Baby Of Mine Read online

  Aadel didn’t look or speak to her as he drove toward the café. Which was just as well since she probably couldn’t have understood him. She cringed when she saw a muttawa along the route, then chided herself. He had no way of knowing who was in the limo. Nothing would go wrong.

  After pulling up to the Blue Café, Aadel stayed where he was, reaching his hand back through the open window separating them. She placed the money in his hand and let herself out of the car. As she hurried toward the door, a white-robed Kholi male, a stranger, stepped forward.

  “Mrs. Khaldun?” he said in a low tone.

  She nodded, glad she didn’t have to face walking into the café by herself. Every eye would have been on her, a lone woman in public.

  A hand on her elbow, he led her inside, maneuvering around other people and tables until he reached a door. In passing she noted some Western men and women among the customers. Opening the inner door, he motioned for her to enter. She paused to glance inside. Seeing it appeared to be merely a small, private dining area—they did need privacy—she went in. He followed her into the curtain-draped room, closing the door behind them.

  Talal stormed into his grandmother’s house. “Where is she?” he barked at Ailia. “Where is Ms. Swanson?”

  “In her room, if anywhere,” Ailia said.

  Not pausing to decipher her meaning, Talal marched through the house, throwing custom to the winds as he headed for Linnea’s room. Her door was closed. He banged on it. Receiving no response, he flung it open. The room was empty.

  “If she’s not here, she is nowhere,” Ailia said from behind him.

  “She can’t have disappeared,” Talal said. “Where’s my grandmother?”

  “I’m here,” Grandmother Noorah said in Arabic, coming up to where Ailia waited in the hall. She nodded to her companion. “Go along, please.” When Ailia was out of hearing, she said, “I suspect Miss Swanson has bribed Aadel to drive her somewhere. Ailia fears for him. With reason.”

  “Where is Aadel?”

  “Driving the limo, of course. I was too dense to suspect at first when he claimed the car needed servicing.” She sighed. “As I told you when I called you last night, I knew in my bones the girl was up to something devious. She’s incapable of hiding her emotions. That may be a characteristic of American women, because your mother. was like that, too. Alas, I didn’t associate until too late what Miss Swanson might be up to with Aadel’s explanation about the limo needing servicing.”

  “Where would he take her?” Talal demanded.

  His grandmother shrugged. “Only Allah knows.”

  “Is the phone still in the car?”

  “I have never had it removed.”

  Talal strode to the nearest house phone and punched in the numbers, drumming his fingers against the table while he waited for a response. He might have known Linnea would break her word, would betray him. All women were betrayers, sooner or later.

  When Aadel’s voice came on the line, Talal shouted at him, “Get home fast. Now. The longer it takes, the angrier I’ll be.”

  Talal was at the gates waiting when the limo came in sight. He strode toward the car. Aadel stopped when he saw him and Talal flung open the driver’s door, resisting an impulse to choke the life out of the miserable dog.

  “Where did you take her?” he demanded.

  “The—the Blue Café,” Aadel stammered, his face pinched with fear.

  “Get out!”

  Aadel stumbled from the car, Talal slid behind the wheel, turned the limo around and roared off. Luckily, it wasn’t far. If only he could get there before she caused an incident.

  “Who are you?” Linnea asked the stranger as she faced him across the small table. Tea glasses sat in front of them.

  “A man who knew Malik,” he said. “My name is not necessary.” He leaned back and took a sip of his tea.

  “Where is my daughter?” she demanded, flipping back the annoying veil. Almost immediately she regretted the move because his eyes gleamed lasciviously as he stared at her unveiled face. She frowned.

  He smiled. “We must first discuss terms.”

  “You want money, I suppose.” Despite her growing distaste for him, she tried to keep her tone neutral, to show no emotion. “How much?”

  “Do have some tea.” He took another swallow. “It’s such a pleasure to be sharing a table with an attractive woman.”

  She bit back a pithy rejoinder. “I’m not here to drink tea,” she said as calmly as she could. “I asked you what your terms were. I’d appreciate an answer.”

