The Sheikh's Second Chance Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 5) (4 page)

Mia shrugged. "Rafiq likes to ride horses. Especially out in the desert. I'm not much of a rider myself. But, Rafiq is determined to change that."

Lana smiled. "Now, that sounds really romantic. Out in the desert, on horseback, beneath the full moon." She sighed. "This is just amazing. You're so lucky."

Mia shook her head. A sudden pensiveness filled her features. "I don't know. There have been times when I wonder if I've made the right decision."

Lana felt a stab of anxiety. "What are you talking about, Mia. Of course, you've made the right decision." Lana wrapped an arm around Mia's shoulders. "It's obvious you love Rafiq."

Mia's eyes brightened. "You think so?" she asked, obviously eager for some friendly reassurance.

Lana smiled and nodded. "I know so. I don't think I've ever seen two people more in love. You've tamed that sheikh," she stated.

"Tamed?" Mia frowned. "I didn't think of it quite like that. Isn't that a bit old-fashioned."

"What?"

"Taming a man."

"That's what they exist for. Isn't it?" Lana grinned. "To be brought to heel by a good woman and taught a lesson in how to love."

Mia seemed almost shocked. "I can't imagine Rafiq being brought to his knees by anyone."

Lana squinted at Mia. "But, you just did it."

Mia looked surprised. She seemed to consider that thought for a moment and then nodded. "I suppose you're right. But, in the nicest possible way."

"Of course, Mia. I wouldn't expect anything else from someone as smart and beautiful as you."

"Now you're embarrassing me," Mia said.

"Of course, I am. That's what best friends do, isn't it?"

Mia laughed and then frowned.

"What's wrong, Mia."

 
"I'm so nervous about the wedding," she replied.

"There's nothing to be nervous about," Lana said.

"Of course, there is. Have you ever been to a Qazhar wedding?"

"Not that I can recall," Lana said with a wry grin. "This is my first time in the country."

"They're totally different from anything back home," Mia said.
 

"I'm sure they are," Lana said.

Mia shook her head and looked very serious. "The expectations on the bride are enormous. And there'll be hundreds of guests. And, tonight there's to be a pre-wedding reception. Everyone who's anyone will be there. I'll be the center of attention."

"What's wrong with that," Lana crooned rubbing Mia's shoulder. "By the way, thanks for letting me know."

Mia's eyes widened. "About what?"

"The reception," Lana said. "What am I going to wear? You saw the size of my bags. I didn't exactly come prepared for palace receptions."

Mia smirked. "Don't be silly. You and I are the same size."

Lana gave Mia a querying look. "Really?"

Mia laughed. "Well, almost. You can borrow something of mine. Rafiq's been on a spending spree recently. He's been buying me all sorts of dresses. Too many. And, wait until you and go shopping in Qazhar City. The stores have everything."

"So, tonight is the princesses ball before her wedding. Is that it?" Lana joked.

Mia looked suddenly pale. Lana could sense the worry consuming her friend. Her heart went out to Mia. Lana could only begin to guess at how difficult it must have been for Mia to adjust these past few weeks since the announcement of her wedding. This land was so alien, so very different from anything back home.
 

Lana had only been in the palace a short while, but already her senses were reeling from the sheer contrast in how the Qazhar elite lived. It would take Mia a long time to get used to all of this, Lana thought.

Lana hugged Mia, then peered into her eyes. "Don't you worry. I'm here to help you."

Mia's eyes had traces of tears in the corners. Mia smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Lana. I don't think I'd be able to go through with this without you."

Lana smiled at Mia. "You'll be fine. Don't worry. You'll be the sheikh's wife soon, and then everything will be perfect. Just perfect."

Mia laughed and hugged Lana.

As they made their way back into the suite, Lana couldn't help wondering what it would really be like to be a sheikh's wife.

One thing was for sure.

Lana would never get a chance to find out for herself.

****

"May I speak with you, Malik?"
 

Malik froze. When his father used that tone of voice, it was never a good sign.

