The Sheikh's Guarded Heart. Liz Fielding
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it had to be something to do with Lucy Forrester.
‘Who is it?’ he asked. ‘Who is coming?’
Was it the man—he was certain it would be a man—she’d been so desperate to reach?
‘It is the Princess Ameerah, sir.’
Not her lover, then, but nevertheless Lucy Forrester was the direct cause of this invasion.
‘I am to have a chaperon, it would seem. You wasted no time in reporting last night’s event to my father, Zahir.’
‘Sir,’ he protested. ‘I did not. I would not…’ Then, ‘Your father is concerned for you. He understands your grief but he needs you, Han.’
‘He has two other sons, Zahir. One to succeed him, one to hunt with him.’
‘But you, Han…’
‘He can spare me.’
Zahir stiffened. ‘You were not recognised at the hospital, I would swear to it, but the removal of Miss Forrester by your staff would not have passed without comment. Sir,’ he added, after a pause just long enough to indicate that he did not appreciate his loyalty being doubted. ‘It was only a matter of time before news of it reached your father.’
‘He will want to know why the news did not come from you.’
‘You undertook a simple act of charity, Excellency. I did not believe the incident was of sufficient importance to interest His Highness.’
‘Let us hope, for your sake, that His Highness takes the same view,’ Hanif replied wryly, briefly touching the young man’s shoulder in a gesture that they both understood was an apology. ‘I would hate to see him replace you with someone less concerned about bothering him.’
Or was that what Zahir was banking on? Did he consider the chance of returning to the centre of things worth the risk of irritating the Emir?
‘I think I should warn you, Zahir, that the arrival of the princess would suggest otherwise.’
‘It may be a coincidence.’
‘I don’t believe in coincidence.’ Undoubtedly his father was making the point that if he could take in and care for some unknown foreign woman, he could spare time for his own daughter. He turned away. ‘Make the necessary arrangements to receive the princess.’
‘It has been done, Excellency.’ Zahir raised his voice as the helicopter appeared overhead, shaking a storm of blossom from the trees. ‘Will you come and greet her?’
‘Not now. She’ll be tired from her journey. Maybe tomorrow,’ he said when his cousin looked as if he might press the point.
He’d had three years of tomorrows. One more wouldn’t make any difference.
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