The Sheikh’s Stubborn Bride by Leslie North
9
The next morning, Kadir finished getting ready and took a seat by the window to go through his emails while he waited for Stella to finish in the bathroom. Overall, he thought the press day had gone well, with the exception of that last interview, although he knew it had been hard on his new wife.
She came out of the bathroom in slim white jeans and a pretty, blue top that set off the auburn in her hair and helped distract from the slight shadows beneath her eyes. They hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, despite their exhaustion from the press day. He didn’t regret it one bit. Maybe today would be a good time to switch up their routine a little bit.
“I have an idea,” he said, shutting off his phone and shoving it in his pocket before striding over to embrace her from behind, bending to kiss the top of her head and inhale the sweet scent of her flowery shampoo. “Let’s have breakfast downstairs this morning, instead of ordering in our food as we have been.”
Stella paused as she put in her earrings, brilliant two-carat diamond studs he’d given her after their wedding as a ‘token.’
“Okay.” She turned slightly to look up at him. “I should probably change though, if we’re eating with your family. Even though this is all new stuff it’s not dressy—”
He turned her around and kissed her on the lips, silencing her. “You look perfect, habibi. Our normal family meals are quite informal, I promise. And they’ll love you no matter what you wear.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, his hands rubbing her stiff shoulders. “And in case I forgot to say it yesterday, thank you for your kind words about the planetarium.”
Pretty pink suffused her cheeks, and Stella smiled. “It really is a wonderful place.”
“I agree.” He kissed her once more, then took her hand. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
Kadir led her downstairs, walking through the door into the already full dining room. Stella had told him in confidence that the massive, formal room made her nervous, what with the high-back red velvet chairs, gilded walls and ceiling painted to resemble a brilliant sun. He squeezed her hand to remind her that everything was fine.
His father sat at the head of the table, Kadir’s brothers on either side of him. Naziha was next to Salah, and their Aunt Rakah, from whom Naziha had taken over the matchmaking business, sat beside Yusef. Kadir helped Stella into one of the two empty seats left, then sat himself.
“Welcome, newlyweds,” Ibrahim said, toasting them with a glass of orange juice. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence this morning, my son?”
“We were wondering when you two might finally emerge from your burrow of love. Don’t tell me the shine has worn off the marriage already, brother,” Yusef said, more playful than usual.
Heat prickled up from beneath the collar of Kadir’s white shirt, and he shot Stella a quick side glance beneath his lashes. If she was bothered by the taunt, she didn’t show it, just continued filling her plate with food from the many dishes on the table in front of them. Kadir took that as a good sign and answered his brother’s comment with a barb of his own.
“At least I have a bride to worry about, little brother.”
“Touché,” Salah said, chuckling. “You’re in a good mood this morning, Kadir.”
“I am.” He spooned out some hummus and fool onto his plate, then topped the fava bean dip with fresh, chopped tomatoes. He grabbed a couple slices of pita bread from the basket Stella held for him while one of the staff poured them each a glass of fresh orange juice. “Yesterday went well, I think.”
“Do you?” Salah’s grin turned sly. “Well then, perhaps you should check out this blog post I just found, brother. Apparently, the reporter for TarKiz Magazine who was here yesterday doesn’t agree with your vision for the future of Al-Fatha.”
Kadir frowned and looked over at Stella again, but she was busy in conversation with Naziha, so he grabbed the phone his brother was holding out to him and scowled down at the screen. Sure enough, the article proclaimed his ideas an attempt to bury the true past and culture of their country. It wasn’t even the full piece, just a teaser to get people to buy the magazine, where they surely went into more depth to skewer him and his plans. Dammit. He’d been fielding complaints from citizens since the planetarium project had been announced and had been defending it and himself endlessly since then in the media. People flocked to the building now, of course, but there was still a faction that was critical of his choice to raze the historical building and surrounding gardens.
What those critics did not seem to understand was that the rest of the world had moved on, joined the twenty-first century, and if Al-Fatha didn’t join them soon and keep up, Kadir feared they’d get left behind. In fact, their oil-based economy was already on shaky ground, with their reserves becoming more depleted each year. No. Progress was necessary. The past could be preserved in museums. The economy of his country could not. The past was important, but so was the future. Without moving forward, the world would never get any better.
He reached across the table to give Salah back his phone at the same time one of the servers reached over to refill a basket of bread, and Kadir’s hand bumped her arm, causing the server to drop a platter of tomatoes, which then set into motion a cascade of calamity that culminated in Kadir dropping Salah’s phone straight into a pitcher of orange juice.
“You did that on purpose!” Salah accused him, fishing his device out of the sticky juice with a serving spoon. “This is because of the article, isn’t it? It’s not my fault your ideas for the country’s future are crap.”
Without his morning caffeine to temper his mood, Kadir’s anger rose fast and furious. “My ideas are not crap. Watch your tongue. And excuse me for trying to bring Al-Fatha into the twenty-first century,” he shot back.
