Christmas Bride For The Sheikh

Both had been eighteen and Hazin could well remember looking out from the balcony at the cheering crowds and wondering what the hell he had done, while trying to hide it from his bride.

Ilyas dragged him from his introspection. ‘You remember Maggie?’

Hazin frowned at the sound of that name again.

He hadn’t seen her in six months. Even then, all they had shared was a conversation and that alone had caused so much trouble.

Yet in the space of an hour he had heard her name twice.

Once from Flo, now from his brother.

‘What about her?’

‘Last night I asked Maggie to marry me.’

Hazin suddenly felt caught.

Nothing at all had happened between Maggie and himself. It had been a set-up and the cameras watching had hoped something would.

It hadn’t.

But Hazin had asked the Palace to pay the ransom demand because of the conversation that had taken place between them. Thankfully, though, their voices had not been recorded and so no one other than Maggie knew what had been said.

He had spoken openly, perhaps far too openly, but he had felt safe in the knowledge he would never see Maggie again.

Yet now he was being told she was to marry his brother!

Had she told Ilyas what he had said?

‘Maggie is pregnant,’ Ilyas told him. ‘The baby is due in three months.’

‘So while you were nailing me to the wall for something Maggie and I didn’t do, all the time you were—’

‘Hazin,’ Ilyas interrupted, ‘I had Maggie brought to the desert to find out what was going on, because I assumed she was blackmailing you. She wasn’t. We fell in love.’

And that silenced Hazin, for it was something he’d never thought he would hear from Ilyas’s mouth.

His brother had always seemed cold and aloof and yet he was sitting in a café, telling him there would be changes in the Palace and that he had fallen in love.

And, yes, Maggie had spoken.

The content of the conversation had been private. Words had been said to a stranger with confidence they would never meet again.

Instead, Ilyas relayed what he had said that day.

‘Maggie told me you said on the yacht that you hoped to be disinherited.’

‘Well, she shouldn’t have repeated what was clearly a private conversation,’

‘It remains just between us. I shall not be taking what was said to the elders.’

Oh, Ilyas was so controlled and formal, Hazin thought, and shot him a look as he spoke on.

‘I understand too that you don’t want to speak at Petra’s anniversary...’

‘Maggie’s been busy!’ Hazin sneered.

‘I had to drag the conversation from her.’

Hazin felt as if his most private thoughts were being raked over by a stranger.

‘I know this must be difficult for you,’ Ilyas attempted. ‘You must miss Petra—’

He knew nothing.

Ilyas, who had always been so distant, suddenly reaching out did not sit right with Hazin.

‘We don’t talk, Ilyas. We never have, unless it was you telling me to raise my game. You know nothing of my life yet ten years after Petra’s death you sit here and tell me you know how I feel?’ Hazin shook his head. ‘Too late.’

‘No.’ Ilyas said. ‘I want—’

‘You can keep wanting, then,’ Hazin said. ‘But I have no desire to come back home, and certainly not for a wedding.’

The last one he had been to had been his own.

They had all assumed he had been blinded with grief since Petra’s death and that was why he had gone off the rails.

They didn’t know him at all and it was too late now to try.

‘Why didn’t you show up last night?’ Hazin asked.

He saw Ilyas’s slight eyebrow rise at the odd question, given the rather vital news, but Hazin was starting to realise what might have occurred.

‘I went to see Maggie,’ he said. ‘She was actually on her way to try and meet you, so you could have me contact her.’

Hazin pressed his fingers into his forehead and closed his eyes. He could see now what had happened. Worse, he could see himself tossing Flo her clothes and shouting at her to get out.

He had to get back and try to explain somehow, and now had no desire to play catch-up with his brother.

‘Good luck with the wedding,’ Hazin said, and stood.

Ilyas did not try to dissuade him from leaving. They may not have been close, but he knew his younger brother would take time later to think it through.

And Hazin would.

Right now there was somewhere else he needed to be.

He walked briskly back to the hotel and took the elevator up to his floor. He pulled out his card and swiped the door open.

Too late.

Flo was gone.

He had known that she would be.

Hazin really hadn’t imagined he’d find her sitting there, tucking into breakfast. Instead it had been set up on the table and remained untouched.

He walked through to the bedroom and the unmade bed.

There was the towel he had dropped on the floor and there was another so he guessed she must have showered and left.

Hazin walked back to the untouched breakfast and felt a curl of guilt when he saw a box of tissues by the window and a little pile of knotted ones.

She’d been crying.

Hazin was very used to being a deliberate bastard.

This morning he’d been an inadvertent one.

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