The Sheik's Son

“Sebastian. Just tell us the truth. That’s all we want,” Katharine said warmly.

“Mother. As thrilled as I am to see you both, I have no idea what you are talking about. Truly I don’t.”

“And this is who we send our daughter to.” Mohammed shook his head and turned his back on them both.

Katharine took a deep breath and stood up to approach her son. “We won’t be angry. Just tell us what has happened with Leila.”

“Leila?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes.”

“She’s here now. Did you see her?”

Katharine nodded. “Yes. We saw her briefly.”

“Bring her to us,” Mohammed demanded.

Sebastian was used to his father’s orders and obeying the sheik was an automatic reaction. He nodded and left the library to find his sister. She was near the French doors when her brother came upon her.

“They want to see you.” There was no need to define “they” as both siblings had seen their parents.

Leila shook her head. “Sebastian, please.” She began to speak in Arabic.

“Leila, come.” He frowned at her refusal. “Now.”

It was no secret that Leila was their father’s favorite daughter, resembling her mother in appearance with a fiery disposition. She had been doted on at the palace and it was thought by many that she had been given too much freedom for a girl.

Once inside the small library, their family reunion was complete. Outside, the orchestra played and people mingled with champagne and food, but inside the library Leila faced her parents. Katharine was again seated on the sofa as Mohammed stood near the fire.

“Leila,” Katharine began.

“Hello, Mother. Father.”

Mohammed nodded only briefly.

“Leila. We sent you here to receive culture. To enjoy yourself,” her mother said. Although not entirely true with Leila’s mishap in Arabia, Katharine had hoped that Paris would broaden her horizons.

“What has happened?” Katharine asked her.

“Nothing, mother.” She looked at the floor.

Sebastian watched everything as if he had stumbled into an Italian comedy. He felt strange and ill at ease. His sister was behaving strangely and his parents seemed to know something he did not.

“Nothing?” Katharine prodded her and patted the sofa next to her and Leila complied.

“I love him,” she whispered.

“Oh, Allah,” sighed Mohammed but Katharine ignored him.

Sebastian shook his head in confusion. What was going on here?

“And he? Does he love you?” Katharine asked.

“I believe he does,” Leila said.

Mohammed turned sharply and came to stand before the two seated women. “Leila. I sent you here to be with your brother. To see Paris. I always intended for you to come back and marry an Arab.” He spoke quickly in Arabic.

“No.” She shook her head. “I do not care for Arab men. They are too bossy. There are not to my liking.”