ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance (85 page)

Keisha was not entirely sure what to say to that. What
business
was she referring to? A stone of doubt dropped down into Keisha’s gut and she hesitated. Did they mean the wedding? The… the pregnancy? Or was she just talking about getting to know each other as sisters before the whole world turned upside down with the news of the only son of the Sheikh getting married?

It was impossible to say, but Keisha hoped blindly for the last of those thoughts and nodded her head. “Of course.” She went to the door and pushed it shut until it latched with a soft echoing sound. When she turned back around to face the women, both of them were already seated on the bed, their long legs curled up beneath them in mirrored images of each other.

Keisha was reminded of Siamese cats, their tails curled in opposite directions, but otherwise seating themselves in the exact same position. Even their painted, beautiful faces seemed catlike. Not necessarily sinister, but… mischievous. As though they always had something else going on rather than just what was floating around on the surface.

Mahira patted the bed between them, indicating that Keisha should join them on the bed.

Taking a deep breath, Keisha smiled at them and nodded. She walked over to the bed and slid up onto it, sitting on her shins rather than on one foot like the other two.

“So,” Naiad began, her smile still in place as her head titled slightly to the side, a cat cocking its head curiously as it inspected something. Most likely prey. “How did you meet Ahmed?”

Keisha swallowed heavily. Their meeting was innocent enough and she did not mind sharing the story, but would they continue with this question? Would they ask how long Keisha had been with Ahmed? Would they ask if… if the pregnancy was before the marriage? (Which it most certainly had to be.)

Clearing her throat, she began. “It was a year ago,” Keisha told them and instantly both of the other women’s features seemed to freeze. They seemed a little shocked by the revelation.

“A
year
ago?” Mahira repeated, eyes widening slightly as her face turned into a caricature of friendliness.

Naiad nudged her sister and gave her a pointed look, before looking back to Keisha with that same friendly smile. Except now there was something else flashing in her eyes. Keisha was not sure what it was exactly, but she did not think she liked it. “My sister is merely
surprised
that you have known our brother for so long and we have yet to hear a single thing about you. It hardly seems fair for us to know so little and for you to know so much, would you not agree?”

Keisha forced a smile, not explaining that the reason Ahmed’s family did not know of her was that they would not have approved of the involvement of a Sheikh’s son with a beggar woman. Surely, they knew that already anyway, did they not?

Beginning again, Keisha said, “We met a year ago. It was in the market and Ahmed, of course, was with his bodyguards. He had two that day and they were… overzealous.”

Ahmed was attractive. There were plenty of attractive men, Keisha supposed, each with a quality here or there that she found herself lingering on, but they never stayed in her mind for long. Keisha saw Ahmed only the one single time, but it was enough for his memory to lay embedded in her memory for the rest of her days. She was sure of it.

He walked with confidence and a lingering boredom that seemed impossible to cure. The guards who flanked either side of him told the entire crowd that he was a man of great importance, but Keisha could not say for certain who he was.

After all, there were foreign dignitaries who visited the city all the time and there were often council meetings or visiting nobles and any number of official people who might require guards such as those.

Keisha was intrigued and looked on from afar, but she had no impression of Ahmed one way or the other—beyond his physical attractiveness. She made a point of not having an impression, because of those guards. They meant that she surely would have no reason to be within ten feet of the man.

The knowledge kept her focused on her work. She was weaving fabrics together today for a woman whose daughter would be married in three months. The woman wanted nothing but the best and she had the money to throw at things like expensive fabrics and custom dresses. And rightly so. After all, this was her daughter’s first and only marriage. As far as Keisha knew, the woman had no other children anyway and this marriage was important to the overall well-being of the family.

Keisha kept her head down and sewed the beautiful, white fabrics together. She even was allowed to use golden thread to embroider along the edges of the fabrics, something she had never been able to afford for herself.

This would be the closest she ever came to such a lovely dress.

She worked so hard that day that she did not even notice the slightly heated conversation or the man who appeared at her little station there in the market—she could have taken her work home with her, since she likely would not be taking on any new projects until this one was finished, but she enjoyed being outside amongst the people.

It was not until the man cleared his voice, that Keisha realized someone was there.

She jerked her head up and stared at him with eyes wide as saucers. It was the man from before, Ahmed. He was still flanked by his two guards and he wore an easy, brilliant smile. He was looking down at her curiously.

“You have wonderful works here,” he commented brightly.

Keisha swallowed harshly and stuttered out a, “Thank you.”

His smile widened. “I was wondering if you were making that for your own wedding?” he asked casually, motioning to the fabric in her hands.

At his suggestion, she actually laughed out loud. She shook her head immediately. “Oh, no! Of course not. This is far too expensive for me. I only make the dresses,” she explained lightly with a smile, but his own dropped slightly.

“What do you mean too expensive for you? How could a woman as beautiful as you not deserve the most expensive luxury in the world?”

He had asked so earnestly, so sincerely, that for a moment Keisha was speechless. She stared at him with wide open eyes and shook her head, taking a moment to come back to herself. A blush had crept across her cheeks, though she kept her chin up and met Ahmed’s eyes without flinching.

“My beauty, as you put it, is not linked to my personal… wealth,” she explained carefully. “I am who I am and this is my job, my work. I have no time or money for frivolous things; I need to work.”

He seemed startled by her response and before he could come up with an answer, one of the guards stepped forward angrily. His voice was deep and menacing as he told her, “You will not address Prince Ahmed Kandalama in such a manner! He demands your full and complete respect and you will apologize immediately!”

Keisha’s eyes widened. This man was not a traveling dignitary or some foreign ambassador. He was not a noble or some wealthy businessman who had amassed enough wealth to earn himself a guard.

