‘When I got pregnant I was advised not to ride. To keep the baby safe.’
Karim nodded. That he understood. But that had been years ago. There was more to this tale.
‘And after the birth?’
A wry smile curved her lips. ‘Only someone who hasn’t gone through childbirth would ask that.’
It was tempting to be side-tracked by that smile, but Karim knew a diversion when he heard it. ‘Not immediately, but in the years since your son was born. Why haven’t you ridden?’ A crazy idea surfaced. ‘Did he forbid it?’
Karim knew by the sudden widening of her eyes that he was right. Sheikh Abbas had forbidden his wife to ride. But why?
Safiyah lifted her chin. There was no trace of her smile as she surveyed him with regal hauteur. That was something she’d learned only recently. The woman he’d known had been as fresh and unaffected as they came. Or, he amended, had given that impression…
‘If it was known that I rode regularly I’d be expected to ride during royal processions and official gatherings. That was what royals have always done in the past. But…’
‘But then you’d show up your husband if you were on horseback and he wasn’t?’
A flush climbed her slender throat and she looked away. As ifshewere the one with an embarrassing secret.
‘What happened? Did he have a bad fall? Is that what made him afraid to ride?’
The colour had seeped across her cheekbones now. ‘It’s not important. Abbas was beginning to modernise Assara. He saw no point in clinging to tradition. Travelling by car is quicker and more convenient.’
The words sounded like something she’d learned by heart. No doubt they’d been her husband’s.
Karim felt something gnaw at his belly. Dislike.
He’d carefully not allowed himself to dwell on thoughts of Safiyah with her husband. He’d spent enough fruitless hours in the past, fuming over the way she’d dumped him so unceremoniously and then given herself to another bridegroom a mere five months later.
At the time the idea of Safiyah with another man, in his bed, giving him what she’d denied Karim, had been a special sort of poison in his blood.
But now his animosity was directed at Abbas.
Particularly as the possibility now arose that her defence of the dead man might be driven by love.
It hadn’t occurred to Karim that Safiyah hadlovedher husband. There’d been no outward sign of it. On the contrary, her response tohimhad told him she didn’t carry a torch for Abbas. No, ambition had been behind her first marriage, not love.
‘Tradition matters if the people still value it.’
He read the flicker in her expression and knew that to many in Assara seeing their Sheikh on horsebackwasstill important.
‘And it matters that he stopped you from doing something you love just to save himself embarrassment.’
It was the action of a coward. But Karim kept the thought to himself. He was, after all, talking to the man’s widow.
Something dark and bitter curled through his belly. He ignored the sensation, shifting his stance.
Safiyah curved her mouth into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Well, you’ll be able to fill the stables if you wish.’ Before he could respond she looked at her watch. ‘It’s getting late. Time for Tarek to go to bed. If you’ll excuse me…?’
‘Introduce me—’ Karim stopped, wondering. Did four-year-oldsdointroductions, or should he just get down on his haunches and say hello?
For the first time since he’d agreed to come here and take on the kingdom he felt unsure of himself. He ignored his uncertainty and crossed the grass to where the child and dog lay, panting, after their game. The kid registered his presence, looking up, then up again, till a pair of brown eyes met his. Brown flecked with honey, just like his mother’s.
Why that should affect Karim he didn’t know, but he registered a thump in the vicinity of his ribs as that little face with those wide eyes turned to his.
‘Tarek, I want you to meet…’ Safiyah paused. Was she wondering how to describe him? Not father…not Sheikh yet.
‘Hello. My name is Karim. I’ve come to live at the palace.’