The Sheikh's Stubborn Lover (The Adjalane Sheikhs 2)

She glanced at the guard again and her eyes narrowed. “He looks nervous. This isn’t a legal release, is it?”

Holding out a hand, he told her, “We may have to run. Stick close.”

She sat where she was, her hands fisted on her knees, and shook her head. “I am not adding a valid charge of breaking jail to the invalid one of bribery.”

Frowning, he crossed his arms. “Do you wish me to carry you?”

The corner of her mouth quirked. “Off on a camel into the desert? Thanks, but I’ll pass on that.”

Dragging a hand into his hair he cursed and asked, “What do you wish me to do woman? Let you sit here and rot? You will lose your land. You may be deported.”

Michelle said nothing. That worried him more than if she’d been hysterical. She pulled in a breath and let it out. “I wish I’d done more research on your country’s laws. I didn’t, but you’ve got to have something about your dad hearing cases and dispensing justice. We need to get this whole thing out in front of your father.”

He frowned. “I am not certain that is wise.”

She opened a hand. “I understand—you worry for him. But this…” She waved her hand. “This thing between you and your brother is officially out of hand. You have to admit that.”

He nodded. “Let me make some calls.” Moving away, he pulled out his cell phone to call in more favors. He reached the family lawyers for advice, and put a rocket under them to act now. He came back to Michelle. “We will have action within the hour. I will wait with you.”

She gave him a trembling smile. Adilan asked the guard to take them to a better place to wait. They headed to a visiting area. Less than an hour later, a lawyer showed up, the security cameras were back on and the lawyer sniffed and handed over paperwork to the guards. Everyone muttered, someone said something about irregular, and someone else about how this law has not been quoted in decades, but Michelle was given escort to meet with Sheik Nimr Adjalane.

Handcuffs were brought out. When Adilan frowned, they were put away. She was given leave to change back into the clothes she had worn when she had been arrested. Adilan lead her out, one hand on her elbow. She kept her chin up and her eyes straight ahead, but he could feel her shaking. Adilan put her into his red Tesla. The guards followed in another car.

At the palace, it seemed to Adilan that every light in the palace must be on. Hassan waited at the door. Adilan asked in rapid Arabic if someone had called his father about Michelle Reynolds and this unofficial—or perhaps it was official--hearing. Hassan bowed and gestured inside. “The sheikh awaits you in his office.”

Adilan took Michelle’s elbows and led her inside. Her heels clicked on the hard floor, then softened on the carpets. Leaning close to her he asked, “Can you do this—face my father?”

She offered him a weak smile. “I’m just so glad to be out of that prison.”

“Me too.”

Stepping into the large, imposing room, Adilan paused. As a boy, he had hated this room. Portraits of ancestors hung from the wall—they had always seemed to be glaring at him. Books lined the walls between the large portraits in their heavy frames. An oak desk dominated the room, but his father sat beside a low brass table that held fragrant hibiscus tea in a silver service.

His father did not wave for anyone to be seated. He looked grave, his skin a touch sallow. He wore suit trousers, a starched white shirt, open at the neck and no tie. The top button of his shirt was open, and he had put off his keffiyeh as if he had started to settle and relax, but then had been called to this duty.

“Adilan.” He glanced at Michelle, examined her face and nodded. “You have your mother’s eyes. Every time I see you, I think of her.”

Adilan wet his lips. “Father, I have failed you, but I think this can yet be made right.” Adilan poured out the story in a rapid flow of Arabic. It left Michelle staring at him, looking from him to his father, but that could not be helped. He told of Malid’s taking pictures of Michelle, and of the false bribery charges against her. “But there is more father. I am helping Michelle build her mother a sanctuary at Al-Hilah. But I can still bring the land back to you.” He pulled in a breath,

then said in English. “I wish to marry this woman.”

Michelle’s eyes widened. Adilan glanced at her, then looked back at his father. Nimr shook his head. “Ah, if I were a younger man—I might fall in love with her too.”

Michelle pulled her hand away from Adilan. “This isn’t about love. It’s about that damn property, isn’t it?”

Nimr straightened. “May I remind you, serious charges hang over you. You will behave.”

She blushed and stammered out an apology, but her blue eyes flashed fire. Adilan turned to his father, but the older man held up a hand. “Hassan,” he called out. The man came into the room and bowed and Nimr said, “You will take a message to Malid. You will tell that clever plans are one thing, but hurtful ones are another. False charges are a poor reflection on the honor of our family. I do not wish to see his face for some time. Find Nassir and see to it that he finds a reason for Malid to be elsewhere.” He turned to face Michelle, “I’m sorry you have seen the worst of both my family. As to Adilan, he is like me. I hope you will not hold that against him—and that you have more love in your heart than your mother had. Ours was a different world—but I would not say no to a daughter who brings with her the dowry of Al-Hilah.” He smiled.

Adilan glanced at Michelle. She was not smiling. He looked at his father. “Does this mean the charges—?”

Nimr waved a hand. “The paperwork can wait until morning. She must stay the night in the palace—house arrest. All else will be cleared up tomorrow.”

With a bow, Adilan swept Michelle from his father’s office and upstairs to his rooms. Her arm seemed stiff under his touch, and he did not know what would happen next.

In his rooms, Adilan shut the door and leaned against it. Michelle began to pace. She glanced once at Adilan and then asked, “Is it wrong of me to hope I will never have to see Malid again? I’m not sorry you punched him out.”

Adilan waved at the bathroom. “Do you wish to bathe? I can arrange to have a have a tray brought up—food or tea?”