The Sheikh King's Ward (Halabi Sheikhs Book 1)

by Leslie North

  “You thought I was on guard?” Fiona caught herself. She was being defensive, and maybe she didn’t need to be. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” she said instead. “I mean, our situation’s hardly ideal.”

  “You can say that again.” He glanced at the mare and nodded to himself. “Why don’t we take a ride? I’ll leave my phone. You’ll hear me out. It’ll be fun.”

  “Hear you out?”

  Bas beckoned a groom over to ready their horses. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to chastise you. I haven’t felt good about the way we left things. I owe you an apology and an explanation for the other day.”

  Fiona stepped out of the groom’s way, a convenient excuse to avoid Bas’s gaze. An apology? She hadn’t thought him capable. Maybe she’d judged him too harshly, pushed back too hard. Maybe they’d been pushing each other’s buttons for the wrong reasons all along.

  She followed him from the stable, smiling to herself. It wouldn’t hurt to give Bas a chance.

  Bas rode behind Fiona, past the oasis and into the hills. She rode like Edlyn had before her fall, with wholehearted joy. It hurt his heart to see, but he couldn’t look away.

  “The air’s so fresh up here,” she said, tilting her head back to fill her lungs. “You can’t smell the city at all.”

  “Just sage and gum trees,” he agreed. “Take the top fork up ahead.”

  Fiona turned her mare onto the high trail, heading toward the peak. She didn’t seem in any hurry to demand the explanation he’d promised, and for that, Bas was grateful. Sorry wasn’t a word in a king’s vocabulary, but he owed her one all the same. Edlyn, too. It wasn’t fair keeping the two of them apart when they had so much in common.

  “Oh, is that a cormorant?” Fiona rose in her saddle, pointing at the clouds. Bas squinted into the sun as the bird soared overhead.

  “Good eye,” he said. “I believe it is.”

  “We must be near the sea.” Fiona was practically bouncing in her stirrups, flushed with excitement. Bas swallowed annoyance. He hadn’t meant to blow the surprise so soon.

  “They come inland sometimes. Exploring, I suppose.”

  “Oh. And here I was, hoping we’d crest the next hill and see—” Fiona stopped abruptly, reining in her horse.

  “Something the matter?”

  “No. Just a branch.” She slid out of her saddle and stooped to move the blockade. Her mare nudged her shoulder, and she gave it a reassuring pat. “Can’t have you taking a spill, can we? Here.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sugar cube, laughing as the beast mouthed at her palm.

  Bas watched, entranced. He hadn’t expected this side of Fiona, easy and natural, effortlessly kind. She dusted herself off and swung back into the saddle.

  “Ready?”

  “After you.” He set his heels to his horse and followed her up the incline, a nervous knot forming in his stomach. Their first destination lay just up ahead, and he wasn’t looking forward to showing her his own soft underbelly.

  7

  They reached the flame tree around noon. Bas tugged his reins and drew a deep breath. Beyond the tree, the trail narrowed, bounded by a sheer cliff above and a rocky scree below. A stone broke loose as he dismounted, and it somersaulted down the slope, picking up speed as it went. Bas looked away, sickened.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Hm?” He snapped back to the present. Fiona had joined him on foot and was eyeing him with concern.

  “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “I did, in a way,” he said. “Sit with me. Please.” He led her to a wide, flat rock and sat down beside her. It was a beautiful day, hot and clear, but he found himself shivering.

  “What is it?” Fiona reached out as if she meant to pat his arm but pulled back at the last moment. She set her hand next to his instead, their pinkies almost touching. “Did something happen? You’re scaring me.”

  “Right there,” he said. The words caught in his throat. He pointed down the scree, to the scrubby plateau at the bottom. “That’s where we found—where I found Edlyn.”

  “Oh…” The word came out like a sigh, low and horrified. Fiona slid her hand over his and squeezed. “It was a riding accident?”

