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Sheikh Without a Heart

Page 101

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Karim hesitated. This was a time for absolute honesty. That was one of the most remarkable things about his relationship with his beautiful fiancée.

They could always speak the truth to each other.

“And,” he said slowly, “he will love you as a daughter—once he gets to know you.”

She nodded.

“But not yet.”

A muscle flickered in Karim’s jaw. His conversation with his father had been a difficult one.

“A woman who would bear a son to a man who has not married her,” his father had said coldly, “is a woman of questionable morality.”

Karim had fought back a hot rush of anger.

“The world has changed, Father.”

“Not our world here in Alcantar.”

Wrong, Karim had thought.

The world had changed, even in Alcantar, and it would change again when he ascended the throne. But there was no sense in arguing the point.

What mattered was making it clear that he would not tolerate any interference in his decision to marry Rachel, or any show of disrespect to her.

“But my world has changed,” he’d said. “Rachel changed it. I love her and I am proud to take her as my wife.”

His father must have heard the steel in his voice because he’d ended the conversation by saying he would see Karim soon.

Very soon, Karim thought, as the plane touched the runway.

The pilot’s disembodied voice floated through the cabin.

“We have arrived, Your Highness.”

Karim undid his seat belt and Rachel’s; he drew her to her feet. Her face was pale and his heart went out to her. Her world was about to change, too.

Alcantar was a beautiful, proud country, but it was surely different from any place she had been before.

And he, once he stepped from the plane, would be different, too.

Perhaps he should have warned her of that, he thought as they reached the door and the steps that led down from the jet.

Too late.

He heard her whispered “Oh!” when she saw the convoy of white Bentleys flying the falcon flag of Alcantar, the uniformed honor guard standing at attention, the pomp and circumstance that awaited them.

“Karim,” she whispered, “I don’t know if I—if I—”


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