by Cara Albany
"Son," Tahira said. "It is good to have you home," she said hugging Zaheer.
Zaheer faced Becca. "Mother, may I introduce you to Becca Wallace."
Tahira came to Becca, taking her by surprise by hugging with just as much enthusiasm as she'd just given to Zaheer.
"Becca. It is such a joy to welcome you to our family home," Tahira said.
Becca smiled. "Thank you for having me here," she said.
She saw Zaheer bow formally to his father, Abbas. "Father," was all Zaheer said.
Abbas bowed to Zaheer. "My son. You've been gone a while," he observed.
Becca saw Zaheer glance hesitantly toward her. "I'm here now, father," he said.
"That is good," Abbas replied.
Zaheer's father appeared to be in his late fifties, Becca guessed. But he was a strong looking man, features set in a dignified, steady gaze. There was what Becca guessed to be a permanently defiant expression on his face. Echoes of the same expression she'd seen plenty of times on Zaheer's face.
Abbas wore traditional garb, his white robes flowing to his ankles. His head was partially covered with the loose hood of the robe, and a dark headband was tied around his head.
Abbas examined Becca briefly. She felt a sudden sense of being assessed. Then as quickly as it had appeared the sensation was gone as Zaheer slid a hand behind Becca's back, edging her forward to Abbas.
"Father, may I introduce Becca," Zaheer said with more than a hint of pride in his voice.
The corner of Abbas' mouth creased into the flicker of a smile. He bowed his head, and didn't attempt to hug Becca. Maybe he was observing some kind of unspoken protocol, Becca told herself.
"Sheikh Al Shirah," Becca said bowing her head.
Becca glanced at Zaheer and saw that he was watching her intently. Had she done the right thing? She'd asked him on the plane about what would be the right approach to meeting his parents. He'd just told her to be herself. As if that was any help!
Abbas placed his hand flat on his chest and peered steadily at Becca. "Our home is your home," he announced.
Becca was sure the color drained from her face as she heard those words. Her gaze flickered to Zaheer who didn't show any reaction at all.
"It is indeed," Zaheer's mother added smiling at Becca. Tahira slid a hand into Becca's arm and started to lead her up the stairs, away from the two men who were already starting to talk in quiet tones.
"You must be tired after your journey," Tahira said.
Becca shook her head. "No. I was amazed at how short the flight was," she said looking at Tahira.
"How did you enjoy the island?" Tahira asked.
Becca tried to hide her immediate reaction to that question. Just how much did everyone know about her being in Qazhar? How much had Zaheer told people about her? It seemed she was about to find out.
"It was beautiful," Becca replied, eager to not sound in any way disappointed that she wasn't there, alone with Zaheer, right now.
"I haven't been to the island," Tahira said as they continued on up the stairs. "But I have heard it is very lovely. Karim is lucky to have that place as a retreat," she said. "But, then again he does have a lot of responsibility, so it must be good to have somewhere to go to when he needs to get away."
Becca simply nodded, unsure how to react to that summary of Karim's life.
"Of course, you met his lovely American wife, Erin," Tahira said as they reached the top of the steps and paused, waiting for Zaheer and Abbas to catch up.
Becca nodded, not replying immediately as she watched the two men. They already seemed to be deep in conversation. Their expressions were serious. Zaheer glanced up at Becca and smiled weakly. But, she could tell he was preoccupied and they'd only just arrived, Becca told herself.
Becca felt a little tug at her arm and she looked at Tahira, who had a questioning expression on her face.
Becca sighed. "Sorry, I was miles away there. You were saying?"
Tahira smiled. "I was talking about Erin. Karim's American wife."
Becca nodded. "She was so nice to me on the island. Made me feel right at home."
"And there are many other American wives in Qazhar now," Tahira added. "It seems to have become quite a thing in Qazhar society. I have to tell you, it is just about the only thing anyone talks about these days."
Becca squinted at Tahira inquiringly.
