The Sheikh’s Tempted Prisoner by Holly Rayner Page 0,42
he strolled along, lost in thought.
“I take it that’s him?” Lily asked.
Atnan stared out, nodding.
“Shall we?”
He reached out a hand for hers, and Lily gladly laced her fingers with his, happy she could lend support during what was clearly a difficult reunion. She told herself that if she had managed to play a part in the reconciliation between the brothers, she could do just as much good here.
They strode across the gardens, the old man not noticing them as they crossed the terrain. Lily wondered if Atnan would call out to him, but he did not. He simply continued walking until they finally reached a spot just ahead of the old Sheikh. When he nearly bumped into them, Lily cleared her throat.
The Sheikh’s head shot up, his eyes dark and penetrating as he took them in. When they landed on Atnan, they softened and widened in surprise.
“Atnan?” he asked, his voice soft and rumbly with age.
Atnan released Lily’s hand, taking a step forward.
“Yes, Father,” he said, bowing his head respectfully.
Lily watched as the Sheikh eyed his son, a myriad of emotions passing over his face before he finally held Atnan’s face between his thick palms, forcing him to look up him.
“My son!” he whispered, pulling Atnan into his embrace.
Atnan’s shoulders were tense, frozen in surprise for a moment before he wrapped his arms around his father in a warm hug. Finally, the Sheikh pulled back, staring at Atnan as though he may have disappeared any minute.
“Where have you been?” he asked, his voice wounded.
Atnan stepped back.
“I might ask you the same thing, Father.”
The Sheikh’s eyes darkened for a moment, but after a pause, he sighed.
“I see we have much to talk about. Why don’t you join me for some tea?”
He gestured to a secluded sitting area, and Atnan nodded, holding out an arm to guide Lily to join them. That got the Sheikh’s attention, and he settled a curious stare on Lily.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, waiting for an introduction.
Atnan complied.
“Father, this is Lily Hawthorne. I love her.”
It was a simple statement, but Lily’s heart soared. The fact that it was the first thing Atnan would say to his father upon their meeting spoke volumes, and Lily held her breath as she waited for the Sheikh’s response.
“Ah, well then,” he said, holding out a hand for her to take, which she did gladly. “Welcome, Lily. I will now admit to you that I know exactly who you are. Atnan’s brother has been by to give me some updates. I feel I owe you much for helping my sons relieve themselves of their battles.”
“I’m happy to help, Your Highness,” Lily said, releasing his hand before they made their way to the comfortable-looking chairs tucked beneath draping trees.
“Please, you must call me Amman, for I believe you and I shall be great friends soon enough.”
Atnan cleared his throat.
“Not to break up the pleasantries, but I believe we have some things to discuss, like how I’ve been free for several days without a single word from you.”
Atnan’s tone was accusatory. The ruling Sheikh gestured toward the chairs, and they all took a seat, Atnan sitting upright and tense as he stared down his father. The Sheikh watched his son, his expression downcast.
“Atnan, I feel that I have done you a very great disservice, and I see now that hiding in my gardens and torturing myself about it has done nothing but make the situation worse.”
Atnan and Lily were quiet as the Sheikh spoke.
“When your mother died, I was so lost. When I looked into your eyes, I saw her, haunting me, reminding me that her light had been snuffed out. I didn’t know how to act around you, so I closed myself away. When Kaveh’s mother and I met, a small piece of me returned, but by then, you had become just as distant with me, and I didn’t know how to undo the damage I had done.”
He took a breath. It was clear those were words he had been longing to say for years, perhaps decades.
“When the accusations about you came out and you disappeared, I felt hopeless. Kaveh was so convinced of your guilt, your treachery, but I couldn’t believe it. I decided the best course of action was to remain silent, though I see now that was erroneous. I should have been more open with you, my son. I should have kept your mother’s warmth in our lives rather than locking it away, and for that I’m sorry.”
He