‘My husband arranged for Rana to have excellent support. She’s doing well now. She enjoys working on a horse stud and she’s even talking about doing part-time study.’
Karim was reeling. His feet were planted on the ground but he felt as stable as Tarek’s kite, swooping too low towards a bush. All this time…
What must it have been like for Safiyah, watching her father die, worrying about her sister and facing the blank wall he’d erected to prevent any contact between them?
He swallowed hard and it felt as if rusty nails lined his throat. He’d failed her when she’d most needed him.
He winced, remembering how she’d said her husband had arranged support for Rana. Her husband Abbas. Karim had felt jealous of Abbas, and at the same time triumphant that Safiyah’s passionate nature hadn’t been awoken till he, Karim, married her. But there was more to being a husband than orgasms. Whatever his faults, Abbas had been there for her. She still thought of him as her husband.
How did she think of him?
As the man who’d shunned her? The man who’d blackmailed her into a marriage she didn’t want?
He could argue that he was protecting her son, but should her body and her life be forfeit because of that?
Karim considered himself honourable.
Today he realised how far short he fell of that ideal.
‘What now?’
Karim dragged his gaze back to Safiyah. Suddenly she looked so small. Minutes ago, as she’d sparked with indignation, she hadn’t seemed so diminutive. Now her arms were wrapped tight around her slender body as if she were holding out the world. Or holding in hurt.
Guilt scored pain through his belly.
Most of the time her presence, her vitality, made Safiyah seem larger than life. Now he saw her vulnerability, her hurt. He wanted to protect her, to haul her close and repeat his apology till she forgave him and looked at him again with stars in her eyes.
Fat chance of that.
She hated him.
He’d abused her trust and, because he’d grown up in a world where distrust and double-dealing were the norm, he’d believed the worst of her.
Yet, despite his mistakes, the idea of letting her go was impossible.
‘Karim? What are you going to do now the story is out?’
He raised his eyebrows. Did she think he might cower here?
‘Go back to the capital. Consult with the Council. Write a press release, then get on with the job of ruling.’
Except it might not be his job for long. Now that he was Sheikh the Council couldn’t oust him. Yet Karim didn’t want to rule a country that didn’t want him. That bitter truth, like the knowledge of how he’d failed Safiyah in the past, curdled his gut. He’d offer the Council his abdication if that were the case.
When he’d been offered the role of Sheikh he’d been assured it was because of his character and his record as a statesman, not his supposedly royal lineage. What if it wasn’t true? What if the stain of his birth was too much for his new country to stomach?
Karim inhaled slowly, deliberately filling his lungs. He’d suffered the fallout of his illegitimacy once, with devastating effect. If he had to do it again, no matter. He had a full and interesting life to return to.
Except that was a lie. Even after a mere couple of weeks Karim knew thatthiswas the life he craved. He thrived on the challenges and rewards of his new role. Including his newfound family. Would Safiyah stick with him if he left Assara? Could he ask it of her?
‘You’re not concerned about a swing of support away from you?’
Had she read his mind?
‘To Shakroun, you mean?’
Karim guessed Shakroun was behind this press story. His rival hadn’t had the numbers to mount a public challenge, but trying to tarnish Karim’s reputation by backhand methods seemed like the man’s style.
‘Don’t worry, Safiyah, whatever happens I’ll protect you and Tarek from him.’ Shakroun would get his hands on them only over Karim’s dead body.