Page 12 of Kismet

The simple thought halted his pacing. Christ Jesus. Halah’s prediction. More than a year ago, the old woman had foretold of a woman of fire who would leave her mark on him. He’d always scoffed at the woman’s fortune-telling where he was concerned, but if the crone heard about Allegra, he’d never hear the end of it. Particularly when Halah’s description of the courtesan had been extraordinarily accurate, right down to the color of Allegra’s auburn hair.

He released another grunt, this time of disgust. The tribe Sheikh Mahmoud had placed under his leadership revered Halah for what he grudgingly admitted was her uncanny ability to predict the future. The Amazigh were a superstitious people, and they took omens and signs seriously. He turned back toward the salon. Hakim was once more at the courtesan’s side.

From what he could tell, she was doing an excellent job of ignoring the boy. The fact pleased and annoyed him at the same time. He didn’t like admitting he was wrong, and she was forcing him to do just that. Damnation, whether he’d been wrong about her or not wasn’t the point.

The only thing he cared about was ensuring Hakim didn’t spend any more time in the woman’s company. They were only staying in town another week, and if he kept Hakim occupied with business matters, the boy would soon forget the courtesan. As for him, he’d find a way to dismiss Allegra from his thoughts. He clenched his teeth. He didn’t like the mocking voice in his head that said he’d find it difficult to forget her.

Another glance at Hakim’s face said the boy was growing frustrated by Allegra’s lack of attentiveness. Any minute now, his young friend was apt to make a fool of himself over the woman. Best to rescue the boy now and save him from any potential embarrassment. He reentered the drawing room and waited several seconds to catch Hakim’s eye.

When the boy saw him, Shaheen gestured toward the door. A stubborn expression darkened Hakim’s face, but he nodded belligerently when Shaheen glared at him. He watched the young man begin to say his good-byes, and he debated whether to breach the small crowd encircling Hastings and his fiancée to do the same.

He decided to let Hakim say good-bye for the two of them. Eager to leave, he looked around the room for any sign of the Sultan. The ruler was conversing with another guest close to the salon’s entrance, and he made his way toward the man. Mulay Hassan saw him coming and broke away from his conversation as Shaheen approached.

“Are you leaving us so soon, my friend?”

“I think it best to escort Hakim home before the young fool embarrasses himself.”

“The boy has an excellent eye. Unfortunately for every man here, the lady has no interest in any liaisons at this time.”

The thought of the Sultan with Allegra set him on edge. In the next instant, satisfaction replaced his irritation as he realized Mulay Hassan, like the other men in the room, had failed to capture her interest. On the heels of both emotions came frustration. He was one of those men. Bloody hell, the woman had him tied up in knots. The sooner he was away from her presence, the better.

“Ah, Hakim.” The Sultan greeted the Amazigh heir with a smile and his hand settled on the young man’s shoulder. “Don’t despair, boy. There are other birds of paradise to catch.”

“I shall call on her tomorrow to persuade her to change her mind.”

There was a defiant glint in the boy’s eyes that made Shaheen study him carefully. Under his scrutiny, the boy’s features grew even more rebellious. Beside him, the Sultan chuckled.

“Persuasion is an admirable skill to possess, Hakim. But if you wish to possess a woman’s body, my young friend, you must first conquer her heart.”

Hakim’s reply to the Sultan’s adage was a fierce scowl. Shaheen immediately sent the boy a stern look before Hakim bowed respectfully and bade their host good night. Mulay Hassan chuckled at the young man’s sullen good-bye and watched with amusement as Hakim stalked out of the salon.

“Rejection is good for the boy,” the Sultan said with a clap of his hand on Shaheen’s shoulder. “It will teach him humility.”

With quiet agreement and a final farewell, Shaheen followed the younger man into the atrium and out through the front entrance. Hakim’s stride was long and fast, evidence of his frustration. He found the boy’s behavior disappointing, but he understood it. Allegra was the first woman the boy had ever displayed any real interest in and rejection wasn’t easy.

Silence engulfed the carriage as they returned to the house the family kept in Marrakech. Shaheen had always allowed the boy to work through his anger without interference unless absolutely necessary, but something felt different this time. The icy atmosphere between them made him realize Hakim somehow considered him to blame for his lack of success with Allegra.

He released a quiet sigh and yearned for the peaceful sound of a crackling fire and the stars draped overhead in the black sky. The carriage rolled to a stop and Hakim bolted from the vehicle. With resignation, he watched the young man enter the house. The boy would one day make a great leader, but at the moment, he needed to learn how to control his hot temper. As Shaheen walked through the gated doorway into the coolness of the central courtyard, one of the servants hurried forward and handed him a sealed letter. Tearing the missive open, he stared at the single line of script.

