The Earl's Egyptian Heiress by Heba Helmy

Author:Heba Helmy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2023-03-31T12:40:50+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Ranya

Even when she saw nothing of Iskander in him, Ranya liked Owen—truly. He was kind, only wielding his earldom when needed. But he was also self-absorbed, too willing to look the other way so he wouldn’t have to see the injustices around him.

His father might not have been a cheat, but at the very least he had ignored her people by not supplying the deed when her father had requested it. Maybe Owen was more like him than he knew.

Was that what was behind her anger? Why she couldn’t trust Owen? Or maybe it was guilt for her romantic feelings towards him?

She knew nothing could or should happen between them. It went against her upbringing, her very faith. If he were Iskander it might be all right—a pending marriage agreed to by her father. A passionate touch here, a sweet kiss there between two people engaged to spend their life together. But Owen? He was soon to marry according to his stepmother’s choices. Take over an estate that Ranya was supposed to leave. Soon.

Perhaps she had been right not to tell him about Muhammad. It had been pressing on her during the two weeks when she hadn’t seen him. Even Molly had made her feel guilty about it. Ranya could have sent him a note, but she hadn’t, and maybe it was because she was afraid that an earl would not be willing to do all he could to find her brother.

It wasn’t that she expected to be disappointed in Owen on the matter, but she realised that, were she to tell Owen about looking for Muhammad, it would mean she trusted him. And if she trusted him on that, then she was in danger of losing her resolve over fighting her romantic feelings towards him too.

She’d asked the people in the mill about him, but no one had heard of a Muhammad Radwan. Initially she’d been excited to see people of colour there, thinking he might have passed through. Had he been a stowaway, Muhammed would have needed wages. Although people in Damanhour might say differently, the brother she knew would never have spent their money. He would have worked to earn his keep.

As she was trying to do.

The Warrington carriage driver humming a tune brought her back from her pacing. Made her see that Owen was still watching her. There was concern in his very handsome face, but it was hard not to see how young he was too. He would be twenty-five soon, but he hadn’t experienced hardship—not in any way that was related to poverty and suffering.

Still, when he held out his hand she felt the physical draw of him undeniably.

She cared for him. Liked him very much.

Yes. She would tell him about Muhammad. Was running out of time to do so. She needed his help. For her brother. For her own sanity.

They didn’t speak for quite a time as the carriage horses sauntered onwards. It turned out that the mill they’d been to was probably one of the better ones, because it was smaller and in a rural location.

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