Shackled to the Sheikh

Surely he’d had a right to ask whether his father had ever thought of him on his birthday or whether he’d ever felt a hole in his heart where his son should have been?

He stood there, battered by the breeze caused by sea slamming into rock, until in the end Rashid knew there were no answers for him here.

Yet still he stayed a while, a silent sentinel, while the wild wind tugged at his jacket and hair and the spray from the crashing waves on the cliffs behind rained like mist over him, until finally he said in a gravelly voice to a father he couldn’t remember, ‘I will never understand why you did what you did. And I will never forgive you.’

And then he turned and walked away.

* * *

The jet was whisper quiet, piercing the air with the maximum of speed and the minimum of fuss or inconvenience to its passengers. Tora sat wrapped in one of the enormous leather seats, still shell-shocked. She’d travelled business class with a rock star’s child once, and that had seemed luxurious after usually being consigned to economy with the children, but this was more than luxurious, this was sumptuous.

Timber-panelled walls with gold trim, plum-coloured leather seats that reclined and spun and laid flat and looked more suited to a lounge room than a plane, and opulent carpets in vermilion on gold on the floor, with enough space in between the seats to swing an entire herd of cats, while fresh frangipani placed discreetly in tiny vials around the cabin walls perfumed the air.

But then, this wasn’t business class and it wasn’t the only reason for her shell shock. This was the royal jet of Qajaran, and her tiny charge was some kind of princess.

What did that make Rashid?

He sat across the aisle in the row ahead, deep in conversation with Kareem. She could hear their voices every now and then, Kareem’s measured and calm tones, interspersed with Rashid’s arguments, though she couldn’t make out what they were discussing but could see that whatever they were talking about was raising temperatures—Rashid’s at least. She could make out his profile—strong lines even down to the lips on a mouth that was now snapping out words. Lips that she knew could give an inordinate amount of pleasure. She squirmed a little in her seat as she watched him, remembering, tingling in places that shouldn’t be tingling right now.

God, she was kidding herself if she could forget, but it would be better for everyone if she could put those particular memories aside for however long this assignment took.

And then he turned, and caught her watching him, and she held her breath as a tremor zigzagged down her spine, unable to tear her eyes away as his dark eyes gleamed and pinned her to her seat. Then he said something short to the man beside her before turning away and severing the bonds between them.

Breath whooshed out of her in a rush as she felt his hold on her release. She took a couple of restorative breaths. What was that about?

Why had he looked at her that way, not with anger or resentment exactly, but with eyes that were so cold, hard and calculated?

Beside her, Atiyah gurgled happily in the bassinet strapped to the seat, and she blinked, focusing on what was important here. Not Rashid and his clear preference that she’d disappeared into the past and stayed there when she left his bed this morning, but this tiny baby.

Tora smiled as she leaned over the bassinet. She couldn’t help but smile when she looked at Atiyah’s face with her big dark eyes and tiny button nose and the pink lips busy making shapes and testing sounds. Likewise, she couldn’t help but feel the tug on her heartstrings when she thought about how she’d grow up never knowing her mother or father. It was so unfair. It was wrong.

She should be smiling at two months. She probably would, if she saw her mother’s face. For now, she looked up with those big eyes at Tora as if everything was new again, as it must seem to her.

It was so unfair to lose her parents just when the world was coming into focus and making sense. She needed stability now, and people to love her. Hopefully, once she was in Qajaran with a regular carer, she would remember how to smile.

Maybe Rashid might even take an interest in her by then. He’d shown precious little interest to date, treating her more as a parcel he had to convey rather than as his tiny sister. He just didn’t seem interested.

What was with that?

But then, he didn’t look like a man who smiled much. He seemed angry about everything.

The baby cooed and closed her eyes and took a deep breath, settling back for another brief nap. Tora reclined her chair a little and sat sideways, almost envying Atiyah’s ability to turn off the outside world. She watched her sleep, the low drone of the plane’s engines like white noise, and the wide chair so comfortable, and yawned, feeling her own eyelids grow heavier.