The Sheikh's Secret Son (7 page)

“Mr. Fortune,” Ben said, extending his hand in greeting. “It is a pleasure, sir, to meet you. Would you perhaps join us at the sidewalk café we just passed? We could have coffees, and you could tell me all about your lovely sister who has been gracious enough to serve as my guide as I enjoy the pleasures of San Antonio.”

E
den didn't know whether she should kick Holden under the table, or just kill him.

For the past ten minutes her brother had been holding court—at Ben's encouragement—telling story after story of Eden's youth.

The time, at age seven, when she forgot to check the cinch on her saddle and ended up sprawled in the dust in the stable yard as her mount raced off toward the open country, the saddle dragging under its belly.

The apology she'd had to write after she'd made ginger cookies with cayenne pepper and their father popped one in his mouth before she could serve them to her intended victims, Holden, and their brother, Logan.

The dress she had sewn in Home Economics class, forgetting to put in the zipper, so that she flunked the course and had to repeat it the next semester.

Still, as Ben laughed, and Holden really got the
bit between his teeth, Eden sat silently, praying he would keep having fun at her expense.

And not ask how she was. How Sawyer was.

But it was inevitable. The conversation finally turned to family, as it always did with the Fortunes.

Holden told her that his wife, Lucinda, seemed to have mastered motherhood as easily as she had every other challenge in her life, then produced a few pictures of his infant daughter, April, passed them over to Ben.

“I carried a beeper with me for weeks before the birth,” he told Ben, “half convinced Lucinda would just calmly produce our first child, then simply call me home to meet my child. But, as I said, that's Lucinda. Very competent. She's an OB-GYN, Your Highness. That's doctor of obstetrics and gynecology.”

“Yes,” Ben answered, smiling. “I am familiar with the term. But I doubt your wife would not have included you in the birth of your child, Holden. There is nothing I can imagine more important than witnessing the birth of one's own child. There cannot be a happier experience for a father. And it would please me if you would call me Ben. I am,” he said, smiling at Eden, “playing hooky from my responsibilities at the moment.”

Eden sunk another inch on the uncomfortable metal chair, not even bothering to wish herself at
the opposite end of the world. Running, wishing. Both were impossible.

If only Holden didn't ask about Sawyer.

“How's Sawyer?” Holden said, showing Eden that she'd been right. Wishing wasn't going to help her.

“Fine, fine,” she said quickly, then took a sip of coffee, almost burning her tongue. “And Matthew and Claudia? Has there been any news on their baby?”

She turned to Ben, quickly explaining that her cousin Matt's child, Bryan, had been kidnapped on the day of his christening nearly a year earlier, and had not yet been recovered.

Ben's eyes darkened as he looked from Eden to Holden. “How could such a thing happen? That is, if you are not breaching a family confidence?”

Holden barked out a laugh. “We were served up in the newspapers with everyone's morning coffee the moment word got out about the kidnapping, Ben. I'm not telling any family secrets here. Right, sis?”

Eden nodded and sat back, knowing the story of Bryan had directed attention away from Sawyer. She hated herself for what she'd done, but she couldn't help young Bryan, and she had to protect Sawyer.

“It's the damnedest thing,” Holden told Ben, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the glass-topped table. “The christening was at the Double
Crown—that's the family ranch, located southeast of here. Anyway, nobody expected anything but a family party, so no one was really on their guard, although we do have security at the ranch. Bryan was sleeping upstairs one moment, and the next the crib was empty except for the ransom note.”

Eden closed her eyes as Holden continued the story that had all the earmarks of a tragedy.

“We recovered the baby. Well,” Holden said, grimacing as he looked at Eden, “we recovered
a
baby. But it wasn't Bryan. When footprints were compared, it was made clear to us that Claudia, that's Bryan's mother, was right. This wasn't her child.”

“Was not her—but, no, I should not interrupt. Please,” Ben said with a wave of his hand, “continue.”

