The Sheik's Ruby Read online

  Hakim and Shelby took their place next to the Sheik at the ballroom entrance.

  Shelby smiled and shook hands as she was introduced to ambassadors and heads of states. Many hailed from countries she’d never heard of. The memory of telling Hakim she was good at geography on the day they met made her grimace.

  Hakim introduced her as his friend. Most of the visitors greeted her politely, but a few raised their eyebrows or gave him a knowing look. Hakim, gracious as ever, maintained a polite smile. They were guests in his house, after all.

  As Shelby watched the endless line of visitors, she noticed Hakim stiffen. She glanced up and saw that he still smiled, but his face seemed tense. “You okay?”

  He gave a terse nod, glancing to his left at the people speaking with his father.

  Shelby leaned forward to observe three people that she assumed were a family.

  Exchanging bows with the Sheik was a middle-aged man dressed in traditional Arabian clothing. He was tall and slightly overweight, but something about the way he carried himself drew her gaze. He was obviously used to commanding attention. Two women, one middle aged and one much younger, accompanied him. Shelby assumed they were his wife and daughter.

  As she observed the man, Shelby felt the sensation of somebody watching her. She looked at the daughter. The hateful glare coming from her dark brown eyes caused Shelby to suck in a quick breath. She stepped back until Hakim blocked her view.

  The man stepped toward them and took Hakim’s hand. They spoke in Arabic for a few moments.

  Hakim turned and flashed her a tight smile. “Shelby, I would like you to meet Samir bin Kareem Abul-Rahman. He is the patriarch of an important family in Khali-dar.” Hakim turned to the man and continued in English, “And this is my friend, Shelby Jo Walker, from the United States.”

  Samir bin Kareem Abul-Rahman squinted his eyes and lifted his chin as he watched Shelby with an appraising look.

  She put her hands together and bowed. “Ahlan wa sahlan.” She hoped she wasn’t expected to remember his entire name.

  “Ahlan wa sahlan,” he replied, though his expression carried none of the warmth of the greeting.

  “I would also like to introduce you to Samir’s wife, Ramah, and his daughter, Ghaniyah.”

  Both women were very beautiful, and they knew it. Shelby felt disapproval flowing from them like poisonous gas. Up close, she saw the details on their gowns and their elaborate jewelry. Both wore headscarves. Hanging from her scarf, medallions of gold with gemstones and pearls brushed Ghaniyah’s forehead. The gold contrasted strikingly against her dark skin. Her eyes, lined in black, gave her a fierce appearance.

  Shelby couldn’t help comparing her to Aaliya. Their features were similar, but where Aaliya’s face showed kindness, Ghaniyah’s displayed a sharp haughtiness. Shelby offered her hand to the women, but they both ignored her gesture. Her face colored as she saw the loathing in their eyes. Was their reaction because she was American? Or because she was with Hakim? Or both?

  Luckily, she was spared any future discomfort as the women saw friends they knew and hurried away.

  “I’m sorry, Shelby Jo,” Hakim whispered in her ear. “I did not expect such a discourteous reaction.”

  “Ouch. Was that your ex-girlfriend or something?” She struggled to shake off the sick feeling Ghaniyah’s reaction produced.

  Hakim answered slowly. “I believe if things had worked out the way she and her parents had intended, Ghaniyah would be the one standing beside me tonight.”

  “Oh.” Shelby stole a glance over her shoulder.

  They had greeted guests for nearly half an hour when Hakim squeezed her hand. “Your surprise is here,” he whispered.

  Shelby glanced around but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, until she looked closer at the man speaking with the Sheik. With a start, she recognized the President of the United States.

  The President put his hands together and bowed a greeting to Hakim.

  “Welcome, President Mannen, Mrs. Mannen. I would like you to meet Shelby Jo Walker. She is a citizen of your country and a dear friend of mine.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Walker.” The President shook her hand.

