The Sheik Retold Read online

  Once more Ahmed had made me desperately desire what I once most despised.

  Yes, I wanted fervently to be his wife and bear his children. Perhaps it meant nothing to him, but it meant the world to me—more than I ever could have believed. This feeling of insecurity and unrest surged within me, but I was at a loss as to how to address it. Almost two months had passed during which this growing discontent secretly blighted my happiness and I was becoming ever more resentful that he seemed to take no notice of it.

  "Oran?" I sat up, clutching the sheet. "You have said nothing of this. Why do we go to Oran?" I was surprised and a bit alarmed that he had kept this from me.

  "I have said nothing before because I awaited a response from several letters I sent out. Speaking of which, you have a dispatch as well."

  He pulled an envelope from the folds of his waistcloth and handed it to me. I noted the London postmark and then the name of the family solicitor. I tore it open with a frown. I scanned the first few lines with a gasp.

  "What is it, ma mie?" Ahmed asked with a look of concern.

  "It's Aubrey. There has been an accident!"

  "Has there indeed? And what manner of accident has brought about his demise?"

  "The letter isn't clear," I replied. "He had gone sailing in Newport and never came back…" I looked up with a piercing realization. I had mentioned an accident but had not said Aubrey was dead until this moment. "How did you know?" I demanded. "How could you know Aubrey is dead?"

  He brushed away some invisible lint. "I have made it my business to track his movements, ma chère."

  "But why? Why would my brother even remotely interest you?"

  "He was determined to kill you, my dove. In learning that you live, how could I know he would not make the attempt again? How else could I keep you safe?"

  "My God! You are not saying—" I left the rest unsaid. Had Ahmed had a hand in Aubrey's demise? It was unthinkable!

  "You would shed tears for the brother who would murder you?"

  "No." I shook my head sadly. "No tears." I felt a twinge of guilt, but try as I might, I could summon no tears to mourn the brother who had raised me so cold-heartedly.

  "Good," he responded with a quelling look. "Let us speak no more of Sir Aubrey Mayo."

  "It's not so much about Aubrey," I said. "I suppose I'm just shocked by this. I never anticipated his death and never realized the repercussions of it—how it would affect me."

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "This news…his death…it means the loss of my home."

  "Your home?" His expression darkened.

  "What I really mean to say is that the estate has been my only real tie to England all these years, but Aubrey was the last male Mayo and the estate was entailed. Now it will all pass to a stranger or maybe even revert to the Crown. This letter says he left a great deal of debt behind. I suppose that explains why he did what he did…"

  "You make excuses for him!"

  "No, never excuses." I sighed. "What he did was deplorable, but at least I comprehend his reasons. Money was probably also his main motive in going to the States to seek a wife. At least he didn't act out of pure malice. I just feel a bit numb knowing there is nothing left for me to return to."

  "Are you saying you wish to return?" His former glower darkened his face as he gestured to the expansive tent. "Your home is here, is it not?"

  "Is it, Ahmed?" I asked with growing insecurity. "For how long?"

  "Forever, ma belle." His expression grew fiercer. "There is no changing your mind now, no turning back. I told you I can never let you go again."

  I could see his temper rising fast. "You misunderstand me, my love. I don't ever wish to leave you, but what if something were to happen to you? What would become of me then?"

  "And just what do you imagine might happen?" he asked.

  "Any number of things. You live a dangerous life, my sheik. I would not have you any other way, but I also don't wish to be left alone in the world."

  Ahmed thought nothing of danger to himself, and he was more often taken away from me. I worried on each occasion, wondering fretfully each time he rode out of sight if it would be the last time I saw him.

  "If that is your fear, my dove, it seems there can be no better time for my news. When we go to Oran tomorrow, I shall lay all your insecurities to rest."

  I shook my head in befuddlement. "You speak in riddles. What has Oran to do with any of this? "

  "Everything, my dove." He smiled. "We go to be wed. Even now, Raoul is on his way back from Morocco to stand as witness to the event."

