A Secret Birthright(56)

“You’re not,” Fareed growled, aborting his father’s stride. “And this discussion is over. There is nothing to discuss. And don’t try to pull rank. You’re not king here. I am.”

His father ignored him, looked at Gwen. “And you’re queen here. You won’t invite your father-in-law into your home, even if your husband is rude enough not to?”

“Leave Gwen out of this, Father. I’m warning you…”

Gwen’s hand on his arm stopped his tirade.

Then she stepped in front of him. “It would be an honor and a pleasure to receive you in o-our home, Your Majesty.”

Fareed wanted to hug the breath right out of her, emotions colliding inside him. Pride and delight, at how she held herself, addressed his father, the effect her graciousness and classiness had on the old goat. Delight that she’d said our home. Oppression that she’d hesitated while saying it. But mostly, dread of letting his father deeper into their lives under any pretext.

He watched his father take Gwen’s elbow as she led the way back into the villa. He walked a step behind, felt Emad fall into step with him. He only spared him a gritted “Later.”

His father tossed him a glance. “Later, I might take him off your hands. It appears I’ve been remiss in estimating his worth.”

“I’ll make you a gift of him. It appears I’ve overestimated it.”

Emad grunted something, the very sound of politeness. To Fareed’s versed-in-his-noises ears, it sounded like a grown-up groaning at the posturing antics of two juvenile charges.

Once inside the villa, Gwen turned to his father. “We were about to have dinner. I hope you’ll be able to join us. If you don’t like seafood, I’ll get something else prepared right away.”

“The only time we met, I insulted and threatened you.” The king’s regard turned thoughtful. “Even if I abhorred seafood, it would still be better than crow.”

Fareed blinked. Had his father just cracked a joke?

He could think of only one explanation for this aberration. He got his confirmation in Gwen’s crimson discomfiture.

“Oh, no, you don’t, Father. I’m damned if I let you play on Gwen’s sympathies. You’re not some kind, bereaved old man, so you can quit trying to blindside us into lowering our guard right now. We’re not letting you get your hands on Ryan.”

His father gave him a considering glance. “What have you told her I’d do when this comes to pass?”

“No ‘when’ here. And it was Hesham who told her—” he tried again to adjust to the fact that it hadn’t been her Hesham had told, had loved “—told her sister that you almost loved him to death, pressuring and coercing and hounding him into becoming the heir you would find acceptable.” Suddenly he couldn’t stand not knowing. He swung his gaze to Gwen. “What happened to your sister?”

He knew the answer. If not from the fact that she had Ryan, then from the grief that he’d felt dimming her spirit. She’d been mourning her sister. How had she died?

He hated to resurrect her pain, her loss. But he needed knowledge to stop his father’s incursion, especially now that he was using unexpected weapons.

He still almost retracted his question when mention of her sister reopened her wounds right before his eyes.

But she was already answering. “After the accident, they gave her only a preliminary exam. M-Marilyn was told she was fine. They discharged her to make room for those with obvious injuries. Hesham had already…” Her tears ran faster. “By the time I got to her she was deteriorating. I rushed her to another hospital, but she hung on only long enough to start my adoption of Ryan and give me her and Hesham’s last will. I knew everything already because I more or less shared their lives, moving everywhere when they did. I stayed even closer after I realized something was wrong with Ryan…”

“So you were the one who diagnosed him.”

A tear splashed on his hand, burning him through to his soul. “When he was four months old. But Hesham feared seeking you out.”

He rounded on his father, snarling, “That’s why you’re not coming near Ryan, Father. Because Hesham feared you so much he wouldn’t seek my help for his son, his own brother, the best-equipped to offer that help, until he was on his deathbed.”

His father ignored his wrath, addressing Gwen directly. “But your adoption of Ryan hasn’t been concluded yet.”