A Secret Birthright - By Olivia Gates Page 0,55
not only that Ryan has the Aal Zaafer name through me, not Hesham. It is that I’ll give up my Jizaanian nationality if it will make my adoption binding anywhere in the world, starting with here. But most of all it is that I, a man of equal status to you and superior wealth, am married to Ryan’s mother.”
The king only transferred his gaze behind him. Gwen had followed him, was almost plastered to his back.
Then, without taking his eyes off her, his father said, “That is not your greatest weapon but your greatest weakness, Fareed. Gwen isn’t Ryan’s mother. She’s his aunt.”
Thirteen
Fareed heard his father’s declaration. He understood the words. He couldn’t make any sense of them.
Still looking at Gwen, his father addressed her this time, “It was your sister, Marilyn, who was Hesham’s woman.”
After all these months, Fareed had a full name for Hesham’s Lyn. Marilyn. Not Gwendolyn.
He turned, no longer of his own volition, but under her agitation’s compulsion.
She was looking at him, and only at him, her eyes flooded with imploring. Certainty was instantaneous, absolute.
She wasn’t Hesham’s woman. Wasn’t Ryan’s mother.
They would register. The import and impact of this knowledge. They would crash on him and rewrite his existence. But not now.
Now only one thing mattered.
He turned to his father. “It makes no difference. Ryan is Gwen’s and you’re not getting him.”
His father’s expression was one he well knew. A “you dare?” and a “dream on” rolled into one eyebrow raise.
Before he did something irretrievable, his father said, “I won’t continue this discussion standing by a helicopter on a beach. Anyone would get the impression I’m not welcome.”
“You’re not,” Fareed growled, aborting his father’s stride. “And this discussion is over. There is nothing to discuss. And don’t try to pull rank. You’re not king here. I am.”
His father ignored him, looked at Gwen. “And you’re queen here. You won’t invite your father-in-law into your home, even if your husband is rude enough not to?”
“Leave Gwen out of this, Father. I’m warning you…”
Gwen’s hand on his arm stopped his tirade.
Then she stepped in front of him. “It would be an honor and a pleasure to receive you in o-our home, Your Majesty.”
Fareed wanted to hug the breath right out of her, emotions colliding inside him. Pride and delight, at how she held herself, addressed his father, the effect her graciousness and classiness had on the old goat. Delight that she’d said our home. Oppression that she’d hesitated while saying it. But mostly, dread of letting his father deeper into their lives under any pretext.
He watched his father take Gwen’s elbow as she led the way back into the villa. He walked a step behind, felt Emad fall into step with him. He only spared him a gritted “Later.”
His father tossed him a glance. “Later, I might take him off your hands. It appears I’ve been remiss in estimating his worth.”
“I’ll make you a gift of him. It appears I’ve overestimated it.”
Emad grunted something, the very sound of politeness. To Fareed’s versed-in-his-noises ears, it sounded like a grown-up groaning at the posturing antics of two juvenile charges.
Once inside the villa, Gwen turned to his father. “We were about to have dinner. I hope you’ll be able to join us. If you don’t like seafood, I’ll get something else prepared right away.”
“The only time we met, I insulted and threatened you.” The king’s regard turned thoughtful. “Even if I abhorred seafood, it would still be better than crow.”
Fareed blinked. Had his father just cracked a joke?
He could think of only one explanation for this aberration. He got his confirmation in Gwen’s crimson discomfiture.
“Oh, no, you don’t, Father. I’m damned if I let you play on Gwen’s sympathies. You’re not some kind, bereaved old man, so you can quit trying to blindside us into lowering our guard right now. We’re not letting you get your hands on Ryan.”
His father gave him a considering glance. “What have you told her I’d do when this comes to pass?”
“No ‘when’ here. And it was Hesham who told her—” he tried again to adjust to the fact that it hadn’t been her Hesham had told, had loved “—told her sister that you almost loved him to death, pressuring and coercing and hounding him into becoming the heir you would find acceptable.” Suddenly he couldn’t stand not knowing. He swung his gaze to Gwen. “What happened to your sister?”
He knew the answer. If not from the fact that she had Ryan, then from the grief