The Sheikh's Secret Son

‘I—I just want to know what you intend to do about all this,’ she said nervously.

‘Forgive me for interrupting, Your Highness,’ Dr Eden interjected firmly as he came and stood by the sofa where Darcy was lying. ‘But, whatever you decide to do, I’d advise that we get Miss Carrick to the hospital first, so that her injury can be X-rayed.’

Coming out of the stupor he’d fallen into while gazing at Darcy, Zafir nodded abruptly. Retrieving his mobile phone from the inside pocket of the Arabian khandoura he wore, he accessed the number of one of London’s most exclusive private hospitals to which he had a direct line. Glancing back at his visitor as he requested an ambulance, he had a sudden notion that she might be going into shock. She was definitely looking a little flushed, and her eyelids had fluttered closed as though she barely had the strength to keep them open.

‘Dr Eden.’ He authoritatively addressed the medic. ‘I must ask you to take Miss Carrick’s temperature. It is my opinion that she looks more than a little unwell.’

‘Do not be too concerned, Your Highness,’ the doctor reassured him. ‘It is quite a natural reaction for a person to feel faint after an accident, but I will gladly do as you ask.’

‘Good.’

A short time later, satisfied with the doctor’s assurance that Darcy’s rise in temperature was not significant enough to be worried about, Zafir waited impatiently for the ambulance to arrive. In turn, their patient had become particularly quiet. She was clearly lost in a mysterious landscape of her own.

He had no idea what she might be thinking. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have had to speculate. He had been as intimately attuned to her thoughts and feelings as any man in love could be, and he still carried the grief of her betrayal like a suppurating wound that would never heal.

The sound of an ambulance siren pierced the room’s growing preternatural stillness, and it had the same impact as a lightning bolt flashing outside.

As Zafir hurried across the oak floor, with Rashid behind him, he called out over his shoulder to the doctor. ‘Keep a watch on Miss Carrick. Don’t let her out of your sight!’

‘What do you think I’m going to do? Perform some kind of magic trick and make myself disappear? I wish,’ Darcy grumbled sarcastically.

Zafir didn’t waste time with a response. He was already at the door, throwing it wide in order to hurry out into the hallway. Addressing the man at the front door, who introduced himself as the chief paramedic, he guided him and the two other crew members into the drawing room. Darcy was resting her back against the curve of the elegant couch, as though it had taken the strain off of the accident, but in spite of her little outburst just now she wasn’t able to hide the fact that she was worried.

So was Zafir. Right then, he honestly didn’t know what he was going to do about the consequences of her fall from his garden wall or her startling reappearance into his life. In truth, he was still knocked sideways at seeing her again. And as yet he hadn’t decided whether to prosecute her or not. Most people in his privileged circle wouldn’t hesitate to throw the book at her.

Hadn’t he learned that she wasn’t to be trusted? people would say. That she was nothing but a sly opportunist...a Jezebel.

He could almost hear the condemning words echo round his brain. Wasting no more time in deliberating—that would have to wait until they had the X-ray results—he instructed the paramedics to do what they had to do and transport her into the ambulance.

She was wearing jeans, a deep blue woollen sweater and a short mustard-coloured jacket. And as the paramedics expertly lifted her slender frame onto a stretcher Zafir observed that she’d grown a little thinner since he’d seen her last. Had she been eating properly?

He remembered that she’d often lose her appetite when she was stressed, and even though he knew he shouldn’t give a jot if something was troubling her, knew that Darcy was nothing to him any more, he gruffly declared, ‘I will accompany my guest to the hospital.’

‘Of course, Your Highness,’ the paramedic responded. ‘Just to reassure you, I think it’s going to be a very straightforward procedure. The young lady will soon be as right as rain again—you’ll see.’

He was a slightly overweight, cheerful-looking man of forty-plus, with a receding hairline—one of those dependable sorts that the great British public would probably describe as ‘the salt of the earth’. And, oddly, Zafir was reassured—at least for a minute or two.

* * *

When the attentive medical staff at the hospital stretchered Darcy into an examination room, Zafir came with her. Before they’d entered Dr Eden had given them his own efficient assessment and, in deference to his colleagues, told his employer that he would wait for him outside.

All of these events hardly reassured Darcy. The familiar scent associated with anything medical, along with the forbidding-looking examination couch, made her feel queasy, and Zafir’s daunting aristocratic presence even more so. But the most pressing thing of all on her mind was her son. At present Sami was in the care of her mother, because she was babysitting him, but what if she had to tell her that she needed to stay in hospital for the night?

