ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance (82 page)

Ahmed gave a quick nod. “Of course. I did not meant to be rude, mother. I am, of course, pleased to see you, too.”

She laughed a little at that, and patted him on the arm as she linked her other through the crook of his elbow. “I know, I know. And I love you for saying that, but in the end, it is your
father’s
opinion that you seek tonight.”

It was true. Although he valued his mother’s opinion very much and they had always been close, it was ultimately not her say. She might have some sway with his father, since she was his beloved wife, but Ahmed understood that her opinion in the end was worth very little in this matter. At least, officially.

Unofficially, he hoped desperately that she would understand what he was feeling.

“Might we sit and talk anyway?” he asked her hesitantly, motioning towards a large marbled table nearby. It was empty as was the entire room save them. “I would like to talk to you about things before… before father gets here.”

His mother looked at him curiously, but answered with an, “Of course.”

He pulled out a chair for her before taking one himself. There was a long pause as he gathered his thoughts, his mother waiting patiently for when he was ready to speak. Finally, taking a deep breath, he began the conversation that he knew would change his entire life and the lives of those around him.

“Mother, I must talk to you about the future.
My
future, specifically,” he began hesitantly. Steeling his courage, he added, “I think it is time for me to marry.”

Aisha’s eyebrows disappeared so high on her forehead that she nearly joined her hairline. He had never before shown any interest in marriage, despite her and his father’s attempts to entwine him with several daughters of well to do families. After her initial shock, his mother’s features turned to eagerness and even delight.

Reaching across the table for his hand, she all but squealed as she said, “Oh, Ahmed! I’m so pleased! I have lined up a host of other girls for you to meet! They are delightful young ladies, and some of them you’ve even interacted with as children and—”

This was the part he’d been dreading. Ahmed had been anticipating his mother’s eagerness and excitement at the announcement of marriage, but he knew, too, that all of that would quickly change once he explained the rest of his personal intentions.

“Mother, please, wait,” he said, interrupting her before she got too carried away. “You must let me finish.”

His mother looked confused by his insistence and just as she was about to ask what was going on, the large doors at the far end of the room opened up and his father walked in.

The Sheikh Itamar Kandalama was a tall, firm man with sharp features who towered over all. He ruled fairly, if not exactly kindly, and made decisions with the best interests of the nation in mind. It made him a good ruler. It did
not
make him a good father.

Ahmed sucked in a quick breath, even as his mother rose and crossed the room to her husband with a smile on her face. They embraced quickly and she kissed either of Itamar’s cheeks, before turning to walk back towards their son. She began talking immediately thereafter.

“Our son has made a
wonderful
announcement, Ahmed!” she cooed, her voice laced with giddiness, telling Ahmed that she had all but forgotten his request to hear him out before making any adjustments.

“Is that so?” asked his father, his voice as deep and stern as the rest of him. A single dark eyebrow rose in question as his dark eyes darted towards Ahmed.

Instantly, Ahmed felt sick. It was one thing to tell his mother, but his father was an entirely different animal. Aisha was softer with her children and doted endlessly on her only son. She would not be pleased with his announcement or for his love of Keisha, but she would be much more accommodating than his father would be. At least
she
would try to bargain with him, to make them both happy, and when she could not, Ahmed felt confident that eventually she would cave to his personal desires.

But his father?

Ahmed knew he had to reveal his intentions and his love, but it made his stomach roil about as though he might vomit at any moment. He knew his father would not stand for it and Ahmed was trying to desperately come up with an argument to counter his father. Because if he could not convince Itamar to allow him to marry Keisha, then he had no idea what he would do instead.

It was difficult to go against a Sheikh.

“Well?” his father prompted impatiently as he and his wife strode across the room, finally coming to stand before their son. “Are you going to share this announcement with your father?”

His tone was as close as it ever came to teasing, likely a result of Aisha’s presence and her own excitement rather than anything on Itamar’s part.

Sucking in a harsh breath, Ahmed braced himself for the fight to come. This would not go well. He nodded once. “Yes, my announcement. I… I have asked to speak with both of you, because… because I intend to marry.”

Aisha clapped her hands and laughed a little, thrilled once more by the announcement. Itamar did not look nearly as excited, but he looked pleased. Father and son had been going rounds about choosing a bride and this seemed like an end to the fighting.

Oh, if only he knew
, Ahmed thought miserably.
I suppose in a second, he will.

“I will get the list of young women I’ve been making for
years
,” Aisha said, emphasizing years to let her son know just how long she had been waiting for this particular announcement.

He sighed in dread, knowing that now he would have to do this. “Actually, mother, that is very kind, but also very unnecessary.”

Both his mother and his father froze. They had been only moderately surprised by the announcement of marriage; it was high time that he stopped being a child and settle down for the inevitable. But this? To already have someone in mind?

Finally, his mother’s enthusiasm began to drop. She must have realized that the announcement was less about the marriage and more about the woman he intended to marry, and she must have realized, too, that he did not have access to the same family names that she did.

Swallowing harshly, he finally came out and said it: “I will marry Keisha Singh.”

He waited for the fall out from his announcement, but initially it did not come. Both his father’s and his mother’s expressions were blank, as though they were uncertain of what he just said. When his mother’s eyebrows pulled together in a confused frown and she looked at her husband inquisitively, he realized what it was: They had no idea who she was.

“Singh?” his mother questioned. “Is she farther North?”

Ahmed considered his options quickly. Perhaps, if he acted fast enough, he could pretend—at least for the time being—that Keisha came from a well to do family that was—

But it was already too late. His father fixed him with a sudden, piercing stare, his eyes hot coals, flaring with the promise of danger and violence. He had already realized what his dearest wife was overlooking.

