“Quite memorable events,” Sebastian added knowing he would probably incur his wife’s wrath.
Rafe pointed at him. “I do not wish to see you here when I awaken.”
Sebastian saluted. “Yes, sir, commander sheikh.”
Without looking back, Nasira hurried up the stairs and paused at the landing before regarding Sebastian again. “Are you coming?”
He suddenly realized he should attempt to turn Rafe into an ally, not an enemy. “In a moment. I’d like to have a word with your brother.”
He saw a fleeting look of panic in her eyes. “All right, if you two promise to remain civil.”
A promise Sebastian hoped he could keep. “I have no problem with that.”
She glanced past him toward her brother. “Rafiq?”
“I will maintain my calm,” Rafe said.
“I am counting on that,” Nasira said before she climbed the remaining stairs and disappeared.
Sebastian decided he could use a bit of a pick-me-up and with that in mind, he grabbed up the smaller bag, set it on the sofa, unzipped it and withdrew a bottle of mediocre scotch, the only thing he had been able to find at the lone liquor store in town. “Would you care to join me in a drink?”
“No, I would not,” Rafe said.
“Then would you mind providing a glass. I find it somewhat uncouth to drink from the bottle.”
Without speaking, Rafe left through a door at the back of the parlor. He returned a few moments later with a crystal tumbler he set on the white coffee table before taking a seat in a club chair across from the sofa. Sebastian poured himself a glass of the amber liquid. Though he preferred ice, he thought it best not to press his luck.
After taking a long drink, Sebastian settled in on the settee as the low-quality scotch burned down his throat. At this rate, the combination of booze and jet lag could very well land him on his arse. Of course, he could rest assured he would sleep well...on the bedroom floor.
“Where is your lovely fiancée?” he began when Rafe failed to speak.
“She is sleeping,” he replied. “The pregnancy has fatigued her greatly.”
Sebastian remembered that all too well from the time when Sira was carrying their child. He also remembered the sound of her mournful cries when she had lost that child. “I’m sure the wedding plans have also contributed to that fatigue. How are you faring with that, by the way?”
Rafe crossed one leg over the other. “I have left the preparation up to the women. I only require knowing where I need to be and when I should be there.”
Sebastian doubted he would escape that easily. “I suppose that is probably best.”
Rafe inclined his head and studied him. “I suspect you did not detain me so you could speak about wedding plans.”
Sebastian finished off the scotch with a grimace and poured another glass. “No. I felt it necessary to outline my intentions toward your sister. Has she mentioned me at all?”
“She only intimated your marriage is in shambles and hinted the breakdown is due to your inattentiveness.”
As hard as it was to hear, he couldn’t debate that assessment. “I’ve only had her welfare in mind since the miscarriage. I wanted to give her as much space as she needed. I realize now that was probably a bloody bad idea to show up, unannounced.”
“Yes, and it has created a problem that will not be easy to rectify.”
It occurred to Sebastian that he could possibly elevate Rafe’s opinion of him if he appealed to his ego by asking for advice. “You seem to be a man who knows the workings of a woman’s mind. Do you have a suggestion on how I could get back in Nasira’s good graces?”
Rafe didn’t seem to be flattered, though. “Perhaps you should return to London and allow her to decide if she wants to resume the marriage.”
Not the answer he’d hoped for. “Look, Rafe, we’ve invested ten years in this union—”
“Convenient union, not a love match,” Rafe added.
Point reluctantly taken. “Nevertheless, I care greatly for your sister and I’m not willing to give up what we’ve had for a decade without a fight. But I need assistance in order to win her back. Who better to help me than her brother, who knows her better than most?”
When Rafe remained silent, Sebastian almost gave up until his brother-in-law said, “Shower her with small tokens of your affection.”
“You mean flowers and jewelry?”
Rafe looked at him as if he were a total dimwit. “Not only material gifts. And do not concentrate solely on sexual matters.”
No sex or hearts and flowers. What was left? “I’m afraid I am still at a loss.”
“I have learned women appreciate gestures that might seem insignificant to most men,” Rafe said. “They greatly enjoy breakfast in bed. Massages. Having their hair washed.”
Sebastian could handle any and all of those things, as long as he had some privacy to do them. “I now understand what you’re saying, but I do have another problem. If I am going to woo her, I bloody can’t do it in a hotel.”
“And I do not wish to witness this wooing.” Rafe came to his feet. “I have a possible solution to your lodging issues.”
Sebastian finished his second drink and stood, realizing all too well that he should have stopped with the first scotch. He’d always been able to hold his liquor but at the moment he felt as if he could fly without the benefit of his corporate jet. “What do you have in mind?”
“A private residence where you could reside during the duration of your stay. The owners are friends of a friend and they will be leaving for a trip out of the country for two months. I will call tomorrow and let you know if they are amenable to the request. It will be up to you to convince Nasira, without coercion, to join you.”
Sebastian had no intention of coercing her. Not when he had other ways to convince her. “I’ll try to persuade her.”
“If you are unsuccessful, will you agree to return to London?”
Only if and when he had exhausted every option. “That seems fair enough.”
“Good. I am going to retire now. I will inform you in the morning if I have secured the accommodations.”
“Thank you, Rafe. I certainly value your opinions and your willingness to assist me.”
The man seemed unimpressed with Sebastian’s gratitude. “I am doing this for Nasira. Her happiness is paramount. I will not tolerate anyone who does not respect her wishes. Keep that in mind as you move forward with your goal.”
Before Sebastian could respond, Rafe turned and started up the stairs without looking back. Sebastian dropped down on the settee and rubbed both hands over his face. If he didn’t get up soon, he could end up sleeping on the sardine-can sofa.
On that thought, he trudged up the stairs and made his way to his reluctant bride’s boudoir. He rapped on the door and when he didn’t get a response, entered the room to the sounds of running water.
He had one of two options—leave and let her have her privacy, or shower her with affection in the shower. Option two earned his vote. As long as he proceeded with caution.
He stripped off his shirt, inadvertently popping a button, then sat on the edge of the mattress to toe out of his shoes. He carelessly kicked them off, barely missing the French doors leading to a balcony. In an effort to compose himself, he removed his slacks