Darcy had never told her mother who Sami’s father was, and she contemplated how she would couch her words in order to cause the least anxiety. She knew her mother would think she’d lost her mind—climbing the walls of the Sheikh’s home in an attempt to speak to him. Especially when she’d ended up spraining her ankle.

Was it worth it? She could hear her mother ask. You should have gone down the proper route of arranging a meeting with him, no matter how long it took. Look at what you’ve risked!

Darcy’s heart suddenly felt as heavy as a boulder inside her chest.

And that would be before she conveyed to her mother the fact that her ex-employer had been furious at her finding him even before she’d told him that he’d left her pregnant and that he now had a son.

Seeing as he was now engaged to be married, the news would hardly be the best he could receive. But, at the same time, what would the repercussions be for her? What if he immediately demanded custody of Sami? Or...worse still...wanted to take him back to Zachariah, away from her and all he had known for the past four years? That didn’t bear thinking about.

CHAPTER TWO

DARCY HAD A splint and a crepe bandage fitted round her injured ankle. Thankfully, the X-ray had revealed no broken bones, but Darcy had badly torn the ligaments and would need at least three weeks’ complete rest to help them start to heal—beginning with one full night at the hospital so that the medical staff could keep an eye on her.

That was the part that alarmed her the most. The swish, luxurious medical facility was clearly private, and there was no way on earth she could afford to spend any of her hard-earned cash on a stay here. It was essential she get home.

Zafir had gone to consult with the doctor and her need to talk to him was growing ever more urgent. The tension she was feeling was near unbearable. But just then he returned, and his arresting presence stirred the air. There was no sign of Rashid or Dr Eden.

The impact Zafir made in his impressive garb hit her anew. With his chiselled, strong-boned features and flowing dark hair his commanding appearance was enough to render anyone speechless. He was simply magnificent.

Propped up by a couple of plump pillows in the hospital bed, with her ankle elevated, Darcy felt her heart bump nervously against her ribs. She couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated. Instinct told her that with all the drama of her fall perhaps now wasn’t the right time to tell him about Sami, even though it was the sole reason she’d gone to his house.

Perhaps her confession should take place under more conducive circumstances? If she could arrange such a scenario, might he view her sudden unsettling appearance in his life more favourably?

Impulsively, she reached for his hand. Having not told her mother that she’d be back late, she felt her fears about spending the night away from her young son escalating.

‘I can’t possibly stay the night here, Zafir. I need to get home. There—there’s something important I have to do.’

Mesmerised, he stared down at the slender hand clasping his as if he couldn’t quite believe it was hers. Then he lifted his head, and where previously his dark eyes had been entranced, they were now hard with suspicion. Obviously he wasn’t going to be extending an olive branch to her any time soon.

‘What do you have to do that’s so important?’ he demanded. ‘Is it that you want to tell your accomplice you were unsuccessful in breaking into my house? Is that what you need to do, Darcy? Will there be repercussions for you if you don’t get home tonight?’

Wrenching back her hand, she flushed indignantly. ‘For goodness’ sake—once and for all, I wasn’t trying to break in and I don’t have an accomplice. Do you think I’ve become so desperate and vengeful since you fired me that I’d resort to breaking in to your house when I learnt you were there?’

‘I cannot attest to knowing what you’d resort to, Darcy. Once upon a time I thought I knew who you were,’ he said soberly, ‘but clearly I didn’t. As for your reasons for turning up at my residence in such a dramatic way—I am his Royal Highness Sheikh Zafir el-Kalil of Zachariah, and naturally my wealth and position draws attention...not all of it innocent.’

Distraught that he clearly still thought she was a liar, when all she’d ever done was stay loyal to him and give him her devotion, she found his words hard to bear. But suddenly part of his statement registered more emphatically.

‘I’ve just realised... That was your father’s title, wasn’t it? I mean...he was the Sheikh of Zachariah, wasn’t he? Are you saying that he’s passed away and now you’re the...?’

‘Sheikh of the kingdom... Yes, I am.’

It was as though a shutter had slammed down over his enigmatic gaze and rendered his feelings impossible to read. Was he still grieving? He must be. Darcy knew that father and son had been close.

As she twisted her hands together she felt genuine sympathy, unsullied by the turbulent waters that flowed between them. She knew only too well what it meant to lose a devoted father. And once upon a time Zafir had told her how much he loved and admired his esteemed parent, and one day hoped to display some of the wisdom and knowledge he was revered for himself.

‘I’m sorry... I mean I’m sorry for your loss,’ she added softly.

For a brief moment it looked as if the mistrust and suspicion in his eyes had lessened. But very quickly his expression was stony again, and it brought her firmly back to the present.

