One Night with the Sheikh
Шрифт:
His feelings for his queen apparently were much deeper than Maysa had realized. “It takes time to recover from losing someone you cared about, Rafiq.”
“It has been six months,” he said. “And I did not care enough, which directly contributed to her demise.”
Evidently she had made an erroneous assumption. It seemed Rafiq’s marriage to Rima Acar had been little more than a long-standing agreement between their patriarchs. Yet she didn’t understand why he blamed himself for her death. “You weren’t driving the car, Rafiq.”
He crossed the room and joined her on the opposite end of the small settee. “But I did drive her away that night.”
She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the details, but since he’d decided to take her into his confidence for the first time in years, she chose to listen. “Did you argue before she left?”
He lowered his head and streaked his palms over his face, as if to erase the bitter memories. “Yes, immediately after she informed me she was with child.”
Rima’s pregnancy had been kept from the press, but the revelation came as no surprise to Maysa. Unbeknownst to the king, the queen had come to her for confirmation instead of consulting the palace physician, though she never quite understood why. Rima had always been aware of Maysa’s close relationship with Rafiq, at times pitting them as rivals. “Were you not happy to hear the news?”
“I was pleased to know I would have an heir. She was not at all pleased to be having my child.”
Maysa had witnessed Rima’s distress when she’d delivered the results, but she had attributed that to slight shock. “She told you that?”
He released a rough sigh. “Not in so many words, but I sensed her unhappiness. When I questioned her at length, she did not deny it. She disappeared some time later without my knowledge.”
Maysa experienced a measure of satisfaction that he’d chosen to release his burden and a good deal of guilt over what she’d chosen to withhold from him. She suspected she knew where the queen had been before the accident, though she had no solid proof. “Do you know where she might have been going when she left?”
His expression remained somber. “No, and I most likely will never know. I do know if I had been kinder to her, then perhaps she would not have felt the need to leave.”
She offered him the only advice she could give him at the moment. Advice she had been forced to follow since the day he’d told her he would be marrying another, shattering her dreams of a future with him. “Rafiq, you can spend a lifetime wondering what might have been, or you can move on with your life.”
“I told Zain only hours ago that I intended to proceed with my life,” he said. “I did not admit the difficulty in that. To him, or until recently, myself.”
“It would be nice if your brother were here during this trying time.”
Rafiq kept his gaze trained on the floor. “He arrived in Bajul today with Madison and their children.”
She realized having the children around could be the basis for his lack of enthusiasm and distress. “That must be very difficult for you.”
He finally looked at her. “Why would you believe I would not welcome my brother’s family?”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Of course you would, but being in the presence of two infants might remind you of your recent loss.”
“I can handle that, but I cannot abide Zain’s advice. He is convinced I need a sabbatical.”
“Perhaps he is right. Time away would aid in the healing process.”
He frowned. “He is wrong. I only need time to adjust. I can accomplish that and still tend to my duties.”
As far as she was concerned, he was overestimating his strength. “Does Zain know you’re here?”
“Yes. He insisted I talk with you.”
Maysa’s hopes had been dashed once more. “I thought perhaps you came on your own.”
“I would never have thought to bother you,” he said.
“It’s no bother, Rafiq. I considered visiting you after the funeral, but I wasn’t at all certain I would be welcome.”
He looked at her somberly, sincerely. “You will always be welcome in my world, Maysa.”
The memory hit her full force then. The memory of a time when he’d spoken those same words to her.
No matter what the future holds, you will always be welcome in my world, habibti....
Yet she had not been welcome at all. After his marriage contract had been finalized, they had been expressly forbidden to see each other, yet they had continued to meet in secret. Those clandestine trysts had only fueled the fire between them until one night, they had made love the first—and the last—time.
Maysa wondered if Rafiq remembered. She wondered if he recalled those remarkable moments, or if he had pushed them out of his thoughts. She wondered why she had been such a fool to believe he would have changed his mind about marrying Rima.
She rose to her feet and crossed the room to pour a glass of water from a pitcher set out on a side table. She kept her back to Rafiq as she took a few sips, and swallowed hard when she heard approaching footsteps.
“Have I said something to upset you, Maysa?”
His presence upset her. Her feelings for him upset her. She set the glass on the table and turned to him. “Why are you really here, Rafiq? Why have you come to me after all these years?”
His expression reflected confusion. “You are the one person I have always turned to for solace.”
“Not always,” she said. “We’ve been virtual strangers for well over a decade.”
His expression implied building anger. “You were the one who left Bajul for the States, Maysa. I have always been here.”
“I had no choice after I divorced Boutros.”
“A man you should have never wed.”
A heartless, angry sultan who had almost stolen her sense of self-worth and security. Almost. “As it was with you and Rima, my marriage was no more than an edict from my father.”
Rafiq inclined his head and studied her. “Why did you risk your name and reputation to divorce him?”
She did not dare tell him the entire truth. “He refused to allow me to pursue my profession. I refused to allow him to tell me how to live my life.”