  “Perhaps a part of those terms are to enjoy a glass of tea with a charming woman.”

  What an obnoxious man! He reminded her of Malik, who’d always assumed he was irresistible to women. Though tempted to fling her glass of tea in his smirking face, she hung on to the skirts of her growing anger with determination. Losing her temper would accomplish nothing.

  “I’m not here to be charming, I’m here to recover my daughter,” she said firmly.

  She might have been talking to a post. “I had no idea Malik Khaldun’s wife was so beautiful,” he murmured.

  “I am not Malik’s wife.” Anger laced her words. “Nor his widow. We were divorced long before he died. I rejected his name at that time and resumed my own. I am not Mrs. Khaldun, I’m Ms. Swanson. Where is my daughter?”

  Without warning, he rose and edged around the table. She sprang to her feet, knocking over her untouched glass of tea. “Keep your distance!” she cried, backing away as he reached for her.

  The door slammed open. At the sound she noted a look of satisfaction cross the man’s face before they both turned their heads to look at the intruder. Scowling, Talal kicked the door shut. “You flea-bitten son of a licentious she-camel,” he snarled in Arabic, “take your filthy hands off the woman.”

  The man backed away from Linnea, shock written all over him. Talal put himself between her and the dog of a Kholi she was with. He’d deal with her later. Before he could make any other move, the door opened and a skinny, wizened muttawa sidled into the room, his suspicious gaze flicking over the three of them.

  “Cover your face, woman!” he snapped in Arabic. “Have you no shame, cohabiting with two men?”

  “Stop!” Talal ordered, holding up a hand as the muttawa advanced toward Linnea. “I am Prince Talal.”

  “I know you, Prince,” the man said. “My business is not with you but with this slut of a foreign woman.”

  The truth struck Talal. A setup. The man knew he’d find a foreign woman in this room with a Kholi male she wasn’t married to, knew because someone had notified him ahead of time. He shot a venomous glance at the man, promising death at the very least, then confronted the muttawa, desperately trying to think of a way to extricate Linnea from this mess.

  “The woman is with me,” he said.

  “What difference does that make?” the man demanded. “She is still a whore and it is my duty to arrest her.”

  It dawned on Talal there was only one way to save her. Thanking Allah that he’d arrived before the religious police came on the scene, he drew himself up and glared at the muttawa. “How dare you insult my wife?” he snapped. “And me, as well.” He drew Linnea to him, pulled down her veil and put an arm around her shoulders. “Can my wife and I go nowhere in my own country without being harassed?”

  The muttawa’s mouth dropped open. When he recovered enough to speak, he bowed his head briefly and muttered, “You should have told me sooner, Prince. I apologize.” He scuttled through the door and vanished from sight.

  “Talal!” Linnea cried. “He’s getting away.”

  For a confused moment he thought she meant the muttawa, then realized the dirty dog who’d contrived this imbroglio was disappearing behind a curtain, evidently through a hidden door. Not daring to leave Linnea alone, he grasped her hand and thrust the curtain aside, revealing a door into a short hall which proved to lead into the street.

  By the time Talal threw open the str
eet door, there was no sign of the man. Burdened as he was by Linnea’s presence, he realized pursuit would be futile.

  He’d left the limo, motor running, in the street in front of the café. As he expected, the car was still there, unmolested, the Zohir crest on the license plate deterring authorities as well as the criminal-minded.

  He handed Linnea into the front seat, skirted the limo and slid behind the wheel. He pulled away, made a turn and headed back toward his grandmother’s in silence. Before reaching her house, he pulled off the road into a street with few houses that ended against a rocky hillside, stopping there.

  “What in the name of a thousand ghouls were you doing in that miserable café?” he growled. “Take off that veil so I can see your face when you tell me.”

  Linnea, her hands shaking from the frightening encounter with the muttawa, shoved the veil aside and reluctantly met Talal’s gaze. “He told me he knew where my daughter was,” she said in a small voice.

