Baby Of Mine Read online

  He wasn’t sure how she’d react to his abrupt announcement, but at the very least he expected exclamations of surprise and concern.

  Instead, his grandmother rose from her chair, saying, “Then I’d best alert the household to begin packing.” She laid a hand on Talal’s arm. “Your bride-to-be is in her room. I’ll have her fetched here so you can explain the circumstances to her.”

  Talal took a deep breath. “You’re taking this calmly.”

  “What else do you expect? I’d begun to despair of you ever marrying again. Allah did not design men to live alone. As I’ve told you, in some ways Linnea reminds me of your mother. I regret I wasn’t able, at that time in my life, to accept her, a foreign woman, as my son’s wife. Had I done so, the entire course of our lives might have been different. I intend to take this second chance, to accept Linnea as my beloved granddaughter, and so make up for my long ago failing with your mother. At your leisure you might let me know why King Hakeem issued this interesting decree.” She patted his arm before leaving the room.

  Aware he’d been warned against heading for Linnea’s bedroom, he paced up and down where he was. Seeing Aadel in the courtyard watering flowers, he controlled his impulse to rush out and throttle the man. If Aadel had refused to drive Linnea, this entire miserable affair might well have been avoided.

  How would she react to the king’s order? Her experience with Malik had obviously made her wary of marriage—especially to a Kholi. On the other hand, she’d certainly been willing to make love with him on that night in Nevada. For the first time in this tension-filled day, he smiled. All was not negative; after tonight he’d be sharing Linnea’s bed....

  Linnea found Talal staring out the window when she walked into the room. “You wanted to see me?” she said defensively.

  He whirled around. “You failed to ask what I said to the muttawa to convince him not to haul you off. Aren’t you curious?”

  “I did wonder,” she admitted.

  “I told him you were my wife.”

  She blinked, taken aback for a moment before common sense came to her rescue. Obviously Talal was Kholi and she foreign—no blood relation there. Marriage would have been their only possible relationship.

  “Quick thinking,” she said.

  “Unfortunately my brilliant lie has backfired. The king was not at all pleased. As you know, the ulema has embarked on another of their attempts to gain control of the country. At this time, King Hakeem must tread carefully to avoid giving them any ammunition to use against him. My lie would be just that.”

  “Would be?” she echoed, tensing. What was he leading up to?

  “The king has ordered us to make that lie the truth.”

  She heard his words but they refused to make sense. Make a lie the truth? “You can’t possibly mean the king has ordered us to marry!”

  He shrugged.

  “But he can’t do that. I’m an American citizen, not a Kholi.”

  “He can and he has.”

  She drew herself up. “I refuse to obey such a ridiculous command and I’ll tell him so to his face.”

  He smiled wryly. “You mean you don’t find me irresistible?”

  “That’s neither here nor there. How I feel about you, I mean. I have no intention of marrying a Kholi and you are one. I simply will not do it.”

  “You will. We’ll be married tomorrow at the king’s palace.”

  Anger steamed through her as she searched for words scathing enough to sear his arrogant hide.

  “Don’t bother to raise your voice at me,” he said before she could speak. “Marrying you—or anyone—is not my idea. But I have no choice except to obey my king. As for you, he threatens to bring our little changeling Yasmin back to Kholi and keep her here, away from you, unless you’re married to a Kholi.”

  “He can’t do that!” she cried.

  “You know he can. And will. King Hakeem doesn’t make idle threats. Make no mistake, he has the law on his side, because Yasmin is Kholi.”

  Balling her fists, Linnea fumed wordlessly, unwilling to accept his ominous words as they penetrated deep into her heart. Yasmin was hers!

  But not by law. Admitting the truth, she collapsed onto the couch, all the fight leaving her. “I don’t want to get married,” she whispered.

  Talal eased down beside her. “Neither do I.”

  She looked at him and saw her own confusion and unhappiness reflected in his eyes. “I guess we really don’t have any choice, do we?” she said, and burst into tears.

  His arms went around her and she wept on his shoulder in long shuddering sobs as he gently stroked her back, murmuring in Arabic, the soft, melodious words easing her distress.

