Bundle of Brides

by Kay Thorpe

  ‘Then let us go—somewhere far away, where Edward will be safe.’

  ‘My son has rights too,’ Kahlil’s father pointed out. ‘Would you deny Edward the chance to know his father? Would you deny your son the right to claim his birthright?’

  Silence hung heavily between them as Lucy came to terms with the situation. ‘If I went home and left Edward here,’ she said at last, in a voice that had lost its bite, ‘could you promise to keep him safe?’

  ‘I could,’ the elderly Sheikh confirmed in a kinder tone. ‘Edward would have the best of everything—everything that money can buy. I promise you that. And of course, as mother of the royal child, you would receive an extremely handsome pension—’

  ‘What?’ Lucy exclaimed, springing up again. ‘Do you think you can buy me? Forgive me if I misunderstood you,’ she said tensely, ‘but did you just offer me money in return for my son?’

  ‘Now, now—you mustn’t look at it that way—’

  ‘And just how am I supposed to look at it?’

  ‘It is normal in such circumstances,’ the Sheikh said calmly, as if there was nothing wrong with his offer at all.

  Perhaps it was a regular occurrence in Abadan…perhaps it was a regular occurrence where Kahlil was concerned, Lucy thought. In her distressed state, she would have believed anything possible…or perhaps it was time to put Kahlil out of her mind once and for all, she realised bitterly. That was the safest course of action for Edward, and for her.

  ‘As I see it,’ she said, gathering the last vestiges of her strength and determination together, ‘the best thing that can happen is that I take Edward home with me to a place where he can live a normal life.’

  The Sheikh didn’t answer her for a few moments, and then he said, almost as if he had some sympathy for her plight, ‘Regrettably, Edward will never be able to live what you think of as a normal life, Miss Benson. He is a royal child. You can never take that away from him. From now on Edward must be taught to handle the weight of responsibility that accompanies privilege.’

  ‘He’s one year old!’

  ‘Even so…’ The Sheikh of Abadan held out both hands, palm up, in an expression of finality.

  Lucy remained silent as all the implications for Edward sank in. From being a happy, carefree little boy, he had been transformed into someone who would require some form of protection for the rest of his life. Could she provide that for him? She doubted it. She needed support in order to do it properly. There was only one person in the world who could offer her that support, and that was Kahlil. Who hadn’t even bothered to come back to the palace now that he had secured the gates to her gilded cage! Stick a guard on the door and walk away. That was as far as accepting responsibility for his son went for Kahlil.

  The thought of abandoning Edward to that sort of parenting was out of the question. They stayed together. That much she was determined upon. If she could just get them both back home in safety, to be under the protection of her own country’s security services…

  It was like a madness building inside her; now Lucy could think of nothing else at all—nothing but escape.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘YOU are summoned to a meeting by Sheikh Kahlil ben Saeed Al-Sharif of Abadan.’

  ‘I see. At what time?’ Lucy asked the courtier politely. Inwardly she was seething at the nature of the formal summons, but it was hardly the man’s fault.

  ‘In one hour,’ he said, bowing his way out of the room.

  She had been called into Kahlil’s presence like a member of his staff, Lucy mused angrily as the door closed; so much for all that empty talk of how she was the mother of the royal child. She was nothing as far as Kahlil and his father were concerned—nothing but an embarrassing encumbrance.

  She had sat up half the night after her meeting with Kahlil’s father, waiting for Kahlil to return to the palace. And she was still smarting now from the knowledge that someone had sneaked into the nursery to take Edward’s hairbrush away. A single hair, she had since learned, was all it took to prove parentage.

  She would never have denied Kahlil the chance to know his son. She had just never expected to see the man she’d known as Kahl again. And never in her wildest dreams had she anticipated finding him here in Abadan, heir to the throne of one of the world’s richest countries.

  Kahlil might be a sheikh, and all-powerful in his own land, but that did not weaken her resolve. She would agree to equal parenting rights, but based on the laws of her own country, not Abadan. To achieve this she had get Edward back home, whatever it took.

