The Sheikh's Jewel by James Melissa

Author:James, Melissa [James, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-03-13T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

BY NIGHTFALL, they had covered almost every inch of both rooms, and found no way out. All her hopes dashed, she sat on the ground, slumping against the cool bath tiles in despair. ‘We’re not getting out of here, are we?’

‘Not until they let us out.’ There was a strange inflection in his voice.

Arrested, she turned to look at him. ‘What is it?’

Harun didn’t reply.

‘I’m not a child, Harun, or an idiot. I’m in this with you, like it or not, and there’s nowhere for you to conveniently disappear to here, no excuse or official or quiet room for you to get away from me. So you might as well share what you’re thinking with me.’

After a moment that seemed to last a full minute, he said, ‘I think your father may be our abductor.’

‘What?’ They were the last words she’d expected. Gasping, she choked on her breath and got lost in a coughing fit to be able to breathe again. Harun began using the heel of his hand in rhythmic upward motions, and the choking feeling subsided. Then she pushed him away, glaring at him. ‘Why would he do that? What would be the benefit to him, and to Araba Numara? How could you even think that? How dare you accuse my father of this?’

Harun was on his haunches in front of her, his face had that cold, withdrawn look she hated.

‘For a daughter who doesn’t share my suspicions, a daughter who believes implicitly in her father’s innocence, I notice you put the two most natural questions last. Instead, you asked the most important questions first—why, and what benefit to him in abducting his own child. You believe it’s possible at the very least, Amber. Everything makes sense with that one answer. Why there have been no demands or threats as yet, why we were left in this kind of room dressed this way, and why we’re alone most of the time. Your father has probably endured some ridicule and speculation over our not producing an heir, and he wants it to end.’ He gave her a hard look. ‘He has no son, and you’re the eldest daughter. He hasn’t named his brother, or his nephews or male cousins as his heir. Any son we have will be qualified to become the hereditary sheikh for Araba Numara, so long as he takes his grandfather’s name…and I assume that keeping the line going is important to him.’

Every suspicion he’d voiced could be exactly right. And it all fitted her father too well. Though he came from a very small state in the Emirates—or maybe because of that—he enjoyed manipulating people until they bent to his will. And yes, he’d want a grandson to take his name and the rule of Araba Numara.

‘If you’re right, and I’m not saying you are, I will never, never forgive him for this.’ Then she shot to her feet, and cried, ‘Hasn’t he done enough to me? Three years of being his pawn, left

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