The Sheikh's Bride

by Sophie Weston

  ‘And you did not tell me that you had been married before,’ Leo flung back at him.

  He stopped dead.

  ‘Is it true?’

  All of a sudden, his eyes were quite opaque.

  ‘Yes.’

  She shrugged, though her heart was screaming with pain.

  ‘My case proved, don’t you think?’

  She walked out of the room. He did not try to stop her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE cupboards in the guest quarters yielded up an infinite range of clothes for Leo to choose from: long dark robes that would cover her from head to toe, brilliant silks that would cover as much or as little as she wished, cotton, linen, lawn, even gold-encrusted brocade.

  ‘Minister of Culture strikes again, I take it,’ Leo muttered.

  She selected a simple robe with a long overjacket in peacock silk. Fatima nodded approval and fetched her a heavy gold collar, like elegant chain-mail, and several intricate bangles to go with it.

  ‘No,’ said Leo, revolted.

  She was not wearing Amer’s wife’s jewellery for anything.

  Fatima was agitated. She did not have enough English to make Leo understand and ran out of the room. Leo felt slightly ashamed but she could not bear the idea of putting the heavy thing against her skin.

  The heavy doors to her room banged back. Amer strode in, looking irritated.

  ‘Now what are you making a fuss about?’ he said in tones of barely controlled exasperation.

  ‘I may have to borrow clothes but I’m not wearing someone else’s jewels.’

  Amer flicked a bored glance over the gold collar.

  ‘They’re yours,’ he said curtly.

  ‘No they’re not.’ Leo was nearly dancing with rage.

  ‘Of course they are.’ He flicked back the lid of the jewellery box for her to see the name of the Paris jeweller. ‘A gift for my future wife. Flown in today.’

  Leo was utterly taken aback.

  ‘You bought me a necklace?’

  ‘Of course.’ He shrugged, bored. ‘It’s a trifle. We will, of course, choose your betrothal gift together.’

  Leo sat down rather suddenly.

  ‘But—I can’t accept—’

  Even to her own ears, she sounded like a confused child.

  ‘I advise you to swallow your pride.’ He sounded irritated. ‘My father is asking other women to dinner tonight, as a courtesy to you. You will find them heavily jewelled. You will feel very odd if you aren’t.’

  He did not sound, though, as if he cared very much. And he did not give her a kiss or a kind look to go with the ornaments. Leo felt chilled and angry and would have said so forcefully but Fatima came back.

  Amer smiled at her gently. He did not smile at me, thought Leo desolate.

  He said something to her which made Fatima bow her head and give a small well-behaved giggle. And then he strode out. He said not one word more to Leo.

  Leo was tempted to scream, but she gave up the idea when she saw how relieved Fatima was that she had given in over the gold necklace. Fatima was, Leo realised, quite seriously flustered by the fact that Amer was taking Leo to dine with his father. She did not have enough English to explain why. Leo could think of plenty of reasons.

  She flung them at Amer when they got into the long dark car without number plates.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said chattily, ‘does your father usually meet your playmates?’

  ‘Do not speak of yourself like that.’

  It was a command. Leo glared. But she did not quite dare to challenge him.

  Amer was looking more of a stranger than ever tonight. He wore a loose jacket, heavily embroidered in crimson and turquoise, over his white robe. And there was a wicked looking dagger, the size of a small sword, in his belt. But it was not just his clothes. His mouth was set in forbidding lines and his eyes were strained. He looked like a diplomat going to a negotiation that could end in war.

  Was meeting his father always so fraught? Leo thought. Or was it her presence that gave him that wary look?

  ‘Will your father put me under house arrest for daring to lay hands on his son and heir?’ she said provocatively.

  Amer sent her an unsmiling look. ‘I see Hari has been talking.’

  ‘Unlike you.’

  His jaw tightened. ‘Don’t try to make me angry, Leonora. We will talk, I promise. But now is not the time.’

  ‘Great,’ she muttered.

  But they were at tall iron gates which swung wide as soon as the car nosed onto the approach road. Beside her, she could feel Amer straighten as if he was bracing himself.

