The Sheikh King's Ward (Halabi Sheikhs Book 1) Read online

  Fiona reached for his hands. “Oh, Bas! What are you—?”

  “Wait.” He held out a tiny gold box, snapped it open so she could see inside. A delicate ring nestled in the velvet, set with rubies and diamonds. “I love you. I always will. Say you love me, say you’ll be my wife, and I swear you won’t regret it.”

  Fiona stared at the ring, then at Bas. She pinched herself, but they didn’t disappear. “I love you too,” she said. “I have since the botanical gardens. Since you snuck in for me.”

  Bas smiled. “And did the fountain grant your wish?”

  “You did. You gave Edlyn her saddle.” She cocked her head. “And did you get yours?”

  “I’d have to ask you that,” he said. “But first, not to be a stickler, but I must have your answer.” He held out the ring. “Will you?”

  “Of course!” She dropped to her knees, laughing as he scrambled to get the ring on her finger. Bas laughed, too, and stole a kiss. Fiona’s heart soared. “I dreamed of this every night, but it was never this perfect. Never this right.”

  “And are you happy?” He ran his fingers through her hair, a soft and loving touch.

  “Happier than I thought I could be.”

  “Then the fountain’s blessed us both.” Bas took her by the hand and helped her to her feet, and Fiona’s heart sang. He really had loved her all along, wished her joy even when he thought he couldn’t have her.

  She’d never doubt him again.

  18

  Bas’s heart swelled as the wedding march struck up. He’d thought the road to this moment would be difficult, but with Fiona at his side, he’d hardly broken a sweat. The old guard had made a fuss, denouncing their marriage as scandalous, but the papers told another tale. Al-Mifadhir had fallen for Fiona, head over heels. She was the darling of the younger generation, and the press sang her praises. She’d spent the month since their engagement rushing from one charitable event to the next, meeting everyone who was anyone, even as her pregnancy progressed. She’d invited an entire fifth grade class to the palace for ice cream and painting lessons, and with that, she’d won their hearts.

  Bas loved how she gave of herself, how she threw herself into her new life with everything she had, but today, she was his alone. He had eyes only for her as Chadil guided her under the roses. She was resplendent in her gown, glowing with her pregnancy. The sun sparkled on the fountain, the same one they’d wished on, but Fiona shone brighter still.

  He strode forward to meet her, and why not? He’d broken every rule for her already and been rewarded with her love. Why should he wait one more moment to take her hand in his?

  “Impatient, are we?” Chadil tipped him a wink as he handed Fiona off to him.

  “I am,” he whispered, low enough only Fiona could hear. “I should’ve married you the moment I met you.”

  “I should’ve insisted you did.” She squeezed his hand as he led her to the dais.

  “See how happy everyone is?” He gestured at the guests, mostly family, preparing to drink to their health. “This is just the beginning. They say your wedding day is the happiest of your life, but I promise you it’ll only get better from here.”

  “All our best memories are still waiting to be made.” She slid her ring off her right hand and moved it to her left, smiling as Bas did the same. He loved the simplicity of an Al-Mifadhir wedding: in the time it took to slip a ring off one finger and onto another, they’d be married, and he’d lead her in the dance that would carry them into the rest of their lives.

  Fiona looked up at him, eyes shining. “I promise to love you faithfully for the rest of my days, to trust you and believe in you and support you in all things.”

  “And I promise you the same.” He leaned close as the guests began to cheer. “I’ll never put anything above you, or anyone. No rule, no duty, no obligation will ever distract me again. You have my devotion, now and always.”

  “Kiss her already,” shouted someone, and Bas was sure it was Danny. He scowled, but if there was ever a time to show Fiona she meant more to him than tradition, this was it. He swept her into his arms and kissed her in front of everyone, a deep, unabashed embrace that left no doubt as to his feelings for her. The crowd broke into whoops and cheers, and even Chadil clapped him on the back.

  “The king and his consort,” he said, and the orchestra struck up.

  Bas led Fiona off the dais for their traditional first dance, but though he tried to savor every moment, it flew by in a blur. He’d insisted they remain chaste leading up to the wedding, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember why. Fiona was radiant, and he couldn’t wait to touch her belly and feel the new life quickening inside, to cover her with kisses and show her all the love he couldn’t put into words.

  “How much of the dinner do you think we’ll have to endure?”

  Fiona laughed, eyes twinkling. “Oh, I think we might be forgiven if we slip out after dessert. It’s been a long week, after all, all the celebrations.”

  Bas stifled a groan. “You really are glowing, you know. Absolutely irresistible.”

  She smiled, a little wickedly, and Bas spun her around.

  Of all the days he’d spent in the botanical gardens, this was surely the happiest.

  Fiona melted at Bas’s kiss. This was new, this warmth, this care. He held her tenderly, with none of the furious urgency of their past encounters, taking his time to explore her body. It felt luxurious, and Fiona stretched out on his bed—on their bed—breathing in the scent of the rose petals that littered the sheets.

