The Sheik's Angry Bride (11 page)

Two days later, Layla stood outside in the heat, feeling miserable but there wasn’t anything that would convince her to go inside.  She stood stiffly, her hands clasped together in front of her and tried to ignore the trembling. 

Garon walked out of the palace, his eyes watching Layla carefully.  “Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded her head, her fingers clenching together tightly.  “I’m fine,” she replied, lying through her teeth.  “Have a safe trip,” she told him finally, not wanting him to leave without those words. 

Actually, she wanted to beg him not to go, not to leave her.  She had been in this man’s company almost constantly for almost three weeks and, the sad truth was, she was going to miss him!  She’d never thought she would feel like this.  If anyone had told her a month ago that she would be fighting back tears simply because her husband was going on a three-day trip, she would have laughed at the silly notion. 

She had to remind herself that this was a political union.  An arranged marriage.  Garon needed a wife and an heir to maintain the peace after the horrible war, to give his people a belief that they had a secure future. 

He didn’t need to hear about this strange, desolate sensation she was experiencing at the thought of him not being close.  She didn’t want him to know that she probably wouldn’t sleep in their bed tonight, because the thought of not being wrapped up in his arms made her want to scream out.  She wouldn’t be able to sleep in that huge bed without him.  She’d already mentally decided to sleep on the sofa in their sitting room. 

Garon looked down at her, noticed the trembling in her full lips and the way she was fiercely blinking back tears.  “Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asked, taking her hands and pulling them apart so he could hold them in his own. 

Layla’s eyes shot up to his.  Did he know?  How could he know?  She’d kept her secret so well hidden from him! 

Or was he just testing her?  Was he probing?  And he really didn’t know? 

She opened her mouth to tell him, not sure exactly how to say the words.  But in the end, she didn’t have the courage.  She’d just realized her secret herself and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

Being in love wasn’t the amazing emotion others seemed to think of it, she thought as she looked back down at their hands.  She was gripping his tightly and tried to loosen her hold, but he wouldn’t let her. 

She started to say something again but the only thing that came out was, “Hurry back, okay?” she whispered, her eyes glued to his blue tie because she was afraid her feelings for this man would be shining through in her eyes.  Good grief, wouldn’t that be the ultimate humiliation? 

Garon wished that she would tell him about the pregnancy.  She’d been sick the past few days and hadn’t been eating well until late in the afternoon.  But looking at her now, her face so sad and the dark circles under her eyes, he wondered if perhaps she wasn’t aware of it.  But if that were the issue, why was she looking so sad? 

Damn, he loved this woman.  And he had no idea how to get her to fall in love with him.  He hated that they’d started their relationship out as a political union.  With every cell in his body, he wished that they’d met somewhere and fallen in love naturally. 

But he understood her side of the issue.  She’d been forced by her family and circumstances into this marriage and she was holding back her feelings.  Would she ever release that aspect of their lives and would she allow herself to fall in love with him? 

He pulled her into his arms, unconcerned with the guards looking on.  He wanted to kiss his wife goodbye and he was going to do it.  Even though he was only going to be gone for three days, he was still going to miss her smiles and those fairy, blue eyes that he loved looking at when she woke up each morning. 

And her laughter!  Damn, she was a light that broke through the tedium of his days.  He hadn’t even realized he was looking forward to them until she hadn’t been in their suite one night.  He’d been furious and demanding to know where she was.  And when he’d found her, when she’d directed that sunshine-bright smile in his direction, he finally accepted that he was madly in love with his wife. 

“I’ll try and cut the trip short,” he told her.  “There’s only so much the other guys can talk about, right?” he said and she was the only one who could hear his words. His guards knew about these quarterly meetings at the Fortress of the Guards but the rest of the world had to remain out of the loop.  This was the time when the four leaders got together to talk about anything suspicious that might be going on, discover any faction that might be trying to disturb the peace between the four previously-warring countries. 

She laughed softly, amazed and comforted that he would even suggest such a thing.  “This is important,” she told him, placing her hands on his chest.  “Go be brilliant.”

He bit her earlobe and loved the way she wiggled against him.  But in the end, she pushed him back, encouraging him to leave. 

Layla’s heart was beating wildly as she watched him walk towards the armored cars that would take him away from her.  She was always amazed at how kind and gentle he was with her, how he loved to touch her and make her squirm but as soon as he stepped away from her, it was almost as if he pulled a cloak over his shoulders.  When he was with her, he was just a man.  A gorgeous, sexy, confident man who made love to her until her toes curled with desire.  But when he stepped away from her, he was a ruler.  He was hard and commanding.  His entire body language changed, became tougher, more demanding and authoritative. 

She had to admit it was a fascinating transformation. 