  Lucy’s lips whitened as she thought of the many difficulties she would have to overcome in order to escape. She only had to think of the armed guards on the nursery door to know she was taking a huge risk. But remembering the Sheikh of Abadan’s outrageous offer of money in exchange for Edward strengthened her determination. He might be a fine old man, and beloved by his people, but he had no idea how a mother felt in defence of her child. Wherever she went, Edward went too. And she would keep him safe, with or without the help of his royal relatives.

  Similar situations must have arisen before, Lucy told herself. There would be ways of dealing with the problem, and people who could advise her once she got back home. But first she had to prepare herself for the meeting with Kahlil. She would deal with business, and then finalise her escape plan. There would never be a better time. Kahlil and his father were convinced she could be bent to their will, manipulated, bought off, sent packing—they were complacent, and now was the time to strike.

  And strike she would, Lucy thought fiercely, putting the final touches to her make-up.

  Kahlil paced the floor of his royal apartment, hands linked behind his back, in a state of brilliantly controlled fury. His father was like a tiger that could never be tamed. He was forced to admire his pluck, his unquestioned courage, and his determination to rule as if he was still that same warrior king of half a century ago, but there was no question that he had overreached himself this time.

  From the moment Kahlil had discovered Edward’s DNA had been tested by removing his soft-bristled baby brush from the nursery he had been in a state of simmering fury. It hadn’t eased his anger to know that Edward had never been touched. He had given his word to Lucy that nothing would be done without her consent. And his word was his bond. But his father had ridden roughshod over that promise, ordering the test to be carried out regardless of anyone’s wishes but his own.

  It was indefensible. Edward was a small child, unable to protect himself. His parents should have been consulted—he should have been consulted, Kahlil amended swiftly, for he now knew for sure that he was Edward’s father.

  He turned abruptly as the door opened and Lucy came in. She walked forward, braving a stare that would have stopped many a man in their tracks. But she could not be put off so easily, Kahlil reflected. She finally drew to a halt close enough for him to catch the scent of jasmine. He had to admit she looked beautiful—exquisite. He had never seen her looking so feminine, or so desirable. A muscle worked in his jaw as he wished momentarily that things could have been different between them. But she was white-faced and drawn as taut as a bowstring. This was not a time to be softening towards her.

  ‘Thank you for coming—’ he began courteously, but she held up one hand and cut him off.

  ‘Don’t even try to explain away the armed guard who steps in front of me every time I try to see my son,’ she said crisply. ‘And don’t waste your time trying to find some excuse for violating Edward’s rights. No wonder you avoid seeing me. I’d be apprehensive if I were you—in fact, I’d be scared.’

  ‘Scared?’ Kahlil queried icily. He wanted to drag her to him and force her to apologise, but somehow he controlled the impulse. ‘I don’t know the meaning of that word.’ To his utter astonishment, he was forced to catch hold of her striking arm. ‘Would you hit me?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘Would you dare to raise your hand to me?’

  Lucy rested still for a moment, panti
ng. She knew she couldn’t escape. She knew she had gone too far. ‘You don’t frighten me, Kahlil.’

  ‘Then you’re very foolish.’ He turned away from her with an angry sound, ashamed of rising to the provocation, but knowing he must concede that his father had overstepped the mark. ‘There is no excuse for what has happened,’ he said, tugging Lucy a little closer for emphasis. ‘The only explanation I can give is that Edward’s safety is paramount.’

  ‘You promised me,’ Lucy said tensely. ‘You promised nothing would be done as far as Edward is concerned without my consent.’

  She saw Kahlil’s gaze sharpen. Could he feel the change in her body as he held her to him? Even while she railed at him Lucy knew she was losing control. Kahlil was the enemy, and yet still she wanted him. It didn’t make sense; nothing made sense, Lucy raged inwardly, wrenching out of his grasp. She took a few rapid steps away, rubbing her arms as if he had hurt her. But he had used barely enough force to keep her still. She was just so wretchedly confused.