  “Yes.” He sat for a moment, willing his breathing back to normal. It had been a beautiful day back then, too, the sun riding high in the sky. The kind of day when it seemed nothing could go wrong. It had felt like a bad dream, looking down on Edlyn’s broken body. He’d thought she was dead at first. It seemed impossible she’d survived not only the fall but the cold desert night. Then she’d screamed, only it’d come out as a hiss, so hoarse he’d hardly heard it. She must’ve screamed through the night, screamed till her voice wore out. Bas shook his head, banishing the memory. “She loved to ride,” he said. “She knew not to go alone, but I did it all the time. I did, and she knew it, and she didn’t see the harm.”

  Fiona brushed her thumb over his knuckles. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’m not done yet,” His expression turned bitter. “She was eight years old. Kids break rules. I knew that better than anyone.”

  “But—”

  “I had this routine after a ride: I’d walk my horse, water him. Groom him and put up his tack. And then I’d latch his stall. The bolt was too stiff for Edlyn to pull.” He turned his face to the sun, frowning. “Not that day, though. I had a football game to get to. The latch slipped my mind. And Edlyn got in.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that.” Fiona leaned forward to catch his eye. “How old were you, fourteen?”

  “Old enough to know better.” He realized he was snarling and got to his feet. “Sorry. I, ah… I was a boor when you came to me, and I thought you should know why. You had a kind thought, and I had no right to treat you as I did.”

  Fiona stood up slowly. She looked shellshocked, and Bas couldn’t blame her. He’d dropped a lot on her out of the blue. There was something else in her eyes, maybe hurt, maybe anger, but she looked away before he could make sense of it. He reached for his reins.

  “Well. Shall we continue?”

  Fiona opened her mouth then closed it again. She nodded and got back on her horse. Bas let her take the lead again, wanting to see her reaction when she reached the top. He’d brought her here to make amends, and he hadn’t accomplished that yet. He’d planned one more surprise, and a happy one this time. One he was sure she’d appreciate.

  His black mood wore off as the trail widened out. The air grew crisp and salty, and that seemed to excite Fiona, who urged her mare to a trot as they approached the peak. Bas matched her pace, an ember of excitement kindling in his heart. He hadn’t taken this trail since Edlyn’s accident, and he’d almost forgotten how thrilling it was, coming over that crest, and—

  “Oh…” Fiona reined in her mare with a gasp. “It’s beautiful.”

  Bas rode up beside her. It was every bit as stunning as he remembered, that strip of white shore in the distance, the shimmer of blue sea beyond. The port gleamed in the sun, graceful sails unfurling as the boats came and went.

  “I thought you must miss this,” he said. “You must’ve woken up to this view all your life.” He dismounted and helped Fiona do the same, and she turned to him, eyes glistening.

  “You did this for me?” She brushed at her eyes. “You have no idea. It’s felt so strange every morning, waking up to the wrong birds, the wrong smell.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and Bas thumbed it away without a thought.

  “I know what it’s like to be homesick,” he murmured. “To be alone in a strange place.”

  Fiona licked her lips, and Bas felt warm. He was still cupping her cheek, standing far too close. He leaned even closer, as though in a trance.

  “I haven’t been much help with that.” His voice came out gritty, rough with emotion. “I’ve been a terrible host, and I…”

  The words died in his throat as her hand came up to cover his. Her palm was soft as silk, her breath warm on his lips
.

  “You’re making up for it now.” She pressed so close her breasts brushed his lapels. It was wrong, taboo, but those freckles were standing out on her cheeks. She smelled sweet, like hay and clean sweat. Her eyes were half-closed, pupils big with lust, and he closed his own eyes as she kissed him. A groan rose in his throat as he gripped her arm tight. He raked his hand through her hair, and she cried out. Her hand slid around the back of his neck, nails digging in.

  “We shouldn’t,” he said, and he kissed her again. He kissed her hard this time, and thrust up against her, letting her feel how much he wanted her. Fiona responded hotly, nipping at his lower lip.

  “I knew it,” she gasped, when Bas came up for air. “I knew it wasn’t just me.”