  “From joy, the tears?” Talal’s grandmother’s voice jolted through Linnea. She pulled away from Talal and searched her pockets for a tissue.

  His grandmother handed her a lace-edged handkerchief.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Zohir.” Linnea managed to choke the words out as she mopped her wet face.

  “Grandmother Noorah,” the older woman corrected her, holding a hand toward Linnea. “Come, we pack.”

  Linnea glanced at Talal. “Pack?”

  He nodded. “We’re moving to the palace. Now.”

  Everything happened far too fast for Linnea. She felt she’d scarcely had time to draw breath before she found herself riding in the back of the limo with Talal’s grandmother, whom she’d now be expected to address as grandmother, too. In the front, she noticed Aadel drove, as usual.

  Apparently seeing her glance at him, Grandmother Noorah said, “Punish Aadel, unhappy, Ailia. Not hurt Ailia, me.”

  Evidently Aadel was getting off scot free. Since it was really her fault, too, Linnea was relieved for him. She, though, was being punished in a way she never dreamed could happen.

  Deciding she had to get what kept bothering her off her chest before they reached the palace, she turned to the older woman and said, “I hope you don’t mind about Talal being forced to marry me. You must have hoped he’d take another Kholi wife.”

  Grandmother Noorah smiled at her. “Make good wife, you. Welcome, Linnea.”

  Linnea’s heavy heart lightened a little at this unexpected welcome into the Zohir family.

  “Many sons, Talal,” the older woman added. “With Linnea.”

  Sons? Children? She and Talal? Sudden warmth seethed through her and settled deep inside as she realized she and Talal would be sharing a bed. Isn’t that what she’d wanted?

  Not exactly. Lovemaking wasn’t marriage. And the idea of them having children shook her. Actually they already had children. Danny was Talal’s son and Yasmin her daughter. They’d share their little changeling, too. Three children and they weren’t yet married.

  Children should have a father as well as a mother, but she would have preferred to choose for herself. Not that she found Talal physically undesirable. Imagining him lying beside her at night sent tingling waves along her spine.

  Even though he didn’t want to marry her—or anyone—as he’d said, surely they’d be sharing a bed. Or would they? Recalling that in Kholi a man could divorce his wife by merely saying so gave her pause. Maybe Talal intended this to be an on-the-surface-only marriage, the ceremony meant merely to pacify the ulema.

  “Bring trunk, me,” Grandmother Noorah said, obviously referring to the mound of baggage in the truck following them. “Worry not, Linnea. Come they will, the dressmakers.”

  Trunk? Dressmakers? As she pieced the older woman’s meaning together, it dawned on Linnea that a bride needs a gown. What she’d wear had been the least of her worries until this moment. If she was being forced into this marriage, she damn well wanted to look her absolute best.

  “Wedding gown?” she asked.

  Grandmother Noorah smiled. “Shape much same, Linnea and Talal’s mother. Gown in trunk. Make fit, the dressmakers.”

  She was to wear the gown Talal’s mother had been married in? Linnea drew in her breath, more disquieted than ever. No do
ubt the dress was beautiful, but to wear it meant linking herself to Talal in a way she hadn’t expected. And didn’t want?

  What did she want? Linnea hugged herself, feeling she was being rushed down a steep slope to an unknown and frightening destination at the bottom. More than once she’d insisted she’d do anything to keep her changeling daughter, and now her bluff had been called by King Hakeem himself.

  When they arrived at the palace, the limo stopped at a different entrance than the one Linnea had seen before. When they reached the door, it opened and they were greeted by a veiled woman in a Western-style dress who led them down a short corridor and through another door into a small room. Once inside, she threw off her veil, revealing a young face, and hugged Grandmother Noorah. Then she stepped back and examined Linnea with open curiosity.

  From the introduction, Linnea learned she was Sahar, a grand-niece of the older woman.

  “Come,” Sahar urged in English, taking Linnea’s hand. “Everyone is eager to meet the girl who finally captured Talal.” She smiled. “Many have tried!”