“Well, I guess I’ll skip the OJ this morning,” Yusef said dryly, eyeing the pitcher, not helping at all.
“That’s enough.” Ibrahim inserted himself into the burgeoning chaos. “That juice is fresh squeezed from my oranges! You boys know better than to fool around at the table and waste food. You think food just appears when you press a button, but that’s not true. Someone nurtures it and loves it into being and—”
Salah snorted. “There, Kadir. Maybe you should start a garden like father. That way at least the plants in your kingdom will love you. I don’t expect you’ll grow any heritage varieties, though.”
“Quit poking each other,” Naziha said, glowering across the table at each of her brothers. “You’re ruining everyone’s appetite with your sniping.”
“I, for one, have no intention of letting any of this delicious food and drink go to waste,” Stella said, her clear tone cutting through the disaster of the conversation around her, seemingly untroubled by any of it. She reached for the pitcher of orange juice that had until moments ago held Salah’s phone and refilled her glass before toasting Ibrahim. “To a lovely harvest.”
Chest puffed and chin jutting, her father-in-law reciprocated. “To a lovelier daughter-in-law.”
They both smiled, and something in Kadir’s dark mood suddenly lifted. His anger at the article and his stupid siblings evaporated, replaced by the pride swelling in his chest over his new wife. Stella had handled that situation better than any diplomat he’d ever seen. She was fitting in well. Very well indeed.
The rest of the meal passed rather uneventfully. The brothers still exchanged snarky comments, and Stella gave as good as she got by throwing out a couple of zingers, mainly directed at Salah. Kadir’s already considerable admiration of her grew even more.
By the time they were done, he began to think that his Stella might not only adjust better to royal life than he’d imagined, but she could very well thrive.
“Let’s take a walk, eh?” Kadir said, holding out his hand to her. There was work to be done and a full schedule ahead of him for the day, but first, he wanted to spend a little more private time with his wife. “The gardens are lovely in the morning.”
Blue skies greeted them, and a slight breeze prevented the day from becoming too hot yet. With Stella at his side Kadir was seeing the palace through her eyes and marveling at the beauty he’d learned to overlook as the years passed. They walked the crushed stone paths through the lush trees and tropical bushes, hand in hand, while birds sang around them. It almost felt like a Disney movie, if Kadir went for those things. Which he didn’t.
It was nice to have some peace and quiet following the buzz of the breakfast room.
They strolled silently until Stella asked, “Did your father grow the tomatoes, too?”
“Yes,” Kadir said, smiling. “He goes a bit overboard with his plants.”
“Not at all.” Stella shook her head. “I think it’s great that he’s found a new hobby to keep him entertained. And the food he grows is very good.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” Kadir kissed her hand as they continued on.
“Your brothers are funny,” Stella said.
Kadir gave a derisive snort. “That’s one way to describe it.”
“You don’t agree?” She frowned.
“Not when they take it too far.” He took a deep breath and stared up at the sky. “One of their pranks cost Naziha her engagement.”
“Really? How?”
He told her the story then cringed. “What started as a practical joke ended in heartbreak. They don’t know when to stop, and it hurt our sister. And you saw Salah this morning with that article. He doesn’t consider the consequences of his actions.”
“Hmm.” Stella sighed. “Well, I wouldn’t be too hard on him. Or Yusef. They’re both young. And you can tell how much they love Naziha. And you. I’m surprised she never told me about that herself. All I knew was that she’d had a failed engagement.”
Kadir scoffed. “I’m not so sure of their affection. And I’m not surprised Naziha has kept the story private. It was a hard time for her. She wanted to put it behind her, and it seems she has.”
“Sometimes I wish I’d had family like yours.” Her voice sounded wistful as they stopped at a shaded bench and took a seat.
“What was it like, being the only child?”
“Fine, I guess.” She shrugged. “I mean, that’s just how it was, so I didn’t know any different. I think that’s why I’m so close to my mom.” She inhaled deeply and leaned back on the bench, closing her eyes. “I remember it was hard in high school. I had one good friend. Or at least I thought she was my friend, until she dumped me after my parents’ divorce.” Stella’s brows drew together, the line between them deepening, and the urge to stroke that delicate skin nearly overwhelmed Kadir. But she shook her head and straightened, not looking at Kadir. “Anyway, I told you all about that earlier, and I learned a valuable lesson. People aren’t always who they pretend to be.” She gave a sad little laugh. “I mean, I keep hoping someone will prove me wrong, but…”
Kadir couldn’t resist comforting her, and he reached for her hand, tangling his fingers with hers and stroking his thumb over her knuckles, hoping to smooth her ruffled feathers back into place. “If it’s any consolation, I believe Naziha sees you as a sister already. And trust me—you won’t find anyone more loyal than her.”
“Yeah?” Stella’s smile dazzled him. “What about you, my husband? Are you loyal too?”
“I promise I will try to be on your side, habibi.” He raised a dark brow at her, then kissed her again, a warm surge of protectiveness flooding his system. “Always.”