  Shelby stood frozen in shock. Recovering quickly, but not quickly enough, she sputtered, “You’re…” She shook her head. Smooth, Shelby. “President Mannen. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And Mrs. Mannen. How do you do?” Where is Shanayze with my camera?

  “We are so pleased you could attend this evening.” Hakim bowed as he shook their hands. “Please, make yourselves welcome.”

  “Thank you, Prince Hakim.” The President and the First Lady moved into the entrance hall and followed the ushers into the ballroom.

  Hakim turned with a grin.

  “Go ahead and laugh.” She gave him a little shove. “I was so surprised I didn’t know what to say. What if he finds out I didn’t vote for him?”

  Hakim laughed out loud and spread his hand toward the doorway. “Come. All of the guests have arrived.”

  Shelby walked next to him, and they joined the crowd in the ballroom.

  Hakim was still chuckling.

  Crisp white cloths draped over the round tables throughout one side of the room. Hakim led her to the head table. Out of nowhere, a man in a server’s uniform slid back an intricately carved dining chair to seat her next to the First Lady.

  “Will you be all right if I leave you for a few minutes?” Hakim asked. “There are people I feel I must speak to.”

  “Sure. I’ll be fine here.” She fingered a blue glass goblet, pretending to be admiring the gold detail, and hoping she didn’t appear nervous as he left her. Shelby noticed how straight and tall Hakim walked and wished some of his confidence would rub off.

  Another server, this time a woman, filled Shelby’s glass with water.

  The President continued to mingle, while his wife remained seated at the table. She leaned over to Shelby. “I am so glad you’re here. It’s not often I have someone to chat with at things like this.”

  Shelby studied the First Lady. Shelby had always considered her pretty. Her short, blonde hair had started to gray, but this only added to her sophistication. She wore a black formal gown with long gloves that came up past her elbows. A strand of large pearls hung around her neck.

  “Prince Hakim is very handsome,” Mrs. Mannen said. “How did you two meet?”

  “We met skiing in Denver.”

  “How romantic, and now here you are, dressed like a princess, with him unable to take his eyes off you.”

  Shelby followed the woman’s gaze across the room to where Hakim stood, speaking with someone. His gaze met hers, and heat tickled her cheeks.

  “What about you?” Shelby asked, eager to take the attention away from herself. “How did you meet your husband?” She realized she knew hardly anything about Mrs. Mannen. After the way she had reacted when the Sheik didn’t know the name of the tapestry weaver, she felt embarrassed she was guilty of the same thing.

  “We met in college. We had an Art History class together, of all things. The two of us just hit it off right away. And now here we are, thirty years and two kids later…”

  “Sitting in a ballroom of a Middle Eastern Sheik’s palace,” Shelby finished.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life is unpredictable.” Mrs. Mannen bent her wrist, waving off her small laugh. “So, tell me about yourself, Shelby. Where are you from?”

  “A small town in Colorado. Culver Springs. My parents have a ranch there. I live in Denver, now.”

  “And how long are you staying in Khali-dar?”

  “I’m not sure.” Shelby shifted in her seat, biting her lip. “I guess you could say it’s complicated.”

  The President, Hakim, and the Sheik made their way back toward the table.

  As they got closer, Shelby could hear Hakim speaking in a serious tone.

  “We believe if we could just find the headquarters and the leader, we could quel
l this uprising.”

  “Well, you know the US will support you in any way you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  The men sat, and the Sheik gave a speech welcoming the guests, thanking them for their support. Then he sat at their table next to the President.

  Shelby surveyed the room, fascinated. People from all nationalities wore costumes and gowns covering the entire fashion spectrum. She kept her gaze from traveling to the table where the Khali-dar families, and specifically Ghaniyah, sat. She hadn’t thought before about the kind of society that must exist here. These were people Hakim interacted with on a regular basis. How would she fit in with this elite group? A part of her wanted to win them over, but the more practical side of her knew no matter what she did, how long she stayed, or how hard she tried, she would never be one of them. She’d always be an outsider.

