Hasan Sheikhs: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

  “Fifteen to twenty years is too long to wait to make a positive return on this investment,” Yaseen said. They turned off the main road and onto one that was more like a two-track road—a set of tire tracks in the dirt and little more.

  Kara gripped the handle on the door of the Jeep. This vehicle was, at least, top of the line and the suspension made the ride less bumpy. Nothing about it made Yaseen any less stubborn.

  “Don’t you see? The children served by the center now will grow up to be adults who will make good on your investment. For the whole city. For the country.”

  “We’re here,” said Yaseen. They’d arrived at another, larger set of ruins, and instantly the tension between them fell away. She felt like Yaseen had pocketed it for later, put it aside like a topic that wasn’t altogether important. He helped her out of the Jeep. “These ruins are what’s left of a royal outpost,” he said, and in spite of herself, Kara got swept away in the story he told. Still, no matter how engaging the history, her heart still ached with disappointment. Why wouldn’t he see? Would he ever understand?

  When they arrived back at the villa a few hours later, Kara struggled to keep her eyes open. Her camera might be full of beautiful photos of the ruins, but her mind ran in circles. It was exhausting, trying to get Yaseen to see her side. It was even more exhausting to be six months pregnant.

  “I’m going to bed,” she told him as he escorted her inside. “I’m tired out.” Her balanced swayed beneath her. She’d always known that pregnancy made women tired, but she hadn’t guessed that it made them this tired. She changed into a nightgown and sat down on the bed. Maybe she could only rest until dinner. Maybe—

  A knock at the door woke her up. Kara blinked, clearing the sleep from her eyes. Dusk had settled purple on the horizon, trending toward full night. She stretched, letting out a soft groan.

  “Come in.”

  The door cracked open, and Yaseen appeared, balancing a silver tray in his hands. She smoothed the covers over her legs, feeling...shy. Shy? It was Yaseen. But her hair was rumpled and so was the nightgown, and she’d been asleep.

  “Dinner,” he said softly, “and some tea. It’ll help you get a good night’s rest.”

  “I don’t think anything could keep me from a good night’s rest.” A laugh took her by surprise. “Anyway, you just want me to sleep in so we miss the community outing tomorrow.”

  He settled on the edge of the bed and put the tray over her lap, balancing the legs carefully. “Not at all.” A wry smile played over his lips. “I’m genuinely sorry that the excursion this afternoon exhausted you. I should have known it might be too much.”

  “It wasn’t too much.” She sat up tall in bed. “If you got the impression that it was beyond my ability then—then that was wrong. I don’t want to postpone anything about the project because of me.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Who said anything about postponements?”

  Kara bit her lip. Now she’d done it. She picked up the mug of tea and inhaled the steam deeply. “Chamomile—my favorite.”

  Yaseen’s shoulders dropped a couple of inches. “I’d hoped it would be.”

  She watched him, the tea hot and soothing on her tongue. In the low, dusky light of the room, Yaseen’s eyes looked almost black. Still, they managed to catch all the available light and turn it into something like embers.

  “In any event,” he said into the silence, “tomorrow is our last day here. When we’re back in Raihanabad, you can have as much rest as you desire.” He got to his feet. “Goodnight, Kara.”

  Yaseen bent to kiss her forehead, and on some deep instinct Kara tilted her face back and caught his lips instead. She felt him stiffen for a moment, but he didn’t pull away. Far from it. The kiss deepened, his lips firm on hers. Yaseen leaned over the tray and put a hand on the side of her neck, his fingers gliding up to the line of her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek. The touch lit up every nerve ending. Her nipples peaked beneath the fabric of the nightgown. When he pulled back, Kara gasped.

  He hesitated, his breath ragged, but stood up tall. Yaseen took half a step back. Kara had never felt so trapped as she did beneath the silver tray. She wanted to throw it off the bed and leap on him. Yaseen adjusted his collar.