"When is Qazhar going to have its next American bride," she explained.
Becca felt her face flush. She knew the reaction hadn't gone unnoticed by Zaheer's mother. Becca just nodded quickly, trying to appear as if the whole subject hadn't even occurred to her.
They all walked into the palace and paused in the hallway. Becca was mesmerized by the beauty of the interior. It truly was like a palace out of a dream.
High vaulted ceilings and the wide staircase leading to the upper level created an incredible sense of space, like something she'd only ever felt in a church. Two words came to mind instantly. Exotic and alien. She felt as if she'd entered another world.
The floors were of marble and there were two corridors, lined with pillars, which stretched away toward the rear of the palace. On either side of the entrance hall, doorways opened into spacious rooms. The air was cooler in here, and Becca was relieved to be out of the heat.
"I'll get one of the servants to show you to your room," Tahira said.
Becca stiffened. "My room?" she asked, trying to contain the shock in her voice. Zaheer hadn't told her about this. In fact, he'd agreed with Becca when she'd said she was looking forward to seeing Zaheer's own palace again, after all these years. She'd even tried to tease him about whether it would still look like a bachelor's palace. He'd laughed at that, but shown no hint that they would be staying with his parents. None at all.
Tahira looked toward Zaheer. "Didn't you mention to Becca that you'd both be staying with us, Zaheer?"
Zaheer hesitated and looked suddenly awkward. As if to cover for her son's obvious unease, Tahira leaned closer to Becca. "I've given you a lovely room that looks out over the best part of the garden," she explained.
Becca was still lost for words. She contained the impulse to glare at Zaheer. Didn't he realize that this was the last thing she wanted? Staying with his parents? That hadn't been on the agenda. Not at all. Talk about awkward!
Finally sensing she had to say something, in fact anything to disguise her dismay, Becca forced herself to say: "Why, thank you. That sounds lovely." It didn't sound too convincing, she had to admit.
Zaheer was led away by Abbas before Becca had a chance to throw another icy look in his direction.
Then she was walking upstairs alongside Tahira, who was chatting away, as if nothing was amiss.
If only she knew, Becca said to herself as they reached the top of the stairs and started down the corridor.
How on earth was she going to survive even one night in this palace?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
He'd spoiled everything now, Zaheer told himself, as his father guided him toward the sofa in the middle of the room. The way Becca had looked at him a few moments ago told Zaheer everything he needed to know about what would be waiting for him later when he saw her again.
Why hadn't he told Becca they'd be staying at his parent's palace? He'd deliberated long and hard about that before leaving the island. And, he'd come to one conclusion. The only conclusion that ensured Becca would come with Zaheer to Qazhar. To his parents' palace.
He'd decided in favor of keeping that revelation until they were already here. Until it was too late for her to pull out.
Why had he chosen that option?
It was simple, really. He'd worried that if he'd told her, she would have demanded Zaheer take her right back to the island. Or even worse, all the way back to New York.
He understood what this might mean to her. Meeting the parents meant the same no matter what part of the world you came from, Zaheer told himself. He figured Becca might feel he was trying to draw her deeper in
to his family life. She'd already complained that everything was moving too fast. He understood that.
Zaheer sat down on the sofa and leaned back, trying to appear unruffled. But, he was sure his father would have noticed Zaheer's little wordless exchange with Becca. Zaheer knew his father was perceptive, that he could notice tensions between people.
Abbas was an expert negotiator. He could read people like a book. It came from years of working with tribal leaders and elite, powerful families. In his position as a powerbroker in Qazhar, Zaheer's father was held in high regard by many of the upper echelons of Qazhar society.
Zaheer knew that, one day, it would be his destiny to assume that mantle of power. But not yet, he told himself. He had other things to do before settling down into that life.
Abbas settled himself down on the sofa opposite. Overhead fans cooled the spacious, white-walled room. The doors to the terrace were closed to keep out the growing heat of the day. Zaheer could feel the heat at his collar. Was that just worry about what he would say later to Becca? Or was the heat Zaheer felt actually in anticipation about what his father was going to say to him?
