Chantelle Shaw: At the Sheikh's Bidding

Alice heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Kazim’s a little daredevil,’ she cheerfully informed the two men. ‘He’s always running and climbing, and he’s constantly getting into mischief. Erin has her work cut out, looking after him.’

Erin saw Zahir frown and groaned silently. Thanks, Alice — that’s a real help .

‘Shouldn’t you seek medical advice for his head injury?’ he queried coldly.

Kazim was squirming in her arms, wanting to get down and clearly none the worse for his accident. ‘He’s fine,’ Erin said tersely. ‘He’s a lively three year-old, for goodness’ sake, I can’t keep him wrapped in cotton wool. I’m a fully trained nanny and qualified in first-aid,’ she continued, when Zahir looked unconvinced. ‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after him.’

She lifted her chin and her eyes clashed with his cold, faintly contemptuous gaze. She hated his arrogance, but she could not look away from him. As she watched heat flared in those dark depths, and for a split second raw, sexual hunger gleamed beneath his heavy brows before his thick lashes fell, concealing his thoughts.

Shaken, she glanced at Gordon Straker, who was edging towards the door. ‘Erin, I’m sorry, but I really must…’

‘Yes, of course.’ Making a swift decision, she set Kazim down and turned to Alice. ‘Will you keep an eye on him while I see Mr Straker out?’

She hurried across the hall after the solicitor, and stopped him as he was about to open the front door. ‘Mr Straker, when did Faisal give you the letter he instructed you to send to his brother after his death? Was it when he married me?’ she queried huskily.

‘Oh, no, it was about a month before he died. Until then I hadn’t known Faisal had any family, and I see that the revelation has come as a shock to you too,’ he added gently.

Erin bit her lip, feeling a sudden urge to confide in the kindly solicitor. ‘From the moment Faisal learned that he was dying he was desperate to secure Kazim’s future,’ she explained urgently. ‘I’ve cared for him since he was three months old. Faisal’s wife died as a result of complications while giving birth, and when Faisal’s illness was diagnosed a year ago he asked me to marry him to make it easier for me to adopt Kazim. He told me he had no other family and he didn’t want Kazim to grow up in care—like I had.’

She hated talking about her past, and dropped her gaze from Gordon Straker’s face as she continued in a low voice, ‘My mother was a drug addict, who died when I was ten, and I spent the rest of my childhood in the care of Social Services. I was a troubled teenager, and I don’t know where I would be now if I hadn’t been fostered—maybe working the streets to pay for my next fix like my mother,’ she confessed thickly. ‘My foster father worked here at Ingledean, as a gardener, and when Faisal came here with his baby son he employed me as Kazim’s nanny. Despite my background he knew I would love and protect Kazim as if he was my own child.’

She was hurt that Faisal had not been honest with her. He did have a family, and just before he’d died he had made the decision to tell them he had a son. Had he done so because he had begun to doubt her abilities to be a good mother to Kazim? Had he decided that he wanted his estranged family to be involved in the little boy’s upbringing after all?

All her old doubts and insecurities rose up inside her, but Gordon Straker opened the front door and a blast of icy wind whipped into the hall, snapping Erin out of her reverie.

The solicitor gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘ You are Kazim’s adoptive mother, Erin,’ he said gently, ‘and no one can take him from you. Only you can decide if it would be in his best interests to have some contact with his family in Qubbah.’

He turned up the collar of his coat and stepped into the snow, but paused to glance back at her. ‘I’ve done a little investigating, and from what I’ve heard Sheikh Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir is an astute businessman and a risk-taker, respected on the world markets for his brilliance and daring. He is a man who is used to having his own way, and who pursues his goals with a ruthless determination, yet at the same time many people find him incredibly charming and persuasive—particularly women.’ He gave a faint smile at her sudden heightened colour. ‘All I’m saying is—tread carefully, Erin,’ Gordon Straker warned softly, ‘and don’t let him bully you, my dear.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ Erin replied fiercely.

But as she flew back across the hall to the library, where she had left the Sheikh with her son, a shiver of trepidation ran through her. The moment she had seen Zahir she had been mesmerised by his spectacular looks and powerful sexual magnetism. The man spelt danger, and the predatory gleam she’d glimpsed in his dark eyes warned her to be on her guard.

CHAPTER TWO

ZAHIR turned away from the window and the uninspiring view of snow-covered moors and found Kazim staring up at him, his chocolate-brown eyes wide with curiosity. Slowly he knelt down, so that he was on level with the toddler’s gaze, and pain tugged in his chest. The little boy bore a marked resemblance to both his parents, and the sight of his small, lively face and impish grin made the tragedy of Faisal and Maryam’s untimely deaths seem even more poignant.

The anger and bitterness that had eaten away at Zahir for six long years released its grip on his heart and was replaced by a new emotion that was unexpectedly fierce. Love—pure and uncomplicated—flooded through him, and he reached out and stroked Kazim’s cheek with fingers that shook slightly.

Faisal’s little son was an orphan, but he would never feel alone or unloved. He, Zahir, would make sure of that. Because of his stubborn pride he had left it too late to be reconciled with his brother, but he would love his nephew as if he were his own child. Kazim belonged in Qubbah, and nothing would prevent Zahir from taking him home.

His mind turned briefly to Faisal’s second wife and he dismissed her with a shrug. Erin was an inconvenience he would have to deal with. For now he focused all his attention on his brother’s son.

‘He seems tall for a three-year-old,’ he commented to the cook, who had settled her generous frame into an armchair by the fire.

‘Oh, he is—and strong,’ she agreed cheerfully. ‘He’s strong-willed too. Kazim’s an adorable child, but he knows his own mind. Sometimes Erin struggles to cope with his temper tantrums, especially at bath-time.’

Zahir frowned. ‘What do you mean— struggles ? Does she lose her temper with him?’

Kazim was a sturdy toddler, but he had been left alone in the world since his father’s death, totally dependent on Erin’s care. Who was this woman Faisal had entrusted with his son? Erin had said that she loved Kazim but he, Zahir, was linked to Kazim by blood, and a wave of protectiveness swept through him.

‘Heavens, no.’ Alice shook her head. ‘Erin is wonderfully patient with him. She really does think of him as her own child—and, after all, she’s the only mother he’s ever known.’

The cook’s words were unwelcome, and Zahir’s frown deepened, but when he glanced up his features were schooled into a disarming smile. ‘I understand that Erin married my brother a year ago, but that she worked for him before that?’

‘Yes. The master employed her as Kazim’s nanny soon after he moved into Ingledean,’ Alice confirmed, opening up like a flower beneath Zahir’s full-on charm. ‘She lived at the gate lodge with her foster parents, but when they retired and moved south to be near their son Erin moved in here. She always loved this house.’ Alice’s voice dropped. ‘After Faisal died there was some unpleasant gossip in the village that Erin had persuaded him to marry her by promising to take care of Kazim because she wanted to inherit Ingledean.’ She snorted. ‘All rubbish, of course—Erin doesn’t have a mercenary bone in her body—but some folk are so mean-minded, and they dug up all that about her past…’