And honestly, Mackenzie could see why. She hadn’t said a word about whether or not the wedding would go on. She’d only invited Mackenzie in as if the two women were old friends.
“Mackenzie!” Sahr was always warm and welcoming. “Any progress today?”
“I promise, Sahr, I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.” Peter had written a long email about the latest developments, and with every line she read, Mackenzie grew more excited.
“Oh, stop.” Sahr came to sit next to her on the sofa. “I take it you got some good news.”
“Yes.” Mackenzie scanned the email again, then laughed. “It’s so simple. Peter’s found a law that’s on the books in both countries—a loophole—and I’ve got all the facts and research to exploit it.”
Sahr grinned. “That sounds like something out of a spy novel.”
“It’s not.” Mackenzie leaned back against the sofa, thrilled. “Both countries have a law that says that if someone has occupied a plot of land continuously for three years or more, without anyone else making a claim during that time, then the land belongs to the occupant.”
Sahr’s eyebrows rose. “It can’t be that simple.”
“It is. I have records of the women’s shelter going back ten years. And with all the problems people have faced in that time, the shelter has never been empty. Not even for a day.”
“So you’re saying that the women in the shelter would technically own the land?”
“Not exactly.” Mackenzie smiled broadly. “It’s better than that. Technically, the NGO owns the land. They’ve been administering the shelter for the last five years. It only helps our case that women and children have been living there continuously for a decade.”
Sahr laughed. “You’re too smart for your own good.”
She meant it kindly, but it still stung. Mackenzie had been too smart—too passionate—to stay with Issam, and it hurt. But this was more important than a love affair that would have burned out anyway. And after her work with the shelter was done, she could leave Al-Dashalid and escape her punishment.
“It’s an ancient law,” Mackenzie said finally. It was at least as ancient as the one proscribing the punishment for damaging the mosque. “It hasn’t been enforced in a long time, but that won’t be a problem. In fact, it’ll be the perfect solution.”
“Will it?”
“Neither country will get an advantage,” Mackenzie said simply. “The NGO owns the land, so they can hire guards from both countries to protect the site. The women’s shelter will be secure. And the rest of the land will no longer be an issue. Al-Madiza and Al-Dashalid can both post forces there, if they like. But they won’t be fighting over the fort any longer.”
Sahr clapped her hands. “So that’s that.”
“That’s that.” Mackenzie stretched and stood, going over to the window to watch the sun setting over the city. “There’s only one thing left to do.”
“What’s that?”
“I have to present this to both Issam and my brother-in-law. I’ll have to tell them that neither one will be getting any advantage over the other regarding the land; they have to work together.”
Sahr came to stand beside her, and for a moment they looked silently out at the ancient buildings sprawled before them. The city had seemed close and threatening to Mackenzie a few minutes before, but now that the problem of the women’s shelter was very nearly put to rest, she felt a strange twist of affection for Al-Dashalid. Nothing had turned out the way she thought it would. But then again, when did it ever?
“Men don’t often like to be presented with a choice like that,” Sahr mused.
“They won’t have much of a choice. The fort belongs to the NGO. And Issam doesn’t want to go to war. I doubt my brother-in-law does either. So…” Mackenzie felt it again—that prickling sensation. “There it is again.”
“There’s what?”
She put her hand on the back of her neck. “I have the strangest feeling, like someone is watching me. All the time. It’s creepy.”
“Oh,” said Sahr. “Someone’s definitely watching you.”
“What?”
Al-Dashalid’s best florist laughed. “Haven’t you noticed the patrol cars? Or the bodyguards blending in in the lobby?”
“No, I—I guess I haven’t been looking. I haven’t been out much.”
Sahr gestured toward the top of the nearest building. There was a flash of black—someone moving quickly behind the ledge. “The palace has sent security to watch over us. I don’t think they’re ever off duty.”
“Unbelievable,” Mackenzie breathed. Her heart picked up the pace. Maybe Issam did still care for her. Maybe he cared for her more than he had let on, and that was why he was still sending his men to make sure she was safe.
Or maybe it was the opposite.
Mackenzie fought against a sick sense of dread. Maybe he was only making sure that she was still in the country so that her punishment could be carried out.
No. That couldn’t be it. She thought of his hands on her body, and despite her fear, she felt a rush of desire. Surely, that’s not what Issam was doing.
Sahr turned away from the window first. “Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering in.”
“I would love that,” Mackenzie said, mind racing.
“Are you sure? I haven’t even said what I’d order,” Sahr said with a laugh.
“I’ll love it, I’m sure.”
“It’s okay, you know.”
“What’s okay?” She turned to the florist, who had already pulled out her phone and prepared to order dinner.
“That he’s on your mind like this.”
“Our—” Mackenzie waved a hand in the air. “I wasn’t thinking of Issam. Only plans for the shelter, and how much we have to—”
“Never give up hope,” Sahr said. Then, “Hello? Yes, I’d like to place an order for delivery…”
She was right. There was hope.
There was also only one way to find out what Issam was thinking.
One final meeting.
