The Desert Bride of Al Zayed / Best Man's Conquest: The Desert Bride of Al Zayed / Best Man's Conquest

Wary, as if he could bite, Jayne moved closer. She leaned forward.

“Lina,” she thought he whispered.

Jayne frowned. “He’s saying something.” She waited a moment, then reached out awkwardly and touched the pile of bedclothes. “I am here.”

“Lina,” he whispered more insistently.

Her eyes troubled, Jayne said to the nurse, “I think he is confusing me with someone else.” She patted the bedclothes, feeling the bony shoulder through the coverings.

His eyelids fluttered down and his breathing became regular.

“He’s sleeping. Your presence is soothing him.”

There must be some mistake. If he knew about her presence, the Emir would be rabid with rage. Withdrawing her hand, Jayne backed away to the door.

When Jayne went searching for Tariq a little while later, the disturbing sense of unease aroused by her visit to the Emir still had not left her. She found Tariq in the mews where the royal raptors were housed. Squinting through the dim light to the back of the building, Jayne made out Tariq’s form clad in his distinctive white thobe.

She picked her way past a row of hooded birds perched on railings. There had been times in the past when she’d thought the birds were accorded more respect and affection than she had been.

The falcon perched regally on Tariq’s glove glowered at her with suspicious eyes that reminded her instantly of Tariq—even though these were dark and his were pure gold. It was a larger bird than she’d expected to see. But the bird had the same long, pointed wings and dark eyes.

“That’s not Khan,” Jayne said, referring to Tariq’s prized bird. The bird gaped at her, its beak open, a show of aggression to an unfamiliar intruder.

“This is Noor, a young bird that I’m training. Like Khan, she’s a shaheen—a peregrine—but she doesn’t know you.”

“She’s bigger.” Jayne eyed the bird’s open mouth with caution. The feathers on the falcon’s head and neck were black, and a dark stripe extended down from the eye to the throat. Noor’s throat and cheeks were white with narrow banded stripes on her breast and flecks across her back.

“She’s a female, they’re up to a third larger than the males. Here.” Tariq passed Jayne a small piece of meat. “Place it in her open beak. It will stop her threatening you.”

Jayne fed the bird gingerly, wary of the sharp beak. When the titbit was gone, Noor tilted her head expectantly. “No more for now,” Jayne told the bird. To Tariq she said, “Where’s Khan?”

“Khan died. A long time ago.” The shadows in his eyes told her he was thinking of more than his beloved falcon.

Jayne could prevaricate no longer. “Your father is much worse than I expected.”

“I told you that he is dying.”

“I didn’t—” She broke off. I didn’t believe you. “I didn’t realise how bad it was. The nurse said that he has cancer.”

Tariq nodded. “He fought it with everything he had. He has lost the most important battle of his life.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words sounded so inadequate.

Tariq must have thought so, too, because he raised a mocking brow. “I doubt it. You always hated him.”

Jayne stared at him mutely. Now was hardly the time to correct him, to tell him that Sheikh Rashid had hated her with a ferocious intensity that had sometimes scared her witless. The Emir had seen her as an interloper, and had taken every opportunity to make her feel like an outsider, until he’d poisoned even Tariq against her.

The falcon shifted restlessly on the glove, bringing Jayne’s attention back to the bird. She studied the leather jesses bound to her legs. Noor was as captive as she had once been. “Noor wants your attention.”

“She’s hungry. She wants food.” Tariq moved his other hand into the bucket containing strips of meat. The falcon tensed, her head coming forward, anticipation in every line of her body. Tariq placed the piece of meat on the glove and the falcon lowered her head and took it.

“Here, give her another piece.”

Jayne fed it to the bird. This time Noor gave a squawk. Jayne gave the bird a wary look.

“She won’t eat you.” There was a hint of derision in his tone. “It’s easy to come to an understanding with a falcon. The falcon simply has to stay hungrier.”

Noor gaped at her again. “I don’t think she likes me.”

Tariq made an impatient sound. “She’s a bird. Noor doesn’t recognise like or love. She’s interested in having her wants satisfied. She feels no emotion.” He shot her a hooded glance. “A typical woman.”

Jayne ignored the dig. “She’s so graceful yet so strong.” She moved to stroke the bird, Noor flapped her wings in warning.

“Careful. She’s a wild animal, a predator. An opportunist. Not a house pet.”

“Is she hungry? Will you take her out to hunt? Or will she fly away?”

“She’s eaten sufficient. But even if I took her out she would not fly away. My relationship with Noor is straightforward, based on trust—unlike most male-female interactions. Noor trusts me to feed her. I trust her to return.”

Jayne felt the jab of the barb. She started to protest. Then gave up. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be drawn. Instead she said, “Your father spoke to me.”

Tariq’s gaze sharpened. “What did he say?”

“I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I think he was confused, he thought I was someone else. He called me ‘Lina.’”

His head went back, and his eyes flared to black. “That’s impossible. You must’ve misheard.”

Jayne considered him. What was that stark emotion in his eyes? Shock? Disbelief. And why? “What does it mean?”

“That was his name for my mother.” Tariq’s eyes were as empty as the stony desert she’d passed in the taxi yesterday.

“Perhaps he wants to see her?”

“No.” He made a sudden, definite movement. The falcon reacted by flapping her wings and hopping up and down on the glove. “My mother is not welcome in Zayed.”

Jayne waited. When Tariq failed to add more, she said, “I never met your mother. You never talk about her.”

“As far as my father and I are concerned, that woman does not exist.”

“Yet you see your maternal cousins, don’t you?”

“That is different. Not only are we bound by blood, we are bound by business interests, too. My cousin Zac owns supertankers, I run refineries. There’s a reason for us to get together. My cousins know that my mother is not welcome in my presence.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s how your father feels any longer. He’s dying. Perhaps he wants to make peace with your mother.”

“My mother abandoned us—him—for another man. She has her own family—another daughter.”