Holden picked up his spoon, rubbing it between his fingers. “There wasn't a lot more to be said, not for a long time. Except that amazingly the baby had the hereditary crown-shaped birthmark and rare blood type that proved he was a Fortune, so all the Fortune males had to undergo DNA testing to determine paternity. Obviously, if a female Fortune had been pregnant, the family would've known. Matt and Claudia have taken the mystery baby as their own, even named him Taylor. Their marriage has taken a severe strain and I think that child has
been the only thing keeping Claudia sane these last months.

“Until now. Eden,” he then added, looking at his sister, “the results of the DNA tests are back. We heard the news this morning. I would have phoned you later, to warn you, but now that you're here…”

Eden's own problems scattered as she took a deep breath, waited for Holden to tell her what he obviously already knew. “Who, Holden?” she asked, dreading his answer. “Who's Taylor's father?”

“Perhaps I will visit that shop I mentioned to you earlier, Eden,” Ben said, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. “This is a family matter, and you should be afforded your privacy. If you will excuse me?”

“Thank you, Ben,” Eden said gratefully, watching after him as he strode away, looking every inch the king, even as he blended in with the tourists walking the area with their arms full of plastic shopping bags and video cameras.

“Nice guy,” Holden said as Eden looked at her brother once more, willing him to speak, dreading to hear what he might say. “Just think, my little sister on first-name terms with a sheikh. And I think he likes you, sis. Dad would have been over the moon, having a sheikh as a son-in-law.”

“And then borrowed money from him immediately after the ceremony,” Eden snapped, then felt
ashamed of herself. “I'm sorry, Holden. I think my nerves are frazzled now that we've finally gotten everyone to sign on the dotted line. And, for your information, I'm only following my boss's orders, taking Ben sightseeing today. I'll be coming out to the ranch tonight, as a matter of fact, to spend the next two weeks visiting with Mom, trying to unwind. Sawyer and Mrs. Betts are already there.”

“Great news, Eden,” Holden said, smiling wanly. “We can use all the help at the ranch we can get. I mean, things were bad enough between Claudia and Matt before, but now…Claudia's pretty distraught.”

Eden tipped her head to one side, looking at her brother curiously. “About the paternity of the baby, Holden? Why?”

Holden took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Because, sis, Sheriff Grayhawk said the DNA test reports a ninety-nine point nine percent probability that Taylor is Matt's son.”

“
Matt's
son?” Eden collapsed against the back of the chair. “Dear God…”

 

Eden's brain was still reeling with Holden's news as the limousine pulled up in front of her house on Edgewood Drive, part of a sprawling suburb outside San Antonio. She vaguely remembered giving the address to Haskim, who had given it to the limousine driver before climbing back into the “escort”
car that traveled along behind, guarding the Sheikh of Kharmistan.

The sheikh, her own Ben Ramsey, who had been sitting quietly beside her, stroking her hand, allowing her time to regain her composure.

Only now, as she realized that the limousine was no longer moving, did Eden snap to some sort of attention, become aware of her surroundings. Aware of her stupidity.

She remembered the jungle gym in the backyard. The large container of Lego blocks she'd placed at the front door, ready to take to the ranch. Sawyer's colored drawings stuck to the refrigerator door with Mickey Mouse magnets. The pictures of Sawyer that sat on tables in nearly every room. Her house screamed the fact that she didn't live alone. That a child lived with her.

She couldn't let Ben in her house. She simply couldn't.

But how did she keep him out?

She ran a hand through her hair, wincing as she realized that several long dark strands had escaped her French twist to curl beside her face, at her nape. And then, calling on every reserve of strength at her disposal, she smiled.

“I'm so sorry, Ben,” she said, extracting her hand from his warm grip. “I've had…I've had such a
shock…
”

“I understand, Eden,” Ben told her, stroking a finger down her cheek. “And I am honored that you chose to share your sorrow with me, take me into your confidence. I also understand that you will wish to depart for the family ranch as soon as possible. Holden told me your mother has a home on the ranch, that many of the Fortunes reside on the property. My limousine is at your disposal.”

“Oh, no, no, I couldn't do that. Really. I mean, it's wonderful of you to offer, but—”

“Your car is still parked in the city, Eden,” Ben pointed out gently. “Haskim will return to your office and make arrangements for it to be delivered either here or to the ranch, if you feel in need of private transportation. But I will not allow you to drive to the Double Crown while you are still so upset.”

