The Return of the Sheikh Read Online Free PDF Page B

council later this week.”
    Rafiq lifted his napkin and placed it in his lap. “I have no designs on your position, Zain. But I do have a vested interest in the direction in which you plan to take my country.”
    He fisted his hands on the heels of his anger. “ Our country, Rafiq. A country that I plan to lead into the twenty-first century.”
    Madison cleared her throat, garnering their attention. “What’s for dinner?”
    “Cheeseburgers in your honor.”
    When he winked, she surprisingly smiled. “I was truly looking forward to sampling some Middle Eastern fare,” she said.
    “We’re having the chef’s special kebabs,” Rafiq said. “You will have to excuse my brother’s somewhat questionable sense of humor, Ms. Foster.”
    After shooting Rafiq an acid look, Zain regarded Madison again. “I believe you’ll agree that a questionable sense of humor is better than no sense of humor at all.”
    She shifted slightly in her seat. “I enjoyed meeting Elena. Will she be joining us?”
    “Not tonight,” Rafiq said as one of the staff circled the table and poured water. “She has some work to attend to, but she sends her apologies.”
    “She works much too hard,” Zain added. “I plan to put an end to that and soon.”
    Rafiq leaned back in his chair. “I am afraid her work will not let up until after the coronation and the wedding.”
    “Wedding?” Madison asked, the shock in her tone matching Zain’s.
    “And who is the lucky bride?” Zain asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.
    “Rima Acar, of course,” Rafiq said. “We will be married the week before the coronation.”
    Zain wasn’t at all surprised by the news his brother was going through with the long-standing marriage contract. He was surprised—and angry—over the timing. “Is this wedding a means to detract from my assuming my rightful place as king?”
    “Of course not,” Rafiq said. “This wedding has been in the planning stages for years. Almost twelve if you consider when Father and the sultan came to an agreement.”
    “Ah, yes, the age-old tradition of bride bartering.” Zain turned his attention back to Madison, who seemed intent on pushing fruit around on her plate. “We are destined to choose a wife from the highest bidder. Someone who will give us many heirs, if not passion.”
    “As you, too, had your bride chosen for you,” Rafiq added.
    Madison’s blue eyes went wide. “You’re engaged?”
    “Not any longer,” Rafiq said. “Zain’s intended grew tired of waiting for his return and married another.”
    He had thanked his good fortune for that many times over. “Her decision was for the best. I refuse to wed a woman whom I’ve never met, let alone kissed.” He leaned forward and leveled his gaze on his brother. “Have you kissed Rima? Have you determined there will be enough passion to sustain your marriage? Or do you even care?”
    He could see the fury brewing in Rafiq’s eyes. “That is none of your concern. Passion is not important. Continuing the royal lineage is.”
    “Procreating would be rather difficult if you cannot bear to touch your wife, brother. Or perhaps you will be satisfied with bedding her only enough times to make a child, as it was with our own parents.”
    “Do not believe everything you hear, Zain. Our parents had a satisfactory marriage.”
    Rafiq—always their father’s defender. “Satisfactory? Are you also going to dispute that the king played a part in our mother’s—”
    Rafiq slammed his palm on the table, rattling the dinnerware. “That is enough.”
    Zain tossed his napkin aside and ignored the woman setting the entrée before him. “I agree. I have had enough of this conversation.” He came to his feet and regarded Madison. “Ms. Foster, my apologies for disrupting your meal.”
    Without even a passing glance at his brother, Zain left the room and took the stairs two at a time. He had no doubt that after the display of distasteful family dynamics, he would