After their riding lesson, the girls showered and ate dinner alone with only their nanny for company. They were in bed by eight o’clock.
Harper’s heart ached for the little girls that she suspected were lonely and desperate for attention from their relatives. But there was no interaction between these small princesses and their uncle or those mysterious siblings he’d mentioned.
Chapter 3
“You’re late,” a harsh male voice announced.
Harper stiffened, then turned around slowly. She watched with astonishment as the man she’d grown to hate over the past several hours approached her, looking suave and sophisticated in a dark suit. It wasn’t a tuxedo, but was close enough, even though he’d left the neck open on his pristine white dress shirt.
“Remember, he’s the boss,” she muttered softly to herself, clenching her fingers together in front of herself in an effort to restrain herself from punching him. It was hard because her heart ached for the two little girls that were currently sleeping all alone in a pale, bland room that had been beautifully decorated in pastel pink with white comforters over their identical, small beds.
Sheik Amit al Raminar moved closer, those sharp, hazel eyes of his narrowing slightly at her muttered words. “What was that?”
Harper’s fingernails dug into the skin on her hands. She knew that she should be respectful, but…!
Blast respect, she thought, bristling with anger for her two small, desperately lonely charges. With a lift of her chin, she glared up at the man. “I was reminding myself that you are the boss here,” she told him, not bothering to hide her fury.
He lifted a dark eyebrow as he poured himself something dark and tempting into a crystal glass. “Is that hard to remember?”
She shrugged and took a deep, slow breath. “Your nieces are lovely.”
“I know,” he replied, unbuttoning his jacket before sitting down in a large, leather chair. “I need to know why they aren’t talking. Why they are so silent and sad all the time.”
Harper noticed he hadn’t invited her to sit down, which was a petty power play on his part. He also hadn’t offered her anything to drink. She wasn’t a big drinker, but there was just something irritating about the man and she wanted to push his buttons just as much as he was pushing hers. So she strolled over to the liquor table and poured herself a finger of the scotch, then sat down in the chair opposite him.
Ignoring his raised eyebrow, she swirled the rich liquor in the glass. “I don’t have all of the information quite yet, but I suspect that your nieces are emulating you, Your Highness,” she explained.
He chuckled as he looked at her over the rim of his glass as he took a long swallow of his drink. “Is that so?” He sipped, then lowered the glass. “I’m assuming by the glare that their efforts are a bad thing?”
Harper sighed, rubbing her forehead. She realized suddenly that he wasn’t mocking her. He genuinely had no idea that his lack of affection was a bad thing. Many parents thought that offering affection and tenderness would make their children soft.
Actually, the opposite was true. Studies consistently proved that children who are shown love and approval had an inner strength that was solid and powerful. They could go out into the world with confidence that, if something bad happened, they had a soft place to land.
“It’s very bad, Your Highness. The girls are five years old. They just lost their parents a few months ago and they don’t understand the feelings that they are experiencing. They don’t have anyone with whom they can talk about their sadness. Their only present role models are their nanny or their tutor, both of whom are extremely efficient, but haven’t addressed their grief and confusion. You are their other role model, but you appear,” she stressed that word, “to be going on as if your sister’s death hadn’t happened.” She lifted a hand to stop his retort when his eyes turned hard and angry. “I say that you appear to be doing that, Your Highness. But I know that you’re grieving very deeply for your sister, just as they are. And I suspect that you don’t know how to deal with your grief either, so you pretend that it isn’t there even though it’s eating at you.”
She watched with fascination as his lips thinned at her assertion. Sure enough, he completely denied that he was still grieving.
“I’m fine, Doctor Harper.” He swirled his scotch, but didn’t take another sip. “You’re not here to assess my mental issues. You’re here to assess and assist my nieces.” Another angry swirl of his scotch. “And besides, my brothers and sister are here in the palace all day long. My nieces know that they can talk to any of us whenever they need to.”
She smiled gently, her anger dissipating as she finally understood what was happening in this household. “Your Highness, your nieces have no idea how to talk to you. And as far as I can tell, your brothers and sister aren’t around. I haven’t seen them at…” she paused. “Wait. No, that’s not true. Your brothers are the two behemoths that confronted me upon my arrival.”
“Yes. That was Gaelen.”
Harper tilted her head slightly. “Why did he say something about how my presence was going to be good or something along those lines?”
She sat through a long perusal, feeling as if his eyes touched on each of her facial features. “What did he say?”
There was a slight smile that hovered on his face. Hmmm…not really a smile. It was more like a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth that caused her to assume that he was possibly laughing at her.
Harper shifted in the leather chair, and ignored his amusement. “Whatever. I don’t really care,” she lied. “Your nieces need their uncles and aunt with them as often as possible right now. What’s more, those girls need to understand that it’s okay to grieve. To feel their very natural sadness. They are hiding their confusing emotions away because you aren’t showing any emotions. They look to you and your brothers and sister for cues as to how they should behave. Children learn faster when their role models teach them.”
His amusement fled and those hazel eyes closed off. Harper sensed an exhausted resignation in the angle of his head as well as the tension in his shoulders. “I’m not their role model. I’m only their uncle.”
Harper wanted to laugh, but she understood that this man was…tired? Yes. Grieving? Most definitely. And very stoic, hiding all of those “rubbish” emotions away so that the world perceived him as strong and confident.
“You’re not only their role model anymore, Your Highness,” she asserted firmly. “You are now their only father figure. From what I’ve grasped around the palace in a short period of time, you’re the head of everything here. You’re the leader, not just of the country, but of your family.” She leaned forward, looking pensively into the amber liquid swirling in her glass so she missed the man’s glance at the dark shadow of her chest. When she looked back up at him, she realized that he was sitting very still.
“I’m guessing this isn’t the assessment you were hoping for?” she offered gently.
He shook his head and took a long sip of his scotch. He was silent for a long moment and Harper knew that he was weighing her assessment, trying to evaluate the legitimacy of her words. He took another sip of his scotch, looking down at the remaining liquid before finally looking up at her.