  “You’re better off with a good night’s rest,” he said, voice ringing with authority. The alternative hung in the air. Or not, Kara thought. I could be better off with you in my bed. All night, until the sun rises, and after—we can miss the meeting because we’re too wrapped up in each other to care about anything else. It glittered in the space between them. Every breath felt suffused with it. All he had to do was take a step back toward her, put the tray aside, and climb in beside her. She would put her arms around his neck and pull him in hard, and then—

  “Good night, Kara,” Yaseen said, and then he went out, closing the door firmly behind him.

  6

  On the final day in Mennah, Kara woke up feeling wonderful. Honestly, being able to open her eyes without a struggle was a gift. Maybe Yaseen had been right about the tea. She didn’t remember chamomile having such a restorative effect back in the States, but what did that matter? She swung her feet out of bed and padded across the room to the bathroom. She almost felt...light. Which was a near impossibility, given how pregnant she was, but as she stepped into the shower she made a mental note to savor the feeling.

  It would be easy on a day like today. They’d spend the day meeting with the people of Mennah. Getting a chance to know them. It was her shot to get Yaseen to see the real benefits of the center. Kara hummed an inspiring tune to herself as she dried her hair and swept it away from her face.

  “I didn’t want to startle you.”

  Yaseen’s voice came from the doorway of the bathroom, filling Kara with a warm surprise. “You didn’t.” She turned her curling iron off and turned to face him. “In fact, your timing is perfect. I’m all ready to go.”

  Yaseen’s gaze lingered on her, and that same want want want from last night filled Kara from head to toe. It was early yet. The two of them could tumble into her bed, and...

  And miss the most important meetings of the trip.

  Yaseen offered her his elbow. She took it, and the two of them went out to the SUV together.

  They started with a community breakfast at a local café. The sandstone building, with its rough facade and bright banner, looked timeless to Kara. It could have risen up from the sands thousands of years ago or yesterday. The interior was all polished wood and low tables, and the owner had gathered several of the community elders to come eat with them.

  “Come in, come in.” The proprietor, a woman in her sixties with laughter in her eyes, welcomed Yaseen and Kara with open arms. “The food is hot, waiting for you. No need to wait.”

  Pleasure bloomed in Kara’s chest. Within minutes, she’d loaded up her plate with Raihani flatbread, hummus, and shakshuka. They gathered around a long table, one of the elders said a blessing, and they were off. The fresh scents of the food and baking clung to every moment. Kara had thought she felt great when she woke up, but now she felt amazing. She stole a glance at Yaseen. Even his normally serious expression had been replaced by a quiet grin.

  “What did you think?” Kara asked him as they left the café and walked with the group toward the market, strolling in the mid-morning sun. “I thought the brunch was absolutely lovely. And the conversation was, too.”

  “Lovely, yes.” Yaseen kept his eyes forward, scanning over the community leaders who walked proudly ahead of them. “It reminded me of my visits here as a child.”

  Yes. Yes. She wanted more of that. “Then this whole day should be a bit nostalgic for you. Or do you not feel nostalgic?” She nudged him with her elbow to show him she was teasing.

  His eyes flickered skyward, the hint of an eye roll. “Who wouldn’t feel nostalgic about a place like this? I am a member of the royal family, after all.” Yaseen glanced down at Kara. “But I can’t allow emotional attachment to cloud my ju
dgment.”

  “Of course not,” she said quickly. Nope—not down that path.

  The group proceeded through the small business district, which was stuffed with shops and offices. “This workshop has been operating for decades,” said one of the leaders, pausing outside a storefront with a wide window set into whitewashed sandstone walls. “By the same family. Their garments are made from the region’s finest linen. Come in, please.”

  Inside the store, a husband and wife from the family waited with bright eyes and garments hung on a simple rack. Kara wanted to put them on immediately—they looked flowy and comfortable, and if there was ever a time she needed comfortable clothes, it was now. The wife shyly offered her a smaller length of fabric, folded into a neat square.