Raising his chin, he remarked, ‘As I was saying, my position inevitably draws attention and not all of it is welcome. I am fully aware that those who are unscrupulous might try and steal from me from time to time.’

‘Well, I’m not one of those.’ Her brilliant blue eyes didn’t hide her dismay. ‘And there’s nothing I want that I would be prepared to steal from anyone...certainly not anything material. If I couldn’t buy it for myself then I’d just as soon forget it.’

‘Then what is this urgent need you have to see me? The reason for all the messages you say you left at my office...messages that I never received?’

‘I wanted to tell you about that in private. Somewhere we can speak freely.’

The expression on his face told Darcy that she was sorely testing him. His glance impatiently swept the room before returning to rest on her. ‘This is private enough. You might not get another chance.’

‘Why? Do you despise me so much that you can’t bear the thought of seeing me again?’

Hearing the disturbing catch in her voice, Zafir was alarmed. Could any man despise a woman who looked like she did?

He remembered the day she’d walked into his office, having been assigned to him as his PA. He had arranged that the bank’s administrative manager would select someone for him, as it would be one less thing for him to do on his arrival from Zachariah, and the man who had selected Darcy from the pool of highly qualified secretaries the bank employed had assured him that she was one of the best. Having read her credentials, Zafir had agreed.

When he’d finally met her, his heart had stalled in surprise and pleasure. Her beauty had been the ethereal kind that romantic poets wrote the most exquisite accolades to...

All thoughts of work and the demanding schedule he’d had ahead of him had been instantly forgotten. Being a red-blooded, virile male, all he’d been able to think about was what it would be like to seduce her.

He’d never before experienced wanting a woman as much as he’d wanted Darcy. Her shapely body and golden hair had captivated him from the very first. And it hadn’t been only that. As he’d begun to get to know her he’d realised she had so many more attributes for him to admire. Kindness, generosity, and a ready smile no matter what she might be feeling. All came to her as easily as breathing, it had seemed.

A mere week later, having developed the habit of calling her in to his office more regularly than was strictly necessary—either on the pretext of taking dictation or to look over some ‘important correspondence’ with him—he had known he was falling in love...

Now, pushing his long hair back from his face, he immediately honed his gaze in on her tearful eyes. ‘I don’t despise you,’ he said throatily. ‘What is it you want to say? You may as well tell me now.’

Breathing out a sigh, he dropped down beside her on the bed, taking care not to jolt her elevated ankle. She immediately looked startled, then she quickly collected herself.

‘All right, then. After you dismissed me... I—I found out that I was pregnant.’

There was a sudden deafening silence inside Zafir’s head. The intensity of it, along with his racing heartbeat, tuned out any other sound. He likened it to standing in the vicinity of an explosion. When he finally composed himself, he considered the possibility that he might be dreaming. She had been pregnant? How could that be? He’d always made sure to protect her.

He was suddenly furious. ‘Is this some kind of twisted joke you’re playing on me, Darcy? I always took care to protect you from such an event. If you were pregnant, then the baby couldn’t have been mine. Are you telling me that it was my brother’s?’

The very idea made him feel sick to his stomach.

‘I know you don’t regard me very highly, but that’s a vile accusation. The baby I had is yours, Zafir...your son. That first time we were together neither of us were as careful as we should have been. I’d started taking the pill, but I hadn’t been taking it long enough before we...before we spent the night together. Even though we’d planned it, everything happened so fast—don’t you remember? We could barely contain our feelings.’

She meant that they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other.

Even now the memory made him feel weak with longing. But at the back of his mind it suddenly nagged at him that in the throes of a desire as powerful and urgent as theirs had been he probably hadn’t been as diligent with protection as he should have.

The evening they’d first become intimate had been when he’d taken her to one of the newest and most exclusive hotels in London. They had only stayed one night, but Zafir had made sure it was a night she would remember. He’d arranged for the lavish bed to be strewn with rose petals and the luxurious suite to be scented with a rare perfume that he’d had flown in from Zachariah. There had been nothing he wouldn’t have done to help Darcy feel as if she was the centre of his universe...to show her that he was devoted to her happiness.

But later, when he’d learnt that she’d been cheating on him, his hopes that they would share the most joyous future together, that he would even go against tradition and make her his Queen, had shatteringly blown up in his face. And now she was telling him that he’d left her pregnant...

Zafir was glad he was sitting down. He felt as if he was in the middle of a storm whose power threatened to unbalance him no matter how hard he fought to stay upright. It wasn’t the first time he’d reflected that he might have made the most terrible mistake when he’d let her go. But now, faced with the damning consequences of that decision—as well as wanting to somehow put things right—he needed to absorb the real possibility that he was a father. And if he was, he now had an heir.