Abbas arranged his robes making himself more comfortable. He gazed across at Zaheer. There was something different about his father. Zaheer hadn't really noticed it until now. But, the way his father was sitting, made Zaheer suddenly, and very keenly, aware that something had changed.
Abbas drew in a slow breath and nodded. "It is good to see you, Zaheer," he said. In contrast to outside on the steps, here in the sitting room, his father's voice sounded weaker. It was as if he had to force every word out.
"Are you well, father?" Zaheer asked, trying to contain the sudden concern he felt.
Abbas held himself stiff and upright. He peered at Zaheer. "I am as well as someone of my years can reasonably expect," he said.
Zaheer scoffed. "You're not that old."
"Old enough, my son," Abbas said evenly.
"Is this why you called me here?"
Abbas' brows lifted. "To tell you news of my health? Is that what you mean?"
Zaheer shifted uneasily on the sofa. "I merely say what I see," he said.
"And what do you see?" his father asked, a hint of defiance in his voice.
Zaheer paused before speaking. He'd always been able to speak freely with his father. Abbas had encouraged his elder son to be forthright and direct in his dealings with people. He'd expect nothing less in answer to that question.
"I see my father," Zaheer said leaning forward. "And, if I'm honest, I see you are not the man I have known all my life." It pained Zaheer to say those words, but he knew he'd had to say them.
Abbas shrugged and waved a hand dismissively. "It is nothing. I have had worse than this," he said.
"Than what?" Zaheer probed.
Abbas sighed heavily and looked down. After a long moment he looked up sharply at Zaheer, a forced brightness in his gaze. "The details are not important."
"They are to me, father," Zaheer said, sudden emotion taking hold of him. He hated to see his father like this. His entire life, Zaheer had looked up to his father as a pillar of strength, an example to follow in everything. And now? The man who sat before him had a shadow at his shoulder.
"You won't tell me what the problem is?" Zaheer asked forcefully.
Abbas smiled. "I can see you've lost none of your defiant spirit," he said with a hint of pride in his low voice. "That is good," he added softly.
"I am your son," Zaheer declared.
"My eldest," Abbas murmured. He breathed out heavily and his shoulders sagged slightly. Zaheer was about to go across to his father, but Abbas straightened and peered across at Zaheer. "And it is because you're my eldest that I have chosen to call you here," he said.
"Why?"
Abbas sighed. He peered into Zaheer's eyes. There was determination in that gaze, Zaheer told himself. "It is time," Abbas announced.
Zaheer squinted at Abbas. "Time for what?"
Abbas gave Zaheer a kindly smile. "You know, my son." Abbas seemed to examine Zaheer, scrutinizing his features as if seeing Zaheer in a fresh light. "I can see that I have brought you up well," he said. He smiled. "Even though I say so myself," he joked.
Zaheer smiled, relieved that his father still at least retained a glimmer of his good humor. "You have always been a good father to me."
Abbas straightened. He always had been uncomfortable when it came to accepting compliments. But, Zaheer had meant what he'd said. Abbas had been the best father he could possibly have asked for.
"What do you want of me, father?" Zaheer asked.
Abbas paused, thoughtful for a long moment. Then his brows furrowed. "Tell me about this young woman you have brought to our home," he said.
Zaheer was taken aback. He hadn't expected his father to show such interest. Normally, in the past, Abbas would have been patient, even slightly dismissive of Zaheer's choice of female companions. Zaheer recalled the many instances in the past when his father had, with a stern look, expressed disapproval of Zaheer's choice of women. But that hadn't happened this time, Zaheer observed.
"Becca is a friend I knew a few years ago," Zaheer explained.
Abbas lifted his head. "A previous liaison?" he asked.
Zaheer tilted his head. "More than that," he replied.
Abbas' features steadied. "How much more?"
Zaheer could see from the earnestness of his father expression that he was serious about knowing more about Becca.
