Queen of Barrakesch Page 16

  “Wasim!” She whispered his name again as relief flooded through her.

  He rushed over and dropped to his knees to the concrete floor. He pulled her into his arms and she clung to his neck.

  Four men dressed in military gear and carrying guns piled into the room behind him. When they saw that only she and Wasim were in there, two remained and the other two darted out, probably going to find more of her captors.

  “Are you hurt?” Wasim ran his hands carefully down her arms, checking for injury.

  Imani shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  He took her hands and stared at the bruises the rope left on her wrists. “You are hurt,” he said, voice grim, lips tight.

  “They’re just bruises. It’s nothing.”

  “They are not nothing.” Angry fire flared to life in his copper-brown eyes. There would be dire consequences for the men who’d taken her.

  He stood and lifted her into his arms, holding her against his chest as if she were the most precious, delicate thing.

  Imani had held strong the entire time, but cradled in Wasim’s arms, she allowed herself to relax. In his comforting arms, all her fears disappeared and she became confident that everything would be okay now.

  She didn’t have to be strong anymore, and she clung to his neck and hid her face against his throat. A tear squeezed from between her eyelids as he marched with her out the door and she listened to him bark orders in Arabic.

  She and her baby were fine. Wasim was here and their ordeal—though short-lived—was finally over.

  Two doctors and a nurse waited at the palace when Imani arrived and examined her in the private clinic. After they confirmed she and the baby were fine, she took a long bath and soaked in warm water filled with oils that moisturized her skin and filled the room with scents that helped her relax.

  Afterward, feeling normal enough to eat, she consumed a plate of eggs, toast, fruit, and several glasses of orange juice. Wasim watched her as she ate. He didn’t speak. He simply stared.

  Finally, she smiled at him. “I’m fine, and you need to get some rest.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever rest again,” he said grimly, running his hands through his hair and rumpling the tresses into further disarray.

  She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “You will. And you’ll get back to work. ”

  He flipped over his hand and clasped hers. “While you were taking your bath, we learned who was behind the kidnapping.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. One or more of the members of the Parliament who disagreed with us getting married?”

  He laughed bitterly. “I wish. Then this wouldn’t be so hard.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “This person needed money for a major project that they couldn’t finance on their own, and unbeknownst to me, they had already burned bridges with other investors. That bit of information was kept quiet at his request because he is part of the royal family. In essence, he was over-leveraged, and dishonest about his capabilities. This was an act of desperation to get the funding he needed.” He looked steadily at her, telepathically conveying the answer.

  Her heart filled with dismay when she immediately guessed the culprit. “Farouk.”

  “Yes,” Wasim said in a defeated voice.

  His brother-in-law and close friend had orchestrated a kidnapping to finance his business deal and prop up his faltering business.

  “What does this mean?” Imani asked.

  “He must suffer the same justice as the others he convinced to do this with him. Men who were promised money, who saw this as an opportunity to elevate their status by improving their finances.”

  “But why me?”

  “Because he knew I would do anything to get you back. Because he knew that you were the one thing I couldn’t lose. My love, my life, my soul.”

  His words warmed her heart. “Where are the men now?”

  “They’ve all been imprisoned and await trial and judgment.”

  She knew what judgment would be meted out. Like in her own country, bringing harm to any member of the royal family was a crime punishable by death.

  “What about Yasmin?” she asked tentatively.

  Wasim withdrew his hand. He shook his head. “She’s not involved. I’ve already questioned her, and I believe her. She was completely shocked by his actions and devastated he would lie and go to such lengths to finance the deal.”

  “Are you certain you want to give him the same punishment?”

  He looked her squarely in the eye. “The law is the law.”

  “But you are the ultimate authority. Think about Yasmin, Malak, and the new baby. Yes, he was wrong, and he should be punished, but I wasn’t harmed.”

  “He took you,” Wasim said, his eyes going wide. He obviously couldn’t believe her stance on the matter, and neither could she.

  But her concern wasn’t for Farouk. She was worried about his family and the families of the men who’d helped him. They’d all suffer and she hated that.

  “What if he’d injured you beyond the bruises? What if he’d hurt our child?”

  “But he didn’t. Wasim, he’s your brother-in-law, and Yasmin is your sister.”

  “And you are my wife and carry my child.”

  “And what if I forgive him? All of them?” Imani asked.

  “That is your choice. It is not mine.” Wasim lifted up her hand and kissed the inside of her bruised wrist. “This conversation is over. I have made my decision. We won’t talk about their judgment anymore.”

  “Wasim—”

  “This conversation is over, Imani,” he said in a harder tone, all softness disappearing from his face. “I want you to rest and let me worry about what has to be done next. I’ve already contacted your family in Zamibia to let them know that you are back safely. The communication secretary will issue a statement about everything that happened, including those involved. There is nothing more for you to do.”

  He stood and walked out the door.