  When they arrived in a large room furnished with many couches and chairs, Linnea’s first impression was that she’d entered a woman’s convention. As she was introduced to one after another, she realized they were all somehow connected to the Zohirs and that this was the palace’s women’s quarters, the hareem.

  To Linnea’s relief, all of the younger women and a few of the older ones spoke English. Except for Sahar and the king’s wife, Wajeeh, she made no attempt to try to connect names with faces; that would have to wait until she wasn’t so overwhelmed.

  Wajeeh’s gracious welcome made Linnea feel these relatives of Talal’s didn’t resent her presence, but their avid interest in the details of how she’d met Talal made her uneasy. There were just too many questions from too many people, all coming at once.

  Grandmother Noorah evidently noticed because she announced, “Rest, Linnea must.”

  “Yes, the bride must be well rested for her wedding night,” one of the younger women said, giggling.

  “Especially if the groom is Talal,” another added.

  To the sound of teasing but good-natured laughter, Linnea left what she couldn’t help thinking of as the women’s assembly hall, led by Sahar to a suite of rooms she apparently was to share with Grandmother Noorah. She sat on the bed, her head roiling with confusion. What was she doing here? What was she letting herself in for? Finally she kicked off her shoes and stretched out.

  She woke to find a light cover over her—unlike Grandmother Noorah’s, the palace was air-conditioned. The older woman stood beside the bed. “Awake. Good,” she said, and walked briskly to the door, letting in two diminutive women in black, announcing, “Dressmakers.”

  The fitting was not limited to the wedding gown, a surprisingly well-preserved and gorgeous pearl-studded cream silk dress, long, with a high waistline, but also to other clothes, apparently from Talal’s mother’s trousseau. His grandmother’s memory was accurate, Linnea decided. She must be shaped much like his mother because very few alterations were necessary. Linnea had never donned designer clothes before and she was amazed at the timelessness of the outfits.

  While the dressmakers fitted and pinned, a servant entered with a cart containing many boxes of new shoes for Linnea to try on. She’d already decided it was useless to question any of the preparations, so she obediently chose the shoes that fit comfortably. The rest were carted away.

  “This all seems like a dream,” Linnea said after the dressmakers left with the clothes and she was sitting in a chair sipping the inevitable tea from a tiny cup. “Talal—I mean, I never expected—” she broke off, unable to put her confusion into words. Grandmother Noorah, seated across from her, smiled. “Love like sandstorm,” she said. “Take by surprise.”

  “But he—but I—” Linnea began, and again stopped. Talal’s grandmother knew the king had ordered the marriage—why did she speak of love?

  Someone tapped at the door, and a woman carrying what appeared to be a large attaché case entered on Grandmother Noorah’s invitation. She didn’t look or act quite like the other female servants.

  “Boshra Guttrah, at your service,” she said, nodding to the older woman, then to Linnea. Placing the attaché case on the table, she unlocked and opened it, removing velvet-covered cases and setting them onto the table.

  “From jewelers, you?” Grandmother Noorah asked.

  Boshra nodded. She opened the lid of one of the cases and walked over to Linnea, who blinked in disbelief at the soft shimmer of gold and the glint of light off what had to be diamonds. She’d never seen such large diamonds or so many clustered together as in the necklace and earrings in the case. Grandmother Noorah glanced at the jewels and waved the case away, saying, “Not right, no.”

  When Linnea realized she’d have to choose and to wear jewels from one or another of these cases, her mind went blank for a time. Numbly she allowed Grandmother Noorah to pick the necklace and earrings she felt were appropriate—diamonds and emeralds set in gold, elegant rather than ostentatious.

  The last case, though, contained smoky gems that gleamed golden when held to the light. Involuntarily, Linnea reached for the necklace, awed by its beauty.

  “Topaz,” Grandmother Noorah said. “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” Boshra said, setting the two cases aside and replacing the others in the attaché case, which she locked. “May you wear the jewels in good health,” she added before exiting.

  “All this is too much,” Linnea said, gesturing at the jewelry cases. “Too much.”

  “Not for wife of Talal.”

  Maybe not, but she felt like an imposter who was only going to pretend to be his wife for the benefit of the king.