  “For the baby,” she told Kara, a smile stretching across her face. It squeezed at Kara’s heart. The people in Mennah had no particular reason to be invested in her pregnancy—another member of the royal family wouldn’t affect them now, and perhaps not for years later. But as soon as the woman had presented the embroidered shawl, the rest of the leaders gathered round to exclaim over it and ask questions. Kara felt lighter than air. Aside from Yaseen and his family, she had nobody else to celebrate the impending birth with. All of her friends, except for her coworkers, were back in the United States. Her parents would never meet her baby. These people might.

  The gifting put them slightly behind schedule. They picked up the pace on the way to their last stop—a school. Kara’s heart revved up with the excitement. She’d planned this visit for when the children would be free for recess.

  They were all there on the field when the group of leaders, led by Kara and Yaseen, arrived.

  The sports field at the school was a large open area, mostly bare dirt with a few patches of grass. This didn’t seem to matter much to the children closest to the waist-high fence—girls who were huddled in small groups, whispering to each other and giggling. The kids on the field, however, all wore serious expressions.

  Serious, Kara saw, because they were playing soccer. Two old goal frames had been set up on either end of the yard, and as she watched, one of the boys tossed in the ball from an invisible line on the ground. The rest of them tore after it.

  “Look,” she said. “A match. We’ll have to go cheer.”

  They made their way through the yard, the principal of the school leading the way and greeting every child she came across. The children involved in the soccer match stayed involved—so involved that they didn’t see the delegation approaching. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, and their eyes narrowed with concentration. Eyes on the ball, always. Eight boys and two girls played, all of them tearing furiously from one end of the field to the other.

  “Children, this is Sheikh Yaseen,” shouted the principal. “We’ve seen his picture in class, and his wife, Kara, along with—”

  Her voice barely cut through the din of the playground. The game continued at top speed.

  “That’s what it means to be dedicated,” said one of the elders, a laugh in his voice. “They have no need for any of us.”

  One boy came out toward the boundary, kicking the ball in front of him. The rest of his teammates spread out. One of them shouted something that sounded like here, here! And at that moment, the young boy saw the adults standing in a loose row at the edge of the field. His mouth dropped open wide, and his leg moved, drawing back for a kick. His foot rocketed forward even as his mouth went into a perfectly round O, then he groaned in distress. “Oh no!”

  The ball arced through the air, straight toward Kara. Her muscles braced to duck. At the last moment, Yaseen’s hands shot out and caught the ball. A gust of air from the ball’s momentum brushed over her face.

  The field came to a standstill. Ten statues, all of them frozen in various attitudes of playing soccer. The goalie still held his hands up at chest level. The wind ruffled his hair, but he didn’t so much as blink.

  “Sheikh Yaseen,” said the principal, her face a deep red. “I’m so sorry.” She turned to Kara, hand to her chest. “Are you all right?”

  Kara’s heart beat fast with adrenaline. She gave the principal a reassuring smile. Then she met Yaseen’s dark eyes. He watched her with the ball in his hands. He looked her up and down. Kara reached for his elbow. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “You caught the ball before it even touched me. Besides, I was about to duck.”

  Yaseen’s deadly serious expression remained in place for another long heartbeat. Then it cracked at the edges, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slowly.

  “Are you sure?” He asked the question in a low voice, though the others were standing close enough that Kara was certain they could hear. His eyes made her feel ten degrees warmer. Twenty. Almost as if he were a conquering hero, a knight on a white horse. Oh, you shouldn’t feel quite so horribly attracted to him, Kara thought, but she did.

  “Yes. Everything is all right.” A pleasant shock went through her from where she touched Yaseen.

  Then he was in motion, striding onto the field. “What are you waiting for?” The children tracked every movement with their eyes. “Loosen up. Let’s play.”

  “We’re waiting for the ball,” one of the girls called from the edge of the field. Kara instantly loved her, with her pointed chin lifted into the air and her hands on her hips. “You have to throw it back to us.”