No, this was the Sheikh’s own only son.

Keisha paled and momentarily was positive she would feint. She could feel herself begin to shake and she wondered if they would arrest her for speaking out of turn to a crown prince. But then the Prince held up a hand, patting the guard casually and almost patronizingly, still staring at Keisha.

“Don’t be so harsh, Corrin,” he said easily, but with just the tiniest hint of force behind it. “I invited her honest answer. It was my misstep.” And then he winked at her.

Keisha retold the story in earnest, forgetting where she was and who was sitting just across from her. Both of Ahmed’s sisters were watching her with eyes drawn to near slits and smiles fractured, only barely held in place by plaster or a personal determination.

But Keisha didn’t even notice. She was so lost in that first memory of Ahmed and all the ones that followed. He’d continued to visit her after that. The first two times were… curious and he must have realized that soon people would begin to talk about them.

And not in a positive way.

The third time, he actually came with a job for her. She was still working on the wedding dress for the woman, but it would be done soon and of course she would take any job given to her by a crown
prince
.

He commissioned her to create a dress for his mother. It had to be bright ruby red with gold lining and embroidery and even gems embedded in it. He told Keisha that it would have to be nothing but the best for his mother—and he also said that was why he had come to her.

When she had finished with that job, she was given another. This one was again a dress, but for one of his sisters—the littlest if she remembered correctly—and it had to be in cherry blossom pink.

Again and again he returned to her with more work, commissioned beautiful dresses from her. Ones that she would never wear, of course, but were beautiful all the same and on occasion she had wished she might wear one.

Then, one day, he came to her with a job that was slightly different than the others. He said he wanted it in a burgundy color with embroidered flowers lining the edges of it. He had given her the measurements and Keisha assumed it was once again for a family member, but when it was complete, he wrapped it up in a box and presented it to her.

He had told her,
“I asked you to make it, because I could not find a single person here with more skill and I wanted you to have the very best.”

She had never had the courage to wear it, but she longed to. She still had the strange, wonderful gift and remembered how he had snuck away from his guards that day, only for a moment, and pressed a searing kiss to her lips. How he had asked for a thousand more kisses—and then more—until she wanted nothing more than to be with him always.

The clearing of a throat brought Keisha back to the present and reminded her that his two sisters were still sitting there in the room.

They had fixed their faces and once more wore inviting, kind expressions. “Such a romantic story,” Naiad said, though the words came out slightly dry. “A true love story, would you not agree, Mahira?”

Mahira blinked once blankly, then immediately covered it up by a vehement nod. “Oh, yes! Yes, of course! True love, indeed.”

Keisha laughed a little nervously. “You… you think so?”

Naiad smiled sweetly and nodded. “Oh, of course,” she answered casually, glancing down at her fingernails, manicured to perfection. “My brother has always been so
romantic
. Do you remember Jahan?”

Mahira frowned, thinking, then her eyes brightened and she grinned widely. “Oh!
Jahan
! Of course, I remember her.”

“She was such a lovely girl, was she not?” Naiad continued, now talking mostly to her younger sister rather than Keisha.

Mahira nodded. “Oh yes. Very lovely. And so young.”

Glancing between the two women, Keisha felt herself begin to frown. “Who is Jahan?”

“I am sorry,” Naiad apologized, though her tone suggested that perhaps she was not so very sorry in reality. “I thought perhaps my brother had already mentioned her.”

Keisha shook her head. “No. Should he have?”

“Well, it is not my place to say one way or the other, of course,” Naiad continued, glancing at her sister. “But I would have thought it were important to know something of the sort.”

Keisha’s frown deepened. “What sort?”

“The
romantic
sort, of course! What have we been talking about?”

Keisha felt her heart skip a beat, then stutter as she tried to process the words. Romantic? Who was this Jahan and why would his sisters know of
her
and not of Keisha? More importantly, why did
Keisha
know nothing of her?

Feeling herself begin to tremble, she could not bring herself to ask another question, but the sisters continued to speak anyway.

“A little short, was she not?” asked Mahira, oblivious to Keisha’s growing unrest.

Naiad shook her head. “No, you are thinking of Dunya.”

“Oh, of course! I had all but forgotten her. Was she the one who loved the soft fabrics?”

“No, that was Fareeda,” corrected Naiad again. “But I understand the mistake. They did look
so
much alike.”

Keisha was shaking at this point. Who were all these other women? Why had she heard of none of them? Had Ahmed been keeping so many secrets from her? The sisters continued to chat about these women—all of whom had apparently been beautiful and demure, perfect for fitting in with the family—even as Keisha felt herself spiraling out of control.

She needed to see Ahmed. She needed
answers
straight from him.

Standing abruptly, startling both the sisters, she said in a breathless voice, “I thank you for your… your hospitality, but I must leave. I have… things to take care of.”

Naiad forced her expression to be politely sad, but beneath it the gleam in her eyes was obvious. She had intended for this reaction from Keisha. Mahira beside her sister had not even bothered to try and hide her glee at Keisha’s sudden announcement. She smiled like a cat, fierce and victorious.

Keisha knew then that they had set her up and did not want a single thing to do with her, but the damage had been done just the same. Clearly, they wanted her out, but had they used the truth to try and achieve that end?

She could not say. And the only person who
could
confirm or deny these things was Ahmed. She had to find him now and get some answers before she suddenly found herself falling apart amidst these awful, scheming people. His
family
.

Oh, what had she gotten herself into?

Keisha turned on her heel and walked pointedly towards the door. She could hear soft, barely disguised snickers coming from the bed, the two sisters already celebrating their victory, but she did not care. She only wanted to hear the truth from Ahmed now.

Reaching for the door, Keisha jumped a little when there was a knock on the other side of it.