  The conversation at the table centered on the Nahl group and the threats against the Khali-dar government. Shelby listened, her insides tightening in worry and at the same time warming with pride. She had no idea the United States took such an interest in the welfare of Khali-dar.

  President Mannen turned toward Shelby. “So, Miss Walker, what do you think of Khali-dar?”

  Shelby nearly choked on her drink. “Please, call me Shelby, Mr. President.” She set down her glass and clasped her hands on her lap so he would not see how they shook. “Khali-dar is incredible. I’ve hardly ever been more than a few hundred miles from my home town, and so I feel really lucky to be here. Especially tonight at such an important event.”

  “Yes, this country is one of my favorite places to visit. I never fail to be astonished by the beauty of this palace.” President Mannen tipped his head back and let his gaze travel to the ceiling. “It’s as if the room is glowing.”

  “It’s mica,” Shelby said before she could stop herself.

  “Pardon me?”

  Shelby noticed some of the other people at the table had stopped their conversations to listen. The blood rushed to her cheeks. “Mica mixed into the plaster gives the walls their sheen. It also repels dust and keeps away spiders and hornets.” Why can’t I stop talking?

  “What a fascinating bit of trivia. How is it that you know so much about the components of plaster?”

  “I don’t.” She paused, wishing people would just go back to their own discussions and swallowed over her dry throat. “I read it in a book about Khali-dar.” Great, now I sound like Hermione Granger.

  “I’d love to hear more about the palace.” Mrs. Mannen set down her fork and turned her attention to Shelby.

  “I only know what I’ve read. And some things Hakim told me.” She glanced at Hakim.

  He nodded and gave her an encouraging smile.

  “Let’s see…The palace was built here because there is a natural water source, an oasis, under the ground. At one time, a moat surrounded the palace to keep out invaders. The walls surrounding the property are between twenty and thirty feet high from the outside, but from the inside, they never exceed fifteen feet. That way it doesn’t feel like they are looming over you. What else…?” Shelby let her gaze travel around the room, settling on the south doors. “I do know a pretty interesting story, if it’s all right for me to share it.” Raising an eyebrow in question, she looked at Hakim who nodded his permission.

  “The Khalid family has ruled Khali-dar for nearly eight hundred years. This ballroom was part of the original palace built in the fourteenth century. Sheik Abdul Muhsi had the doorways built large enough for an elephant carrying a loaded riding carriage to fit through.” Everyone at the table turned their attention to the massive doorways, and Shelby knew they were all trying to picture a fully-laden elephant sauntering inside.

  “Flash forward about a hundred years to the 1480s. The reigning Sheik had no heir. The people feared the Khalid dynasty would end, so the Sheik sent for the wise man of the village to advise him. The wise man told him the south doors, which were the main entrance to the palace at that time, must be sealed. As long as they stayed sealed, the Khalid family would have a suitable heir. The Sheik immediately had the doors sealed, and within a year, his son was born. So, the doors remain sealed to this day, and the line of rulers has never been broken.” Shelby realized the entire table of twelve had gone quiet to listen. She felt her ears heat and glanced toward the Sheik, wishing she could read his expression.

  “You can see, perhaps, the obligation the prince has to his people. He must not only produce an heir, but also make an appropriate alliance in order to ensure that it is the proper heir,” the Sheik said.

  Hakim tensed.

  Although the Sheik’s voice seemed amiable and conversational, beneath his polite words, the meaning was crystal clear to Shelby. He did not consider her appropriate. Tears burned the back of her eyes, and she lowered her gaze, hoping no one noticed.

  Under the table, Hakim squeezed her hand.

  “There is such a rich history here, isn’t there?” Mrs. Mannen said. “Receptions like this are always official business, and I’m afraid we don’t get to hear as much about the culture as we’d like.”

  During Shelby’s story, an army of servers had silently filled the tables with trays of food. The rich smells made her stomach growl. The plates looked too fancy to actually put food on. Exquisite gold chargers lay under richly painted bone china. Golden silverware and deep blue goblets finished the beautiful settings. Her mouth pulled in a fond smile as she remembered how excited her mom was when they had all pitched in to give her six sets of matching stoneware for Christmas last year.

