The Sheik's Ruby Page 16

  Shelby gazed at the books and then back toward the wall before looking again at the older man. “What was his wife’s name? Does it say anything about her?”

  “This is not America, Miss Walker.” He wrinkled his brows into a scowl as he spoke. “Women here do not seek the same status or recognition as Western women. The women of Khali-dar are content to be wives and mothers and leave more worldly pursuits to the men.”

  Shelby bit her lip to keep from speaking in anger. She knew the Middle East was not the same as America, but the way the man acted made her grit her teeth. Who did he think he was? Is this how all men in Khali-dar felt? Like women were only good for sitting at home making tapestries and having babies? How could he have any idea what the women of Khali-dar thought or how they felt? Her heart reached out to this wife of Sheik Hussein who would only be remembered by her handiwork.

  “I see I have upset you,” he said. His expression was unreadable. Triumph? Guilt?

  “I should be getting back to bed.” She stood and glanced toward the doorway for Aaliya. Hugging the books to her chest, she felt completely confused by this entire encounter. “Thank you for the story. And for helping me find these books.”

  “You are welcome, Shelby Walker. I am glad we had the chance to meet.”

  “Goodnight.” Shelby glanced back once before she followed Aaliya through the dimly lit halls, lost in thought. Who was the creepy librarian and what did he have against her?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shelby opened her eyes to see the sun already shining through her windows. After following Aaliya back to her room, she had read for a few hours. Rolling over, she saw the clock display read eleven!

  She showered and put on a robe she found hanging in the bathroom. When she stepped back into her room, she noticed the bed had been made, and a tray of fruit and bread sat on the small table next to a carafe of juice and a glass. Shelby sat and picked up a note that was lying on the tray.

  Shelby,

  Good morning. I hope you slept well.

  After you have eaten breakfast, please join me at the stables. Shanayze will show you the way.

  Hakim

  Shelby’s heart leapt as she read the note. The idea of seeing Hakim again made her heart beat quicker. She ate quickly and ran a comb through her hair, and then threw on her jeans, boots, and a blouse from the closet. After opening her door, she found Shanayze waiting.

  “Good morning, Miss Walker. Are you ready to see the stables?” Her gaze moved over Shelby’s clothes.

  “Yes. Thank you, Shanayze.”

  They walked outside, but instead of crossing the bridge toward the garden, Shanayze led her down a tree-lined road winding in the opposite direction. Large lawns surrounded them as they neared a picturesque building. The structure was all one level with enormous arched doors. Different colors of stone created beautiful designs between the doors and around the high windows. A zigzagging roof line crowned the top.

  “Are these offices?” Shelby asked.

  “No. These are the stables.”

  Shelby looked at the sprawling building and thought of the beat-up old barn at her dad’s ranch. She couldn’t believe this grand structure was used for the same purpose. When they approached the far side of the stables, Shelby saw men tending to the horses.

  Some led animals by their reins, while others rode around a track. All of the men working with the horses wore a uniform of black pants and collar-less black button-down shirts.

  Shelby spotted Hakim right away. He wore tall riding boots over his white riding pants and a dark blue shirt, and she thought he appeared ready for a polo match. He’s got to be one of the only people who can pull off that outfit and still look amazing.

  He stood with a group of men admiring a beautiful white Arabian mare.

  The horse’s reins were held by a man wearing a white dishdasha and, on his head, a red-and-white-checked keffiyeh.

  As they got closer, Shelby could see the man’s clothes were worn and stained unlike the brighter off-white of the men she had seen in the city. When she realized that the man standing next to Hakim, leaning on a cane was the advisor from the library, she felt her stomach wriggle.

  Hakim stroked the horse’s neck as he and the advisor listened to the other man. He looked up and saw Shelby and Shanayze approaching then patted the horse and spoke to a man in a black uniform, who took the reins to lead the horse into the stable. Hakim and the other two men strode toward Shelby and Shanayze.

  When the men got close, Shanayze bowed and spoke in Arabic.

