The Sheikh's Second Chance Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 5) (17 page)

But, his brother hadn't been able to sleep. As Rafiq's wedding assistant, his best man, it had fallen to Malik to try to calm his brother's nerves. Sleep had eventually come to Rafiq but only after Malik had hammered some sense into Rafiq. Malik had answered every fear and doubt in Rafiq's mind.

Yes, every detail of the wedding had been meticulously arranged.

Yes, all the right people had been invited as guests.

Yes, their father would be proud that Rafiq had chosen Mia as his bride.

On and on throughout the night Malik had reassured his brother that happiness and joy awaited him. Of course, it went without saying that Rafiq adored Mia. Malik had absolutely no doubt about that. A vague knot of jealousy had niggled at Malik all through the night.

Jealousy that Rafiq was about to claim what Malik had failed to do so for himself.

At the back of Malik's mind, thoughts of Lana had tugged at him at every spare moment.

What had he done wrong back at the oasis? Had he misjudged Lana so badly? Was it simply that he didn't know her well enough?
 

He'd been a fool, and he knew it. He'd taken a huge misstep on the peak of that dune. He'd assumed that their passion had broken down barriers; had been certain that there was something meaningful between them.

But, he had been wrong.

There was no way back. He'd just have to accept the truth. That Lana would be added to his list of failed relationships. He'd tried everything, done all he could to court her, and break down the wall she'd put up between herself and the world.

But it was no good.

Maybe he hadn't changed. Back at the oasis, he'd fooled himself into thinking he'd been renewed. He'd believed he'd risen to the challenge set by his father, as well as the example of his brother. Malik had begun to believe there had been a chance for him to find his true destiny, his authentic role in the world; the hope of turning his back on an empty life had risen in his heart with every moment he'd spent with Lana.
 

Was he a man? Of course, he was, in every sense except what mattered. He'd tried to claim his destiny as a sheikh and as a man, and he had failed. That one brief moment of refusal atop the dune had destroyed any hope he might have of finding true love, and everything that came with such love.

Family. Tradition. Respect.

Malik assisted Rafiq in getting ready. He and his brother were both dressed in traditional, white sheikh robes, complete with corded headdress. As they strode down the corridor toward the main hall where the wedding would take place, Malik couldn't hide his sense of pride. His brother looked resplendent in his robes. Rafiq possessed something that Malik did not, a quality that Malik craved now more than ever.

Dignity.

Rafiq looked so assured, so confident in his destiny. As both brothers strode along the deserted corridor, Malik could hardly contain the feeling of jealousy that burned inside him. Rafiq was about to claim a treasure worth more than the world itself.

The love and devotion of a woman.

"Are you alright, Malik?" Rafiq asked as he walked alongside him.

Malik nodded quickly. "Of course," he replied.

Malik gave Rafiq a puzzled look.

Rafiq paused, and Malik halted. Rafiq placed a hand upon Malik's shoulder. "It's just that you look so worried. Is it for me? Or is it your disappointment?"

Malik frowned. "What disappointment?"

Rafiq rolled his eyes. "I may be about to marry, but I am still able to see clearly with my own eyes."

"I don't know what you mean," Malik said.

"You've hardly spoken to me of Lana, but I can tell she's on your mind."

Malik shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Rafiq's gaze dug deep into Malik. There was no hiding the truth. That had never been possible, not with the depth of wisdom Rafiq possessed. "What are you running from?"

Malik shook his head. "I'm not running from anything."

Rafiq paused. Understanding seemed to creep into his gaze. "Did you ask Lana?"

"Ask her what?"

Rafiq smiled easily. He frowned at Malik. "You know what I mean."

Malik turned away from Rafiq, but he could feel his brother's penetrating gaze from behind him.

Then Malik turned and saw that Rafiq was waiting patiently for an answer. There was no other answer Malik could contemplate except the truth.

"I did ask her," he murmured.

His voice echoed along the corridor. He suddenly felt very alone, here with his brother. For the moment, he was glad that no-one could hear this conversation.

"And?" Rafiq asked.

