Teresa Southwick - To Wed a Sheikh

He held up a hand. “She sits here at the insistence of her brothers and aunt. But she chose to turn her back on me when she ignored all the teachings of her revered ancestors. I cannot forgive that.”

“It wasn’t like that, Father.” Johara slapped her napkin on the table. “I fell in love.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, the king took a sip of coffee from his cup, then set it back on the saucer with an almost musical clink. “Kamal, how is the hospital progressing?”

Studying the crown prince, Ali held her breath. Anger and disapproval swirled in his eyes as he met his father’s gaze.

“Father,” he said, “are you also aware that the doctor said Johara’s pregnancy is at a very delicate stage? Her condition can be adversely affected by stress. She needs your support—”

“Her condition is that she is with child and without a husband. She has shamed me.”

“But, Your Highness,” Ali blurted out. Funny how adrenaline loosened the tongue. She leaned toward the man on her left. “She’s young. Didn’t you ever make a mistake when you were her age?”

“You are a visitor to this country and therefore cannot comprehend this situation. There are consequences for dishonorable actions.”

Abruptly, Johara stood. “The king is rigid in his beliefs. He refuses to admit that times are changing even here in El Zafir. Since I cannot convince him of this, I must concentrate all my energy on my baby.”

With all the dignity a very pregnant, very emotionally upset young woman could manage, she left the room. In her wake, a churchlike silence descended.

“Times are changing,” Kamal said, the muscle in his lean cheek contracting.

You go, Kamal, she rooted silently. Sure, the girl had made a mistake, Ali thought. But she was paying for it. She was going through the most momentous experience a woman could have. Under the right circumstances—a committed couple waiting for a baby that represented the tangible result of their love—it would be joyous. Johara was facing the prospect of raising her baby alone and she was doing that under the cloud of her father’s disapproval. Ali crossed her fingers in her lap, hoping the crown prince would tell him off for his lack of compassion and understanding.

“Some things are not meant to change,” the king said.

“Father, my sister is in a most delicate condition. It is likely that your attitude is contributing to her stress and could result in harm to her and her child.”

“Do not interfere, Kamal,” the king ordered. “You have always been weak where she is concerned. This behavior is unacceptable for the man who would follow me on the throne of El Zafir.”

Ali noticed he wouldn’t use Johara’s name or call her Kamal’s sister. It was as if she’d been surgically cut out of the family for him. The idea outraged her. She looked at Kamal, waiting for his comeback to his father. His eyes snapped with anger and the muscle worked in his cheek as he clenched his jaw. But he said nothing more.

Where was the conquering hero she’d seen yesterday? The one who refused to be boxed into a corner?

Kamal found Ali in the palace garden. Back and forth she marched, muttering to herself as the scent of jasmine and magnolias drifted in the air. Stars winked in the black velvet sky above but the night was moonless. The only illumination came from strategically placed spotlights and the small white lights strung in the palms and date trees clustered in the center of the lush area and around the perimeter. Flowered vines climbed the pink-tinged stucco walls surrounding the courtyard. This was one of his favorite places in the palace and he came here often for the serenity it offered.

Although not tonight, he thought, watching Ali prowl like a cat. She hadn’t noticed him yet and her fevered pace made him think of an enraged kitten. But when she stopped at the end of the stone pathway and turned toward him, the furious look on her face convinced him to keep that opinion to himself.

“I have been looking for you,” he said.

She hurried forward and stopped in front of him. “Is it Johara? Is she—”

He held up his hand. “I left my sister a short time ago and she was in good health.”

Her chin tilted up with a somewhat defiant air. “Then you were looking for me because of what happened at dinner.”

“I was,” he confirmed.

She straightened to her full height and met his gaze as a glint of steel glowed in her own. “I need to explain something to you.”

“Yes?”

“I have a hard time when someone is throwing their weight around. When a person is being bullied, I will defend the underdog.”

“I noticed,” he said wryly.

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. In her white, long-sleeved silk dress with the midcalf hem and deep V neck, the movement gave him a most enticing view of her bosom. Normally, he took his height for granted, but at times like this, he was most grateful for it. And the fact that even in high-heeled pumps, her lack of stature gave him quite a delightful vantage point.

Color stained her lovely, high cheekbones. “I’ve been known to act impulsively, but, I believe, with right on my side. Like tonight, for instance.”

“What about it?”

“It’s wrong of your father to cut off his daughter. She mentioned the emotional exile, but until I saw it with my own eyes, I didn’t quite believe her.” She stared at him for a moment and the shadows in her eyes made him wonder. “Johara made a mistake,” she continued. “No one, especially her, denies it. But who died and made him king?” she huffed.

“I believe that would be my grandfather.”

She blinked and one corner of her lush mouth lifted. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“I know.”

“If he can’t be supportive, she needs him not to add stress. In fact, if he’s truly disowned her, why was she at a family dinner? Why hasn’t he sent her away somewhere?”

“You’d have to ask my father.”

“Probably he thinks that would be too easy. If he keeps her around to ignore, every day she’s an outcast reminds her of her error.”

“You think he’s a cruel man?”

“I think the way he’s treating his only daughter is cruel.”

“It’s complicated.” Kamal sighed. “But he loves her very much. In fact, she is his favorite.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it. It’s hard for me to believe he favors her.”

“I didn’t think you would understand. But remember, a change in attitude takes time and my father is of a different generation. He is conservative and puts a high price on family honor.”

“It doesn’t seem especially honorable to turn your back on family, someone you’re supposed to love.” There was an edge to her voice that made him wonder if she had personal reasons for her impulsive defense of his sister.

But then, she was talking about love. A complex concept and one he had been successful in avoiding. Family affection was simple and straightforward. The web of emotion between a man and woman was not. It was a maze he wished never to enter or experience.

“Love equals weakness,” he said. “Look what happened to my sister in the name of love.”

“And you think she’s weak because she gave in to her feelings for a man?”

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