"Of course, Father," Malik replied.

They had just finished eating lunch and were seated at the table on the terrace that overlooked the garden. Malik, Rafiq and their father, Emir, had shared lunch while Mia and Lana had kept themselves busy in Lana's room. Malik could only guess what the two women had been talking about. He wondered if Lana had confessed to Mia about his and Lana's very brief encounter.

Rafiq had gone off to attend to some details about the upcoming wedding, leaving Malik alone with their father.
 

Emir stood and led Malik out onto the flat lawn. The air was cool beneath the trees. The sound of the nearby fountain was a melodious background noise that only slightly settled Malik's nerves.

Malik walked beside his father. In spite of his advancing years, Emir still maintained a robust health and vigor that one might expect to find in a much younger man. There was a hard-won wisdom in his father's demeanor. He'd passed a great many things onto his three sons, not least of which was a respect for the traditions of their country. Along with his brother, who also had three sons, Emir had worked tirelessly to improve the lot of all Qazhar citizens. Duty was something that featured large in Emir's view of life. That and responsibility.

Responsibility.

The very word made Malik feel a sudden chill. He could hazard a guess just what was about to come in this conversation. The same old lecture about the need to settle down; the familiar warnings about Malik's apparently wayward lifestyle.

He knew his father didn't approve of the way he lived his life. But, Malik also knew he had never done anything that would cause shame to fall on his family's house. In fact, none of Emir's children would ever do such a thing. It wasn't just their father who had been a model of virtue. Their mother had also guided her children along a path of virtue.
 

How was it that Malik had turned out to be the only one who could remotely be described as wayward? What had caused that wild streak in him? It was a question he asked himself repeatedly, but he'd never found a satisfactory answer.
 

All he knew was that commitment to one woman wasn't something he could find within himself. Malik would do anything to conquer a woman, but he would also whatever it took to put as much distance between himself and his conquests. And as soon as humanly possible.

Emir turned and headed down a narrow pathway between two lines of overhanging trees. There was a seat at the end of the pathway. His father's favorite place in the garden, one reserved for special conversations.

Malik drew in a deep breath.

Commitment. There was that word again.

In a sense, the kiss with Lana in New York embodied his attitude completely. Take your pleasure and leave as quickly as possible. In that case, it had been a mere kiss.
 

Only a kiss?

Not really. It had been much more than that. For days afterwards, Malik hadn't been able to shift the memory of Lana's taste from his mind. He'd constantly found his attention drifting back to that moment at the foot of the stairs, wondering just how sweet it would have been to pursue things even further.

How had she burrowed her way beneath his skin? He had no idea. The mystery of it had troubled him for weeks.

And now, Lana was in the palace. Placed here like a divine torment, designed to test him, tease him. Perhaps even drive him mad.

They reached the seat and Emir sat down slowly. Malik waited until his father was settled before sitting down by his side.

Emir dark features and heavy brows were a sign that all was not well. Malik tried to smile at his father, but Emir gave him a stern look in return.

"What did you want to talk about, father," Malik asked.

Emir's eyes narrowed. "You mean you don't know?"

"It's not the usual subject, is it?"

Emir nodded solemnly. "What else would I wish to talk about with my beloved son, except the issue of marriage."

"Rafiq?"
 

Emir shook his head. His gaze was penetrating.

Malik sighed. "You know what I have to say about getting married, father."

Emir straightened and lifted his chin defiantly. "All my sons have an obligation. You are no different."

Malik felt his jaw tighten. Best not respond. Give his father a chance to say what had to be said. But, Malik was determined not to bend to his father's considerable will. Not immediately, anyway.

"Rafiq is behaving with honor. He has chosen a fine wife. Even if she is not exactly of a tribe I would have preferred," Emir said, his voice trailing off wistfully.

Malik scoffed. "Mia's not even Qazhar born. And you repeatedly try to persuade me to marry a Qazhar woman."

Emir glared at Malik. "And, what is wrong with Qazhar women?"

Malik shook his head and said nothing.