But then he stepped into the car and his bodyguard closed the door.  She could no longer see him but she still stood there, wanting…needing, to be as close to him as she could for as long as possible.  Even now, she could feel the sparkling electricity of his presence even though he was behind a bulletproof door. 

The long caravan of SUVs pulled away from the palace and headed towards the protective gates where officers had stopped traffic several blocks way so that the caravan could leave the palace with a minimum of risk.  She didn’t move until the car turned the corner and she could no longer see his vehicle.  Layla sighed, her shoulders sagging dejectedly as she slowly walked back towards the palace that would no longer be exciting now that Garon was gone. 

She’d almost made it inside the palace doors when she heard an explosion.  Everyone around her ducked in reaction and she looked back down the road.  The explosion was outside of the palace walls….

Exactly where Garon’s convoy had gone! 

For long, painful moments, she just stared, the acrid smoke billowing upwards.  In fact, everyone stared, their eyes riveted on the ball of flames going up in the air.  When the smell hit her, the metallic scent permeating the area, it seemed that the scent was the trigger that got everyone to jerk out of their surprise. 

Suddenly, people were running everywhere, chaos reigned for several moments until the guards’ discipline kicked into overdrive.  The chaos turned to men forming a perimeter, radios stopped the chatter and moved into crisis information only.

Layla was the only one that couldn’t seem to move, wasn’t sure what was happening.  All she knew was that the man she loved, the man she’d only recently learned to love, was either hurt or…no, she couldn’t even think of the possibility of Garon not being alive.  He had to be alive.  Her heart simply couldn’t function without Garon in her life. 

That thought, the possibility of Garon being hurt or trapped or…spurred her into action.  The guards had already started their procedures but she didn’t care.  Her only thought was to get to him, to see him and make sure that he wasn’t….

“Garon!” she screamed and started running towards the ball of fire.  Someone stopped her, she had no idea who but she clawed and scraped at the arm holding her back, trying to get free from the person who was keeping her away from the man she loved with all of her heart and her mind and her body.  She had to get to Garon!  She had to save him!  “Let me go!” she screamed, clawing and kicking.  “He might be hurt!  I have to get to him!” 

Her bodyguard ignored her commands.  Instead of releasing her, he bent down and slung her over his shoulder, carrying her into the palace and into safety.  He ignored the way she was pounding against his chest, taking the beating because his only priority was to get her inside the palace walls and to safety.  She was now surrounded by guards, all of them with their weapons drawn and her mind was almost crazy with the need to get to Garon, to make sure he was safe. 

“Put me down!  I have to find Garon!” she screeched frantically.  But they weren’t letting her go and a moment later, she covered her mouth, trying to stave off the nausea.  “Bathroom!” she gasped, her eyes wide with the very real possibility that she might get sick right here in the foyer of the palace. 

The man holding her around her waist whisked her up into his arms and carried her to the bathroom where he locked her inside.

Layla rushed to the toilet and threw up, her body wracked by the pain.  When she was somewhat presentable, she banged on the door, needing to get out and find her husband.  “Please!  I’m fine now.  I just need to get to him.  I need to make sure he is okay.”  She was sagging against the wooden door, her fingers clenching desperately against the doorknob that was the only way she could stay upright as the fear for her husband, the man she loved so desperately, raced through her mind.  Images of previous bombs flashed through her mind and she was almost sick again just thinking about her husband in pain.  It couldn’t be, she told herself.  He was too strong, too stubborn to let anything as silly as a bomb hurt him.

Wasn’t he?  Oh, please, she prayed, let him be too strong and too stubborn!  Let him be impervious to the shards of metal and chemicals that could so easily tear a vulnerable body to shreds with so little effort. 

The guard opened the door, concerned that she might hurt herself if she continued to bang on the door, but he wouldn’t let her out.  “Your Highness, we can’t let you go outside the palace.” 

She clutched at the guards arms, unaware of the tears streaking down her cheeks or that her hair was no longer perfectly in place.  “But Garon!” she cried. “He’s out there!  What’s happening?  Why aren’t all of you out there finding him?”

The man listened on his radio even while he held her back, knowing that she would run out of the palace if he released his hold on her waist even slightly.  There was a lot of chatter but he remained holding onto her, not letting her go for any reason.  He nodded as he listened, then turned to face her again. 

Turning to the queen, he grabbed her by her shoulders with each of his hands and bent lower so that he could see into her eyes.  “He’s fine, Your Highness!  He’s fine.” When she stopped trying to pull his hands away from her shoulders and listened to him, she stared up at the man, still trying to absorb his words. 

“He’s fine, Your Highness,” he stated again, this time in a calming voice.  “The missile hit one of the other vehicles but it is armored.  The driver and guards have some minor burns but they are okay.”

