The car came to stop in front of a beautiful lapis-lazuli-lined dome suspended between pillars made of white marble. Beyond the dome he could see a vast entrance foyer glittering beneath Venetian crystal. Victor got out of the car. Ethan did the same. As they stepped towards the dome, he shrugged his wide shoulders and grimly swapped Eve-tension for play-your-part-tension—so he could get the hell out of here.
Dressed in black western dinner suites, white shirts and bow ties, he and Victor stood out in a room filled with flowing Arabian colour. He saw Leona straight away. She was wearing gold-threaded blood-red silk and she looked absolutely radiant. Beside her stood the man she had adored from the first moment she’d set eyes on him just over five years ago, Sheikh Hassan Al-Qadim—who looked unusually pale for a man of his rich colouring.
Had the strain of the last few weeks begun to get to him? Victor had relayed some of what had been going on. Hassan had been fighting the battle of his life to keep the wife of his choice by his side and retain his place as his father’s successor as ruler of Rahman. He had achieved success on both fronts—by the skin of his teeth.
Other than for this one last thing…
The hairs on the back of Ethan’s neck began to prickle. A brief, smooth scan of the room showed him what he had expected to see. People were staring at him—in shock, in dismay, in avid curiosity.
Were they expecting a scene? Were they looking like that because they expected Hassan to call for his sword and have his head taken off?
The prickle at the back of his neck increased, when what had been meant as a bit of sardonic whimsy suddenly didn’t seem that whimsical at all. Then common sense returned, because what use would it be to have his head severed from his shoulders when all that would do would be to prove that Hassan believed the rumours about his beautiful wife?
What he was doing was far more subtle. The man had style, Ethan was prepared to acknowledge when, on catching sight of him standing here next to Victor, Hassan did not reveal a hint of the old dislike that usually flashed between the two of them. Instead Ethan saw him smile, then gently touch Leona’s arm to draw her attention their way.
Leona turned to towards them. By now the room was held enthralled. Her lovely face began to lighten. A pair of stunning green eyes, that somehow were not quite as stunning to him as another pair of green eyes, flicked from her father’s face to his face then quickly back again. Then, on a small shriek of delight, she launched herself towards them.
It seemed as if the whole assembly took a step backwards in shocked readiness for her to reveal her true feelings for this western man. Tall, lean and in very good shape for his fifty-five years, Victor Frayne received his daughter into his arms and accepted her ecstatic kisses to his face while Ethan felt the room almost sag in relief, or disappointment, depending on whether they were friend or foe to Sheikh Hassan Al-Qadim.
‘What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me?’ Leona was scolding her father through a bank of delighted tears.
‘Ethan—’ She turned those starry eyes on him next and reached out to capture his hand. ‘I can’t believe this! I thought you were in San Estéban!’
‘I only spoke to you this morning in London.’ She was talking to her father again.
‘No, a hotel, here.’ Her father grinned at her. ‘Thank your husband for the surprise.’
Hassan appeared at Leona’s side to lay a hand on her slender waist. Leona turned those shining eyes onto him. ‘I love you,’ she murmured impulsively.
‘She desires to make me blush,’ Hassan said dryly, then offered his hand first to his father-in-law then to Ethan. ‘Glad you could make it,’ he said congenially. ‘We are honoured to receive you into our home.’
‘The honour is all mine,’ Ethan replied with a smile that held only a touch of irony to imply that there was more to this invitation than met the eye.
Hassan sent him a slight grimace, then looked down at Leona who was too excited to notice any of the undercurrents flowing around her.
She didn’t know, Ethan realised. She had no idea that he was here to help save her reputation. His estimation of Sheikh Hassan rose a couple of notches in recognition of the lengths he was prepared to go to for his love of Leona.
Could he have ever loved her like that? Looking at her laughing, beautiful face, he found himself superimposing another laughing, beautiful face over the top of it, and had to ask himself if he’d ever loved Leona at all? For this other face didn’t just laugh at him, it teased and flirted and sent him secret little come-and-get-me smiles that made his insides sing. This other face looked at him and loved him.
Loved him? He stopped to question that.
Loved him, he repeated. His legs almost went from under him as his heart sank like a stone.
It was there, he could see it. It was there. He’d been blind!
‘Ethan, are you feeling okay?’
He blinked and found himself looking down at Leona’s anxious face. ‘Fine.’ He smiled. ‘I’m glad to see you looking so happy.’
Stupidly, utterly, totally blind!
‘I am!’ She smiled. ‘Deliriously happy.’
I need to get out of here…
‘Good,’ he said. ‘This time make sure you hang onto it.’
In solemn response, she linked her arm with Hassan’s arm. ‘Hanging on,’ she softly promised him.