Teresa Southwick - To Wed a Sheikh

“Is my sister in imminent danger?” he asked.

“If you’re asking whether or not it’s really necessary for me to be in residence, the answer is no. All my presence will do is give the princess some peace of mind.”

“I do not wish to interfere with the duties at the hospital for which you were hired.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. As long as Johara knows I have a job to do. If she’s okay with my being here after work, then I would like to accept the invitation.”

“Very well, then.”

“Okay.” Ali nodded. Although she had no frame of reference for living in a palace. But this would undoubtedly be her only chance to experience it. And isn’t that what coming here was all about? A fabulous job in an exciting country? Her situation just got more fabulous and definitely more exciting. Adventure, here I come, she thought.

And if she ran into Kamal in the hallway, he could feel free to ignore her. She would simply smile and say hello because a person could never go wrong being polite.

And if her heart beat a little faster and her palms grew damp, he would never know. And what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Right?

“I will inform my aunt that you will be moving into the palace.”

Right.

“Something is wrong, Kamal?” Aunt Farrah sat on her pristine sofa drinking a before-dinner sherry.

“Of course not. Why do you ask?”

Behind her on the light tan-colored wall hung a tapestry depicting a scene from El Zafirian history reflecting the courageous exploits of one of his ancestors. He’d always especially liked this particular wall hanging among the many expensive paintings his father’s sister collected. History was his passion. Someday he hoped to take his place with favorable marks from the historians.

“This is me,” she said. “I’ve known you since you were born. From the time you were a small boy when there was something troubling you, the vein in your forehead began to throb. It is throbbing now.”

“You’re joking,” he said, even as he touched that particular spot.

She merely smiled. “What is it you wish to discuss with me that couldn’t wait until the family gathers for dinner in a little while?”

“Ali Matlock.”

“It’s about time,” she murmured.

“Excuse me?”

“I said it’s fine.”

“What?” he asked.

“I spoke with Johara. She told me about asking Ali to stay with us in the palace until the baby is born. I think it’s a splendid idea.”

“Do you?” Kamal had the unsettling thought that men ruled at the pleasure of women. Power was meted out by the females around him. But surely he was mistaken.

“After what the doctor said today, it would ease my mind knowing there was a health-care professional here in the palace.”

“There’s a highly gifted physician in the palace at all times,” he reminded her.

“True. But having a nurse whose specialty is childbirth would be a comfort to Johara. And I must admit, although the doctor’s intention wasn’t to alarm us, I was fairly concerned following his examination of your sister.”

“As was I.”

He was also intrigued by the American nurse. From the first, he’d noticed her fairness of face. Today he’d found her feisty as well. If she hadn’t challenged him regarding his less-than-gracious behavior, he wouldn’t find her so, but she had. Had he been testing her? Not consciously, but now he knew if she had failed, he would have cheerfully forgotten her. But she’d made that impossible. And, for the foreseeable future, she would be living under his roof. He had yet to decide how he felt about it.

“Kamal, did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, Aunt. I have a matter of some importance on my mind.”

“As do I. Has Ali agreed to stay?”

“Yes. She will come after work in the hospital and spend the evenings here until my sister has her baby.”

There was a gleam in his aunt’s eyes as she nodded. “I will have the room next to Johara’s prepared.”

“Very well. If there is nothing further, I will leave the details in your capable hands and see you at dinner.” He started to turn away.

“Wait, Kamal. Since you’re here, there is another matter I wish to take up with you.”

“Yes?”

“Your father consulted with me on the matter of your wife.”

“I have no wife.”

She sighed. “Yes. That is the heart of what he consulted me about.”

“I do not understand why it was necessary for him to discuss my marital status with you.”

“Because you refuse to and he is concerned.” She set her delicate crystal sherry glass on the gold-inlaid coffee table. “It is time, Kamal.”

“I disagree.”

“You are not getting any younger. It is your duty as crown prince to marry and produce an heir to the throne.”

“I know what my duty is. But I see no reason to hurry the process.”

“Your behavior is proof of that.”

“To what are you referring?” he asked.

She sighed. “You are seen with many women, yet you do not seem interested in a single one of them.”

Until now, he thought, remembering the way Ali’s eyes sparkled with mischief during their exchange. He wished she was like all the other women he’d known.

“I do not wish to rush into anything. It is my intention that the union be enduring.”

“Again I must remind you I’ve known you since you were a baby. There are other reasons for your hesitation. I am aware of your sensitive nature.”

“Such emotion implies a weakness not permitted the man who will assume responsibility for his country’s people.”

“The line of succession will go to your brother’s son if necessary. But that is only as a last resort. You are the crown prince. It is your obligation to try.”

“And I have been, Aunt Farrah. But the woman I choose must possess certain qualities.”

Shaking her head in defeat, she said, “As I said, you must do your best to produce an heir. What steps will you take toward acquiring a bride to accomplish this?”

“Do not worry, Aunt. I will do what is expected of me.”

“You haven’t so far. Why should I believe you will now?”

“Because my father wishes it now.”

“That’s true. He has charged me to see that your duty is done soon. I must inquire how you will go about finding a suitable woman to marry. If you require assistance finding someone, I could—”

“I don’t.” He let out a long breath as he struggled to keep a tight rein on his temper in the presence of a female who was also a revered family member.

“I wish only to help. Would you like me to compile a report of suitable candidates?” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at him.

“Choosing a wife is not unlike hiring an assistant. She must have certain qualifications and I’m perfectly capable of procuring a suitable candidate for my bride.”

“As you wish,” she said, her gaze never wavering from his. “But it is imperative that you understand the depth of your father’s displeasure.”

“I think I understand.”

She shook her head. “No. But hear this. If you do not select a bride in a time frame acceptable to the king, the choice will no longer be yours.”

Irritation scratched at his nerves and he fought to keep his voice neutral. “It was my understanding that arranged marriages were a thing of the past in El Zafir.”

She sniffed. “Only because they have become unnecessary. But if you continue to procrastinate, the practice can easily be reinstated.”

“Very well. Your message is duly noted.” He swallowed his anger and the taste was bitter on his tongue.

He left his aunt and walked back to his suite of rooms to change for dinner. As a small boy his father had continuously reminded him that with great power comes great responsibility. Kamal had learned from watching his father that weakness of emotion was an undesirable flaw. No one understood duty better than Kamal Hassan. He would do what was expected of him. But before he did, he would have a final fling. Suddenly a vision of Ali Matlock came to mind.