Layla heard the words and nodded her head.  She knew she should be concerned about the other guards, but all she heard was that Garon was okay.  And then there was nothing.  Blackness overwhelmed her and she felt herself falling without any way to stop that fall. 

Garon pushed the doctor away, his need to see Layla and make sure that she was okay overriding all of his decisions right now.  Another doctor kept trying to rub something smelly on his burns but he only wanted to see Layla.  He’d been told she was okay, but he wasn’t believing any of it until he saw for himself. 

When he walked back into the palace, he looked around, thinking she should be right there in the foyer but his eyes scanned all of the people that were rushing about, not seeing his wife.  His anxiety rose several levels, thinking that someone had gotten to her while all the guards were out reacting to the explosion. 

“She fainted, Your Highness,” one of his bodyguards told Garon, already getting the information and relaying it as quickly as possible.  They all knew that information was the key to getting control of any kind of a situation like this so the radio was an open line of continuous chatter in a very specific process. 

Garon almost sprinted down the hallway.  When he reached the open doors of their private suite, his eyes searched frantically for his wife.  When he finally saw her, lying on their bed, her face white and her body lifeless, he couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“Layla,” he whispered, hurrying to her side.  He took her hand, feeling how cold it felt and tried to rub life back into it.  “Is she going to be okay?” he demanded of the doctor. 

“Yes, Your Highness.  She just fainted,” the doctor assured him. 

Garon stared at his wife’s pale features, his heart pounding with fear for this woman.  “She’s pregnant,” he told the doctor. 

He’d been about to inject her with something but with Garon’s statement, he pulled the needle back.  “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Pretty sure,” he said, not taking his eyes away from her while his hands tried to rub some life into her body, to infuse her with some of his strength.

The doctor put the top back on the syringe and pulled out something else.  The foul smell permeated the room but a moment later, Layla was pushing the man’s hand away, her stunning blue eyes coming back into focus. 

“Layla!” Garon growled and almost shoved the doctor out of the way so that he could pull his wife into his arms.  “Damn it woman!  Don’t do that to me!”

Layla shivered as Garon’s arms enfolded her, giving her much needed warmth.  “You’re okay,” she sighed and then she started crying.  “You’re okay!” she sobbed, getting his chest wet with her tears.  

The rest of the world faded away as he rocked her gently back and forth.  For several long moments, they stayed just like that, neither of them willing to release the other as their minds took in the reality that the other was okay, had survived this horrible morning.

As his muscular body held hers, her mind slowly absorbed the reality that this man was okay and that she hadn’t lost him.  There would be one more day when she could feel his arms around her, to revel in his strength and the amazing man that he was.  Goodness, she loved him so much it actually hurt.  Unfortunately, the rest of the world also snuck into her consciousness.  She knew what he had to do, what the world needed to see and hear.  “You have to go on television,” she said, but she didn’t loosen her arms from around his neck. 

“I know.”

“Everyone will need to see you, to be sure that you’re okay.”

He actually tightened his hold.  “I know.”

With one more breath, she held him close.  But she knew what needed to happen.  She knew that she had to release him so that he could reassure his people.  “Go,” she said and she pulled her arms away.  “You need to do this.  Just go, okay?”

Garon lifted his hand, his thumb rubbing the remaining tears from her cheeks.  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she told him and forced a smile.  “I’ll get cleaned up and I’ll be by your side in a few minutes.  They’ll want to see me as well,” she told him. 

He nodded his head and looked out the window.  There was still the smoke as the fire fighters worked to put out the flames of the exploded SUV without damaging any of the evidence his security team would need to find out who did this. 

“What a mess,” he said but he stood up.  Layla was right.  His people needed to see him, to see both of them.  He needed to get out there and show them that the terrorists hadn’t won. 

As he walked away, she watched his body language change yet again.  Gone was the tender lover and in his place was the strong, commanding ruler who would assure his people that he was fine and their future, their country was also fine. 

From that moment forward, there was so much to do, so much to investigate.  The police and palace guards were everywhere, gathering evidence, speaking with witnesses.  Reporters were out on the street filming and Garon, with a bullet proof vest underneath his suit, was directing the police, giving them information and basically just showing the world that he wasn’t hurt, nor was he even concerned about another attack. 

By the end of the day, there were still no leads as to what had happened or why someone had bombed Garon’s motorcade, but all evidence was pointing towards a resurgence of hostilities between one of the other countries.  Garon refused to believe it.  The head of the military was called in and ordered not to retaliate.  He argued, but Garon gave him a direct order and he agreed to obey. 

