Romancing The Crown: Leila and Gage. Kathleen Creighton
Читать онлайн книгу.
He couldn’t even begin to think how he was going to explain this to her.
He zipped up his overnighter, picked it up and placed it beside its bigger twin, then opened the door. The man who stood there, waiting at patient and respectful attention, wasn’t wearing the white-and-gold uniform of the household servants, but a western-style suit, dark gray with an immaculate white shirt and blue-and-gray striped tie. He looked familiar—dark, swarthy, probably handsome, in an austere, arrogant sort of way. Undoubtedly Cade had been introduced to the man during the course of the weekend, which meant he was a member of the royal family or somebody high on the bureaucratic totem pole.
Probably a lawyer, Cade thought cynically. For the defense, he wondered, or the prosecution?
“The sheik wishes to speak with you,” the man said, in clipped English. “If you will come with me, please.”
What now? Maybe he’s changed his mind about having me executed, Cade thought sourly as he gave his room one last look and with a fatalistic shrug, pulled the door shut behind him.
His escort didn’t say another word as he led the way along the corridor, following virtually the same path by which the sheik had made his dramatic departure the night before. Cade made a conscious effort to relax, and tried not to think about the confrontation to come. Instead he made a point of noticing the arched passageways, the apparently ancient tiles beneath his feet and mosaics on the walls, and the lamps which, set into niches along the walls, added to the medieval look of it all. He half expected to see armored guards with swords and crossed pikestaffs barring entry through the massive carved double doors at the end of the hallway.
Instead, his escort merely knocked twice, paused, then pushed the doors open and gestured for Cade to enter ahead of him. Cade gave the man a nod and a sardonic, “Thank you,” which went unacknowledged.
The sheik’s office was huge, but was saved from seeming cavernous by the warm opulence of mahogany, leather and Persian carpets. Arched windows along one side of the room looked out on the sea; on the other, Sheik Ahmed waited behind a long mahogany desk. He wore an ordinary business suit this morning, but that didn’t make him seem any the less imposing. He still looked positively biblical, Cade thought. Moses in a suit and tie.
The sheik had risen at Cade’s approach. Now he nodded at the escort and said, “Thank you, Butrus. You may leave us.”
As the man muttered and made his exit, the name came to Cade. Butrus Dabir. The sheik’s most trusted advisor, and according to Elena, one with designs on his daughter, Nadia.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Gallagher. Please sit down.” The sheik indicated one of several leather chairs in front of the desk, waited until Cade was seated, then returned to his own chair. Like a genial host, Cade thought, except without the smile. In fact, he seemed almost…in anyone else Cade would have sworn he was….No way around it. The reigning monarch of Tamir gave every indication of being embarrassed.
Sheik Ahmed picked up a pen and put it down. He leaned back in his chair and scowled at the pen with lowered eyebrows. At last, following an introductory rumbling sound, he spoke.
“Mr. Gallagher, I have asked you here so that I may offer you an apology. It seems that, in the heat of the, uh, moment last night, I have made a too-hasty judgment. I believe I accused you of being a man without honor, whereas it seems that you behaved with more honor than most men would have under the same…ahem…the circumstances. I hope that you will forgive my behavior, and that of my daughter.” And with that, half rising, the sheik leaned across his desk to offer his hand to Cade.
Who was momentarily speechless, with his mouth hanging open like a schoolboy caught red-handed at mischief. Whatever he might have expected, it sure as hell wasn’t this. Finally, though, there was only one thing to do, and that was shake the sheik’s hand and say thank you. So he did it.
He was settling back in his chair, feeling dazed as a poleaxed steer, when the sheik gave another rumble and continued. “Regarding your proposal of marriage to my daughter…” There was a pause while the sheik stared intently at Cade, eyes glittering from beneath lowered eyebrows. Much against his will, Cade’s heart began to beat faster. “Mr. Gallagher, I am fully aware of the circumstances under which it was made, and I—that is to say, your gallant attempt to salvage my daughter’s honor is not unappreciated.” There was another pause. Again the sheik’s eyes pinioned Cade with the intent stare of a hawk zeroing in on a cornered gopher.
Cade’s mind was racing. What was going on here? The old sheik had an agenda, that was clear enough. What wasn’t clear at all was exactly how Cade was supposed to fit into it. Okay, he’d been cleared of dishonoring the princess, apologies had been made, he’d been let off the hook. On the other hand, his banishment hadn’t been lifted, not in so many words. He had a very strong feeling that if he said thank you now, shook hands and left this room, he’d be taking that early flight home, no hard feelings, but no business deal, either.
What was it the old fox wanted from him? He’d made his feelings on the marriage issue plain enough. So, what?
His heart was pounding, his mind in chaos. However, only his narrowed eyes betrayed the turmoil he was feeling as he calmly said, “Sir, I assure you—I didn’t propose marriage to your daughter merely to save her reputation. My desire to marry Leila was—is—sincere.”
God, what had he just said? Marry Leila? He felt a bright stab of panic before he remembered that he was safe. Her royal papa was never going to go for it anyway.
At the moment, though, the way the old sheik was staring at him was making him decidedly uneasy. Still intent as a hawk about to pounce, but now—there it was again, that odd little shift of embarrassment.
“Hmm, yes…I see.” Sheik Ahmed tapped his fingers on the desktop. “Mr. Gallagher, you must understand that in our culture, such an alliance would be impossible…”
“I understand,” Cade murmured, gravely nodding.
“Unless—” the sheik pounced “—you were to convert.”
Cade’s heart leaped into overdrive. “Convert?”
“To our ways, our culture.” The sheik spread his hands and in the white nest of beard his lips curved in a smile. “Then there would be no objection to a marriage between you and my youngest daughter—from me, of course. Naturally, Leila would have to consent to such a match.” He actually chuckled.
“Naturally…” Cade breathed. His head was whirling again. What the hell was happening? He gave his head a little shake and tried to smile. “Wow. Convert, huh? That’s an…interesting idea. I’ll…definitely have to…”
“Of course,” Sheik Ahmed said smoothly, “I understand such a decision should not be made lightly. And I would fully understand if you wished to leave us, Mr. Gallagher, after the treatment you have recently been subjected to, from me and, uh…members of my family. However, if you should decide to stay…” another of those strategic pauses, another shrewd glare “…it is my understanding that my son, Hassan, and daughter-in-law, Elena, had scheduled a visit to the oil-producing regions of our country, and a tour of our facilities, before their departure on their…uh…” He frowned, searching for the word.
“Honeymoon?” Cade supplied.
“Yes, honeymoon.” The sheik waved a hand and muttered something about “western traditions,” then harrumphed and went on. “It is also my understanding that the three of you wished to discuss a possible business arrangement between your own company, Elena’s and Tamir.”
Cade, who was pretty much in shock at this point, could only nod and mutter, “Yes, sir, I had been looking forward to meeting with you on that subject—”
Sheik Ahmed gave another hand wave and leaned dismissively back in his chair. “I have decided to leave that aspect of my country’s business dealings to my son. And his new wife, who, as the head of her own company, seems very knowledgeable on the subject. You may consider them my representatives. Any agreement