Sheikh's Scandal

by Lucy Monroe

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice heavy with passion. “I need, Sayed.”

  “And I will give you what you need.” He pressed into her from behind, the position allowing him to touch her at will.

  One arm tucked under her neck so he could reach her breasts, he reached down with his other hand to touch her clitoris as he began to move.

  She gasped out sexy demands even as she moved her pelvis with instinctive rhythm.

  This time they came together, their shouts mixing in a sexual song he could easily become seriously addicted to.

  The thought was so disturbing, he did not let himself sink into afterglow. He took hold of the condom and carefully pulled out of her, but could not make himself move away completely.

  She made a distinctly unhappy sound.

  “Shh…” He kissed her sweaty brow, the affectionate gesture too natural to be comfortable for a man who knew his time with his love would be measured in days not years. “I need to take care of the condom.”

  He made his way to the efficiency-size en suite on unsteady legs.

  The mirror showed him a face he’d never seen before, one with eyes far too soft with vulnerability.

  He was emir. Not merely a man.

  Not a man at all who could afford to crave a woman like he’d learned to hunger for Aaliyah after such a short time.

  He needed to find himself and put this other man away. Sayed owed it to his people and to the brother who had died before getting the chance to lead them.

  Sayed should have been working strategy the whole plane ride, but he’d spent hours talking with Liyah and then making love.

  He had to put distance between them, or he wasn’t going to be able to do what he needed to when the pregnancy test came back negative.

  Let her go.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  QUEEN DURRAH ESCORTED Liyah to her quarters in the palace harem herself.

  Even the melecha’s personal attention could not mitigate Liyah’s feeling of abandonment upon Sayed’s nearly instant disappearance after their arrival to the palace, however.

  Sayed had barely taken the time to introduce her to his esteemed parents before excusing himself to speak to his father privately. The monarchs had been surprisingly gracious, but Sayed’s desertion had stung.

  Coming on top of the way he’d been acting since they made love, it was doubly hurtful.

  He’d walked into the bathroom a man and came out one hundred percent emir, focused on affairs of state.

  Sayed had dressed in silence and then turned to her, his gaze set firmly somewhere beyond her left shoulder. “Nap now. I’ll have the cabin attendant knock on the door in time for you to shower and dress for landing.”

  She might have argued if her eyes hadn’t already been drooping, her body seconds from sliding into sleep regardless.

  As he’d promised, she’d been alerted in time to shower and dress in clothes miraculously ironed while she’d been napping. However, even though she’d returned to her seat, Sayed had spent the entire descent and landing talking to Yusuf, who had joined them in one of the empty seats across the table.

  Then Sayed had been fully occupied the drive to the palace with his smartphone.

  Liyah knew he had important issues that had to be dealt with, but that hadn’t diminished her sense of the growing distance between them.

  A distance that should never have been bridged in the first place, her brain tried to remind her. Her emotions foolishly balked at that truth.

  Liyah had never warred so much within herself as she had since meeting Sayed, not even when she’d been deciding about going to England to meet her biological father.

  No matter how unreasonable, how hopeless, how ridiculous, her growing feelings for Sayed were, Liyah could not deny them. However, she had no intention of sharing them with anyone else, especially the man himself.

  Not by word, or deed.

  Which meant she maintained her outward dignity and self-possession with particular care as she kept pace with the queen.

  She led Liyah up a grand staircase that made the one at the Chatsfield London seem simple and unassuming in comparison. A strip of plush red carpet ran up the center of the mahogany steps shined to a glasslike finish. The matching elegantly carved banisters were held up by over a hundred ornate three-foot-high crystal newels.

  Everything about the stone palace complex located on the shore of Zeena Sahra’s Bahir Sea was over the top and yet not in the least tacky.

  After several turns and traversing a distance easily equal to a couple city blocks, they approached an imposing set of double doors. Liyah wasn’t even surprised to find a man dressed in the manner she’d come to associate with Sayed’s security detail standing to the left of the doors.

  The queen nodded to him, but made no verbal greeting.

  The guard opened the door on the right and Queen Durrah led Liyah through it, only the softest swishing sound indicating it closing behind them.

  Queen Durrah smiled at Liyah, her amber gaze reflecting an impressive determination and confidence of spirit. “For the next five days, you will stay here as our honored guest, but your name and relationship to my son will not be revealed.”

  She did not ask if Liyah understood, or even agreed. Somehow that assumption of agreement was more intimidating than Sayed’s bossiest moments.

  “Five days?” Liyah asked.

  “Perhaps six.”

  Liyah nodded, though not entirely sure why that exact length of stay was necessary.

  “The definitive blood test can be performed five days after the event at the earliest.” The queen waved her hand as if referring to something she would prefer not to address directly.

  The pregnancy test.

  “Do you want me to stay in my room?” So much for Sayed’s promise to be her tour guide.

  “My goodness, no.” The queen opened a door on her right to reveal a lovely sitting room done in champagne with burgundy accents. “You are not a prisoner here.”

  Just a guest who had to remain anonymous.