  Their evening meal was served in private, to Linnea’s relief. She couldn’t face any more questions, not today. In the back of her mind she’d been expecting to see Talal, but as the evening drew on, she realized she wasn’t going to. With the exception of the king, no man could enter the women’s quarters, and she suspected that, by custom, the bride was meant to stay secluded until the ceremony.

  She’d counted on talking to Talal because he was the only one who truly understood, who could reassure her, reminding her that there was no choice for either of them. He was the only person she could share her doubts with because she knew he had them, too.

  Though she could question his grandmother about the actual ceremony, Linnea decided not to. Knowing more would merely give her something additional to unnerve her.

  “What was Talal’s mother like?” she asked finally, seeking to distract herself from her worrisome thoughts.

  “Some like Linnea. Try be good wife, her. Die, my son, too soon. Mourn, she. Wish go home.” The older woman shook her head. “Wrong, my husband. Wrong, me. Make stay. Run away, she. Take Zeid. Lose him, we. Jaida, never see. Wrong, us.”

  Unexpected tears filled Linnea’s eyes as she listened to this sparse account of the tragedy that had separated Talal and Zed for so many years. She could feel his grandmother’s grief at what had happened and she felt for the fear and heartbreak Talal’s mother must have suffered.

  She tried to stern her tears, but what the Zohirs had suffered reminded her of her own agony when Malik abducted their baby. Would she ever hold baby Yasmin in her arms again? In Kholi, she was closer to her but they were still apart. “My baby,” she said brokenly.

  “Truth find, Talal will,” his grandmother said, rising from her chair and crossing to pat Linnea’s shoulder. “Strong, he. Loyal. Keeps word.”

  Her praise of Talal dried Linnea’s tears as she mentally added up her own description of him. Arrogant. Intolerant—hadn’t he called her a betrayer? Why? What had she done that was so terrible? Tried to find a lost daughter, that’s all.

  Wiping her eyes, she looked up at Grandmother Noorah and asked impulsively, “Why does Talal believe all women betray men sooner or later?”

  His grandmother walked to the curtained windows that
faced the women’s courtyard and stood there, her back to Linnea, who bit her lip, afraid she’d upset her.

  “Desert,” the older woman said finally, without turning. “Desert is Kholi. Bedouins, we all once. Desert dwellers. Bedouin blood, his wife. Jealous, she. Died in desert, she. Not forgive her, Talal.”

  Linnea rose and crossed to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry I asked, sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”

  Grandmother Noorah turned to her. “Forgive he must, Talal. Someday. Help him, you.”

  Those words returned to haunt Linnea after she went to bed. Help Talal? How? Even if she knew how, he wasn’t likely to let her. She still was in the dark as to the sequence of events that caused his Kholi wife to die in the desert, and she doubted if he ever meant to enlighten her.

  Tomorrow he’d be her husband. She wanted, she needed him right now, needed to be held close, to feel his desire match hers, to share with him the only thing she feared they could ever share.

  In the men’s quarters, Talal paced his room. The evening had been pleasantly enough spent with relatives. He’d survived the usual prewedding chaffing and jokes by shutting his mind down so the words passed by without meaning. Alone, though, he couldn’t avoid thinking about tomorrow.

  He wouldn’t even consider having an alcoholic drink in Kholi but, at the moment, he wished he were in Nevada with Zeid, the two of them sitting in Lucky Joe’s with J.J., having a couple of beers. Later, when they were alone, he and Zeid would talk. Only to his twin brother could he speak the truth, reveal his inner self. What he wanted to say couldn’t be shared over the phone, he’d have to be face-to-face with Zeid.

  Even to Zeid, though, could he admit how urgently he wanted Linnea? The thought of her in bed in the women’s quarters, so near but so inaccessible, tortured him. Would making her his wife cure his obsession with her? Once he had the right to make love with her any time he wished, perhaps his intense desire for her would diminish. Intimacy might lead to a cure.

  He hoped so. Never had he been so plagued by his need for any woman. No one would ever know how difficult it had been to stay away from her for these past several weeks. But marriage when he’d vowed not to get into that decidedly unblissful state again? Too drastic a solution!