  ‘The tests were carried out without my knowledge or consent. My father gave the order while I was out of the palace. The people responsible received no contradictory directions from myself—how could they,’ Kahlil reasoned, ‘when I wasn’t there to consult? And therefore they went ahead without my knowledge—’

  ‘I am Edward’s mother!’ Lucy cut in angrily. ‘Why didn’t someone come to ask me how I felt about it?’

  ‘Here in Abadan, my father’s word is law. And forgive me, Lucy,’ Kahlil added, a flash of humour momentarily brightening his gaze, ‘but it would never have occurred to my father’s servants to consult you, a mere woman.’

  ‘A mere woman,’ Lucy repeated, staring up at him coldly. ‘I trust you don’t feel the same way?’ She wondered why his slow smile should make her feel even more anxious and suspicious.

  ‘My father’s servants are all from his era. I can assure you they hold very different views to the Abadanese men of today.’

  His voice vibrated through her like a soft, harmonious chord: a chord she was determined not to hear. ‘And I suppose you consider yourself to be in the latter camp?’ Lucy said derisively, but she felt Kahlil’s warm breath on her neck bringing all the tiny hairs to attention.

  ‘I do,’ he agreed softly.

  Lucy broke eye contact fast.

  ‘A single hair from Edward’s hairbrush was all that was required,’ Kahlil said to reassure her. ‘It hardly constitutes an assault.’

  ‘Even so—’

  ‘Enough of that,’ he said impatiently, breaking away. ‘I asked you to come here so that we could discuss the future of our son. But if you’re not interested in hearing what I have to say—’

  ‘Of course I’m interested.’

  ‘Very well. Then why don’t we sit down like two civilised people and discuss this calmly?’ And then they could continue on smoothly to the subject of Lucy’s terms for becoming his mistress, Kahlil mused with satisfaction.

  Lucy barely rested on the edge of a hard-backed chair. ‘Well?’ she prompted. ‘What is it you wish to say to me? Though, be warned, I’m in no mood for compromise after the way my trust has been abused.’

  ‘We both want the best for Edward,’ Kahlil pointed out. He had imposed a compromise upon his father. Lucy would stay in Abadan. In return she would be allowed to keep Edward. If she refused, Edward would stay without her. The simple solutions were always the best. His people would demand nothing less.

  But there was no reason for unpleasantness. He had already determined a way by which she could not only be persuaded to stay, but would do so willingly. And he wanted her to stay, Kahlil knew, feeling his senses quicken at the sight of Lucy’s upturned face. Even animated by fury and suspicion she was irresistible. She was consumed by passion, and it had brought a flush to her pale cheeks a flush he would have preferred to impose some other way. He wanted her. He wanted Lucy Benson to stay in Abadan. He wanted her to be his mistress, and to share his bed, but for now…

  ‘Your work has been well received,’ he said, skilfully redirecting the conversation. ‘There is talk of you doing more.’

  ‘How can you bear to discuss that now?’

  ‘You will be forced to stay here a little longer.’

  ‘Forced?’ Lucy repeated tensely. ‘I will not be forced to do anything. I will take the return flight I have booked, and return to Abadan as my work here demands. I have other commitments back home.’

  ‘You will not leave until you have finished here,’ Kahlil countered. ‘You will not forget your commitment to Abadan.’

  ‘Forget?’ Lucy said incredulously. ‘How can I forget anything about Abadan? How can I forget the fact that I have a son whose father is Sheikh of Abadan? A son who, even now, is behind locked doors with an armed guard standing outside?’

  ‘For his own protection,’ Kahlil reminded her.

  ‘And you really think that’s the way I want him to live?’

  ‘It is merely a precaution.’

  ‘To protect him from whom?’ Lucy said, her voice rising when Kahlil didn’t reply. ‘No, don’t tell me. I already know. There is no danger to the royal family here in Abadan. This country is as stable as it could be. “The people prosper under the benign reign of the Saeed al-Sharif family,”’ she said, quoting directly from one of the many articles she had read.

  ‘Well done,’ Kahlil murmured sardonically.

