A Secret Birthright - By Olivia Gates Page 0,13
I wonder how their parents put up with their demands and distraction and still function. I wonder how they made the decision to have them in the first place.”
Wisps of mischief sparked in her eyes. “So that’s why you kept asking me why I had Ryan? Because you think your nephews and nieces are a noisy, messy time-suck, and that an otherwise sane adult can have a child only by throwing away logic and disregarding all cautionary tales?”
He raised one eyebrow at her. “You know you’ve just called me Uncle Scrooge, don’t you?”
Rose burst out chuckling. “Busted.”
Gwen spluttered qualifications, shooting reproach at Rose, and he aborted her protests with a smile, showing her he was offense-proof, especially by anything coming from her. “Don’t take it back when you’re probably right. Interacting with children has never been one of my skills.”
The only child he’d loved having around and taking care of had been Hesham. But he’d been only eight years older. He hadn’t had any relevant experience with children outside his professional sphere.
She made an eloquent gesture indicating how he was holding Ryan with growing confidence, picking up various articles for his inspection. “If it has never been, then you’re capable of acquiring new skills on the fly.”
He’d always been uncomfortable receiving compliments, feeling the element of self-serving exaggeration in each. But her good opinion felt free of ulterior motives, and was clearly expressed against the dictates of her good sense. To him it felt…necessary.
He transferred his smile from her to Ryan. “It’s this little man who’s making me look like a quick study. He’s the one doing the driving here.”
Rose nodded. “Ryan does that. Just one look and a smile and the world is his to command. Very much like his mother.”
Gwen’s eyes darkened on something that gripped his heart in a tight fist. Something like…anguish. Ya Ullah, why?
Next second, he wanted to kick himself. How could he have forgotten the reason she was here? Ryan’s condition.
But he had forgotten, during the lifetime since she’d walked in and turned his life upside down all over again. But from holding Ryan, he had a firm idea what his condition was. It was time he did everything he could to put her mind to rest about it.
He adjusted his grip on Ryan, feeling as if he’d always held him, turned his face up with a finger beneath the dimpled chin that was a replica of Gwen’s. “Just so I don’t look like a total marionette, Ryan, how about we pretend I have a say here? How about you let me examine you now?”
“How about I leave you to your new game and go find me some food?” Rose said, clearly to give them privacy.
Fareed produced his cell phone, called Emad back. Emad appeared in under ten seconds, as if he’d been standing behind the door, which he probably had been. Eavesdropping?
He was resigned that Emad would go to any lengths to ascertain his safety. But what was there to worry about here? Getting ambushed by lethal doses of charisma and cuteness?
He gave him a mocking glance that Emad refused to rise to. “Will you please escort Rose to an early dinner, Emad? And do make it somewhere where they serve something better than the food simulations you got us from the hospital’s restaurant.”
He expected Emad to obey with his usual decorum, which never showed if he appreciated the chore or not. But wonder of wonders, after nodding to him with that maddening deference, he turned to Rose with interest—almost eagerness—sparking in his eyes. Fareed hadn’t seen anything like that in the man’s eyes since his late wife.
The gregarious Rose eyed him back with open appreciation and murmured to Gwen for all to hear, “So incredible things do come to those who wait, eh, sweetie?” She didn’t wait for Gwen’s reaction and turned to Fareed. “It’s been a treat meeting you, Sheikh Aal Zaafer. Take care of my lovelies, hmm?”
He bowed his head. “Fareed, please. And we’ll be meeting again. And you can count on it.”
She grinned at him, gave Gwen’s hand a bolstering squeeze, caressed Ryan’s cheek then gave his an affectionate pat before turning to Emad. “Shall we, Mr. Dark Knight?”
Emad gaped at her, clearly unable to believe this woman had just petted his prince. And that she’d called him that.
Then his eyes narrowed on a flare of challenge and approval as he gave her his arm. “By all means, Ms. Maher.”
“Can’t come up with a slogan for me, huh?” Rose