  28

  Wasim sat on a raised dais in The Great Hall of Appeals with male scribes and secretaries on either side of him capturing the decisions made after each applicant came to plead their case.

  A few weeks had passed since Imani had been found, and there were times when he still couldn’t sleep through the night. He sometimes woke multiple times, gathering her closer during each instance, no matter how close she already was. He’d increased her security and her social secretary was now required to send a copy of her daily itinerary to his assistant and any changes, no matter how minor, had to be updated immediately. He could tell that his insistence on keeping track of her every move was endearing at first but now wore on Imani’s nerves. He didn’t care. She’d have to deal with his paranoia until he got back to normal.

  The next person to enter The Great Hall of Appeals was unexpected.

  Wasim tensed at the sight of his sister, barefoot, holding her newborn son in her arms. She wore a white shayla on her head and walked meekly toward him instead of with the proud stride of the princess she was. She’d chosen to come to him this way because he hadn’t accepted any of her correspondence and had refused to meet with her about Farouk. He didn’t want to listen to her plead the case of the man who’d jeopardized the life of his family and almost thrown the entire kingdom into chaos.

  The past few weeks had taken a toll on them all, but her in particular. Her husband had been involved in the kidnapping and now sat in a prison cell, awaiting final justice.

  She stopped in front of him and lowered to her knees on the cushioned bench below him. “Good morning Wasim, Your Excellency, King of Barrakesch.”

  His lips tightened in anger. Not at her, but at the position Farouk had forced them all into. Akmal had been devastated. Their younger siblings had been disappointed and disillusioned because they admired him and looked up to him as an older brother. Malak was confused about why he couldn’t play with his father and hadn’t seen him
in a long time because Yasmin didn’t want him to see his father behind bars. And Wasim himself grieved the loss of their friendship.

  “Please state your name for the record,” Wasim said. Yasmin did and then he asked, “Why have you come here today?”

  “I’ve come to plead for leniency for my husband.”

  She gave his full name, the nature of the crime, and the expected judgment. She swallowed and then reminded Wasim of how long he’d known Farouk and knew his true heart. She pointed out that he was a member of the family and had simply gotten in over his head. At his core, he was a good man, generous and loved by many. She gave examples of his kindness and presented letters of thanks he’d received over the years from people to whom he’d given money, paid off bills, or given a job.

  Finally, with tears in her eyes, Yasmin said, “Spare his life, please. If not for him, then for me and our children. We will carry the shame of his actions forever, but don’t take him away from us—from them. We both know what it’s like to lose a parent at a young age.”

  That last sentence sank deep into his heart. The sudden loss of their mother had devastated them both. Though they eventually recovered, he remembered the confusion he felt when his father explained that their mother was gone. That she would never sing to him again, stroke his hair, or shower him with affectionate kisses.

  Then he remembered Imani’s words to him the morning she was found. Her willingness to forgive and concern for his sister and her children while she should be concerned about herself after being the victim of a major crime.

  Wasim’s hand balled into a fist on his thigh. “I will spare his life.”

  Yasmin’s shoulders collapsed and she closed her eyes.

  “But he must leave Barrakesch for good.”

  Her eyes flew open. “Wasim, please…”

  “That is non-negotiable.” He hated the thought of depriving his nephews of their father, but he hated what Farouk had done even more. “He took the most important people in my life. Because of greed.”

  “Not greed. He—” She shut down immediately when his eyes narrowed in anger. They were siblings, but she owed him the respect of his position in The Great Hall of Appeals.

  He continued. “They could have been hurt. Anything could have happened. Those were the longest hours of my life. I aged fifty years with worry and I still worry. He must be punished, and I am being very generous. This is my ruling.”

  That last sentence indicated the scribes should start recording.

  “Within forty-eight hours, he must turn over all business property and holdings to the kingdom and leave the country, never to return. If he sets foot on Barrakeschi soil again for any reason, he will be executed. He should also keep track of my movements, because if I see him anywhere, in any country in the world—I will kill him. For the rest of his life, he should carry the knowledge that his life is worthless to me, and if I ever set eyes on him, he is a dead man. Is that ruling to your satisfaction?”

  The question was rhetorical. No one had ever argued with a king on his ruling. Once you’d pleaded your case and the king gave an answer, that answer was final.

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” Yasmin said.

  “Good. He should thank Allah that my heart has softened enough to spare his life. But I will never. Ever. Forgive him.”

  “I understand. Thank you.”

  Still cradling her youngest against her chest, Yasmin walked away with her head downcast.

  Their relationship had been forever changed, and though he’d spared Farouk’s life, she was effectively without a husband. Wasim knew she would remain here under his protection, where she was allowed to live the life of a princess that she was accustomed to.

  There was no way her husband could provide for his family now, with no business assets and cast out of his country. He might move to neighboring Dubai or Saudi Arabia to remain close to his family so that the boys could have some kind of relationship with him.