  “How?” Talal’s voice snapped like a whip.

  She explained about the stone thrown over the wall with a message attached. “He addressed the note to ‘Mrs. Khaldun,’” she added.

  “So you decided to break your promise to me instead of telling my grandmother about the message.”

  The controlled anger in his voice put her back up. “Was I supposed to continue lounging around waiting for a call from you?” she cried. “A call you never bothered to make? She’s my daughter—I had to meet the person who wrote the note and find out—”

  He cut her off. “Do you realize how close you came to being detained by the religious police? Which is exactly what this Kholi dog intended to happen.”

  Linnea blinked. In her shock and fear, she hadn’t put it all together. Recalling the momentary smug look on the man’s face when the door opened the first time, she realized he must have been expecting the muttawa. What a surprise he must have gotten when Talal stood there instead. Thank heaven Talal had arrived first—she shuddered to imagine the consequences if he hadn’t.

  “He led me on,” she muttered, biting her lip. “But why would he want to sic the muttawa on me? Why harm me?”

  Talal slammed his fist on steering wheel. “Don’t you understand? In Nevada they’d offer one hundred to one odds that he’s the man I’m looking for. Placing you in jeopardy would have deflected me, giving him time to make plans to flee Kholi. He knows he’s doomed if he remains in the country.”

  “I never saw him before. Who is he? Do you have any idea?”

  Talal nodded. “The last surviving cousin of Malik’s. Though he wasn’t the man who delivered Yasmin to the king, we’ve located that man, and with some persuasion, he told us Basheem Khaldun paid him for the errand. Apparently you didn’t meet Basheem during your marriage.”

  “I met very few of Malik’s relatives. His parents were dead and he didn’t seem to have anyone close. There was a cousin I knew and disliked very much, but this man wasn’t him.”

  “Possibly that was the cousin who was killed with Malik in the accident.”

  Which hadn’t exactly been an accident, she assumed. “If that man in the café was related to Malik he must know where Yasmin is,” she said. “Why wouldn’t he tell me? I was willing to pay him, but he refused to discuss terms. Instead he—” She broke off, not wanting to reveal how he’d started coming on to her. It was clear now that he’d wanted the muttawa to find them in a really compromising situation. What an idiot she’d been!

  “Once I get my hands on him I’ll choke out all the filthy dung-eater knows,” Talal growled. He started the motor and maneuvered the limo around on the narrow road. “I’m taking you back to my grandmother’s,” he said, scowling. “You are not to leave her house under any circumstances, do you understand?”

  She bristled at his commanding tone but merely nodded. He had a right to be angry: she hadn’t exactly distinguished herself today and he must resent being forced to rescue her. What, she wondered, had he said to make the muttawa back off?

  “If you betray my trust one more time,” he went on, “I’ll have your visa revoked and ship you back to America so fast you won’t have time to draw breath.”

  “I promise I won’t venture outside the Zohir walls,” she said more meekly than she felt. True, she owed him, but she didn’t appreciate being treated as though she were a child.

  “Your promises have proved worthless,” he said curtly. “Like all women, you’ve proven to be an expert at betrayal.”

  Offended, she stared at him. His face set and cold, he didn’t so much as glance her way.

  Hurt and angry, she retreated into herself, huddling into the ugly black dress covering her from head to toe. Why had she let herself believe Talal wasn’t a typical Kholi male? Couldn’t he understand what she’d done was because of her urgent need to find her daughter? Once Yasmin was safe in her arms she’d thank him, of course, but she’d make it clear she never wanted to see or hear from him again.

  Kholi women, having little choice, had to put up with their overbearing, arrogant men, but she certainly didn’t intend to put up with this one.

  Chapter Eleven

  Talal pulled up in front of King Hakeem’s summer palace, slid out and allowed the waiting servant to park his car. He’d called from his grandmother’s requesting an audience with the king so he knew he was expected.

  The guards waved him through the inner doors, directing him to the sitting place, the king’s favorite room. Once he reached the room, he kicked off his sandals outside the arched entrance and padded across the carpeting toward the bay-windowed seating niche the king preferred.