  ‘I did my homework before I came here, Kahlil,’ Lucy said. ‘So please don’t try to fob me off with excuses. The only possible danger to Edward would come from outsiders. And as far as you and your father are concerned I am the only outsider in the palace. I can only conclude that you think you’re protecting Edward from me!’

  She was approaching hysteria, Lucy realised, stopping herself when she heard the panic in her voice. Her cheeks were burning with emotion, and she knew she had already said far too much. Her desperation might put thoughts into Kahlil’s head—he might guess she was thinking about escape.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ he said coldly. ‘The fact that I have a son did come as a shock. And the implications for any son of mine are immense. Let me finish,’ he insisted, when Lucy started to interrupt. ‘As for my father, his reaction was typical of his generation. Things were very different in his day. He was as shocked as I was to learn he has a grandson. The guards make him feel comfortable—’

  ‘Comfortable?’ Lucy shook her head in amazement, wondering how anyone could find armed guards comforting.

  ‘He is only trying to protect Edward. It’s his way of showing he accepts him into the family.’

  Ice ran through Lucy at the implications of that. She felt as if she was hanging on to Edward by her fingertips whilst a whole army of Saeed Al-Sharifs pulled him the other way.

  ‘We both want the best for Edward,’ Kahlil said, reclaiming her attention.

  It was ironic. They were going to discuss Edward’s future, the one thing that joined them, and yet she had never felt greater distance between them. ‘Yes,’ Lucy agreed tensely, ‘we do.’

  Deftly arranging his robes, Kahlil sat stiffly facing her. ‘You shall have complete freedom while you are in Abadan.’

  ‘Freedom?’ Lucy repeated faintly. All her life she had taken her freedom for granted. She realised now how precious it was.

  ‘You will, of course, have a bodyguard with you at all times.’

  ‘Ah,’ she murmured, feeling as if a trap was closing around her.

  ‘You must be patient,’ Kahlil said, reading at least some of her thoughts. ‘You must trust me.’

  ‘Trust you?’ Lucy repeated softly, flaring a wounded glance into his eyes. Had he forgotten what had happened between them on the first occasion they’d met? Had he forgotten how he’d left her—how he had disappeared out of her life without a trace?

  ‘Of course,’ he said impatiently, frowning a little.

  ‘But I have airline tickets to take us home.’

  ‘This is Edward’s home,’ Kahlil pointed out
.

  Once the official announcement was broadcast over the Abadanese airwaves the die would be cast, he reflected, watching Lucy closely. Then she would have to be far more open to any suggestions he made. His people would never countenance a child so close to the throne of Abadan leaving them to live in another country.

  ‘You may leave whenever you wish,’ he said smoothly.

  Lucy stifled a gasp. Kahlil’s meaning couldn’t have been driven home with a sharper knife. She could go if she liked, but Edward would stay behind. She meant nothing to him, Lucy realised as she searched Kahlil’s face. Having provided him with an heir, like one of his brood mares, she was now surplus to requirements.

  What she saw was a cold, hard man. As far as Sheikh Kahlil ben Saeed Al-Sharif was concerned, with or without her, the path to claiming his son was clear. She had to get Edward away—she had to get them both away, as fast as she could.

  ‘If you have pressing business to attend to back home,’ Kahlil continued levelly, as if they were discussing nothing more than that, ‘you are of course free to leave Abadan the moment your contract here is completed.’

  ‘With Edward?’ Lucy tried one last time.

  Kahlil remained silent.

  ‘I will never leave Abadan without my son.’

  ‘Then you will never leave Abadan.’

  His words were like individual hammer blows, each one crushing her hope. But she had to stay strong—she had to stay strong for Edward.

  ‘I’m sure we can find plenty to keep you happy here,’ Kahlil observed.

  Lucy was beyond speech, beyond argument. She could see Kahlil was growing restless as he laid out his master plan for her captivity. After all, she mused bitterly, it was only the small matter of her liberty and that of their son Edward under discussion—why should Sheikh Kahlil waste too much time over it?