“I have heard the name Singh before,” he said in a low voice that was eerily calm and very at odds with the rest of his expression, not to mention the tension laced through his wide shoulders. “And it is not for any respectable family that I know.”

Aisha’s mouth snapped shut as she turned to look at Ahmed with wide eyes. She looked… hurt. As though her son had
lied
to her. Which, in all fairness, he supposed he had, if only by omission.

He swallowed again, his eyes darting between his parents as he struggled to find something to say that would convince them. “I—”

“You would marry a beggar?”

Anger flared within him. “She is not a
beggar
!” Not exactly.

His father fumed, Ahmed’s vehement denial and defense of the woman, enough to condemn her in the eyes of his father. “I
forbid
you to marry this woman. In fact, I forbid you from marrying
any
woman who is not on this list of your mother’s! You will
respect
our wishes and this family!”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed from the room, throwing the great doors open with a bang and leaving with sharp, angry steps. His mother lingered for a while still, her expression still one of upset, but quickly morphing. Her lips pulled together into a tight, thin line. She stepped up to her son.

“Mother, I—”

He tried to explain, but before he could say more than that, she reached up and slapped him harshly across the face.

“How can you be so inconsiderate?”

Then, like her husband, she turned and left the room. Her shoulders straight and her chin high, but it was obvious that she was anything but calm. Finally, Ahmed was left alone in the room, wondering what was left for him now.

Keisha was half asleep when she heard the sound. It was a ruffling of heavy fabric, but too noticeable to be the heavy winds or the rustle of the sand outside. No, it came with movement. Human movement.

As soon as the thought went through him mind, she knew it was true. She sat up in an instant, her eyes wide as they tried desperately to adjust to the darkness of her small home. It took too long, but her ears were sharp. She could hear breathing and the soft shuffling of footsteps that were trying too hard to be silent.

She let out a shaky, terrified breath and reached out her hand. She searched blindly for something, anything to defend herself with.

My baby,
she thought, her terror ramping up yet another notch. If she were attacked, what would come of her baby?

Finally, her hand came to a stick leaned up against the wall, once she picked for walking on long, hot days and she thought she might use more often when she became heavier with child. She closed her fingers tightly around it, and slid her legs over the side of the bed. Breathing shallowly, trying to be quiet, she gave her eyes a moment longer to adjust, then brought herself to a standing position at the exact moment that she swung the stick around towards her attacker.

“Ow!” came the deep, male voice. One that was instantly familiar.

Keisha dropped the stick and clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry. Her voice came out mumbled as a result. “Oh! Ahmed?”

Her heart raced as she watched him rub his head, little more than a deep, full shadow in the darkness, but now that her eyes had adjusted some and she had realized who it was she could tell obviously that it was Ahmed. The shape of his head, the strength of his shoulders and the slimming of his waist.

“I’m so sorry, I hadn’t realized!” she apologized, reaching for him.

His hands took hers immediately, pulling her to him harshly until she slammed against his chest. He enveloped her then in his arms and held her tightly to him. For a long while, he did not speak. He did not say a single word and it had her worried.

This was about the baby, she knew it, she could sense it. This was about the baby and how he could not marry her. How she was about to be an unwed, pregnant beggar woman with no prospects and no future. And no Ahmed. The whole lot of that sounded awful, but in the end it was that final part that would truly break her.

Life without Ahmed was not worth much to Keisha anymore. Not now that she had had him even for a little bit.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she waited impatiently for him to finally speak. For him to tell her that this was all—had always been—nothing but a pipe dream, a silly fantasy to be dreamt up by children. Or worse still, a waste of his royal time.

Finally, when he still hadn’t spoken, Keisha could not take it anymore. Scrunching her eyes tightly against the tears which threatened to spill down her cheeks in a torrent, she spoke, “Ahmed, please, just tell me what’s happening.”

He exhaled a long, shaking breath. She could feel him nod his head, then he spoke. “If you are still certain of what you want, then it must be tonight. I am afraid I cannot give you a real wedding, the one you deserve, but we must—”

She pulled back, shock sweeping her body. She had to pull back though so that she could look him in the eyes and see if what he was saying was true. There was a slightly confused, earnest expression on his face, the features just barely visible in the intense darkness. His eyes, dark as they were, seemed to glimmer with both fear and the faintest of hopes.

“Wedding?” Keisha repeated in a scratched, hoarse voice that did not even sound like hers, it was so flooded with emotion. “You… you intend to marry me?”

She could just barely see him frown in the night. He came to her again and she allowed him to pull her against his chest once more. “
Of course
! That has
always
been my intention. No, it won’t be easy, and I have often wondered if perhaps your life would not be so much easier if I were not in it—”

“No!” Keisha nearly shouted immediately in response. Her eyes were wide, panic momentarily clouding them as she realized that his heart was so close and he all but wished it away from her. “No, it would not be. Nothing would be better without you.”

He smiled down at her sweetly, just barely. “Then come away with me tonight, my love, before anyone has the chance to stop us. We shall be wed before morning and then my mother and father will have no say. Our lives will be entwined forever.”

Heart swelling with promise, with love and adoration, and the settling sense that everything was going to be okay, Keisha nodded.

They packed nothing. They disappeared into the night and were married beneath a blanket of stars with scant but a few discreet witnesses who hardly realized they were watching the marriage of a monarch.

And that night, Ahmed was determined to make love to Keisha the right way, as his
wife
not his lover and it would make the baby slowly beginning to grow within her womb right and perfect.

They stayed at an Inn rather than return to either of their lodgings—to his for obvious reasons and hers he deemed too small for such a special occasion—and he carried her into the room, smiling as though he were the luckiest man in the world.

Grinning ear to ear, Keisha felt the same.