Page 74 of Kismet

James Camden, Earl of Pembroke

After years of discord, his father had apologized. Sorrow gripped him with an unexpected strength. But it wasn’t for his father. It was for what his father had never given him. The love of a parent for a child. It was a worse sin than burdening him with the idea he’d been responsible for his mother’s death. He shook his head. All that time wasted. A lifetime of struggling to make his father proud in hopes of earning a smile, a fatherly pat on the shoulder. He would not make the same mistake as the earl. No child of his would ever be denied his love. But first, he had to win Allegra back.

Something he was attempting to do with the help of an unlikely ally—Shaftsbury. His cousin had been a frequent visitor to Pembroke Hall since his father’s funeral. At first he’d found it difficult to be in the same room with Charles given Allegra had gone so willingly to the man that terrible night in the Moroccan desert. He’d tried not to like his cousin, but Charles had made it damned difficult. Particularly when the man seemed determined to help him win back Allegra. Fingers tugging at the snug collar around his neck, he looked at the clock. Charles was late. It had been more than a week since his cousin’s last visit and he was eager for news of Allegra.

The library door burst open, and Charles entered the room with an apologetic smile on his face. The two of them met each other halfway and shook hands.

“My apologies, Robert. One of the horses threw a shoe and we were forced to stop and find a blacksmith.”

His body grew taut at the sound of his given name. He didn’t think he would ever grow accustomed to it again. He much preferred Shaheen. There was a solid rhythm to it, but he knew better than to expect anyone in England to call him by his Amazigh name.

“How is she?” he asked in a pointed tone.

Charles sent him a sympathetic look before concern filled his features. It was enough to make his gut lurch. Something was wrong. Fearing the worst, he walked to the sideboard and poured two brandies. His cousin joined him and accepted the snifter he offered.

“She’s doing well physically, but according to her niece, she’s suffering from horrible nightmares.”

“Cordelia’s with her then?”

“Yes. You know her?” A look of surprise creased Charles’s forehead.

“We’ve not met, but Allegra mentioned her.” He stared into the softly rounded glass he held. It seemed like just yesterday he’d found himself listening to Allegra talk about her niece.

“Well, the girl is taking excellent care of her.” Charles took a drink from his glass. “Did you know Jamal was at Fairfield Oaks?”

“Yes.” With a nod, he set his snifter down on the liquor cabinet. “He managed to convince Allegra’s maid to marry him.”

“Well, I think Allegra is grateful he’s there.” With a frown, Charles finished off his brandy and set his glass aside. “She won’t admit it, but these nightmares of hers have left her badly shaken.”

“I need to see her, Charles.” His fingers dug into his biceps as he glared at his cousin. “It’s been almost three months. I should have gone to her the moment I finished burying my father.”

“And you know damn well what the doctor said—no excitement.” Charles glared at him. “I know you’re worried about her—so am I. She’s stubborn, and if you showed up on her doorstep, I don’t know how she’d react.”

“So you think she blames me,” he ground out viciously. “Is that why you're against me seeing her, or is there another reason you want to stay away?”

“You know damn well my feelings for Allegra are those of a friend, nothing more, Charles replied quietly and winced as he met Shaheen’s gaze with commiseration. “I’m simply saying I don't know how she'll react to seeing you. No one knows, because she absolutely refuses to talk about Morocco with anyone.”

Shaheen turned back toward the sideboard and poured himself another drink. Yes, she was stubborn, but she was strong, too. Nonetheless, it worried him that she refused to discuss Morocco at all. The doctor in Othmane had warned him she might be prone to depression and other things as a result of Nassar’s treatment. Christ Jesus, what if the bastard had raped her? The air in his lungs dried up and tightened his chest. He needed to see her—to beg her forgiveness. And what if she wouldn’t even let him cross the threshold of her home? The possibility struck at the deepest part of him. If she refused to see him, everything would be lost. But he also knew that it didn’t matter whether he tried to see her tomorrow or a year from now. Her answer wouldn’t change. Either she’d forgive him or she wouldn’t. Not even touching the drink he’d poured, he turned to face his cousin.

“I want to see her.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“I don’t care what you think.” He snapped his hand in a dismissive gesture. “If she blames me, then she can take her anger out on me. But if she’s hurting because she believes I don’t love her, then that’s something I can fix.”

Charles arched his eyebrows with a frown of disagreement. “Are you so damned sure of yourself that you’re willing to risk losing her?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore.” He closed his eyes briefly, then met his cousin’s troubled gaze. “I just know she’ll either listen to what I have to say or she won’t. Time won’t change that.”

He was living in a fool’s paradise if he thought she would have anything to do with him at all. But he needed to hear her answer. And God help him if she turned him away because he could easily become the man his father was without her in his life.