19
Mackenzie’s gut churned. If even one of the men escorting her locked his hand around her elbow, she thought she might scream. But she didn’t let any of it show on her face. She had put on her best lawyer expression, lips pressed together, head held high. It was only on the inside that her nervousness ran wild. It didn’t help that it felt so much like being escorted down to that holding cell on her first day in Al-Dashalid.
This time, the handsome Sheikh Issam might not bail her out. He might be waiting to take her back to that very place after the meeting with the leader of Al-Madiza. Which was not guaranteed to go well. It was, after all, with her brother-in-law.
Don’t think about it, she commanded herself.
The two guards on either side of her walked quickly through the palace, leading her down familiar hallways to Issam’s rooms. But instead of turning into the private area, they turned into a meeting room she hadn’t seen before.
Issam sat at the opposite end of a long meeting table, talking to one of his men. Bahir, she thought his name was. Two other men were passing cables back and forth to set up the link between the two countries. It was like Skype, but a secure version, and for whatever reason this setup took more wiring.
The bodyguards fell back, and Mackenzie was left to walk by herself to the other end of the room.
Issam turned toward her, and her heart, already pounding, leaped up into her throat. Those dark eyes—they burned, even now.
Don’t let it show.
She gave him a crisp nod and sat down across from him. “Sheikh Issam.”
“Mackenzie,” he said, and his voice was rough, as if he had been trying to hold in his feelings for too long. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but then the men were done with the cables and the call was connecting. There was no time.
President Mulazim, her brother-in-law, appeared on the screen, and Mackenzie was on deck.
The two men exchang
ed greetings she hardly heard, and then, with a nod from Bahir, she was in the spotlight.
“I’ve been working closely with the NGO that’s been servicing the women’s shelter at the fort, and based on the legal systems of Al-Dashalid and Al-Madiza, we’ve reached the conclusion that there is only one viable solution.” She sketched out the laws in both countries, watching the men’s expression. Issam watched her with—was it pride in his eyes? And Mulazim looked furious. “So, in keeping with those legal precedents, the fort itself—including the women’s shelter—is owned by the NGO.”
“What does that mean for us?” Mulazim burst out. “Mackenzie, if this is another one of your schemes—”
“It’s not a scheme,” she said coolly. “It’s the law. Now.” She turned her attention back to Issam, as if he were the only person who truly mattered. “The rest of the land is still as yet unoccupied. My proposal is that Al-Madiza and Al-Dashalid split it equally. You can send whichever forces you’d like to patrol your portions. Neither one of you will have an advantage over the other.”
“Unacceptable,” blustered Mulazim. “I’m supposed to give up the fort to Sheikh Issam’s administration? I’m not prepared to—”
“It’s the only way,” interrupted Issam. “The women and children in the shelter cannot be moved without significant risk.”
Mackenzie’s heart swelled as Issam kept speaking. He had heard her, after all. All those times she had thought she was being dismissed, he’d been listening. And now he was using her information in the very negotiation she’d wanted to be part of so badly.
“It’s the only way forward, Mulazim,” Issam said finally. “Mackenzie has done us all a favor. Neither of our countries will lose face, and we can finally focus our attentions where they should be—on Caldad.”
“A favor,” Mulazim said, his irritation plain on his face. “I’m losing half the land—”
“No, you’re not,” said Issam. “Even if the NGO didn’t step in and take ownership of the fort, Al-Dashalid would still have a stronger claim to the area because of the maintenance we’ve performed over the years. It would count under the law as fortification. You know it as well as I do.”
Mulazim frowned. “We need military protection from Caldad. So do you.”
“And we’ll both have it. But we also need to protect the women’s shelter. The lives of the women and children there are more important than posturing.”
Even Mulazim couldn’t argue with that. Not to Issam’s face, anyway. He deflated a little. “Fine. I’ll agree to splitting the remaining land. But only if we can work out a schedule for our troops to move in at the same time. I don’t want—”
“I understand,” said Issam. “We must present a united front to Caldad even as we work out the details among ourselves. Are you ready to sign the document we’ve sent over?”
“I have it right here.” Mulazim lifted a paper from the desk in front of him, then turned to one of his aides. “Pen? Come on. I don’t have much time.”
He scribbled his signature onto the paper, and Mackenzie let out a sigh of relief. The women’s shelter would be protected. Now she only had to protect herself by getting out of Al-Dashalid.
Still, sitting across from Issam made it difficult. She could smell his scent on the air and wanted badly to straddle him where he sat.
The two men wished each other well, and Mulazim promised to have the signed agreement sent by courier that day.
Then the screen flicked off. Activity hummed around them as the secure link was dismantled, and Mackenzie stood.
“Wait.”
One word from Issam brought all the activity to a halt. Everyone turned to look at him. Mackenzie couldn’t tear her eyes from his face.
“Leave us. Mackenzie, you stay.”
Within fifteen seconds, the room had cleared.
Mackenzie cleared her throat. “Thank you for supporting me,” she said with a rueful little laugh. “I hadn’t realized you’d been listening.” Her throat tightened again, aching, as if she might cry.