  Dinner was wonderful. Most of the dishes were unfamiliar, but she was surprised by how delicious everything tasted.

  Hakim was attentive throughout the meal, identifying the different foods and watching to see her reaction as she tasted them. She was touched by his actions and could tell he was making an extra effort to distract her from his father’s rudeness. He pointed out different men and women in the room, telling her about them, and she was astounded by the important people who had all gathered here in support of Khali-dar and the Sheik. Not only important rulers and heads of state, but businessmen, political activists, bankers, and diplomats. The room buzzed with energy around all these influential people.

  After the servers cleared away the last plate, the Sheik stood again, leaning on his cane. “I thank all of you for coming tonight and for your continued support of Khali-dar. In our country, guests are blessings, gifts from Allah.” He dipped forward his head as his guests applauded. “I invite you now to join me at the other end of the ballroom, for the entertainment portion of the evening.”

  Hakim escorted Shelby to the rows of chairs facing a large empty section of the dance floor.

  They were seated, and when the audience quieted, two lines of men filed into the room and stopped, linking arms and facing each other. They all wore traditional Arabic costumes: white dishdashas and their red checkered kheffiyas were tied to their heads. All of the young men stood with their shoulders pulled back and their heads held high.

  “This is a traditional folk dance,” Hakim told her. “It is called the Ayyalah.”

  Soon, a drum began to beat a slow, steady rhythm, then more drums joined in. The men swayed back and forth to the beat of the drums. They brandished swords from their belts, and each side took turns calling to each other in challenge.

  The entire room was silent, their gazes focused toward the performance. Shelby almost believed she was watching a battle that would break out any moment. When the performance ended, she realized she had been mesmerized by the beat and the chanting. Shelby blinked and looked around the room, noticing the same reaction on the faces of the other people in the audience.

  As she passed her gaze over the section where Ghaniyah sat, she felt the icy glare again and tensed. Not just from Ghaniyah and her mother, but now from other people who sat around them. They apparently had serious influence on their friends. Shelby turned away, trying not to let it distract her from enjoying the even
ing.

  More dances were presented. Her favorite, Na’ashat, was performed by women, swaying slowly to a beautiful haunting melody played on a flute, accompanied by a tambourine. The women placed their right hands on their hearts, and their long black hair swung hypnotically back and forth.

  Shelby was disappointed when the program ended. People moved around the room, mingling. Servers weaved between them with trays of drinks.

  Hakim excused himself for a moment to go speak to someone, leaving Shelby sitting alone, observing the people interacting throughout the room.

  After a few minutes, a small group approached, led by Ghaniyah.

  Shelby stood and smiled. This was not the time to appear unsure of herself.

  “I hope you are having a lovely evening, Shelby Walker.” Ghaniyah spoke a little too loudly.

  Shelby could hear the sarcasm dripping through her thick accent.

  Some of her friends snickered.

  “Thank you for asking, Ghaniyah. I am having a wonderful time.” Shelby kept her voice light, ignoring the condescension in Ghaniyah’s tone.

  “I am always amused by who Prince Hakim chooses to spend his time with.” Ghaniyah placed her hand on Shelby’s arm and leaned close, as if to confide. “Such is the way with men, I suppose. Choosing to keep themselves entertained temporarily.” Her dark eyes bored into Shelby’s. “In the end, he will do what is right for his kingdom and make a proper alliance.”

  Shelby kept up her head, hoping the hurt she felt at Ghaniyah’s words didn’t show on her face. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ghaniyah and the Sheik are working together. “It was nice meeting you, Ghaniyah. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” Shelby turned to go.

  Ghaniyah’s fingers tightened on her arm. “Prince Hakim and I have been promised since birth, Shelby Walker. I come from the wealthiest family in the country, and you are nothing but a poor American. I hope you do not think his immature fascination is anything more than a game. You are not the first of his bad decisions, but I hope you will be his last.”