  Liyah could not quite suppress how impressed she was by her accommodations. They could have put her in the servants’ quarters and she would not have minded at all. “This is the size of the living room in our old apartment.”

  “Our?” the queen asked in a way Liyah found she could not refuse to answer.

  Not that she would have regardless. “I shared an apartment with my mother until her death four months ago.”

  Liyah managed to speak of her mother’s loss without revealing what it cost her to do so, but she turned away to give herself a moment. Though she hoped her intent was not obvious. Liyah would not have Queen Durrah thinking she was some weak emotional mess.

  “I am very sorry to hear about your mother.” There was no mistaking the sympathy in the older woman’s tone. “I remember losing my own mother. I miss her to this day.”

  “Thank you,” Liyah replied, renewing her attempt to pull in her emotions.

  “Aaliyah.” There was a command in the queen’s tone Liyah once again could not ignore.

  She turned. “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “I am not accustomed to speaking to the back of someone’s head.” The queen shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “Never mind. Did my son suggest you should stay in your room during your stay here?”

  “No.”

  Queen Durrah nodded as if approving Liyah’s response. “While you are not a prisoner, there are a few concessions we will all appreciate you making.”

  Liyah was impressed. The queen hadn’t ordered her to make those concessions, but her wording made it clear she expected Liyah’s cooperation.

  “Whatever I can do,” she promised the other woman.

  “While your things have been delivered, during your stay here we would prefer you not wear the clothes you brought with you. You will discover traditional Zeena Sahran clothing in your wardrobe. You may consider it a gift and take it with you when you leave the palac
e.”

  “That is not necessary.” She hadn’t missed the queen’s certainty Liyah wouldn’t be staying.

  “Nevertheless, the clothing is yours. We would appreciate it very much if you would wear it whenever you leave this room, including the hijab over your hair.”

  “Okay.”

  “You may notice I do not wear the hijab. It is by no means a requirement in our culture.” The queen wore her hair in an elegant coif, a tiara that could have been a large hair ornament tucked into the dark tresses.

  “I don’t mind wearing the hijab.” Though Liyah didn’t really understand why Queen Durrah had asked her to do so.

  “I am glad to hear that, but it is absolutely not a requirement.” Sayed’s deep masculine tones thrummed through Liyah, drawing her around to face him with inexorable pull.

  “Sayed.” Liyah was incapable of further speech at the moment.

  “Do you like your suite?”

  She nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

  “But not her prison,” Queen Durrah inserted.

  “Of course not, Mother. What have you been telling her?”

  “We have just been discussing how best to handle her visit.”

  “I believe I said I wanted to have that discussion with her?” he asked, irritation sparking in his dark gaze.

  The queen shook her head. “You should not be here at all.”

  “And yet you knew I intended to come and speak to Aaliyah as soon as I’d talked to Father.”

  “Surely you could not be finished discussing your strategy for dealing with Tahira’s little escapade already?” the queen prompted.

  “We can finish after I’ve made sure Aaliyah is comfortable.”

  “Surely I am capable of doing that.”

  Tired of watching words being bounced between mother and son like tennis volleys, Liyah went out on the balcony and left them to it.

  Sayed joined her a few seconds later. “Are you all right, Aaliyah?”

  “Do you want a polite lie, or the truth?”

  “Truth, please.” His hand landed on her shoulder and Liyah wondered what the queen thought of that.

  “I’m a bit overwhelmed, and while this suite is gorgeous it does feel a little like a prison.”

  He turned her to face him and waited until she tipped her head back so their gazes met. “It’s not meant to. If nothing else, I want you to enjoy your stay here, to truly come to know the country of your mother’s birth.”

  “Will I see you at all?”

  “You are seeing me now.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the best one I can give you.” The glimpse she got in that second of Sayed the man, the very conflicted man, told Liyah she wasn’t the only one struggling with their situation.

  “You promised to be my tour guide.”

  “And so he shall be.” The queen stood in the open French doors leading to the balcony.

  “Mother, could you please give us some privacy?” Sayed asked in a pained tone that would have been funny if Liyah wasn’t feeling so fragile.

  More emotions she was doing her best to hide.

  “I’ll just call for some tea and wait for it in the sitting room.” Whether it was the queen’s not-so-subtle way of telling her son she wasn’t leaving them entirely alone, or a simple peace offering, Liyah wasn’t up to guessing.

  “Aaliyah, please.”

  “What?” she asked, searching the depths of Sayed’s brown gaze for something.

  Even she couldn’t say exactly what.

  “Don’t look like that.”

  “Like what?” She was doing her best not to look like anything.

  He dropped his forehead against hers, breaking eye contact, but cocooning them in another type of intimacy. “Like you might break.”

  “I won’t break.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.” Though she wasn’t sure she was telling the truth. And she was an honest woman. “I’ll try.”

  He made a sound that hurt to hear. “Taking it one day at a time, right?”

  “Does that really work?”

  “Yes.” His hands cupped both sides of her neck, his thumbs rubbing softly against her skin.