  Leo felt a brief remorse. It was soon dispelled.

  ‘My father will ask you about our relationship,’ he said rapidly. ‘I advise you to tell him nothing.’

  ‘Would he punish you for kidnapping me?’

  A muscle worked in his cheek. ‘I did not,’ he said evenly, ‘kidnap you.’

  ‘Will your father believe that?’

  He swung round on her, his eyes cool. ‘Tell him and see,’ he invited.

  Leo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

  He gave a crack of unamused laughter. ‘He won’t blame me. He is more likely to put you under house arrest until you marry me.’

  It was like being doused in cold water. Leo sank back, silenced.

  His father was not as tall as Amer but the gold on his robes made him seem somehow bigger. He had a grizzled beard and fierce, suspicious eyes. He spoke to Leo in rusty French which was courteous rather than welcoming.

  They ate out of doors in a cool courtyard. A heavy oaken table, set with gleaming glass and china, was placed under a curved canopy. Behind them, the walls of the palace were white stone, warm to the touch. In front of them, date palms rustled in the evening breeze. Their leaves made a sound like rain, vying with the delicate tinkling of fountains.

  ‘An informal supper,’ said Amer. ‘My father thought you would find that easier.’

  ‘Informal?’

  The King sat in a heavy oak chair with carved arms and a high back. It was as near to a throne as damn it, thought Leo. And there were at least twenty other people at the table.

  Amer gave a taut smile. ‘Just close family.’

  Even so, everyone she met seemed to be a Minister or a Minister’s wife.

  Leo found that she was swept off to the end of the table to eat with the women. One or two wore what were clearly Paris designs but most, like herself, wore long robes. And Amer was right. To a woman, traditionally dressed or not, they all wore magnificent jewellery. But they were friendly and surprisingly sympathetic.

  ‘Amer is a law unto himself,’ said a pretty cousin.

  ‘Always was,’ said an aunt by marriage. She was wearing a stunningly simple black cocktail dress and sapphires.

  ‘And so impetuous,’ sighed a middle-aged woman with laughing eyes. She wore a gold encrusted smoking jacket and earrings like Baccarat chandeliers.

  ‘Are you related to the Minister of Culture by any chance?’ murmured Leo, eyeing the gold lapels with fascination.

  ‘My brother.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘He says that Amer is the only one who is holding Dalmun together,’ confided the Minister’s wife. ‘His Majesty is so very traditional. It is a heavy burden for Amer, especially as he has been alone for so long.’

  Leo was not deceived by the airy tone. She winced.

  ‘He told you,’ she said, resigned.

  ‘Told? In Dalmun? You’re joking. Just rumours that you are, er, close. And—’ She broke off.

  ‘And?’

  The Minister’s wife leaned forward confidentially. ‘And Amer not being able to keep his eyes off you.’

  Leo looked down the table. Amer was sitting on his father’s right, immersed in conversation. He was frowning slightly, tearing at the flat bread with preoccupied fingers, not eating any of it. As if he felt her eyes on him, he looked up suddenly.

  Leo caught her breath. For a moment it was
as if there was just the two of them. The cheerful conversation faded into nothing. She just stared and stared.

  Take me away. Come down the table and take me home and make love to me.

  It was so strong a wish that she almost felt as if she had said it aloud. She saw his eyes grow intent. His hands cast the maltreated bread away impatiently. But then his father said something, put a hand on his arm, and the moment was broken.

  Leo sank back in her chair with a little gasp. Her pulse was racing. And deep, deep inside she felt a hollow need stir.

  Afterwards, when he helped her into the car, she could feel the heat of his hands. Sitting close together in the back of the car was a torment. She was conscious of him, taut muscles hot and hard, and knew that the chauffeur and Amer’s public image made him as out of reach as the moon.

  When they arrived Amer waved the car away. In the sudden silence of the well-lit entrance, he stood in front of her for a moment, as if undecided.

