The Sheikh's Captive Mistress 2 by Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke

Author:Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke [Brooke, Ella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-06-09T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Munir smiled at Emma as they waited for Basheera to finish talking and to pull back the curtain for them to then stand on the balcony before the cameras of the world media, as well as the watchful eyes of their subjects. Basheera was talking up the new sheikha, and he hoped that it would be enough to mollify the crowd. He wanted, no needed for everyone else to love his wife and the mother of his child the way he did. Okay, not exactly the way he did, but his people had to give Emma time, had to see the firebrand inside that he saw.

Emma was picking nervously at the seam of her burka, her blue eyes wide with obvious panic. Under her breath in English she addressed him. “Don’t smile. It’s supposed to be a reassuring Stepford look. I know this is scary!”

Munir kissed her, and hoped his lingering embrace bestowed some confidence for her. “I know you’ll be amazing, my love.”

She started to say something else but slammed her mouth shut when Basheera finished and the crowd started to applaud her. “Now?”

He nodded and put a steadying hand on her shoulders. “Now, my habbibi, you can do this.”

Munir followed after Emma and watched as she approached the podium. The crowd grew mostly silent, although a few mumbles rose through it in Arabic, a few curses against the infidel and it made Munir’s blood boil. Leaning over, he barked a command in Naseem’s ear. A few members of the palace guard were already rushing out to detain the disrespectful ruffians, to help teach them how to fully respect their sheikha.

That was a momentary distraction, however. He watched Emma carefully, wishing he could stand hand to hand with her, even though he could not. She had to stand on her own. Her speech was stilted and unsure, but she still held her head high and kept her voice bright and clear. As everything progressed, she eased into the Arabic, into the lessons that Naseem had coached her through. As she started into the discussions of the southlands, she was speaking with the same fiery passion that had won his heart.

“I told you this would work,” he said, keeping his voice low as he spoke with Naseem.

It was then that she flubbed and butchered the lines: “And I stand with the rebels! They have been served such an injustice, so abused.”

The crowd was hushed for only a moment before started to boo and hiss at her; in no time at all, it degraded into a riot with rocks being hurled against the palace walls, chants for her head (both in Arabic and English), and even produce flung at them. Emma barely escaped over-ripe figs aimed at her face before breaking off from the podium and rushing back to their quarters. Every instinct in Munir screamed for him to rush after her to offer her comfort. He even turned to follow her back to their bedroom, but Naseem’s hand was on his shoulder.

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