  Knowing if she didn’t break contact she was going to say or do something she’d regret, she stepped away. “I suppose it’s a good philosophy but not one I think you exercise very often.”

  He took a step toward her and then seemed to think better of it and moved even farther away.

  “You would be surprised. No matter how much a planner you are, in the world of politics and running a country there is only so much you can control.” He managed a contained tone, but his hands fisted the wrought-iron railing in front of him with white-knuckled intensity.

  “Then you cannot blame yourself for what is beyond that control.” She hoped he took the words as the absolution she meant.

  He swallowed, and when he spoke again his tone was a little ragged around the edges. “Cultivating the patience to deal with challenges as they arrive instead of fighting against them is another thing my father taught me was essential.”

  They remained there, together but silent, until the queen informed them that the tea had arrived and the king had requested his son join him to finish their discussion.

  Seeming unable to help himself, Sayed kissed Liyah on the temple before leaving her suite.

  Despite the fact even this small display of affection was not exactly acceptable by Zeena Sahran standards, the queen did not remark on it as she poured Liyah a cup of steaming jasmine tea.

  “Now, about the hijab.”

  “Yes?”

  “Wearing a scarf gives you instant access to an unremarkable assurance for privacy of identity should it become necessary.” Queen Durrah smiled very much like her son. “Besides, there is less chance of you being recognized as a foreigner if you wear one.”

  “And the clothes?”

  “Hiding in plain sight.” The queen smiled. “I believe that is a well-known technique, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “The presence in the palace of a traditional Zeena Sahran woman would be cause for much less speculation than an obvious American.”

  Liyah didn’t doubt it, having to bite back a smile at how much the queen reminded her of Sayed in that moment. They were both so certain they knew what was right.

  “Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do about your Americanized speech.”

  “I’m perfectly happy to speak in Arabic while staying here at the palace,” Liyah said in a perfect Zeena Sahran dialect.

  The queen’s eyes widened and then she flashed that smile so reminiscent of her son again. “How wonderful. Sayed did not mention your fluency in our language.”

  “I’ve never mentioned it.” Liyah smiled herself as she explained. “My mother spoke only the Arabic dialect of her homeland in our home and expected me to do the same.”

  “Perhaps we’ll wait to apprise Sayed of this,” the queen offered with a surprising glint of mischief in her eye.

  Bewildered by the melecha’s quicksilver mood change, Liyah nodded. “You’re really different than I expected.”

  “Sayed did not get his propensity for impetuous action from a stranger.” Queen Durrah winked. “I’ve decided I like you.”

  Ignoring the claim that could have little weight, Liyah stared at the older woman with an expression she knew revealed disbelief. “You believe your son is impetuous?”

  “Less now than he was as a child, yes, but your presence here is proof he has not eradicated the trait entirely.”

  “You do not sound too upset by that.” Another conundrum for Liyah’s brain.

  “I am not. Sayed is emir and will one day be melech, but he is still my son. His brother’s death changed him so much, it changed all of us.” For a moment grief shimmered in the depths of Queen Durrah’s gaze. “It pleases me to see proof he has not changed completely.”

  “So, you’re not upset about this
situation?” Liyah found that hard to believe.

  “What will be, will be.”

  “But surely you don’t want me to be the mother of your grandchild.” Though the older woman had already made it clear she didn’t expect Liyah to be pregnant.

  The queen reached out and patted Liyah’s arm. “As to that, I cannot say. I may instinctively like you, but we have barely just met. One thing I’m certain of, your presence here will shake things up.”

  “And you think that’s a good thing?”

  “Oh, yes. Both my husband and son are still living in the shadow of Umar’s death, though it occurred more than twenty years ago. I will miss my son every day until we are reunited in the afterlife, but it is time my family moved into the future.”

  Liyah understood that sentiment, though it had only been a few months since her mom’s death. If Sayed hadn’t come crashing into her life, Liyah was pretty certain her own life would have slid into marking time as she grieved a circumstance that could never be changed.

  “Don’t you think Tahira’s elopement was enough of a shake-up?” Liyah had the temerity to ask.

  “Certainly that was the catalyst for change. I find it very interesting that my son’s response was to engage in shockingly unprecedented and personally perilous behavior with you.”

  Liyah had no answer to that.

  Queen Durrah’s beautiful face settled into thoughtfulness. “Honestly, I expected Tahira’s betrayal to entrench him even more firmly behind the walls he erected so many years ago. I am very happy to be wrong.”

  *

  Liyah paced her suite, having just returned from late-morning tea with Queen Durrah.

  Who, despite her royal status and very definitive views on propriety, had turned out to be both likable and kind. And very much interested in her son’s happiness.

  Liyah had been astonished by the warm reception she’d received from both the king and queen. She threatened their well-ordered existence and Liyah’s presence could do nothing but add to issues caused by Tahira’s defection.

  Yet both the monarchs had treated Liyah with nothing but respect. The king was a little more standoffish, but she didn’t find that surprising. The fact he treated Liyah like a welcome guest to the royal palace did.