  “I have a surprise for you,” murmured Bas, his breath warm on her ear, “and I hope you won’t mind that I didn’t ask first.”

  “I’ll let you know if I do.” She trailed her nails down his back, arching against him as he shuddered.

  “We’re leaving for our honeymoon in the morning. I’m taking you to to France, to Italy, to Spain, all over Europe. We’ll see the Louvre and the Sistine Chapel, everything beautiful under the sun, and who knows? We might bring a treasure or two home.”

  Fiona nipped his ear, a gentle tug at the lobe. “You’ve read my mind. How could I fault you for that?” She sighed happily as he kissed her again. “Though, my favorite place will always be by your side.”

  “So you’re pleased?”

  “I’m delighted.” She hooked her leg around his waist to pull him closer. “Let me show you just how delighted.”

  Bas groaned as she pressed up against him, broke out in gooseflesh as she kissed her way down his body, exploring his body in turn. Fiona drank in his reactions, savoring every one. She loved how he stiffened when she sucked at his fingers, how his breathing quickened when she ran her tongue up his inner thigh. He dragged her down with him when she pushed him back on the pillows, held on tight as she rode him, thumbs digging into her hips.

  “Kiss me again. Say you love me.”

  Fiona did as he commanded. Bas kissed her back, sweetly at first, then rough with rising passion. He flipped her over on her back, leaving her breathless, and she gasped as he thrust in deep.

  “Mine,” she whispered, and this time it was true. Bas was hers, and he reminded her with every touch. He kissed her where she craved it the most, following the line of her collarbone to her breasts, teasing her nipples till they stood hard and proud. He ran one finger down her side, sending shivers down her spine. He pushed her hair off her face and rolled his hips just so, and she came with his name on her lips. Bas buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent.

  “I adore you,” he told her, the words rumbling in his chest. “Always have. Always will.”

  Fiona held him close, basking in his love. His proposal had seemed almost too good to be true, but he’d spent the past month proving he’d meant every word. She lay in his arms without a doubt in her heart, without a trace of fear.

  “Bas?”

  “Mm?” He shifted against her, trailing lazy kisses down her neck.

  “What’s your favorite book?”r />
  “Crime and Punishment.” He kissed her again, but Fiona pulled away.

  “And your favorite movie?”

  “That one with the spies, oh, that old black-and-white one. Why?”

  “Because I want to spend the rest of my life learning everything about you.” She drew back to meet his gaze. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly.”

  “Oh?” A mischievous glint appeared in Bas’s eye. “You hate Russian literature,” he said, “and you love The Insult. Looks like you have some catching up to do. Now, where am I ticklish?”

  Fiona rolled on top of him and pinned him to the bed. She had no idea, but she couldn’t wait to find out.

  Epilogue

  A cloud of flour rose up as Bas drove his fist into the dough. He blew it off his face and kept pounding. He was in the way, he knew, taking over the kitchen halfway through dinner preparations, but he didn’t care. He needed the distraction, somewhere to vent his frustration. This wasn’t supposed to take so long. Something was wrong, and if they didn’t send for him soon—

  “Still no word?” Chadil bellied up to the counter, too close for comfort. “Hey. These things take time.”

  “Eighteen hours, though?” He scowled. “I’m old enough to remember when Edlyn and Danny were born. I went to my piano lesson and came back, and they were out. That was three hours, and they were two of them.”

  “The first time takes longer,” said Chadil. “I read that somewhere, like the body’s just learning how it’s done.”

  “I thought that’s what prenatal classes were for.” Bas flipped the dough over and pummeled it down. “I can’t take much more of this. If anything were to happen…”

  “Nothing’s going to happen.” Chadil reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here. There’s a letter from Aunt Zenab. It’s addressed to Father actually, which is odd.”

  “Why’s she writing to Father? She was at his funeral.”

  Chadil tore into the envelope. “You’re all floury. Should I read it to you?”

  Bas pulled a face. He loved his Aunt Zenab—everyone did—but her attempts to help went awry more often than not. He really didn’t need an Aunt Zenab cleanup operation right now.

  “I think we could—”

  “Your Majesty?” Fiona’s maid poked her head in, one of the ones she’d brought over from her estate. “It’s time. If you hurry, you can still hold her hand.”

  Bas whooped. “Finally!” He shook his sleeves down and dusted the flour off his hands, already sprinting from the room.

  “Wait! The letter—!”

  “You read it. I’m about to be a father.” He dashed past the maid and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Fiona’s screams echoed down the hall, and he followed them, desperate to be at her side.

  “Bas! Bas, where are you?”

  “Right here.” He burst into the room, shirttails flapping. Fiona screamed again. She braced herself against the pillows and hissed through her teeth.

  “I’m sorry.” Bas rushed to her side and took her hand. She held on like she was drowning, squeezing so tight he felt his bones grind together. He winced but made no sound. His pain was nothing next to hers, and he wiped the sweat from her brow. “Hold on. You’re almost there.”