  My jaw dropped. "You intend to marry me?"

  "Of course. I told you once that I would make you mine in every way."

  My pulse sped. He hadn't been unaware of my discontent, after all. "But you have said nothing in all this time."

  "Because there were considerable arrangements to be made—and no small amount of obstacles to overcome. I had to wait until all could be properly orchestrated."

  "What do you mean?" I was puzzled by this. "What kind of obstacles?"

  "You are not of my religion, ma belle, and while our union would still be recognized in this country, I do not wish for there ever to be any chance of disputation. Our union is to be solemnized by an Anglican clergyman."

  "An Anglican clergyman in Oran?" My confusion bloomed. "But there is no Anglican church in all of Algeria!"

  "No, but there will be a clergyman to officiate our nuptials." He pulled more documents from his waistcloth. "A rector named Witherspoon."

  "How can this be?" I laughed outright. "You are not even Anglican!"

  "No. Ahmed Ben Hassan is not…but the Viscount Caryll shall be."

  I blinked in arrant incomprehension. "Wh-what did you just say?"

  "You feared for your future security, Diana, so I intend to provide for it. The Anglican reverend of whom I speak owes his living to the Earl of Glencaryll and will do precisely as the earl wishes."

  I was incredulous. "The earl? Your father? The man you have refused all contact with these fifteen years?"

  "Yes," he replied tightly. "They await us in Oran—along with the earl's solicitor."

  "But what has Glencaryll to do with you and me?"

  "I wrote Glencaryll asking him to assume responsibility for you should anything befall me. He accepted my request only with the proviso that I allow him to be present for our nuptials."

  "You mean to say that you will finally meet him? After all these years?"

  "Yes. It was a form of extortion on his part, but I do not act for him. It is only for you that I do this thing, ma bien-aimée. For this one time only, to make our marriage legal in every sense, I will claim my English heritage." He paused, and his gaze met mine. "Of course, I could hardly do otherwise, given the circumstances."

  "Circumstances? What do you mean?"

  "My wife and child must always be provided for."

  "Your child?" I was suddenly unable to breathe. I could barely speak for the lump in my throat. "You have a child? When did you plan to tell me?"

  "The better question, my dove, is when did you plan to tell me?"

  "Tell you what?"

  "That you carry my child."

  My heart froze. "But I'm not…I c-can't be…that's imp-possible!" I sputtered as my brain scrambled to calculate my last menses.

  "Impossible?" He cocked a dubious brow. "Yet Zilah is an obedient and most observant servant. She informs me that it has been—"

  "Two months," I declared. "But that doesn't mean anything. I don't know why you would think—" Dear God in heaven! Could it be true?

  "I don't think. I know, ma belle." He took me into his arms and kissed me deeply. "You have too much the look of a well-loved woman about you for it to be anything else."

  His words warmed me to the core. Was it only a few months ago that the spoiled and stubborn Diana Mayo had ventured into the desert seeking to fill her empty life?

  Seven months later, my heart was filled to bu
rsting and my happiness complete as I gazed down at the bundle in my arms and into another pair of intense blue eyes—living proof that I was indeed well-loved by my husband, my bel Arabe, my savage desert sheik.

  ~END~

  ABOUT VICTORIA VANE

  Rakes and Sheiks and Cowboys… Oh My!

  Victoria Vane is an award-winning romance novelist, cowboy addict and history junkie whose collective works of fiction range from wildly comedic romps to emotionally compelling erotic romance. Victoria also writes historical fiction as Emery Lee and is the founder of Goodreads Romantic Historical Fiction Lovers and the Romantic Historical Lovers book review blog.

  Check out her award winning Devil DeVere series and her contemporary cowboy series coming summer 2014 from Sourcebooks.

  CONTACT:

  [email protected]

  Web: http://www.victoriavane.com

  Blog: http://victoriavane.wordpress.com

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  Table of Contents

  HISTORICAL TITLES BY VICTORIA VANE

  WRITING AS EMERY LEE

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  ~END~

  ABOUT VICTORIA VANE