  Despite the catastrophic fallout, one good thing had come out of this trauma. The usual drivel that had spewed from the mouths of the conservative Parliament members had all but disappeared. They’d softened their rhetoric and denounced the kidnapping of the queen and the potential heir.

  The horror of such an outrageous crime had shaken the kingdom, and her strength had endeared her in the people’s hearts, particularly after seeing the bruised faces of her captors.

  The bad part of this whole ordeal was the broken family left behind. Wasim, Akmal, and their younger brothers would step in to be father figures to Yasmin’s sons, but that didn’t change how broken their family would be for a while.

  His heart hurt for his sister, and he grieved the loss of a man he not only considered a good friend, but a member of his family.

  29

  After talking with housekeeping about changes she wanted to make to the floral arrangements in the formal dining room, Imani took a cool shower, dressed, and went to Wasim’s apartment. She found him in his bedroom, seated on the edge of the bed and focused on his phone.

  She stood by the door. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi. Everything okay?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She sensed he was about to go immediately into fix-it mode. “I’m wondering about us.”

  His frown deepened. “What’s wrong with us?”

  Imani walked over to where he sat and stood in front of him. “You haven’t touched me since the incident.”

  “That’s not true. I have touched you,” Wasim said.

  “Correct, you have touched me. You’ve held my hand. You’ve hugged me. You’ve cuddled with me in bed. But you haven’t made love to me. Why?”

  He shook his head as if the very idea was terrible. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Imani took his phone and set it on a table. Then she walked back over and straddled his lap and hooked her arms around his neck. Looking into his eyes, she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “Why not?”

  “Would you believe I’m afraid?” he said quietly.

  “You? Afraid?”

  His jaw tightened as a hand smoothed down the curve of her spine. “I want you—believe me, I want you. But I’m afraid to traumatize you anymore.”

  How had she ever thought this man didn’t care about her? His concern was so evident in the words he’d just spoken and in his actions on a daily basis. He was attentive and at times drove her crazy with his overprotectiveness and concern, but she’d rather have both of those things than his indifference.

  “I’m not fragile, Wasim. I won’t break, and I want you to make love to me. I miss that part of our relationship. I want us to get back to normal. I don’t want what happened to change our marriage.”

  Enough had changed already. Her relationship with Yasmin was strained and probably would remain that way for some time. Her sister-in-law carried the shame of her husband’s actions, and Imani did her best to ensure that Yasmin didn’t feel as if she blamed her in any way for what had happened. She hoped that their relationship could go back to a semblance of what it used to be—a close friendship that regularly had them laughing together while also working as collaborators on charitable projects they both cared deeply about.

  “Imani, you went through a traumatic experience. I don’t want to be an insensitive brute and fling myself on top of you.”

  She held back a laugh, but he must have seen the amusement in her eyes because he arched an eyebrow at her.

  “First of all, you’re my husband, and you wouldn’t be flinging yourself on top of me. Besides, I want to make love to you. Haven’t you been listening?” She nuzzled his neck and kissed his Adam’s apple. “I miss you, Wasim, habibi. I miss your touch, and I need you.”

  His hands grasped her hips and pulled her tighter against him so she could feel his growing erection. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked in a low voice.

  His voice was so sexy when he talked l
ike that, he could practically melt the panties off her. “Yes, I’m fine. You won’t break me.”

  Imani pushed the hem of her abaya higher on her thighs and his hands found their way beneath the soft material. When he discovered she wasn’t wearing underwear, his breathing caught and his eyes filled with lust.

  “I want you,” Imani whispered, tenderly kissing his lips. “Make love to me. As gentle or as rough as you want. I just need you.”

  Wasim tunneled his fingers into her hair at the base of her skull and seized her mouth. The kiss was instantly erotic, but slow and undemanding. He pried her lips apart with his tongue and the sweet invasion made her purr with pleasure. He took his time and gave her a long, drugging kiss and pulled back every now and again before reclaiming her mouth.

  She rubbed her aching core against the hardness in his pants, and when he teased her with a careless swipe of his thumb along the crease of her hips, she shivered with the long unfulfilled need to be taken by him.

  “Yes,” Imani breathed, tilting her head back so his tongue could sweep the underside of her chin.

  Wasim stood with her in his arms and placed her on her back on the bed. Then he made love to her in earnest.

  She sighed happily as he nipped at her neck and squeezed her breasts. The nipples beaded against his palms and she arched into his hands. They hurriedly undressed and then their naked bodies fused together. Because of the anticipation of making love to him, Imani was so wet and aroused that she came almost instantly, trembling under the strength of his pumping hips. He climaxed soon afterward, squeezing her tight against his body and emptying with a groan to the side of her neck.

  Later, Imani flung an arm across his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. Wasim’s fingers moved in an arch along the back of her neck and scalp in a tender massage.