Susan Mallery: The Sheikh and the Christmas Bride

“Go with As’ad,” her friend told her. “I’ll stay with the girls. Nothing will happen to them while you’re gone.” Lina touched her arm. “As’ad is a fair man. He will listen.” She smiled faintly. “Speak freely, Kayleen. You are always at your best when you are most passionate.”

What?

Before Kayleen could figure out what Lina meant, As’ad was moving and she found herself hurrying after him. They went across the hall, into an empty classroom. He closed the door behind them, folded his arms across his chest and stared at her intently.

“Start at the beginning,” he told her. “What happened here today?”

She blinked. Until this moment, she hadn’t really seen As’ad. But standing in front of him meant she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. He was tall and broad-shouldered, a big, dark-haired man who made her nervous. Kayleen had had little to do with men and she preferred it that way.

“I was teaching,” she said slowly, finding it oddly difficult to look into As’ad’s nearly black eyes and equally hard to look away. “Pepper—she’s the youngest—came running into my classroom to say there was a bad man who wanted to take her away. I found the chieftain holding Dana and Nadine in the hallway.” Indignation gave her strength. “He was really holding them. One by each arm. When he saw Pepper, he handed Dana off to one of his henchmen and grabbed her. She’s barely eight years old. The girls were crying and struggling. Then he started dragging them away. He said something about taking them to his village.”

The rest of it was a blur. Kayleen drew in a breath. “I started yelling, too. Then I sort of got between the chieftain and the stairway. I might have attacked him.” Shame filled her. To act in such a way went against everything she believed. How many times had she been told she must accept life as it was and attempt change through prayer and conversation and demonstrating a better way herself?

Kayleen desperately wanted to believe that, but sometimes a quick kick in the shin worked, too.

One corner of As’ad’s mouth twitched. “You hit Tahir?”

“I kicked him.”

“What happened then?”

“His men came after me and grabbed me. Which I didn’t like, but it was okay because the girls were released. They were screaming and I was screaming and the other teachers came into the hall. It was a mess.”

She squared her shoulders, knowing she had to make As’ad understand why that man couldn’t take the girls away.

“You can’t let him do this,” she said. “It’s wrong on every level. They’ve lost both their parents. They need each other. They need me.”

“You’re just their teacher.”

“In name, but we’re close. I live here, too. I read to them every night, I talk to them.” They were like her family, which made them matter more than anything. “They’re so young. Dana, the oldest, is only eleven. She’s bright and funny and she wants to be a doctor. Nadine is nine. She’s a gifted dancer. She’s athletic and caring. Little Pepper can barely remember her mother. She needs her sisters around her. They need to be together.”

“They would be in the same village,” As’ad said.

“But not the same house.” She had to make him understand. “Tahir talks about how people in the village are willing to take in the girls. As if they would be a hardship. Isn’t it better to leave them here where they have friends and are loved? Where they can grow up with a connection to each other and their past? Do you know what he would do to them?”

“Nothing,” As’ad said flatly, in a voice that warned her not to insult his people. “He has given them his honor. They would be protected. Anyone who attacked them would pay with his life.”

Okay, that made her feel better, but it wasn’t enough. “What about the fact that they won’t be educated? They won’t have a chance. Their mother was American.”

“Their father was born here, in El Deharia. He, too, was an orphan and Tahir’s village raised him. They honor his memory by taking in his three daughters.”

“To be servants.”

As’ad hesitated. “It is their likely fate.”

“Then he can’t have them.”

“The decision is not yours to make.”

“Then you make it,” she told him, wanting to give him a quick kick to the shins, as well. She loved El Deharia. The beautiful country took her breath away every time she went into the desert. She loved the people, the kindness, the impossible blue of the skies. But there was still an expectation that men knew better. “Do you have children, Prince As’ad?”

“No.”

“Sisters?”

“Five brothers.”

“If you had a sister, would you want her to be taken away and made a servant? Would you have wanted one of your brothers ripped from his family?”

“These are not your siblings,” he told her.

“I know. They’re more like my children. They’ve only been here a few months. Their mother died a year ago and their father brought them back here. When he was killed, they entered the orphanage. I’m the one who sat with them night after night as they sobbed out their pain. I’m the one who held them through the nightmares, who coaxed them to eat, who promised things would get better.”

She drew herself up to her full five feet three inches and squared her shoulders. “You talk of Tahir’s honor. Well, I gave my word that they would have a good life. If you allow that man to take them away, my word means nothing. I mean nothing. Are you so heartless that you would shatter the hopes and dreams of three little girls who have already lost both their parents?”

As’ad could feel a headache coming on.

Kayleen James stated her case well. Under other circumstances, he would have allowed her to keep the children at the school and be done with it. But this was not a simple case.

“Tahir is a powerful chieftain,” he said. “To offend him over such a small matter is foolish.”

“Small matter? Because they’re girls? Is that it? If these were boys, the matter would be large?”

“The gender of the children is immaterial. The point is Tahir has made a generous gesture from what he considers a position of honor. To have that thrown in his face could have political consequences.”

“We’re talking about children’s lives . What is politics when compared with that?”

The door to the classroom opened and Lina stepped inside. Kayleen gasped. “He has the girls?”

“Of course not. They’ve gone back to their rooms while Tahir and his men take tea with the director.” Lina looked at As’ad. “What have you decided?”

“That I should not allow you into my office when you do not have an appointment.”

Lina smiled. “You could never refuse me, As’ad. Just as I could never send you away.”

He held in a groan. So his aunt had taken sides. Why was he not surprised? She had always been soft-hearted and loving—something he had appreciated after the death of his own mother. But now, he found the trait inconvenient.

“Tahir is powerful. To offend him over this makes no sense,” he said.

Lina surprised him by saying, “I agree.”

Kayleen shrieked. “Princess Lina, no! You know these girls. They deserve more.”

Lina touched her arm. “They shall have more. As’ad is right. Tahir should not leave feeling as if his generous offer has been snubbed. Kayleen, you may not agree with what he’s trying to do, but believe me, his motives are pure.”

Kayleen looked anything but convinced, yet she nodded slowly.

Lina turned to As’ad. “The only way Tahir can save face in this is to have the children taken by someone more powerful who is willing to raise them and honor the memory of their father.”