The Sheikh's Pregnant Wife - Leslie North Page 0,14

field when the group of leaders, led by Kara and Yaseen, arrived.

The sports field at the school was a large open area, mostly bare dirt with a few patches of grass. This didn’t seem to matter much to the children closest to the waist-high fence—girls who were huddled in small groups, whispering to each other and giggling. The kids on the field, however, all wore serious expressions.

Serious, Kara saw, because they were playing soccer. Two old goal frames had been set up on either end of the yard, and as she watched, one of the boys tossed in the ball from an invisible line on the ground. The rest of them tore after it.

“Look,” she said. “A match. We’ll have to go cheer.”

They made their way through the yard, the principal of the school leading the way and greeting every child she came across. The children involved in the soccer match stayed involved—so involved that they didn’t see the delegation approaching. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, and their eyes narrowed with concentration. Eyes on the ball, always. Eight boys and two girls played, all of them tearing furiously from one end of the field to the other.

“Children, this is Sheikh Yaseen,” shouted the principal. “We’ve seen his picture in class, and his wife, Kara, along with—”

Her voice barely cut through the din of the playground. The game continued at top speed.

“That’s what it means to be dedicated,” said one of the elders, a laugh in his voice. “They have no need for any of us.”

One boy came out toward the boundary, kicking the ball in front of him. The rest of his teammates spread out. One of them shouted something that sounded like here, here! And at that moment, the young boy saw the adults standing in a loose row at the edge of the field. His mouth dropped open wide, and his leg moved, drawing back for a kick. His foot rocketed forward even as his mouth went into a perfectly round O, then he groaned in distress. “Oh no!”

The ball arced through the air, straight toward Kara. Her muscles braced to duck. At the last moment, Yaseen’s hands shot out and caught the ball. A gust of air from the ball’s momentum brushed over her face.

The field came to a standstill. Ten statues, all of them frozen in various attitudes of playing soccer. The goalie still held his hands up at chest level. The wind ruffled his hair, but he didn’t so much as blink.

“Sheikh Yaseen,” said the principal, her face a deep red. “I’m so sorry.” She turned to Kara, hand to her chest. “Are you all right?”

Kara’s heart beat fast with adrenaline. She gave the principal a reassuring smile. Then she met Yaseen’s dark eyes. He watched her with the ball in his hands. He looked her up and down. Kara reached for his elbow. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “You caught the ball before it even touched me. Besides, I was about to duck.”

Yaseen’s deadly serious expression remained in place for another long heartbeat. Then it cracked at the edges, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slowly.

“Are you sure?” He asked the question in a low voice, though the others were standing close enough that Kara was certain they could hear. His eyes made her feel ten degrees warmer. Twenty. Almost as if he were a conquering hero, a knight on a white horse. Oh, you shouldn’t feel quite so horribly attracted to him, Kara thought, but she did.

“Yes. Everything is all right.” A pleasant shock went through her from where she touched Yaseen.

Then he was in motion, striding onto the field. “What are you waiting for?” The children tracked every movement with their eyes. “Loosen up. Let’s play.”

“We’re waiting for the ball,” one of the girls called from the edge of the field. Kara instantly loved her, with her pointed chin lifted into the air and her hands on her hips. “You have to throw it back to us.”

Yaseen jogged back to where the boundary of the field was marked with a stick in the ground, an orange ribbon fluttering off the top. “I need one more.” He gestured at the group of adults, waving his hand impatiently. “One more, so the sides are still even.”

Alvan, the youngest of the elders, jogged forward immediately, stretching his arm over his chest as he went. He took his place at the far end of the field amidst a clutch of the kids. He jumped