The Sheikh's Undoing by Sharon Kendrick Read Free Book Online Page A

‘That’s the whole point—she never knew. He’d completely vanished.’ She met the look of disbelief in his eyes and shook her head. ‘It was only a quarter of a century ago, but it was a different kind of world back then. There were no computers you could use to track people down. No Facebook or cellphones. A man and his wife could just disappear off the face of the earth and you would never see them again.’
    Tariq’s frown deepened. ‘So he never saw you?’ ‘Nope. Not once. He doesn’t even know I exist,’ sheanswered, as if she didn’t care—and sometimes she actually managed to convince herself that she didn’t. Wasn’t it better to have an absent father rather than one who resented you, or didn’t match up to your expectations? But deep down Isobel knew that wasn’t the whole story. There was always a bitter ache in her heart when she thought about the parent she’d never had.
    For a moment Tariq tensed, as an unwilling sense of identification washed over him. Her childhood sounded sterile and lonely—and wasn’t that territory he was painfully familiar with? The little boy sent far away from home to endure a rigid system where his royal blood made him the victim of envy? And, like her, he had never known what it was to be part of a ‘normal’ family.
    Suddenly, he found his voice dipping in empathy. ‘That’s a pretty tough thing to happen,’ he said.
    Isobel heard the softness of his tone but shook her head, determined to shield herself from his unexpected sympathy—because sympathy made you weak. It made regret and yearning wash over you. Made you start wishing things could have been different. And everyone knew you could never rewrite the past.
    ‘It is what it is. Some people have to contend with far worse. My childhood was comfortable and safe—and you can’t knock something like that. Now, would you like some more tea before it gets cold?’ she questioned briskly.
    He could tell from the brightness in her voice that she wanted to change the subject, and suddenly he found he was relieved. It had been his mistake to encourage too much introspection—especially about the past. Because didn’t it open up memories which did no one any good?Memories which were best avoided because they took you to dark places?
    He shook his head. ‘No thanks. Just show me which bathroom you want me to use.’
    ‘Right.’ Isobel hesitated. Why hadn’t she thought of this? ‘The thing is that there’s only one bathroom, I’m afraid.’ She bit her lip. ‘We’re going to have to … well, share.’
    There was a pause. ‘Share?’ he repeated.
    She met the disbelief in his eyes. He’s a
prince
, she reminded herself. He won’t be used to sharing and making do. But it might do him some good to see how the other half lived—to see there were places other than the luxurious penthouses and palaces he’d always called home.
    ‘My cottage is fairly basic, but it’s comfortable,’ she said proudly. ‘I’ve never had the need or the money to incorporate an
en-suite
bathroom—so I’m afraid you’ll just have to get used to it. Now, would you like me to show you where you’ll be sleeping?’
    Tariq gave a mirthless smile, acknowledging that it was the first time he’d ever been asked that particular question without the involvement of some kind of foreplay. Wordlessly he nodded as he rose from the sofa to follow her out into the hall and up a very old wooden staircase. The trouble was that her movements showcased her bottom even more than before. Because this time he was closer—and every mounting step made the blue denim cling like honey to each magnificent globe.
    How could he have been so blind never to have noticed it before? His gaze travelled downwards. Or to have registered the fact that her legs were really veryshapely—the ankles slim enough to be circled by his finger and his thumb … ?
    ‘This is the bathroom,’ Isobel was saying. ‘And right next door is your room.