“I wasn’t.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t listening.” Hurt wrote itself across Issam’s face. “I was trying so hard to win this battle on my own that I didn’t realize what I was losing.”
Her breath caught.
“I’ve spent the last few days devouring your research.” He stepped around the table, and all of Mackenzie’s body ached to touch him. “I made a mistake. I made terrible errors, Mackenzie. This could have been done and over with two weeks ago if I’d listened to you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” Issam shook his head. “It took your absence to make me see that. But I have seen that, and—” His jaw tightened. “I’ll do anything.”
“You should hire someone smarter than me to join your team, then,” Mackenzie said. “If you want to prevent this from happening in the future.”
“I’ll do anything for you.” Issam’s voice was raw. “I’ll do anything to keep you here. My heart—” He put a hand to his chest. “My heart was a mess without you, and my head was worse. You’re the light in my life, Mackenzie. I thought it could be a business arrangement between us, but I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.”
He knelt down in front of her, the way he would have if he’d actually proposed, and held his hands up. “I love you,” he said, and she could tell it was real, it was true, just by the feeling in his voice. “You made me a better man. And I’ll work every day to prove that to you. Just…stay.”
Mackenzie’s eyes filled with tears of relief and joy. “What if I don’t want to stay in Al-Dashalid?” It sounded a little petulant, but she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “What if I’d rather go somewhere else?”
“Then I’ll take you.”
“You can’t take me anywhere on your knees.”
Issam was on his feet in an instant, towering above her, and she stepped into his arms. He swept her up into them without hesitation and crushed his mouth to hers, exploring her with such heat that it was like the first time, all over again.
When she came up for air, Mackenzie only had three words on her lips. “I love you.”
“I thought you’d never say it.”
“I love you,” she said again, and then another thought occurred to her. “Issam…oh, no—”
“What is it? What could possibly be wrong?” He laughed out loud, and she felt it through his grip.
“Are we still getting married?” All those wedding plans. All those invitations.
His eyes shone. “I didn’t call it off,” he said. “I held out hope that you’d come back. But this time—”
“Yes?”
“Marry me for love, would you?”
“I will,” said Mackenzie. “Of course I will. I love you.”
Then she leaned in to kiss him again, long and deep, the best new beginning she could hope for.
Epilogue
“Happy birthday, dear Issam, happy birthday to you!”
Issam stood in the center of a gathering of all his family and blew out the candles on a completely American birthday cake. Mackenzie’s cheer when they were out was the loudest of all. He looked up from the cake and drank in the sight of her in her wedding dress. She saw the look in his eyes and pulled him in for a kiss, right there in front of everyone.
It was his birthday, it was their wedding day, and everything was perfect.
Kyril was the first to step forward, clapping a hand on Issam’s shoulder. “Congratulations, brother.” He turned and kissed Mackenzie on the cheeks. “I don’t know whether I should congratulate you or warn you—you’re officially part of the family now.”
“Oh, no!” Mackenzie joked, and Kyril laughed.
“I hope you won’t be angry if I add to the celebration.”
“What?” Issam cut in. “Are you getting re-married?”
Hannah stepped in beside Kyril, eyes shining. “No, he literally meant that we want to add to the celebration.”
Issam stared at her blankly.
“I’m pregnant!” she cried, and then Kyril gathered her up in a hug that telegraphed all his joy. He was practically bursting with it.
“On my wedding day?” Issam groused, but then he shook his brother’s hand and laughed.
“What’s this?” said Rami, joining the little clutch of siblings with his wife Catelyn and their adorable baby daughter Maya. The jet-setting trio were only in Al-Dashalid for a few weeks, and they were making the most of it. “More celebrating?”
“Kyril can’t keep his hands off Hannah,” Issam told them.
“Well, we knew that,” said Catelyn, and then she caught Hannah’s glance and understood. “Oh! Oh, congratulations!”
Hannah hugged her, then stepped back. “You two will have to visit more. Especially if—you know.”
“Especially if what? Is it twins?”
Hannah shook her head with a horrified look. “No, no. I meant…if Issam and Mackenzie—”
Mackenzie screeched with laughter. “We’ve been married five minutes!”
“I’m only saying,” Kyril said, “it’s possible to get a head start. We’re already on three—so you all have some catching up to do.”
All of them laughed, and it was their laughter that drew Daya and Zafir to the table in the middle of the wedding crowd. Daya had tears in her eyes.
“It’s just so wonderful,” she said, and at that moment Adira spun herself out of the crowd.
“Mama, why are you crying? It’s a wedding!”
Daya wiped at her eyes. “Because all of you are so happy and successful.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Adira.
“Don’t pretend like you haven’t been swooning over that young man,” Daya scolded. “Kyril, keep an eye on her while we’re gone.”
“Gone?” said Issam. “You just got back!” It was true. Daya and Zafir had gone an afternoon outing to beat the wedding stress, and they’d come back in time for the festivities to begin.
Zafir beamed at his son. “Your ceremony was so wonderful. So full of love,” he said.
“It reminded us—” Daya began, and that was enough for Issam.
The Sheikh’s Fierce Fiancée: Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid Book Three Page 10
