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slight smile touched his mouth. 'Strong swimmer, are you?' he
questioned lazily.
    It took a few moments for
his taunt to truly sink in, then she was moving, darting across the room and
winding her way between the two strategically placed chairs and the accompanying
table to reach for the curtains. Beyond the glass, all she could see was inky
darkness. Maybe she was on the seaward side of the boat, she told herself in an
effort to calm the sudden sting of alarm that slid down her spine.
    Hassan quickly disabused
her of that frail hope. 'We left San Esteban minutes after we boarded.'
    It was only then that she
felt it: just the softest hint of a vibration beneath the soles of her feet
that told of smooth and silently running engines. This truly was an abduction,
she finally accepted, and turned slowly back round to face him.
    'Why?' she breathed.
    It was like a replay of
what had already gone before, only this time it was serious—more serious than
Leona had even begun to imagine. For she knew this man—knew he was not given to
flights of impulse just for the hell of it. Everything he did had to have a
reason, and was always preceded by meticulous planning which took time he would
not waste, and effort he would not move unless he felt he absolutely had to do.
    Hassan's small sigh
conveyed that he too knew that this was where the prevarication ended. 'There
are problems at home,' he informed her soberly. 'My father's health is failing.'
    His father... Anger
swiftly converted itself into anxious concern for her father-in-law. Sheikh
Khalifa had been frail in health for as long as she had known him. Hassan doted
on him and devoted most of his energy to relieving his father of the burdens of
rule, making sure he had the best medical attention available and refusing to
believe that one day his father would not be there. So, if Hassan was using
words like 'failing', then the old man's health must indeed be grave.
    'What happened?' She
began to walk towards him. 'I thought the last treatment was—'
    'Your interest is a
little too late in coming,' Hassan cut in, and with a flick of a hand halted
her steps. 'For I don't recall you showing any concern about what it would do
to his health when you left a year ago.'
    That wasn't fair, and
Leona blinked as his words pricked a tender part of her. Sheikh Khalifa was a
good man—a kind man. They had become strong, close friends while she had lived
at the palace. 'He understood why I felt I needed to leave,' she responded
painfully.
    You think so? Hassan's
cynical expression derided. 'Well, I did not,' he said out loud. 'But, since
you decided it was the right thing for you to do, I now have a serious problem
on my hands. For I am, in effect, deemed weak for allowing my wife to walk away
from me, and my critics are making rumbling noises about the stability of the
country if I do not display some leadership.'
    'So you decided to show
that leadership by abducting me, then dragging me back to Rahman?' Her thick
laugh poured scorn over that suggestion, because they both knew taking her back
home had to be the worst thing Hassan could possibly do to prove that
particular point
    'You would prefer that I
take this second wife who makes you flee in pain when the subject appears in
front of you?'
    'She is what you need,
not me.' It almost choked her to say the words. But they were dealing with the
truth here, painful though that truth may be. And the truth was that she was no
longer the right wife for the heir to a sheikhdom.
    'I have the wife I want,'
he answered grimly.
    'But not the wife you need,
Hassan!' she countered wretchedly.
    His eyes flicked up to
clash with her eyes, is that your way of telling me that you no longer love
me?' he challenged.
    Oh, dear God. Lifting a
trembling hand up to cover her eyes, Leona gave a shake of her head in refusal
to answer. Without warning Hassan was suddenly moving at speed down the length
of the room.
    'Answer me!' he insisted
when he came to a stop in