  Bas growled at that and shut her up with a kiss. She felt right in his arms, soft and yielding. He could feel the heat radiating off her, taste her hunger on her lips. She wrapped one leg around him and ran her nails down his back.

  “My king. My lord and master.”

  Bas pulled back sharply, his insides turning to ice. This was wrong, worse than wrong. It was taboo, a guardian and his ward carrying on like lovers. The rules were explicit: Fiona was his ward, his to protect and no more. Claiming her for himself wasn’t just selfish—it was a scandal waiting to happen. He laid a hand on her chest, holding her back.

  “Wait.”

  “What?” Fiona swayed on her feet, lips slightly parted.

  “I can’t,” said Bas. He dropped his hand and stepped back. “We can’t.

  “You can’t be serious.” She scrubbed at her mouth, the color draining from her cheeks. “You bring me up here, you open your heart to me, and I’m supposed to…what? Pretend it never happened? Go back to the husband hunt?”

  “We don’t have a choice.” He turned his back, hot with shame. “I’m sorry. This was my mistake. I take full responsibility.”

  Fiona barked laughter. “And there he is. Bashar Halabi, commander of the faithful—may he rule forever.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Don’t give me reason to.” Stirrups jangled as she jumped up on her horse. “Thanks for the glimpse of home, Your Majesty.”

  Bas stood for a moment, stunned. This wasn’t what he’d wanted, not at all. He’d meant to delight Fiona, not hurt her. He still wasn’t sure how it had happened. One minute, he’d been soothing her tears, the next—well, the next, he’d behaved like a horny teenager. This was unworthy of him. Unworthy of his station.

  He swung himself into his saddle with a grunt. The weight of what he’d done sat heavy on his shoulders, but at the same time, he found himself licking his lips, seeking the ghost of her taste.

  Bas wanted more.

  How had he betrayed himself so badly?

  8

  Fiona reached for another handful of seed. The birds crowded around her feet, their little brown bodies wiggling with excitement. She held out her palm and laughed as they went for it, scattering millet in the sand.

  “So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Edlyn peeped around the corner, and half the birds charged her. The biggest one jumped into her lap. She tickled it gently and shooed it off. “Careful with these guys,” she said. “Once they’ve gone through the seed, they’ll go for your jewelry.”

  “Good to know.” Fiona waved her arms. “Okay. That’s all, folks.”

  The birds muttered amongst themselves, but they seemed to get the hint. They pecked their way back to the water’s edge as Edlyn rolled up to the bench.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “I like it here.” Fiona leaned back, admiring the tropical paradise Bas’s grandfather had built for his birds. The high glass dome was barely visible through the lush vegetation that surrounded the saltwater pond. Flowering vines hung from trees she couldn’t name. Orchids nestled in forks too high to reach. She’d miss this place when it came time to go, but that wasn’t the only reason she’d sought refuge here. “I like it here,” she repeated, “but also, I think I’m in for a dressing down.”

  “Oh, gossip! What’d you do? Fall in love with a palace guard? Eat Bas’s rum baba?”

  “No, I—wait, there’s rum baba?”

  Edlyn smirked. “There always is, when he’s like this. He stress bakes, you know? Something gets on his nerves, he runs straight for the kitchens. I guess the ritual helps him think.”

  “So he is angry, then.” Fiona sighed. “It’s the husband hunt. I might’ve been too harsh on a few of my suitors. I heard the servants talking: word’s out I’m a shrew, and Bas can’t get anyone to come. Or not as many. I don’t know.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Yes. Maybe.” She huffed, frustrated. “Not at the cost of my reputation. Or Bas’s. I’d hoped I could ride it out till my birthday, play my role till I get to choose my own. But I just get so tired of it all, and before I know it, I’m cutting their legs out from under them, and what have they done to deserve that? Half of them are in the same situation, doing their duty and getting clobbered for it. Why do I do these things?”

  “Because you’re angry.” Edlyn set her hand on Fiona’s shoulder. “And you’re not wrong to be. I am too.”

  “That doesn’t mean I should take it out on them.”