"A great deal more," Zaheer said firmly.
Abbas nodded. "I see," he said. There was a long pause during which Zaheer wanted to say so much more about Becca. He wanted to tell his father what Becca meant to him; what he intended to do; even why she had agreed to come here. There were never any secrets between Zaheer and his father. Trust was absolute between father and son.
But he held back, controlling the impulse to share all that about Becca.
"You have serious intentions regarding Becca?" Abbas asked.
Zaheer shifted uncomfortably at the suddenness of the question. "I do," he admitted.
Abbas nodded slowly. Zaheer felt his heart racing as he waited for his father's response. It seemed to take an eternity, but when it came it was delivered in a steady, even voice. "I can see that you have strong feelings for Becca," Abbas said.
Containing the urge to tell his father just how strong those feelings were, Zaheer simply nodded stiffly. "She means a great deal to me."
Abbas nodded. "And you are sure about this?"
Zaheer drew in a deep breath and sighed, feeling the tension ease in his body. "As sure as I have been about anything in my life. I love this woman," Zaheer's voice was filled with certainty. "She means everything to me."
Abbas nodded sagely. His brows furrowed and he seemed to take a long time considering his next words. Then he spoke: "That was clear to me when you arrived."
Zaheer looked inquiringly at his father. Had it been so obvious?
Abbas saw Zaheer's reaction. "You forget that I know what it means to understand that a woman you love is destined to be by your side." Abbas smiled and his gaze softened as if he was remembering past times. "I recall when I met your mother," he said softly. "It was for me then as it so obviously is for you now."
Zaheer had never heard his father talk like this with him before. Once again, Abbas' mind seemed to drift to former times.
When his father looked at him again, Zaheer could see that his father's familiar self control had returned. "So, what are your intentions toward her?"
"I'm going to ask her to become my wife," Zaheer said.
Abbas seemed unsurprised. He nodded. "That is good."
Zaheer felt joy leap in his heart. "You approve?"
"I trust your judgment, Zaheer," Abbas said slowly. "You have changed much in the last few years. I can tell that you are seeing your life with greater clarity. And wisdom. That pleases me," Abbas concluded.
"So you agree?" Zaheer asked breathlessly.
Zaheer was speechless for a few moments. His father had granted permission to ask for Becca's hand in marriage. Since, being the eldest son, Zaheer stood to become the authority of his entire family, he'd always known that his father's permission to marry who Zaheer himself chose would not be easy to come by.
Zaheer knew there was much to consider when it came to choosing a bride. Traditions had to be honored; tribal ties had to be respected; the future had to be considered carefully.
In the past few years, there had been attempts to arrange marriages for Zaheer with women from other tribal families. Connections between Qazhar tribes stretched back centuries. Zaheer had always feared what doing his duty to that tradition would mean for him. Always worried that the choice would be taken out of his hands.
But, thankfully as far as Zaheer was concerned, none of those suggested betrothals had come to fruition.
Zaheer had always held out, eager to retain the freedom to choose the woman of his choice. For the last three years he'd known there really only was one woman.
Becca.
All that time he'd worried his father's permission would not be forthcoming. That Abbas would insist on an arranged marriage for Zaheer. Something that filled Zaheer with revulsion.
But now that permission had been granted. And so quickly. Zaheer could hardly believe this. He would never have expected this to have happened so easily.
Doubt flickered in his mind. Why would his father do such a thing?
"Are you sure about this, father?" Zaheer asked.
Abbas peered across at Zaheer. "It is timely that you have found someone you love and wish to take as a wife," Abbas said.
"Why?" Zaheer said.
Abbas looked at Zaheer. "Because the real reason I asked you to come here is so that I could tell you that the time has come."
Zaheer squinted at Abbas. "Time has come for what?"
Abbas shifted uncomfortably. "As no doubt you have noticed my health is not what I would like it to be. Because of that, I intend to step aside as the head of this family."
