One Night with the Sheikh
Шрифт:
Zain’s expression turned to stone. “A tradition that forced me to choose between my royal duty and my wife. An antiquated custom that has done nothing but lead to your misery, and Maysa’s, as well. The choice the sultan made for Maysa resulted in divorce and nearly ruined her, and you were anything but happy with your queen.”
Anger as hot as a firebrand shot through Rafiq. “You know nothing about my relationship with Rima.”
“I know what I witnessed when I saw the two of you together.” Zain studied him for a long moment. “Were you happy, Rafiq? Was Rima happy?”
He could not answer truthfully without confirming Zain’s conjecture. “I cared a great deal for Rima. We were friends long before we wed. Her death has been difficult for me, whether you choose to believe that or not.”
“My apologies for sounding insensitive,” Zain said. “As I told you earlier, it’s very apparent you are in great turmoil, which brings me back to my suggestion you talk with Maysa. She will understand.”
Perhaps so, but other issues still existed. “Even if she agreed to see me, which I suspect she will not, any liaison with Maysa would not be considered acceptable. She is divorced and I have been widowed for only a brief time.”
Zain’s frustration came out in a scowl. “First of all, I am only suggesting you speak with her, not wed her. Second, if you are concerned that someone will assume an affair, then steal away in the night to prevent detection. It has always worked to my advantage. Should you need assistance, I will be glad to make the arrangements.”
He had no doubt Zain could. His brother had made covert disappearance an art form. “I do not need your assistance, nor do I plan to see Maysa.”
“Do not dismiss it completely, Rafiq. She could be the one person to see you through this difficult phase.”
At one time, that would have held true. Maysa had known him better than any living soul, understood him better, and she had been a welcome source of support during their formative years. She had also been his greatest weakness, and he had been her greatest disappointment.
For that reason, he should stay away from her. Yet as he left his brother’s company and returned to his quarters, alone with his continuing guilt, he began to wonder if perhaps Zain might be right. Reconnecting with Maysa again, if only for a brief time, could very well be worth the risks.
* * *
As the village’s primary physician, Maysa Barad answered the midnight summons expecting a messenger requesting she tend to an ailing child or a mother in labor. She did not expect to find Rafiq Mehdi, the recently crowned—and newly widowed—King of Bajul. Her childhood friend. Her first love. Her first lover.
The changes in Rafiq were somewhat apparent, but subtle. He was still tall and lean. Still as incredibly handsome as he’d always been, despite that he now chose to wear a neatly trimmed goatee framing his sensual mouth. His eyes and hair were still as dark, much the same as hers, yet maturity had lent him an even greater aura of power. A power that had crushed her resolve on more than one occasion many years before.
She could not remember the last time he had called on her. She couldn’t imagine why he was here now, but she intended to find out. “Good evening, Your Majesty. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I need to speak with you.”
His serious tone and intense gaze prompted Maysa to press the panic button. “Are you ill?”
“No. I will explain why I am here as soon as we are in a private setting.”
Maysa glanced around him to see a black car parked in the portico, and surprisingly not one of the requisite sentries. “Where are your guards?”
“At the palace. Only select members of my staff know I am here.”
Being completely alone with him somewhat concerned Maysa. She considered asking him to return in the morning, when she was appropriately dressed, well rested and better prepared. However, he was still the king and his wish would have to be her command, an all too familiar concept. During their youth, she would have done anything he asked of her. One fateful night, she had.
Despite all the concerns racing through her mind, and the threat to her composure, she opened the door wide to allow him entry. “I suppose you may come in for a while.”
After Rafiq stepped into the foyer, Maysa closed and locked the door, then faced him to find his dark, pensive gaze leveled on hers. “I sincerely appreciate your willingness to see me at this hour,” he said without a hint of familiarity.
She sincerely questioned the wisdom in allowing him in her home. “You are welcome. Follow me.”
Maysa led him down the corridor and paused when one of the staff appeared from around the corner. She waved the befuddled woman away and continued past the myriad rooms comprising the expansive house belonging to her father, and on loan to her. The same house where she’d gone from teenager to woman in her childhood bed, courtesy of the man walking behind her.
Once they reached her private living area, she shut the door and gestured toward the settee. “Feel free to be seated.”
“I prefer to stand,” he said as he began to pace the room like a caged tiger, his hands firmly planted in the pockets of his black slacks.
Maysa dropped down onto the sofa, curled her legs beneath her and adjusted the aqua caftan to where it covered her bare feet. She chose to continue to speak in English, should one of the staff decide to eavesdrop. “What can I do for you, Rafiq?”
He stopped to stare out the window overlooking the mountains. “I could not sleep. I’ve had difficulty sleeping since...”
“The accident,” she said when his words trailed away. The mysterious, single-car accident that had claimed the queen’s life six months ago. “Insomnia and restlessness are understandable. Rima’s death was tragic and unexpected. If you would like me to prescribe a sleep aid, I would certainly be willing to do that.”
He turned toward her, some unnamed emotion in his near-black eyes. “I do not wish a pill, Maysa. I wish to go back to that night and find a way to prevent my wife’s death. I want to find some peace.”