  “No, but it makes it understandable.” She watched a blue butterfly flit across the water, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You know what you need? Someone to practice on.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. A practice suitor, someone who won’t go home crestfallen if your sarcastic side takes over. You can run through the scenarios—if he farts, if he hasn’t read any good books lately—and if you don’t make him feel bad, you win a prize.”

  “If he farts?” Fiona doubled over, muffling a laugh. “Now, that’s just not fair.”

  “Father had a system for that.” Bas emerged from the wisteria bower, dusting petals off his shoulders. “He trained his manservant to excuse himself whenever he—Father, I mean—broke wind. They could be on opposite sides of the room, and Father would let one slip, and the ‘excuse me’ would come drifting from the hall…”

  Edlyn tossed a stick at him. “How long have you been listening?”

  “Pretty much the whole time.” He sat by the birdbath and stretched his legs. “That’s not a bad idea, though, someone to practice on. Perhaps the two of you might—”

  “Or you.” Edlyn advanced on him, an eager glint in her eye. “I mean, you’d be perfect. You’re exactly the sort of man Fiona’s looking for. And you have a thick skin. Not to mention you could use the practice yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Really?” Edlyn tilted her head. “When was the last time you went on a date? You’re so rusty you creak, and I can say that. I’m your sister.”

  “Be that as it may, I can hardly take Fiona on a date.” He held up his hand as Edlyn opened her mouth to protest. “Still, I suppose I could act as her tutor, recreate some of the scenarios she might encounter on a date and offer my advice.”

  “Yes! Exactly.” Edlyn grinned. “Like My Fair Lady, without the marbles.”

  Bas turned to Fiona, fixing her with an appraising look. “What about you? What’s your take on all this?

  Fiona looked at him. She’d hardly seen him since their fateful encounter in the hills. She could still feel the heat of his touch, the roughness of his lips on hers. She craved more of him, all of him, even if it couldn’t last. She drew herself up and smiled.

  Bas didn’t like the way Fiona was looking at him. It was the same way she looked at her suitors just before she pounced. He’d come to recognize it, that predatory twinkle in her eye.

  It was a bad idea anyway, spending more time with Fiona. She had other tricks, too, the kind that made him forget himself. The kind that—

  “It’s an intriguing idea,” she said.

  Edlyn fairly lit up. “See? Fiona’s with me. You might even have some fun while you’re at it. Get out of the palace
, leave your worries behind you."

  Bas thought about protesting that Fiona was chief among his worries, but it had never been easy saying no to Edlyn. Especially since her accident. And what harm could it do? They’d go somewhere public, somewhere crowded. Somewhere he couldn’t succumb to Fiona’s charms. He’d offer his expertise, let her practice her small talk.

  “It still might look strange,” he tried. “Fiona’s my ward. The two of us out together, unchaperoned…”

  “You are her chaperone.”

  “I suppose, out in public, in the middle of the day…” He scanned Fiona’s face for any hint of mischief, but she was studying Edlyn with something like awe. If he was honest with himself, the black mood that had haunted him since their ride hadn’t all been down to shame. He’d been jealous. It was like they were everywhere, Fiona and her suitors. He’d glance out the window and there they’d be, laughing by the fountain. He’d come to breakfast and find a gift waiting, not for him but for Fiona, some trinket designed to win her favor.

  “Well?”

  “I’ll do it.” Bas rose abruptly. “We’ll go out. You’ll treat me kindly. And there is rum baba, if you do.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Dry bread. Sour wine.” He tipped her a wink. “Let your sweet tooth be your conscience. We’ll start tomorrow.”

  Bas turned and strode off before he could change his mind. This was a terrible idea, no two ways about it. It was silly. It was juvenile, like the plot of some teen movie.

  It was a disaster waiting to happen, and he couldn’t wait.

  9

  Something felt different about this excursion. Fiona couldn’t put her finger on it, but when she glanced at Bas, the feeling only intensified. He was looking out the window like an excited kid, watching the city go by. This felt different from their previous coaching sessions, special somehow. He’d never seemed this excited to take her to a café or an art gallery.