  Both Hakim and his advisor acknowledged her with a nod.

  The other man, however, turned away his gaze from the women.

  Hakim grasped Shelby’s hand. “There is someone I want you to meet.” He led her to his advisor who still spoke with Shanayze.

  “Oh, we’ve already met. Hello, again,” Shelby waved at the advisor. When she saw both Hakim and Shanayze turn and stare, Shelby was surprised. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went to the library to find something to read. Your advisor was there, and we talked for a while.” She turned to the man. “Actually, I don’t think you ever told me your name.”

  The advisor gave a brief smile.

  Shanayze kept staring at Shelby, and the man in the red-and-white keffiyeh continued to gaze into the distance.

  Hakim cleared his throat. “Shelby, this is my father, Sheik Rashid.”

  Shelby’s face burned, and her stomach hardened. After all that coaching she’d given on how to act around Hakim, why hadn’t Shanayze said anything about meeting the Sheik? “Oh, sir…Your Majesty, I mean. I am so sorry…I, um—”

  “Shelby Walker, I am glad we had the chance to meet.” The Sheik held her gaze, but his expression did not change. “I do not think we would have had the same conversation if you had known the truth of my identity. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Shelby managed to say. Her mind raced to remember everything she’d said last night. The conversation started to make more sense than she wanted. What was all that about duty versus love? Was he talking about Hakim?

  “I was interested to find out for myself what was so special about this girl who my son had to fly halfway around the world to see.” This last sentence was directed at Hakim. The Sheik spoke with a smile, but his eyes were cold.

  Shelby was sick with humiliation. And also a little irritated. Was it a pattern for the men in the Khalid family to deceive people in order to learn more about them?

  Hakim continued to stare at his father. His jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed.

  Shelby could feel tension flowing off him. She wasn’t sure whether Hakim was more worried about her or his father saying something else embarrassing.

  After an uncomfortable moment, Hakim turned his gaze to her. “Shelby Jo, we have a special visitor to the palace today. May I please introduce Usman bin Abd al Fattah Al Nuaim? He is an emissary from the largest Bedouin tribe in the region, Al Nuaim. He has brought a gift.”

  Hakim spoke to Usman.

  Hearing her name, Shelby figured she was being introduced.

  Usman put his hands together, bowing in Shelby’s direction. “Ahlan wa sahlan.”

  She noticed as he spoke one side of his face hung limply. She wondered if he turned away because he was embarrassed by this deformity, or if he displayed the same mode of respect Nasir had shown. Shelby bowed and repeated the greeting.

  Usman spoke again to the Sheik and Hakim. The three men bowed their farewell, and then he strode to where similarly dressed men waited. The small group walked around the side of the stables to a parking area.

  Trucks and horse trailers were parked in the small lot Shelby hadn’t noticed before. They were all shiny, expensive trucks, and even though they were across the yard, she could tell the trailers were nothing like the ones her father and Chet pulled. These were clean, tastefully painted, and she saw padding on the walls through the window.

  The Bedouin men piled into the one truck that was attac
hed to an old rusty trailer, which looked like it belonged in Culver Springs, and drove away.

  The Sheik spoke again. “Please excuse me. I must return to the palace. I see you wore the right boots for riding, Shelby Walker. I hope you enjoy the horses.”

  Shelby imitated Hakim and Shanayze as they put their hands together and bowed.

  He acknowledged them with a nod before making his way back toward the palace, leaning heavily on his cane, accompanied by two guards and Shanayze.

  When she noted they were out of earshot, Shelby turned, her stomach burning. “Hakim, I am so sorry I embarrassed you. I had no idea he was your father. I thought he was the librarian or something. I guess I thought the Sheik would be wearing some kind of a crown, not a bathrobe and slippers.”

  “You do not need to apologize.” Hakim led her toward the large stable doors. He darted a look at her. “What did the two of you talk about?”

  She could tell he attempted to sound casual, but his voice was strained. “Let’s see. He helped me find some books. That’s why I thought he was the librarian.”