  “Ya, Talal,” his great-uncle said as he approached, “sit here by me.” The king motioned to a servant standing by and the man glided from the room, going, Talal knew, to fetch tea.

  “You are well?” the king asked. “You seemed disturbed on the phone.”

  “I am physically well,” Talal responded. He was not looking forward to explaining his run-in with the muttawa but he knew it was better King Hakeem hear the news from him.

  His great-uncle eyed him consideringly. “The woman?”

  “She’s created a problem,” Talal admitted, and began to relate what Linnea had done, including the confrontation in the Blue Café and his identification of the man Linnea had gone there to meet, the Khaldun cousin who’d unfortunately escaped. He paused when the servant brought the tea and resumed once again when he left.

  “I saw no way out of the dilemma but to tell the muttawa she was my wife,” he explained.

  He sipped the sweet, hot tea as he waited for King Hakeem’s comments, draining the cup before the king spoke.

  “I assume you alerted the national guard,” he said. “With luck they’ll prevent this dog of a Khaldun from leaving the area and we’ll have him trapped. I look forward to his beheading.”

  Talal waited again, aware the king hadn’t finished. He’d placed himself in an awkward position by lying, and he half expected to hear the king demand he put Linnea on the next plane to America.

  “As for the woman,” King Hakeem said at last, “the problem resolves itself once you marry her. The lie becomes the truth, and as her husband, you can directly control her waywardness.”

  Talal stared in consternation at his great-uncle, unsure he’d heard him correctly.

  The king smiled. “Marriage is, you must admit, the perfect solution. It’s past time you took another wife, and while I’d prefer she be a Kholi, necessity makes her this American woman we have wronged. So justice is served.”

  Talal swallowed. Suppressing his own objections to the king’s solution, he said, “She won’t be happy with your decree.”

  The king waved his hand. “Nonsense. Any woman would be pleased to be your wife. You will easily persuade her, I am sure. If she does prove to be recalcitrant, I have a stick to use. As I recall, you said she wants to keep the little girl we were led to believe was hers. If she gives you any trouble, tell her that unless she’s married to a K
holi so the girl may be raised properly, I intend to reclaim the child you delivered to her by mistake.”

  He leaned back in his chair and sipped his second cup of tea. “The wedding will be private, family only, here in the palace. To avoid conflict, I’ll inform everyone that you married her in America and we’re repeating the ceremony in Kholi to make it official.”

  Talal knew enough not to argue. What King Hakeem referred to as a solution was really a royal command and not to be defied. If he weren’t the intended groom, he could even admire the appropriateness of the proposal. With one stroke the king obliterated a lie and, at the same time, put Linnea under Kholi control.

  Whether Talal wished to marry her—or to marry at all—was of no concern to his great-uncle. He cared even less about Linnea’s wishes. A king’s decision about what’s best for everyone isn’t necessarily acceptable to those concerned, and in this case, Talal could see no way out.

  “Now that the immediate problem is solved,” the king said, “you can devote yourself to running down that camel dung of a Khaldun. After a brief honeymoon, of course. No man should be denied that reward.”

  Gritting his teeth, feeling like a sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter, Talal asked, “When is the marriage ceremony to take place?”

  “Tomorrow. The sooner the better. You and your new wife will move into the palace where she can be well guarded. To avoid any last-minute crises, bring her here today with your grandmother as her chaperone. I look forward to many discussions with Noorah—she’s long been my favorite of all my brothers’ wives. As you age, you begin to respect intelligence in a woman, and truly intelligent women are rare, you know.”

  Numbly, Talal agreed.

  When he left the palace he drove directly to his grandmother’s. On his arrival he sought her out at once, finding her in the main room. “Where’s Linnea?” he asked.

  She raised her eyebrows. “No longer Miss Swanson?”

  “Hardly. I’m marrying her tomorrow at the king’s command. You’re to accompany her to the palace immediately, where we’ll all be staying for the time being.”