  Leo thought, he’s going to kiss me. But he did not. Instead he leaned forward until his cheek just touched her hair.

  ‘I will come to you later.’ His voice was a rough whisper. ‘May I?’

  ‘Yes,’ breathed Leo.

  But he did not. She waited for hours in the strange room, moving restlessly from table to balcony and back. The night wind was cold. But not as cold as the lonely bed.

  He did not come and he sent no message.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ said Amer.

  ‘Your father wants you back at the palace,’ Hari repeated. ‘A report has just come in. Brigands on the northern border.’

  ‘Brigands!’ Amer was scornful. ‘More likely tribesmen who want decent water and a telephone line for their village.’

  ‘Your father wants to send in the Army…’

  Amer swore.

  ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll go. But if I’m not back in an hour—’ He broke off.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hell,’ said Amer.

  In the end the apricot light of early dawn slid along the balustrade of the balcony before Leo huddled down on the sofa and did what she could to sleep. That was where Fatima found her. She had not even taken off last night’s finery. The chain-mail necklace had marked her skin.

  ‘Typical,’ said Leo, refusing to cry.

  Fatima was concerned. Particularly when Leo took off Sheikh Amer’s gift and threw it so hard across the room that a link broke. Even more so when Leo refused to wear any more of the borrowed clothes.

  ‘I shall buy something myself. The car can take me to the market, can’t it?’

  Fatima was uneasy. She began to mutter, losing her command of English.

  ‘Or am I a prisoner here after all?’ demanded Leo, savagely triumphant.

  Fatima bit her lip and consulted Hari. They both strove strenuously to dissuade her.

  ‘Sheikh Amer said you were to have whatever you ask for,’ Hari told Leo at last. It clearly troubled him. ‘It would be wiser not to go to the market today, though.’

  ‘So I am a prisoner.’

  He gave in, stipulating only that she took an escort. Leo set off in triumph accompanied by the scholarly map reader. He looked rather alarmed. Leo interpreted it as a sign that he did not know much about women’s clothes.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she told him. ‘We’ll be back before sundown.’

  ‘You’ll be back in two hours,’ said Hari firmly.

  Leo went very still. ‘Is that how long you’ve got before Amer wakes up and finds out you’ve let me go?’

  Exasperated, Hari said, ‘Be careful. Dalmun is not Knightsbridge.’

  But Leo waved a careless hand and he stepped back. The electric gates opened silently and the limousine swept through.

  ‘I hope I’ve done the right thing,’ said Hari aloud.

  Three hours later, his heart in his mouth, he was knocking on the door to Amer’s suite.

  ‘Come in.’

  Amer was at his desk. It was clear from the table strewn with paper behind him that he had been working, not resting. He looked up.

  ‘Have you been to bed at all?’ said Hari, shocked by his look of exhaustion.

  Amer shook his head. ‘What time is it?’

  Hari told him. He was startled.

  ‘So late? Then I must see—’ He broke off.

  But Hari was beyond pretending to be discreet.

  ‘She’s gone,’ he said brutally.

  Amer stared at him. His face was masklike. Hari could not bear it.

  ‘Not of her own accord. Hussein came back with a message. Oh, I knew I should never have let her go.’

  Amer went very still.

  ‘Go? Where?’

  ‘She insisted on going out,’ said poor Hari. ‘I tried to persuade her—But you told her she was free to do whatever she wanted. And this morning she was like a caged animal.’

  Amer flinched. Hari did not notice.

  ‘I insisted that Hussein went along to interpret. But he is not a man of action. Saeed’s people have taken her. They sent Hussein back. They want your father to sign the order for the new electricity system at the Council Meeting tomorrow.’

  Amer looked at him for a burning moment.

  ‘They’ll keep her until he does,’ Hari finished miserably. ‘I’m sorry, Amer. I know you warned us. But it never occurred to me they would really do it. They’ve only ever taken an ordinary tourist before.’

  Amer said. ‘Get my father on the telephone.’

  Hari blanched. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Tell him the truth,’ said Amer harshly. ‘I have protected him from it for too long. Let him know that some of his subjects will turn against him unless he gives them a reasonable standard of living.’