  Hakim smiled and nodded for her to continue.

  “Then I asked him about a tapestry on the wall, and he told me the fable about the songbird and the ruby. He’s a really great storyteller.”

  Hakim’s mouth tightened. “Yes, that is very true. And he loves to use stories to teach a lesson. What was the lesson?”

  “Um…well, he implied there are things that should be sacrificed for the greater good. You know, like for duty or whatever.” The burning she’d felt earlier eased, but didn’t completely dissipate. She hated that Hakim was upset. She saw the muscle in his jaw jump. “Then we discussed women’s roles in the Middle-East. Just your basic controversial topics.” She looked at Hakim, hoping for a smile. “I’m so sorry. If I had known who he was, I would have handled it differently.”

  “He loves to play these games with people. Not telling you who he is…it is just like him to try and catch you off guard.”

  “Yeah, who would do something like that?” Shelby bumped her arm against his to show she was teasing. “Come on. I don’t want you to be upset. Will you show me your horses?” Shelby saw Hakim struggling to shake off his annoyance with his father as he led her on a tour of the track.

  They arrived at the stable entrance and Hakim held the door, motioning for her to precede him.

  Entering the building, Shelby thanked him, then froze mid stride.

  Hakim stopped speaking and watched her take it all in.

  The stables were unbelievable. The floor was tiled. A four-foot-high white stone wall ran down each side of the room about fifteen feet from the outside wall, dipping to meet the shorter gates leading to the various enclosures. Each animal occupied its own large pen. Although to call them pens seemed wrong to Shelby. They were more like guest rooms. The thing that was so amazing, besides the size and beauty, was how bright and clean the area was. The corners were free from hay or other messes that came with keeping animals.

  And the horses. Shelby followed Hakim around the room admiring each of the magnificent animals.

  “Some of the horses are for breeding,” Hakim explained, “while others are for racing.” He grinned as they walked up the wide walkway between the stalls toward the largest pens at the end. “Here are our racers. These two will compete in the Triple Crown this year.”

  The Thoroughbreds were undoubtedly athletes, tall and slim with long legs made for running. Knowing the rules of the Triple Crown, Shelby knew the two must be three years old. Looking at their muscles, Shelby could tell they were bred and trained to be sprinters. She stroked the muzzle and neck of the black horse nearest her. He had a white star on his forehead that swirled around with the grain of his coat. “How do the horses get to Kentucky?”

  “In a special plane. A 747 jumbo jet. They will be leaving soon to become accustomed to the climate and track before they race.” Hakim stood behind her and ran his hand down the horse’s neck.

  “Are you going to the races?” she asked, resisting the urge to lean back against his chest.

  “Of course,” Hakim tipped his head and leaned forward to look down at her. “And I hope very much you will accompany me.”

  “To Churchill Downs? Are you serious?” Shelby turned quickly, causing the horse to lift his head, annoyed at being startled. Excitement bubbled up inside her as she realized how soon the derby was. The first weekend in May. That was only a few weeks away.

  “I am serious.”

  “How can you leave when there are these problems with Nahl?” She patted the horse to calm him. “Aren’t you worried about your safety?” Her excitement ebbed when she remembered the real danger to Hakim, and to her.

  “Yes, it is definitely a concern I do not take lightly.” Hakim nodded. “However, we must continue to live our lives and not cower in fear, or the terrorists will have won. That is their goal, to spread terror. Safety will be a factor as it always is when my father or I travel. We have very diligent security agents who will do all in their power to ensure our protection.”

  “Was it a factor when you came to Culver Springs?” She reached to pet a different horse, a dark chocolate one this time.

  “Yes, although Nasir would have wished for me to take my personal safety more seriously. He found it difficult to try to protect me when I wanted to spend time with you and your family undisturbed.”

  Shelby hadn’t thought about the danger Hakim had been in when he was in Colorado. “And undercover.” Hakim’s smile meant her words had their desired result. She was glad they were at a point where they could joke about it.

