Sheik Omar Ch 02
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Sheik Omar Ch. 04 free porn video
The kitchen was filled with the mouthwatering smell of a spicy lambdish that the women of the house had been preparing. The rich meat flavoured with Rash al Hanout the local mix of different spices and mixed with dried apricots that were now swollen to little orange pillow-shaped juicy balls. A platter with freshly baked flatbread waiting on a table.
Omar’s mother filled a large bowl with the stew and placed the platter with bread on top of it and then motioned to Mary to follow her. The two women walked to the reception room of the Sheik’s house where he was entertaining the French army captain Le Brun. The old lady handed Mary the food and shooed her into the room.
Three pair of male eyes focussed on her. Sheik Omar was sitting on a couch on one side of the room while Captain Le Brun, the French army officer, and another soldier were sitting on the one opposite of him. A table with mint tea and glasses in between them. Water pipes or shisha bubbling. The evening breeze coming in through the mashrabia, the ornamentally carved woodwork covering the windows.
Sheik Omar smiled at her and waved towards the table. She placed the food there and was not sure what to do next so was about to turn back to the kitchen when he gestured to a spot on the couch near him and said: ‘Amira please sit.’
She lowered herself on the couch and looked at the men. Captain Le Brun stood and held out his hand and said: ‘Captain Le Brun mademoiselle at your service. May I introduce one of my men: Steve O’Shea?’
‘Lady Mary Westlake. How do you do?’ she answered shaking his hand.
‘Ah so Sheik Omar calls you Amira, princess, as a mix of your title and your name? And me thinking it was a sign of his high esteem for you.’ the older man smiled. ‘O’Shea is here so he can translate for Sheik Omar.’
The big rough man held out his hand and said in English with a Irish accent: ‘So even in the desert I cannot escape bloody English aristocrats.’
Mary realised he must be one of the Irish rebels and probably had to flee Ireland ending up here.
‘Please eat’, said Sheikh Omar and the men scooped up the stew with pieces of the flatbread. Mary tried to copy them and discovered the food was mouthwatering.
When the meal was finished Mary brought the bowls and plates back to the kitchen to return with fresh tea and pastries. The ladies of the house did not show themselves to the strangers. Over tea a discussion in Arabic, French and English started with Le Brun and O’Shea translating.
‘Please tell Amira I found her brother in the desert near the big oasis. He died due to heat and lack of water but had managed to walk a very long stretch to try to save the both of them. We buried him and recited a prayer for him. I had no idea how Christians are buried so we buried him as one of our own.’
Tears ran from Mary’s eyes and she asked O’Shea to thank Omar for his kindness towards her brother.
Omar produced papers he had found on Charles and on the plane. Mary confirmed they were their passports. Other papers looked like deeds to the farm in Rhodesia.
‘Rhodesia?’ asked Omar. ‘Where is that?’
‘On the other side of Africa. To the south,’ said Le Brun. ‘Not a place for an orphan girl to go to on her own.’
‘I do not know a thing about farming,’ said Mary.
‘It is wild there. Lots of unrest from the natives,’ added O’Shea.
‘You best sell that place mademoiselle,’ suggested Le Brun.
She nodded. All the plans Charles had made were crumbling to dust. She needed the money as she had nothing left.
‘But how can Amira sell a farm on the other end of the continent from where she is now?’ wondered Sheikh Omar.
‘Mademoiselle you first need to contact the English embassy here to confirm you are still alive. You need to travel to the capital and then take a ship to England from there’, said Le Brun. ‘Otherwise your money will disappear in the pockets of cousins. But I cannot take you with us as we are still supposed to patrol the desert for 6 weeks and a troop of legionaries is no company for a lady.’ She saw him realise that she now was in the company of an Arab desert lord and that would not be regarded as proper company in her circles either.
‘My men and I will travel to the coast in 4 months to sell the young camels I have raised. I can take you with me to get things sorted’, suggested Omar ‘but it will take months and I have the feeling you need to get word out sooner. Captain I guess you are sending reports while on patrol. Can you get a letter to the coast?’
‘Oh yes. If Lady Mary writes a letter and you and I acts as witnesses we can declare she was rescued and will be coming back to the coast with your caravan. She can ask the ambassador to hire an attorney on her behalf in Rhodesia via his colleague there and put the farm up for sale. Maybe by the time she will reach the capital with you in the spring her money will be in the bank and she can return to England.’
‘I have nothing left for me there’, Mary started to cry. ‘My family is dead and Charles sold the estate. I wonder what I have to do. Be a nanny or something? Go work in a shop?’
‘Best find you a husband’, suggested the old captain.
Omar had been sitting there very quietly listening to the conversation and then said: ‘You do not need to. If you do not want to go to England you are always welcome here in my house.’
They all turned to him. She had to fight her urge to reach out to him. The sincere look in his dark eyes warmed her heart.
‘Well’ said the old captain trying to be polite ‘Sheik Omar raises the most famous camels of the country so investing in his business might be a wise plan as well.’
‘You are welcome to life her as a sister of my daughters and when time comes marry someone here or just grow old in a small house on this compound as my business partner. But if you would wish that I would marry you myself Amira. I can offer you a good life and a safe place.’
‘Omar’, she stuttered. ‘I…but I am no Muslim… we are strangers.’
Le Brun cleared his throat and then interjected: ‘As honourable a man as you are Sheik Omar, being nobility here in your country, her English countrymen will frown upon her marrying a foreigner. They would say she had gone native… and to your people she will be an infidel.’
Omar grabbed her hand and said, ‘Amira, it does not matter what others think but only what you want. Do you want to sleep in my arms all the days of our lives? Do you want to be loved by my mum and my girls? Do you want to Godwilling see my child suckle your breast? To put your dowry to good use and have our own money? If that is what you want, do marry me. But if you rather return to your own people I will still be your friend and make sure you reach your ship safely.’
She looked at his strong hand holding hers. The sunkissed skin, the strong muscles of his wrist. It felt like all sound stopped, as if she was about to faint.
(To be continued)
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Marisol
- 10.05.2020
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