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Kahlil was the only one in the room. He slowly turned from the window and moved to a massive chair with burgundy cushions and sat down even more slowly.
He didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t even look at her.
Bryn’s stomach dropped. This was bad. Very, very bad. Something terrible had happened to Ben.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“TELL me,” she whispered. “Tell me what’s happened.”
“Come closer.”
She was frozen, petrified of what he might say. “Tell me first. Just get it over with.”
His dark head lifted, his eyes, brilliant with emotion, met hers. “I’ve heard nothing about Ben. This has to do with you.”
She shuffled forward, one step, and then another, adrenaline still surging, too much tension and exhaustion for her to think clearly. “Me?”
“Yes, my dutiful wife, you.”
“What have you heard? What’s this about?”
“What have you heard?” He repeated her words, enunciating the consonants as though they were sharp things in his mouth. “Oh, I’ve learned quite a bit, read quite a bit, too.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You bluff, Princess.” He rose from his chair and descended the dais. His feet were bare, his robe open, revealing long white trousers and the bronze of his chest.
“Sit down.”
She sank to the cushion in front of her, a burgundy silk embroidered with gold thread. “You’ve totally confused me. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“None?”
She leaned away from Kahlil as he marched a circle around her, scowling, his hands knotted behind his back. He wasn’t making sense. She’d been nowhere, gone nowhere. How could she have displeased him? “What does any of this have to do with Ben?”
“The correct question should be, what does any of this have to do with Amin?”
The sinking feeling returned. Kahlil had obviously heard something, learned something. Had Amin made a threat? Told stories? How had he incriminated her now?
“Well?” Kahlil stopped in front of her, rocked back on his heels. “You’re not going to defend yourself?”
Beads of perspiration formed across her forehead and on her nape. “I can’t defend myself if I do not know the charge.”
“I want to know about your affair with Amin.”
Her skin felt clammy and cold despite the warm morning and the moisture on her brow. “There was no affair.”
“That’s not what the videotape shows.”
“There is no videotape of Amin and I together—”
“There is plenty of video tape of you two together.”
“But not of us having sex.”
“Tell me, was he, or was he not in your room?”
Dear God, how did he know that? It must have been Amin. Amin must have confessed. “He was, but nothing like that happened.”
“Yet you ran away. Perhaps because you felt guilty?”
She couldn’t believe he’d do this now, when Ben was missing. “We had no affair. We never had sex. Look at your videotape for proof!”
“There’s no surveillance camera in the harem. The camera stops at the door.”
“How convenient!”
“But this wasn’t a one-night stand. You have been passing love letters for months.”
“They weren’t love letters, they were notes, very childish notes—”
“I don’t think they’re all that childish,” he ground out, drawing slips of paper from a pocket in his robe. “Amin, you’ve been too wonderful. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He unfolded another. “I must see you tonight. When can we meet? Or, how about this one? You’re an angel. I adore you.” Kahlil’s dark head lifted. “I adore you? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means nothing, it meant nothing. They were schoolgirl notes. I was eighteen!”
“And married to me.”
“I know it looks bad—”
“Looks bad? It is bad. What the hell were you doing writing love letters?”
“They weren’t love letters, they were messages between friends. Amin was giving me advice—”
“I bet he was.”
She flinched at the snarl in his voice. “It’s not like that, Kahlil. Please try to understand. We’d returned to Zwar and you immediately buried yourself in work. I was lonely, overwhelmed, I felt totally out of my element.”
“So you turned to Amin.”
“For friendship, and friendship only. He once was very kind to me. He listened to me, encouraged me, made me believe that everything would soon be better between you and me.”
“So I’m at fault? I was a lousy husband?”
“No, Kahlil, please try to understand. When we were dating you were so attentive, you made me feel special, and very loved. Maybe I was spoiled—”
“Maybe?”
“All right, I was spoiled, and immature, but the fact is when we returned here, you buried yourself in work and you had so little time for me. Amin befriended me. He realized I was lonely, lacking confidence, and he made me believe everything would be okay.”
“You don’t tell another man you are lonely and lacking confidence. You tell me. You don’t turn to another man for comfort, you turn to me.”
The savagery in his voice ripped through her. His features contorted, a dark violence in his expression, a bitterness she’d never seen before.
“Kahlil, please forgive me. I beg you.”
“Spare me the apology, Bryn, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”
“I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
He made a rude sound. “Amin says Ben is his.” His voice whipped her again. “If that’s so, Amin has every right to take the boy. I have no legal or moral reason to recover him for you.”
“No!”
“The search has been called off.”
She nearly screamed in protest. Hands outstretched. “My God, Kahlil, you can’t mean it. Ben’s a baby. He must be terrified.”
“Amin can handle it.”
“Amin isn’t Ben’s father. You are. And I’ve never been with another man, so even if you’re angry, don’t punish Ben. He doesn’t even know Amin!”
“It’s not my problem anymore.”
“Not your problem? You’re the sheikh of Zwar. Your cousin has kidnapped your child. You say it’s not your problem? Who runs this bloody country anyway?”
Kahlil grabbed her wrist and swung her against his chest, slamming the air from her lungs. “Do you know who you’re speaking to?”
“My husband!” Tears rushed to her eyes. “My arrogant, prideful pigheaded husband. You know why I turned to Amin all those years ago? Because you shut me out. You stopped seeing me, hearing me, talking to me. I was lonely and I wasn’t very good at being lonely, but I never slept with Amin and if you dare risk your child’s safety out of pride—” she drew a deep, staggering breath “—I swear, Kahlil, I’ll…”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll search for them myself. I won’t eat, sleep, rest until I find them.”
“You’re a woman in the Middle East. You have no money, no transportation, no friends. You’ll never find them.”
Her heart was breaking. “Why do you hate me so much? Is it because I’m weak? Because I have needs?”
“Your needs drove you into my brother’s arms.” He released her swiftly, his scathing tone blistering, drawing blood to her cheeks. “You make me sick.”
She didn’t hear the last part, just the first part and it echoed in her head. His brother? “You mean cousin’s arms.”
“Amin is my brother.” He swallowed, his jaw thickening. “My half brother. My mother’s bastard son.”
Stunned, Bryn held her breath. She felt the blackness of Kahlil’s mood, his confession wrung in pain and anger. “I thought your mother died after you were born.”
“She didn’t die. Not until I was in high school. When my fath