  “Now, Shelby Jo, if you will please follow me, I have one more surprise.”

  “Better than a date to the Kentucky Derby?” She hoped she sounded excited instead of nervous at the thought of leaving the safety of the palace.

  “You must judge for yourself.”

  They walked back outside to another door in the other side of the building.

  “This is where our riding horses are kept.”

  A young boy, no older than twelve, approached and bowed. Hakim spoke a few words.

  The boy hurried into the stable. He returned leading the beautiful white mare Shelby had seen earlier.

  She was a stunning Arabian, evidenced by her concave profile, arched neck, and the proud way she carried her tail. From the moment she looked into the mare’s large brown eyes, Shelby was in love. She reached out, and the mare nuzzled her hand.

  Hakim brushed his hand on the horse’s neck. “This mare is named Al-qamar. When she was a foal, the Bedouin tribe who owned her claimed she brought them good luck. A mare such as this cannot be bought or sold. She may only be given as a gift. Usman brought her today from his tribe as a show of support for our kingdom.”

  “She is gorgeous.” Shelby stroked the mare’s velvety nose.

  “She is for you.”

  Shelby gasped and jerked her head around to face him. “What? Hakim, you can’t just give someone a horse.”

  “I believe I just did.”

  “But I can’t accept a gift like this.” The unease she’d felt the day before returned full force and heat flamed in her face.

  He raised his shoulders and squinted his eyes. “I do not understand. Why?”

  “Because, I could never repay you.” Shelby stared at her hands.

  “I do not give you this gift to obligate you.” Hakim curled his finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his.

  His closeness stole her breath. “I know. I worry that you’ve done so much for me, and I have no way to do anything remotely as nice in return.”

  “Shelby, you coming to Khali-dar was the most wonderful gift you could have given me.” He dropped his arm to hold her hand. “However, we are wasting time which would be much better spent riding, do you not agree?”

  She answered him with a small smile she hoped he understood to mean the conversation was not over.

  Hakim spoke to the boy who waited nearby.r />
  He hurried off and returned, carrying an ornate saddle.

  “I hope this is suitable. I thought you would prefer a western saddle to an English one.” Hakim waved a hand toward the saddle.

  “Do you ride those little English saddles?” Shelby winced. “You better hope Chet doesn’t see you on one of those.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I guess I have my work cut out if I’m to make a cowboy out of you.”

  Hakim laughed. “Given the chance, I could probably convert Chet to a smaller, sleeker saddle.”

  The boy laid a colorful, tassel-lined blanket over Al-qamar’s back and bent to pick up the saddle.

  Shelby placed her hand on his arm to stop him.

  The boy looked up, his eyes wide in question.

  “Maa ‘ismuka?” Shelby asked his name.

  “Kadir.”

  “Al-salaam alaykum, Kadir.”

  “Wa alaykum e-salaam.” He bowed.

  “Hakim, would you please tell Kadir thank you, but I can saddle Al-qamar myself?”

  Hakim spoke to the boy.

  Kadir bowed again and stepped aside.

  Shelby swung the saddle onto Al-qamar’s back. She reached underneath the mare and grabbed the girth straps, pushing her knee into the horse’s side, to force out the air and tightening the cinch. She took the bridle Kadir offered, and she took a minute to figure out the elaborate gold piece that fit across Al-qamar’s forehead and the tassels hanging down the sides. After Shelby pushed the bit into the horse’s mouth, she fastened the buckle and tightened the leather straps on the side of the mare’s head.

  Once she was finished, Shelby admired the saddle. The leather work was beautiful and intricate. Sparkling silver and gold metal decorated the area under the seat and glittered its way down toward the stirrups. She had never seen anything like it. She’d always used Chet’s old saddle. And even that had been purchased secondhand. Shelby murmured to the animal just like her father always did as she led Al-qamar away from the shade of the stables into the bright sunlight where a stable worker waited, holding the reins to a black stallion.