The Sheikh's Collection. Оливия Гейтс
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her, feeling her fragility. ‘This is my wife, Queen Elena of Thallia.’
‘Your Highness,’ Dimah murmured and curtseyed. No matter how frail she looked or felt, she was still every inch the lady.
‘I’m so pleased to meet you,’ Elena said, and took Dimah’s thin hand in both of her own.
Once inside, Dimah arranged for refreshments to be brought to the main salon, chattering with Elena about women’s things while Khalil’s mind roved over his arranged meeting with Aziz next week.
He’d been amazed that his half-brother had agreed to meet with him; it had given him hope. Perhaps Aziz really would see sense. Perhaps he would call the referendum.
And what about his wife?
Perhaps a quick and quiet annulment would get the nameless woman Aziz had married out of the way. Yet the fact that Aziz had been willing to marry so quickly made Khalil uneasy. It made him wonder if his half-brother wished to be Sheikh more than he’d thought he did.
‘Khalil, you are not even paying attention,’ Dimah chided. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. ‘But I don’t blame you. Anyone can tell you are in love!’
He felt Elena start next to him, saw her glance apprehensively at him. Was she worried for his sake or her own? He smiled and reached for her hand. It felt amazingly easy. ‘You’re right, Dimah,’ he said. ‘My mind is elsewhere.’
Elena beamed.
‘I’m afraid I must excuse myself,’ he said a few minutes later as he rose from his chair. ‘I have business to attend to. But we will dine with you tonight, Dimah, if that is acceptable?’
She waved a hand in easy dismissal. ‘Of course, of course. Go ahead. I want to get to know Elena properly.’
Suppressing a wry smile, Khalil gave his bride a look of sympathy before striding from the room.
* * *
‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am Khalil has found you,’ Dimah said once she was alone with Elena. ‘Anyone can tell how in love you are.’
Elena smiled, felt that tremulous joy buoy her soul.
‘Do you think so?’ she murmured, craving the confirmation of Khalil’s feelings. ‘I want to love you’ was, she acknowledged, a little different from ‘I love you’.
‘I know it,’ Dimah declared. ‘I’ve waited so long for Khalil to find someone to love, and to love him back. I pray now he’ll forget all this foolishness with Kadar.’
Elena tensed, unsure how to address such a volatile subject. ‘The sheikhdom of Kadar is his legacy, Dimah,’ she said gently. ‘It’s his birthright. He will not forget it.’
‘He should,’ Dimah said, her voice rising fretfully. ‘He should. I keep telling him. There is nothing good for him there.’ She bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears, and Elena frowned.
‘Why do you want him to forget it?’ she asked. ‘Wouldn’t you like to see him restored to his rightful place, and your sister’s memory—’
‘No.’ Dimah cut her off swiftly. ‘No. We mustn’t talk about that.’ She shook her head, seeming to come to herself. ‘I want to hear more about you and your wedding. Tell me about happy things. Tell me about when you first realised Khalil loved you.’ She smiled eagerly, like a child waiting for a story, sounding so certain of something Elena still wondered about.
Yet in that moment she knew she wanted to be like Dimah and believe. She wanted to hear and speak of happy things, to be certain that, no matter what happened with kingdoms or countries or thrones, she could be sure of her love for Khalil...and his love for her.
Gazing at Dimah’s expectant face, Elena felt her own doubts begin to melt away. If Dimah could already see how Khalil loved her, then surely he did? Elena saw it in his eyes, felt it in his touch.
Maybe Khalil wasn’t sure what love looked or felt like, but Elena believed he loved her. She loved him. Nothing else mattered.
Nothing could change that.
Leaning forward, she began to tell Dimah all about how she and Khalil had fallen in love.
THE NEXT MORNING Elena came downstairs with Khalil to find Dimah standing in the centre of the salon. ‘I need to talk to you,’ she said, looking pale and resolute, and Khalil frowned.
‘Dimah, what is it?’
‘I need to tell you something.’ Dimah closed the doors to the salon and turned to them, her fingers knotted anxiously together. ‘I should have told you before, Khalil, a long time before. I never wanted to, but...’ She trailed away, clearly nervous, and Khalil shook his head.
‘I don’t understand.’
Elena felt a sudden, terrible thrill of foreboding. She had a mad impulse to tell Dimah not to say anything. Not to change anything. Last night they’d all chatted and laughed over dinner, and then Khalil had taken Elena upstairs and made sweet love to her for half the night. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, perfectly content. Utterly secure in his feelings for her, and hers for him.
Yet now, standing there, looking at Dimah’s anxious face, remembering her fretful pleas yesterday about Khalil forgetting Kadar, Elena’s stomach knotted. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she flung out one hand.
‘Don’t.’
Khalil turned to stare at her incredulously. ‘Do you know what she’s going to say, Elena?’
‘No, but...’ What could she say? That she had some sort of premonition?
‘But what? What do you know, Elena?’ Khalil rounded on her and Elena blinked up, stunned at how quickly he had become suspicious, even angry. Dimah hadn’t said anything, Elena didn’t even know what she was going to say, yet here was Khalil, glaring at her accusingly.
‘Khalil,’ she whispered and he turned back to Dimah.
‘What do you need to tell me, Dimah?’
‘I should have told you a long time ago, Khalil.’ For once Dimah’s voice was low, certain, which made Elena all the more anxious. What was she going to say? ‘Perhaps even when you were a boy, but I was afraid. Afraid first for you, and how you would take it, and then afraid for me. How you would feel about me keeping such a secret.’
Khalil stared at her, his expression shuttered. ‘You are speaking in riddles.’
‘Only because I am still afraid to tell you the truth,’ Dimah admitted quietly. ‘But I can see you have changed, Khalil. I know you love Elena—’
‘Don’t tell me what I feel.’ Khalil cut her off brusquely and everything in Elena cringed and shrank. What was happening, and how had it all gone so wrong, so quickly?
Because it hadn’t been strong enough to begin with.
‘Khalil.’ Dimah faced him directly, bravely, as if she were facing a firing squad—a death sentence. ‘Hashem is not your father.’
His expression, amazingly, did not change. It did not so much as flicker. He didn’t even blink.
‘Say something,’ Dimah said softly and a muscle in his jaw bunched.
‘Nonsense.’
‘You don’t believe me?’ Dimah blinked, incredulous.
‘Why are you telling me this now, Dimah, after so many years?’ He nodded towards Elena. ‘Is it because of Elena? Because you think I’ve changed?’
Elena flinched; he sounded so contemptuous.
‘Partly. You have more to live