Page 49 of At the Sheikh's Bidding
“Shame,” she said, wondering why. “Because this is glorious. I’ve only been to Paris a few times, but loved it from the very first moment.”
“You know what?” He brushed aside a lock of her hair. “You look better. Kind of relieved.”
“I think you’re right. Maybe there’s another way to heal, other than hiding away from pain.”
“By facing it. I’d hoped as much,” he said.
For the first time she realized that it was no coincidence he’d brought her here, to this family home, when he knew it was the opposite of what she’d wanted.
“You planned this,” she said, unable to sound annoyed, knowing he’d done it with the best of intentions.
He raised his eyebrows, smiled and turned to her, leaning on the balustrade. “Yep.”
She shook her head. There was no way she could be angry with him. She realized she felt safe for the first time in her life. Amare might be arrogant and controlling up to a point, but he wasn’t her father, and he’d never do anything to hurt her. She truly believed and felt that now.
CHAPTER21
The meeting with the French academics couldn’t have gone any better. Amare had guessed rightly that the harem information which had accidentally come their way and which, of course, they hadn’t refused, didn’t fit into their research. And they were more than happy to work with Janey, gathering information from her they could use, in return for passing her any information they had which she might find useful.
It was only when they drove away that Janey turned to him and noticed his look of satisfaction.
“That went well,” he said.
“Thank goodness. If they’d wanted to pursue the research…” She shook her head.
“Yours still would have been superior.”
“Just not first.”
“And you, Janey, are more competitive than I imagined. I thought academics were only concerned with uncovering knowledge.”
“You obviously haven’t been to a university lately,” she said wryly. Then she frowned as she remembered something which had puzzled her. “They mentioned some artifacts which you’d said were in your possession. Things your grandmother had bequeathed you.”
Was it her imagination or did Amare suddenly look unsure, uncomfortable, even?
“Yes, I remember. It was a couple of years ago now.” He continued driving in silence.
“Would it be possible for me to have a look? It’s just that they sound exactly the kind of things which my colleague would be interested in. Her area of expertise is royal traditions and I know she’d love to see them. I’d just take some photos to send to her.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Oh.” She was surprised and disappointed. Up till now, Amare hadn’t refused her anything. “I guess they’re in Sifra?”
“No,” he said.
“Oh,” she said again, feeling even more confused by his stonewalling. “So they’re here in Paris?”
He nodded.
She gave a small grunt of confusion and looked out the window, waiting for him to say something more. He didn’t.
Then she turned to him. “Just curious. Is it because you’d like to keep these things private?”
He shrugged. “Not particularly. They are a part of the history of Sifra.”
“But you don’t want me to look at them.”
He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “It’s not that I don’t want you to look at them. It’s that you can’t.” He wrung his hands around the steering wheel. “Now, I suggest we get going if you want to see that play.”