  “One more push,” said the doctor, and Bas thought Fiona might kick him, but she just closed her eyes and bore down. Her grip tightened on his hand, and Bas did what he could, murmuring comfort as she brought their son into the world.

  “I’ll never forgive you,” she gasped.

  “You will when you hold him in your arms,” said Bas. He kissed her forehead as she fell back on the pillows. “There, now. It’s over. You can breathe.”

  Fiona lay still for a moment, chest rising and falling. The flush faded from her cheeks, leaving her pale and spent, but still she forced herself up on one elbow. “Why isn’t he crying? I don’t hear—”

  As if on cue, the child began to howl. He squirmed in the doctor’s arms, apparently offended by the texture of his blanket. His tiny face screwed up with displeasure, but not before Bas saw Fiona’s sharp little nose and his own brown eyes looking back at him.

  “Oh, give him to me.” Fiona held out her arms and the doctor handed her the baby, settling him carefully against her chest. She soothed him as though she’d been doing it all her life, rocking him till his cries turned to gurgles.

  “Noisy little thing, isn’t he?” Bas reached out to tickle his son’s belly. “What are we calling him?”

  “Graham, after his grandfather.” Fiona smiled. “He looks a bit like him, though I suppose they all do at that age. Bald and wrinkly.”

  “It’s a good name,” said Bas. “A strong name for a strong boy.”

  He could hardly bear to stand aside as the doula helped Fiona clean up, and the doctor took Graham for a quick exam. He ached to hold his son, and even more to hold his wife, to wipe the last of the sweat off her brow and let her fall asleep in his arms. It was hard to imagine ever stepping away from them again, and he rushed back to her side as soon as the way was clear.

  “He looks so happy,” he said, as he held his son for the first time. “Let’s always keep him that way.”

  “Looks like we’ll have help in that department.” Fiona nodded at the doorway. Edlyn was already halfway in, and Chadil and Danny had crowded up behind her, eager for a peek. “Well? Are you coming in?”

  Edlyn made her way to Fiona’s bedside, her brothers close behind. Her face lit up as she took in the newest addition to the family.

  “Oh, Bas, he looks just like you.” She patted his little bald head. “Poor thing.”

  “Don’t be cruel, now.” Danny leaned in for a look. “Is he supposed to be that tiny? I could fit his whole body in one hand.”

  “I’d advise against that,” said the doula “He weighs seven pounds, and they’re wrigglier than you’d think. You’ll want to cradle him in both arms.”

  Bas shifted closer to Fiona, tuning out his brothers’ excited chatter. He felt a lump rise in his throat as Graham grabbed a fistful of his shirt. He could feel the fluttering of his heart, smell the newness of his skin, and it seemed miraculous to him.

  “You’ll be a wonderful father,” said Chadil. “Look, he’s not crying at all.”

  Bas grinned up at him, his heart overflowing. “What was in Aunt Zenab’s letter?” He turned back to gaze at Graham. “She’ll love you so very much.”

  Chadil cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “That was, ah…” He glanced at Fiona and frowned. “She claims she’s found you a bride. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking.”

  Bas’s brow furrowed. “Was she at our wedding?”

  “No, she’s been in the US for several months connecting with some of our expats.” Chadil tucked the letter away. “Don’t give it a second thought. Whatever’s gotten into her, I’ll set her straight.”

  “You’d better,” said Fiona. “I’ll share a lot of things, but my husband isn’t one of them.” She leaned up against Bas, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He pulled her closer, putting his aunt and her shenanigans out of his head. He had everything he needed right here, his wife and his son and his family all around him.

  He'd built the perfect life, and all that remained was to enjoy every minute of it.

  End of The Sheikh King’s Ward

  Halabi Sheikh Series Book One

  The Sheikh King’s Ward, 28 January 2021

  The Sheikh’s Fake Courtship, 4 February 2021

  The Sheikh’s Mail-Order Bride, 20 May 2021

  PS: Do you love passionate Sheikhs? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from The Sheikh’s Fake Courtship and The Sheikh’s American Lover.

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  BLURB

  Just once, Raina Mousa wants to do something daring, something her loving but strict parents would never approve of. Though Raina’s lived most of her life in the U.S., she’s agreed to an arranged marriage and to settle down in her parents’ home country of Al-Mifadhir. Before she meets her fiancé, however, she can’t resist having a night of fun with the hot, sexy man she meets in a bar. The next morning, though, she’s horrified to discover the man she’s just spent one unforgettable night with is her future husband’s brother, Chadil Halabi. The good news? Chadil’s elderly and confused aunt brokered a marriage contract with a man who was already married. So now Raina doesn’t feel quite so guilty about her amazing night with Chadil. But then Chadil’s aunt makes things infinitely worse by announcing to the world that Chadil and Raina are engaged. Chadil’s solution? A fake courtship. They’ll spend a few weeks together, say they don’t suit, then go their separate ways. Except things are about to get a little bit complicated…