Malik shook his head, saying nothing.

Rafiq sighed. "So, what are you going to do?"

Malik furrowed his brows. "What am I supposed to do?" He realized there was a pleading in his voice, and he was momentarily ashamed of how weak he sounded. Was that how low he had been brought?

Malik felt Rafiq's hand squeeze his shoulder. Malik looked into his brother's eyes and saw a steely determination in them. He'd seen that look in Rafiq's eyes before. Many times. It was the look that Rafiq had always given Malik when he'd been determined to drive home an important message, a necessary lesson. It was the look of brotherly concern.

"You know the answer to that question, Malik. When have you ever taken no for an answer?"

Malik peered into Rafiq's eyes. "Never," he replied bluntly.

"Are you an Al Kharif, or not?" Rafiq asked.

Malik felt a sudden surge inside himself. "Of course, I am an Al Kharif."

Rafiq's jaw tightened and his eyes filled with a fierce passion. "And do Al Kharif brothers not know how to claim their own destiny?"

Malik felt the sharpness of those words cut into him. ""Of course, we know," he said.
 

Rafiq leaned forward. "Today I am going to claim the honor of a fine bride. A woman I love more than anything in the world. Can you not do the same, for yourself? For our family? For our tradition?"

Malik drew in a sharp breath. Rafiq was right, of course. There was no other honorable way to look at the situation. "But she has already refused."

"Has she? Really?" Rafiq demanded, the passion in his voice rising to a fever pitch. "Are you sure about that?"

The blow struck Malik like a tidal wave. He understood immediately. He realized he'd really understood all through the journey back from the oasis. But, he'd pushed the truth away.
 

Now he understood.

Lana hadn't refused him. She hadn't actually spoken the words. At most, she had denied him with silence. But, she'd known what he had been proposing.

Marriage.

Lana had known Malik had been edging close to asking that most important of questions. She had stopped him before he'd uttered the words. And, Malik had foolishly assumed she'd refused. But, Rafiq was right. Lana had not rejected him. Not yet. That could only mean one thing.

Malik's heart started to race. He felt the blood pulse in his veins.

Lana wanted Malik. And, like a fool, he had assumed that silence meant rejection.

But no!

The silence still meant there was hope. And, while hope still existed, Malik knew he had one last chance to turn this second chance love affair into a destiny worth claiming.

Malik grasped Rafiq's shoulders and grinned. "Do you really believe she may accept?"

Rafiq nodded slowly. "I have faith," he said with a grin. "In you."

Malik cleared his throat and gazed down the long corridor. "I must ask her before the wedding ceremony," he blurted out, his words hurried and breathless. "I must ask her before you see Mia."

"I'm sure they're in the hall, already. Waiting for us. Why don't you go ahead."

"But tradition dictates you and I must enter the room together."

Rafiq smiled at Malik. "Sometimes tradition must serve us, instead of the other way around. You must know the answer, before the wedding. Any other option doesn't seem bearable to me. For either of us." Rafiq smiled. "In any case, I need to know as much as you."

Malik released Rafiq's shoulders, took a step backward and steeled himself, fists clenching, chest filling with badly needed breath.

Was he really going to do this? It seemed insane, but it was the only way he'd ever be able to live with himself.
 

This was his last chance, and he knew it.
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lana stood beside Mia on the low platform in front of a riotous display of flowers and gazed out across the expectant faces of the dozens of guests that filled the wedding reception room to bursting point.
 

Lana glanced at Mia, who looked amazing, dressed in an elegant, elaborately embroidered white silk gown that flowed like water around Mia's petite frame. Lana had never seen anyone look so beautiful and happy as Mia looked at this moment. She smiled at Mia, and her friend raised a nervous brow in response. Mia's pale face revealed the truth about just how nervous she was. However, it was a nervousness so visibly tinged with anticipation and barely contained joy.

Lana felt equally nervous standing next to Mia. Both women were the focus of attention. Two American women standing in the privileged position, one of them waiting for her sheikh to arrive so that she could be wed.