“But, Your Highness,” the gruff, elderly man said, his uniform stiff and ready for battle.  The man was the perfect person for the role of head of the military because he knew strategy as well as comprehended the impact of communal psychology on a nation during a war.  But in this instance, Garon wouldn’t allow him to think along the lines of retaliation. 

“Something doesn’t smell right,” he told the older man. 

Layla watched all of this with growing trepidation.  Garon had spent hours gathering evidence.  She was angry with the person who had done this and she was furious with herself for feeling angry.  She was even angry at Garon for putting himself in danger.  But throughout the day and evening, she hid her feelings, knowing that Garon had to focus on the evidence and not on her.  He needed to deal with the situation logically and having to reinforce her would only slow down the process. 

“Are you ready to prepare for dinner, Your Highness?” Layla’s maid asked from the doorway of the secured room where his advisors and lead military personnel were gathered as they all discussed the findings.

Layla glanced at her watch, shocked to find that it was already time for dinner.  She’d skipped lunch, not even aware of the passing of time as she went through one interview after another, checking in with Garon after each one.  She’d just needed to see him, to verify with her own eyes that he was still okay. 

Unfortunately, she wasn’t hungry.  She opened her mouth to tell her maid that she didn’t want to have dinner.  But she stopped, thinking about her mother’s words.  Routine, schedules. Rituals must be adhered to.  People expect them.  They need them.  The palace staff was just as scared about the morning’s events as everyone in the country but they weren’t privy to the information being tossed around inside this room.  They were all going about their duties, scared and confused. 

She needed to show them that things hadn’t changed.  The business of the palace would continue.  Layla had no idea how she was going to swallow food, but she would do it so that everyone would see that she wasn’t going to let this get in the way of her life.  It wouldn’t slow her down, so it couldn’t slow them down either. 

So in the end, she nodded her head and walked to their suite to dress for dinner.  It would be expected, she thought with an ache in her chest.  Not just the crowds outside, but the palace staff would need the routine, they would need to know that nothing has changed. 

She pulled on an evening gown and let her maid pull her hair up into some sort of style.  She had no idea what she looked like or even why the maid was trying so hard, but she sat through it all, wishing that she could find Garon and hold him close, forget the rest of the world.  Someone had just tried to kill her husband!  And she was having her hair done. 

Her mother would be proud!

She walked with her head held high and her shoulders back, all the way down the hallway to the main dining room.  People were coming in and out, Garon was dressed in a suit, cleaned up from the afternoon, but every part of him was all ruler now.  He was their sheik.  He was the man they were all turning to for answers. 

But he was her husband! 

Garon was just about to walk into another meeting with his military leaders, ready to hear options.  But he turned and looked at her as she headed into the dining room.  Instantly, he knew that she was not okay.  Walking over to her, he took her into his arms and Layla felt horrible.  He was the one that had been attacked today.  Not because he was a bad person or because he’d hurt another human being.  He’d been attacked only because he was the ruler of this beautiful country.  Someone had tried to hurt him because of what he was and not who he was. 

She lifted her hand and smoothed his tie, thinking that she’d done almost the exact same thing earlier this morning.  “Are you okay?” she asked. 

He looked down at her with amusement in his eyes.  “I’m more than okay now that you are here.”

She laughed.  Sort of. 

“Let’s have some dinner,” he told her. 

Layla pulled out of his arms.  “You were going into another meeting,” she told him, looking at him with a wry expression in her eyes. 

“Yes, but I need to eat.”

“And the palace staff need to see you eat.”

His eyes widened at that comment.  He’d been so concerned with reassuring the crowds outside of the palace that he hadn’t thought about the cooks, chefs, maids and all of his administrative staff who were also affected, shaken and worried.  “You’re right,” he replied, squeezing her hands to tell her how much her comment made sense.  “Thanks for thinking of them as well.”

He turned to his chief of staff who was standing several feet behind him.  “Tell everyone to take a break and have some dinner.  The chefs probably already have everything ready to go, they’re just waiting for someone to enjoy their efforts.”

The man quickly nodded his head, agreeing that a break was a good idea.  Bowing, he stepped backwards, going into the room where the next meeting was to take place so that he could announce the break himself. 

Garon turned to Layla.  “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“Everyone needs to eat.  And full bellies make better decisions.  I’m sure everyone’s blood sugar is pretty low right now, hyped up on caffeine.” 

He chuckled.  “You’re right.  Jumpy minds don’t make wise decisions.”  He took her hand and led her into their private dining room.  “Tell me about the interviews.  What is the feeling of the people based on the questions the reporters are asking you?”

And as the servants brought in one course after another, they discussed their day.  While most people around the world were talking about soccer practice or piano lessons, she and her husband evaluated their success at reassuring their people that their ruler had not been assassinated.