  Yaseen jogged back to where the boundary of the field was marked with a stick in the ground, an orange ribbon fluttering off the top. “I need one more.” He gestured at the group of adults, waving his hand impatiently. “One more, so the sides are still even.”

  Alvan, the youngest of the elders, jogged forward immediately, stretching his arm over his chest as he went. He took his place at the far end of the field amidst a clutch of the kids. He jumped up and down and clapped his hands. “Come on, Sheikh Yaseen! Toss it in!”

  A shock of recognition went through the boys and girls on the field. Kara laughed. They hadn’t heard the principal before, that much was clear. But now they did. Far from making them nervous, though, she saw the new knowledge light up their eyes. Soccer with Sheikh Yaseen? Good, she could practically hear them thinking. Let him try to beat us. An air of confidence floated toward Kara, bringing a huge smile to her face.

  Yaseen lifted the ball over his head and threw it into the center of the field. He raced after it, light on his feet. Kara put her hand to her mouth. She had never seen him move like this. She’d been past their home gym once or twice when he’d been exercising, a furrowed line in his forehead. Out on the field, Yaseen was all fluid movements and quick strides. He went after the ball with an intensity that set her own heart racing. Yaseen could play.

  He got control of the ball and dribbled it down the field. The smart-mouthed girl called for a pass. Yaseen shot it to her with laser-like precision, and a moment later, she passed it back. Yaseen took it toward the goal, dribbling and passing his way down the field. He made sure every child caught a pass from him at least once. The new strategy send the ball wheeling through all the children running after it—children who were also good at playing soccer. One of the children kicked it back to Yaseen, who caught it with his foot in midair and brought it back under control.

  The two men sparred on the way to the goal, Alvan doing his best to thwart Yaseen and the children shouting all around them. The team he’d joined was ecstatic. The opposing team had determination painted over their faces. Yaseen took the ball down the final stretch. Kara saw the way he slowed down, and at the last moment lobbed the ball straight at the goalie. The child caught it in his hands, going pink with pleasure.

  “I got it!” he cried. His teammates surrounded him. For the moment, this game was the most important match of the year. Yaseen jogged around the field, giving high-fives to the rest of the kids and ending up back at the goalie. He shook hands with him. The young boy looked up at him, awestruck. Then Yaseen returned to Kara, Alvan a few paces behind.

  “It’s a rough field,” he said
, smoothing a hand over his hair. “Not conducive to a proper football match.” He met her eyes. “It would be nice for the kids to have a smooth playing field.”

  “Yes,” she said, wanting to spin around and clap her hands but knowing it would be a terrible idea. “They’re going to love it.”

  The principal came over, waving the children back into play. “Thank you, Sheikh Yaseen.”

  “My pleasure.” Yaseen’s chest still rose and fell with the exertion of the game. Kara had never been more attracted to him. “It seems there is work to be done here. A new field is a clear need.”

  She placed both her hands over her heart. “We’ll gladly welcome any project for the benefit of the schoolchildren.” A spark came to her eye. “But as you can see, they love football. Your sports center is an excellent choice.”

  7

  Who would have thought Yaseen had so much community interaction in him? Not Kara. The joy in her chest was a silvery burst. Deep inside, connecting with people came naturally to Yaseen. He just hid it beneath facts and figures. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face, and she didn’t want to. Kara glided through the front door of the villa, light on her feet and light in her heart.

  “You looked great out there.” The cool of the villa’s entryway settled silkily on her skin. “It came so easily to you, talking with those kids. And the village leaders can’t get enough of you.”

  “My, my.” Yaseen closed the door behind them with a click that echoed off the high ceilings. He’d officially shut out the world, leaving the two of them alone. “I’ll go to brunch and play football all the time if it makes you this happy.”

  She faced him with a twirl of her dress and a saucy lift to her chin. “It does. And you should know something else.”