Lana drew in a sharp, nervous breath. This particular marriage ceremony seemed to work in reverse to what Lana had expected. Here, it would be the bride who would await the husband's arrival. Lana and Mia had entered the reception room to accompanying gasps, and a round of applause.
 

The assorted dignitaries of Qazhar society had shown their obvious acceptance of Mia as Rafiq's foreign-born wife. There was no doubting the joy on the faces of the guests. It was genuine and authentic, something that had given relief to Lana. The last thing she'd wanted was any display of reluctance from the elite of the kingdom.
 

Maybe the wealthy of Qazhar had different values to those Lana had met in her own life. Perhaps, Lana had misjudged the values of the people in this place, she told herself as she scanned the expectant, respectful faces.
 

"I wonder where Rafiq is," Mia whispered. "He should have been here by now. I thought this whole ceremony was meticulously timed."

Lana frowned. Mia was right. The staff of the palace had been well drilled to expect every part of the ceremony to take place with military precision. Lana could see some of the staff at the sides of the room glancing at each other, concern at the delayed arrival of the groom written large on their faces.

Lana was less worried about where Rafiq was, than she was concerned about her own reaction when she saw Malik. Her heart began to race at the mere thought of the man who'd seared her soul in the desert.
 

Lana wondered what it would be like when Malik arrived. Could she possibly mask the raging torrent of emotion that was roiling around inside her? How would she react to the sight of the sheikh who had come so perilously close to asking her the most important question a man could ask a woman?

The voices of the guest dropped to a murmur as the doors at the far end of the room were opened slowly. Lana glanced at Mia and smiled. Mia tried to compose herself in readiness to greet her future husband.

Lana peered toward the end of the room and felt herself freeze. Her heart stopped for a second when she saw the solitary figure walking into the room. She gasped and lifted a gloved hand to her mouth.

Malik.

And he was alone.

There was no sign of Rafiq.

Lana turned to Mia and saw the surprise on Mia's face.

Some of the guests started to mutter and glance at each other, consternation on their faces.

Where was Rafiq?

Malik walked purposefully along the red carpet that had been laid out for the ceremony. Lana peered at Malik and saw sheer determination written on his features. His chin was held high, his jaw set firm and his gaze was locked upon Lana.

Every step he took exuded authority and purpose. The closer he got the quicker Lana's heart beat. She tried to compose herself, draw in a calming breath, but it made no difference. She'd seen that look on Malik's face before, and she had a fair idea what he was about to do.

Maybe it wasn't too late to make her excuses and leave the hall. But, she looked across at Mia and knew she could not possibly do such a thing.
 

Malik halted in front of the platform and gazed up at Lana. She could see the emotion in his eyes, see his nostrils flare with masculine resolve as he sucked in the breath he needed to carry out his mission. Because that was what, Malik looked like. A man on a mission and he had the look of a man who would not be denied.

Lana stared at Malik, awaiting his next action. He paused and then turned to the guests. "Ladies and gentleman. I must apologize for the intrusion. And for the breach in protocol. I know this is not what usually happens with wedding ceremonies. But, I have an urgent request to make of the bride," Malik said turning to Mia.

Mia looked at Malik in disbelief, but there was no anger on her face. There was merely a burning curiosity.

"Mia, I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion. But, I have a very important question to ask Lana."

Malik glanced at Lana, and she felt something familiar shift inside, a sensation that she had done everything she could to bury, a feeling that had an insistent energy of its own. Much like the man who was the cause of that sensation. The man standing right in front of her.

"It's fine, Malik," Lana heard Mia say. Lana turned to Mia, who was smiling at Lana. "I think I know what you must do. It's fine."

Malik nodded, his features softening with visible relief. Then he took a step up onto the low platform and took his place directly in front of Lana.

She knew what he was going to do, and she felt rooted to the spot. But, the truth was, right now, there was nowhere else she wanted to be. She looked deep into Malik's eyes and saw the strength of purpose in his gaze. There was no stopping this strong, perfect man, she told herself. He was here, and he wouldn't be denied.