  ‘Very well.’ Hari did not relish the task but he was a brave man. ‘Do you want me to call your uncle and summon the Council?’

  ‘That is for my father to decide,’ said Amer. ‘It’s his Council.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘They will have taken her into the desert. I’m going after her. Get the land cruiser ready.’

  Hari was startled into an undiplomatic truth. ‘But you have to go to the Council. They will never be able to persuade His Majesty without you. They need you.’

  ‘Leonora needs me.’

  Amer was already opening cupboards, his mind on his expedition.

  Hari was exasperated. ‘But you’ve said it yourself often enough—these guys are harmless. She’s in no danger. They’ll probably give her the time of her life.’

  Amer said, ‘Does Leonora know that?’

  ‘Well maybe not to begin with,’ he admitted. ‘But she’ll find out…’

  ‘Or she might not. Saeed is different from the other desert Sheikhs. More ambitious. Definitely more unpredictable.’

  ‘He would not hurt her,’ said Hari positively. ‘It would be stupid.’

  Amer turned. He looked strained.

  ‘My head agrees with you. My heart can’t take the chance.’

  His heart? Amer’s heart? Hari stared in disbelief.

  ‘But why?’ he said incautiously.

  The smile became savage.

  ‘Because she’s mine.’

  Leo was afraid. She told herself that Amer would find her. She told herself to believe her captors when they assured her that she was their honoured guest. But it was difficult when they sounded so terrifyingly efficient.

  As they got farther and farther from the capital and left the metalled road for a dust track, her heart sank. Even with the windows closed, the dust seemed to whirl chokingly round the interior of the cabin.

  The tropic dark fell like a blanket. The pick-up stopped. The driver got out. After a few minutes he came back and gestured Leo to get out of the vehicle.

  All her banked-down panic surged up into her throat. She could taste it. Were they going to abandon her here, in the middle of nowhere? Amer would never find her, then.

  She controlled herself. Amer did
what he set himself to do. Besides this was his country. And anyway, she just knew that he would find her. Of course he would find her.

  Leo hugged that thought to her. It got her through the next few hours. And she really needed something to hold on to because her captors seemed as if they did not know what to do with her. She was transferred from vehicle to vehicle no fewer than four times and, judging from the limited Arabic she had picked up in Cairo, none of the men taking charge of her was glad of the responsibility. Leo began to feel like a potato that had just been pulled out of the fire: too hot to handle. And the later it got, the jumpier each successive group of men sounded.

  Eventually the last truck pulled up at a group of tents. They were hunched shadows under the brilliant sky. Leo stumbled out. She was swaying with tiredness as much as emotion.

  They took her into an enormous tent with all ceremony, fed her coffee and speeches which she could not understand, then took her to a smaller tent where she tried to sleep.

  She dreamed that Amer’s arms were round her. And woke up with tears on her cheeks.

  All through the morning Leo heard comings and goings in the main tent. She tried to stay calm but it was not easy. She drank a little water but refused all food. Eventually an impatient man arrived bearing a circular dish of bread and fruit. Leo shook her head but he took no notice, pressing bread against her lips. Leo shut her eyes so she should not see his expression. It was menacing.

  Oh, Amer, get me out of this, she called silently.

  There was a commotion outside. The man flung the tray away and stamped out.

  Leo sipped some water, shakily. He had gripped her arm in his attempt to make her eat and the place throbbed. There would be a bruise there, she thought.

  Soon enough he was back and abandoning other attempts at communication, hauling her into the main tent. Leo fought down another sick surge of panic. She had to keep her head, she knew.

  The main tent was full of men. They all had their backs to her, looking at an imposing figure in the entrance to the tent.

  For all her determined courage, Leo’s heart contracted. Was this a gathering of rebel clans?

  The man in the bright mouth of the tent seemed very tall. He wore a flowing black robe and turban. It made him look like the angel of death. His face was in complete shadow but Leo could see the arrogance in the way he held himself.