“You will not
allow?
” Eden felt her temper building, and was grateful to feel her anger, as it was better than her earlier fright, her recent shock. “I don't think you understand, Ben. I'm not asking your permission. I don't have to. I won't.”

“Really?” Ben shifted on the seat, looked at her rather indulgently, which angered her even more. “What are you going to do, Eden? How are you going to retrieve your automobile? Please, tell me. I would be very interested to know.”

The driver had already opened the door on Eden's
side of the limousine, and she briefly thought about making a break for it, running up the walk, her key in her hand, and then locking the front door behind her.

The thought fled as fast as it had come. Ben was right, she was being stupid, and she had to give in, allow him to help her.

But she still wasn't going to allow Ben inside her house.

“All right, all right,” she said, giving an inch so that hopefully she would not be required to give a mile. “If your driver would return in about an hour, I'll be ready to go.”

“Such a gracious acceptance of my offer of assistance. Is that an example of Texas hospitality, Eden? If so, may I suggest that you amend your statement to include the fact that I will be accompanying you to the Fortune ranch for dinner. At the express invitation of your brother, as a matter of fact.”

“Holden invited you to the ranch? Why? Where was I when this was happening?”

“He invited me because I expressed an interest in locating some more diverse stock for my stables and he believes I could satisfy my wishes at the Double Crown. As for the where of it? You were sitting across from us at the table, Eden, very much in shock and lost inside your own thoughts, I am
afraid. Which, again, is why I cannot allow you to drive yourself to the ranch. Now, Eden, perhaps you will be so gracious as to invite me into your house while you pack your suitcases?”

“I—I can't…that is, the place is a mess. I mean, the housekeeper is…she's having minor surgery this week, and I've been working such long hours over the oil and gas deal. The house is a shambles. A shambles, really. I couldn't invite you in.”

“Eden,” Ben said firmly, “I am beginning to believe you are trying to get rid of me. I thought we had gotten beyond our misunderstandings of the past. Can you really not forgive me? Can you refuse my offer of friendship, even if I have rashly frightened you with my hopes for something deeper than friendship?”

Eden looked to the open door, to the driver patiently standing outside, pretending not to listen to their conversation. “I must be losing my mind,” she said, dropping her head into her hands, admitting defeat. “Give me ten minutes, Ben, to pick up the worst of it, and then you can come in, all right?”

He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss in her palm. “Thank you, Eden,” he said simply. She quickly exited the limousine, fearful that she would throw herself into his arms, beg for his comfort.

His understanding. His forgiveness.

His love?

Her hands trembling, Eden searched in her handbag for her keys, then wasted precious moments trying to fit the key in the dead bolt.

Once inside, she flattened herself against the closed door, took several deep breaths, then began her race through the house, picking up Lego construction toys and pictures and a purple stuffed dinosaur.

She removed a dozen Disney videos from the open cabinet in the family room and stuffed them beneath one of the couches.

A drawing of she and Sawyer holding Easter baskets was slammed inside the refrigerator, along with a list of telephone numbers for backup baby-sitters and Sawyer's play school schedule for April and May.

It was all she could do, besides quickly closing all the drapes at the back of the house to hide the existence of the jungle gym and Sawyer's small tri-cycle that sat beside the bright green covered sand-box in the shape of a turtle.

She made one last sweep through the downstairs of the two-story Colonial, then skidded to a halt in the flagstone foyer once more, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the hall table.

She looked like a wild woman, her eyes wide, her cheeks pale as a white cotton sheet, her hair all but
tumbling free of the French twist after her run-in with the sofa skirt.

She nearly jumped out of her shoes when the doorbell rang and she could see Ben standing on the front porch, the outline of his body visible through the narrow window at the side of the front door.

Taking yet another deep breath—she felt as if she'd just run a record marathon—she threw open the door and plastered a smile on her face. “Thanks for indulging me, Ben. Come on in. You can wait for me in the living room. Can I get you something to drink?”