"You seem to enjoy the company of many Qazhar women. At least, that is what I hear," Emir said, turning his head away from Malik as if the very subject caused him physical pain.

"Times have changed, father. Qazhar has moved into the modern world. Relations between men and women are not what they were when you were my age."

Emir sighed. "You're right. The world has changed. Which makes it all the more important that you choose wisely."

Malik stiffened. Worry curled in his middle. He twisted on the seat and faced his father directly. "What do you mean?"

Emir lifted his gaze up to the overhanging branches and the bright blue sky above. "As I say. It is time."

"For what."

"For you to commit to the woman with whom you will spend the rest of your life."

Malik felt as if he had been struck a blow. He'd expected something like this, but nothing so bold, so insistent, so direct.

"And if I don't?" Malik murmured evenly, intent on trying to maintain his calm in spite of the roiling emotions inside.

"Then I cannot allow you to continue the life that you have chosen for yourself."

Malik felt himself bristle. His fists curled into tight balls. He peered at Emir, trying to gauge the seriousness of his father's intent. He saw a familiar look on his father's face.
 

Implacable.

Determined.

"And exactly what kind of life do you think I have chosen for myself?" Malik asked firmly.

Emir eyed his son as if to say there was no point in elaborating any further. They both knew what kind of life Malik had been living. It would have been impossible to conceal the truth. People talked. There was gossip. He was well-known for his playboy lifestyle. It was impossible to deny what his father was suggesting. But, for it to be taken away? Malik wasn't sure if he was ready for that.

"You cannot force me to marry against my will," Malik stated.

Emir sighed softly. It was an impatient sound, but one that hinted at eventual victory.

"It is not a question of you marrying against you will. You must accept responsibility. You must choose commitment. That is the way. Rafiq has done so. Why cannot you do the same?" Emir asked evenly.

Malik's heart was thumping hard. He could feel the blood racing round his veins. It felt almost like panic. The last time he'd had such sensations was when he had been in a plane that was trying to land in the middle of a thunderstorm. This was no less dangerous, no less threatening to his survival.

What was he going to do? What could he do to avoid a fate worse than death? Or at least that was what the still small voice whispered in his ear, the more he thought about what his father was demanding.

One last attempt.

"I will give it some thought, father," Malik suggested. He tried to inject as much casual indifference into his voice as he could.

Emir fixed Malik with a firm look. His father shook his head. "You will do more than that, Malik. You will find yourself a bride within the next few days, or I will choose a suitable one for you."

Malik gasped. "You're not serious, father. How can I do such a thing, and in such a short time."

Emir's brows furrowed. "I was under the impression that you already have many candidates for matrimony."

"I cannot consent to such a thing, father," Malik exclaimed.

Emir stood up suddenly and looked down at Malik. Never before had Malik seen such an expression on his father's face. It was clear that this time things were very different.

Emir's jaw tightened, and he peered at Malik. "You are a sheikh, my son. You know what that means, don't you?"

Malik leaned back on the chair. He felt the cool stone of the bench pressing against him. "Of course, I know what it means to be a sheikh," he retorted.

Emir's mouth twisted into a disbelieving curve. "Maybe you do. I've had my doubts in recent times," he said.

Malik stood up quickly, facing Emir head on. "What are you suggesting?"

"Your life of ease and luxury seems to have made you forget what it means to be a real sheikh," Emir said. He leaned closer to Malik. "A real man. Not some playboy whose behavior could sometimes undermine the integrity of our family. Of our kingdom."

Malik felt the color drain from his face. He couldn't believe his father would say such things to one of his beloved sons.
 

Both men stood face to face. The soft wind moved the branches above their heads, creating a whispering which seemed to Malik almost like a mocking taunt.

"Prove yourself as worthy as your older brother, Malik," Emir stated evenly. "I have faith in you."

Before Malik had a chance to respond, his father turned away and started to make his way back toward the palace.

As he watched his father's proud, straight back, Malik realized he had been set a challenge. An unwelcome one, but a challenge nevertheless.