”

  “Your uncle…did he ever reappear?”

  Alex nodded.

  “He did, about twenty years later. I was six, I think. Playing in my front yard when this strange man showed up, asking for my mother by her full name. I don’t remember exactly what happened next, but there was a lot of crying and hugging. He stayed with us for a while, and he finally got a job working in fast food. He’s been doing that ever since.”

  Zaiman was quiet for a long time, gazing out over the garden.

  “I would like to pretend that those things could never happen to Amia,” he said finally. “But without the structure of the family, who could say? We would be lost without all of this. I would be lost without it.”

  He sighed, dropping his head and shaking it.

  “I am ashamed. Ashamed of myself, of my father and brother, ashamed of the whole situation.” He swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with emotion, and shoved a hand through his hair. “Most of all, I am ashamed that I am so dependent on my family that I am terrified to risk their fury. I do not know how I would survive without the privileges I was born into.”

  He paused again, struggling with the words which strained against his throat.

  “I know that makes me a weak man, and a weak father. You must think me a terrible parent.”

  Moved, Alex placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “I don’t,” she said gently. “I think you’re a wonderful, loving father. You’re just a little lost and trying to do the right thing.”