A Lord Shaftsbury has been asking about you. Respectfully, Ali Dabir

The tribe’s legal counsel in Marrakech, Dabir always had his ear to the ground and knew what was happening before anyone else. The man was also one of the few people who knew his real identity. But for all intents and purposes, that man was dead. Robert Camden, Viscount Newcastle had died in the desert almost fifteen years ago. No one had even mourned his passing. And the dead were always best left buried.

His gaze returned to the short message. Shaftsbury. Visitors had been rare at Pembroke Hall, but he had vague memories of meeting the man after he’d moved to London to live with James. A relative from his mother’s side of the family as he recalled. He closed his eyes at the thought of a mother he’d never known. Her death had always been a painful reminder of what could have been. Not even his brother had felt it quite as keenly as he had. He looked at the note again. Whatever Shaftsbury wanted there was little doubt that his father was involved. Maybe the bastard was finally dead.

The thought caused him to flex his jaw as the muscles in his body tightened with pain. He winced then stiffened his shoulders. Whether his father was dead or alive was of little consequence to him. The earl had disowned him years ago, and he had no desire to inherit the Pembroke title or return to the life he’d once known. Shaftsbury and his father could both go to hell for all he cared.

With the note tucked inside his gambaz, he crossed the courtyard and walked down a short hallway before entering the suite he shared with Hakim. The young man was standing on the room’s balcony that overlooked Marrakech. As if sensing he was no longer alone, the Amazigh heir apparent turned and eyed him coldly.

“I saw you with the emîra, Shaheen.”

The boy’s bitter accusation sailed across the room with the vehemence of a jealous lover, suddenly aware he had competition. At least this confirmed his suspicions about the cold silence in the carriage. Arching an eyebrow at the youth, he remained silent. It would do no good to try and explain his actions to the boy. Hakim’s face grew flushed with angry color when Shaheen didn’t answer. His stride a brash swagger, the boy moved toward a low couch and threw himself on top of several of the divan’s brightly colored pillows.

“If I were Sheikh, I would have you flayed for touching her.”

“If you were Sheikh, you would be a man,” he said quietly and turned away to go to his room. Despite his lineage, the boy needed to understand the difference between commanding and acting the part of a petty tyrant.

“I will change her mind. A woman like that can always be bought.”

For some odd reason, the callous words infuriated him. Allegra Synnford might accept gifts and money in exchange for her favors, but she’d displayed a set of principles tonight that he found honorable. Other women wouldn’t have thought twice about taking Hakim as a lover once they discovered his worth. Something deep inside him said Allegra would never consider doing such a thing.

“She turned you away because you’re still a boy.” He said as he clenched his jaw with anger and continued toward his room. Any other time Hakim’s belligerent behavior would have amused him, but tonight it only exacerbated his irritation.

“You lie.”

The heated words brought him to an abrupt halt. Slowly, he turned to face the defiant boy he’d guarded for the past fifteen years. He was angry enough to throttle the insolent pup. The boy knew better than to accuse him of lying. Barely restraining his fury, he sent Hakim a cold look.

“I will forgive your insult to me, to your father and the trust he places in me.” He watched the boy blanch at his icy words. “Forget the woman. She’s not worth the heartache she would cause you, even if she were to consider taking a mere boy to her bed.”

Not waiting for a reply, he strode from the sitting room and slammed the door behind him. In the dark, he paced the floor with a restless energy and released a grunt of anger. It had been a long time since he’d miscalculated a situation so badly. Even his exchange with Hakim could have been handled better. The boy was in the midst of his first real infatuation. That he understood. He still remembered the pretty ballerina he’d made a fool of himself over. But comparing Allegra to that vacuous ballerina was like night and day.

He shrugged out of his gambaz. Carelessly, he threw it onto the bed and shoved a hand through his hair. The confines of the spacious room closed in on him, and he strode toward the balcony that hung low over the house’s inner courtyard. He inhaled a deep breath of cool night air, and the scent of jasmine teased his nostrils.

It reminded him of Allegra’s skin, soft and sweet. The memory of her in his arms made him grow hard again. Christ Jesus. The woman was occupying his thoughts far too much. He’d warned her to stay away from Hakim, and he was confident she would. The problem was, he didn’t want to stay away from her. The woman was like opium—a small taste brought a craving for more. It had been years since a woman had made him come close to losing complete control of his senses. Like his young charge, he would forget Allegra Synnford. It would be a mistake to bed her, no matter how tempting she might be. Losing control of his senses was something he could never let happen again. The price had been too costly the last time.