His dearest wish had seemingly come to pass and he hadn’t even known it. But the cruelty of doubt, of not being able to receive the news with any real confidence, still tormented him. Could he really have been such an utter fool back then when he’d fired her? Was he really the father of her son?

But as he examined her more closely he couldn’t help but warm to the idea. ‘Was I honestly so irresponsible as not to use protection the first time we made love?’

Darcy flushed. ‘We were so crazy for each other that I don’t think either of us had time to think about anything much...let alone be sensible.’

Remembering, Zafir was suffused by heat similar to that of a hot air current that swept across the desert sands. No one could turn him on as she had.

But he quickly returned to her story. ‘Do you have any idea of what it means for someone in my position to have a son? It means that the ancient dynastic line of my forebears will continue. Nothing can bring greater satisfaction and purpose than that.’

His mind was racing with the implications of the news and how it was going to affect not just his life and his family’s, but the people of Zachariah too.

‘I’m glad that it’s important to you. So, am I right in thinking that you want to be involved in our son’s life?’

‘If he is my son, then of course I want to be involved in his life. Did you not hear what I just said?’

‘But...’ Again, Darcy turned pink. ‘What about your fiancée? Won’t she want to have a say in any decision you make about that? It’s surely going to come as a great shock to her that you have a son by someone else?’

Realising that he’d barely given his bride-to-be a thought since setting eyes on Darcy again, Zafir knew that he had to get out of marrying a woman he didn’t love and had no chance of ever loving. He actually welcomed the idea of extricating himself from the arrangement.

Farrida came from a powerful Arabian family that was as wealthy and privileged as his own, and they’d known each other for years, but in truth she was a cold fish. She might be one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom, with an impeccable pedigree, but she had grown up utterly spoilt. Consequently she thought only of herself.

Zafir had only agreed to the marriage because—as his mother regularly reminded him—at some time or other he would have to produce an heir. He needed to put his duty first, and his union with Farrida would be considered highly advantageous by both families.

‘Why don’t you let me deal with that,’ he replied tersely, ‘and focus on getting your ankle better?’

‘You must know I’m concerned about the fact you’re getting married? It will have implications for me—and my son too. It’s been a long, hard road with just my mum to help me with the childcare, so I can work and earn the money we need, and though I won’t deny it would be helpful to have your support I don’t want to risk losing Sami if you decide to sue for joint custody. Will you agree to his still living with me? When you talk about “dynastic lines”, it worries me. I’ve wanted to tell you about our child for so long...but, as I said, I could never get through to you. When I read that you were getting married I knew it was more important than ever that you had the news.’

‘And the boy... Sami...he is four now?’

‘Yes.’

Darcy saw his glance soften for a moment as he seemed to take the time to reacquaint himself with her features. He followed it up with a lingering examination of her wheaten hair. He had always been fascinated by it... But she brought an abrupt halt to the memory when she started to remember how he’d loved to run his fingers through it.

It was perhaps fortunate when he quickly reverted to his previous less than friendly stance.

‘I confess I am still having trouble believing all this, Darcy. I have plenty of reasons not to believe you...remember?’

His statement sent cold shivers scudding down her backbone. She saw that she still had to deal with his suspicion and mistrust.

‘I never lied to you. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. You weren’t the only one who was hurt by what happened. Not only did you think I was a liar and a cheat, but I also had to suffer the humiliation of being fired from my job as though...as though I was worthless. What happened wounded me more than you can possibly imagine. Let me go home, Zafir. Please,’ she implored. ‘I really do have to get back tonight. I give you my word that I’ll be there should you want to discuss any plans concerning our son.’

He seemed to stare into her eyes for a very long time before he spoke, but she found no reassurance in his gaze...anything but. In those endless few seconds Darcy felt as if she was standing in front of a pitiless magistrate who was just about to condemn her to a prison cell for life. Was there nothing she could say that would move him?

‘No matter how I feel personally about your predicament,’ he remarked, ‘in all conscience I cannot allow the hospital to discharge you tonight. You will have to stay here until tomorrow, when the doctor will re-examine you. After that, if I am satisfied they have done all that they can to aid your recovery, you can, of course, go home. But you can be sure I will be taking your details.’

‘Why? Because you want to see Sami or because you still intend to prosecute me for trespass?’

Now her eyes did fill with tears.

His returning glance was unperturbed, and cool as iced water. ‘To see my son, of course. I don’t intend prosecution now I’ve learned the reason for your trying to break into the house.’

Sniffing, Darcy blotted her tears with the back of her hand. She bit her lip at his reference to her trying to break in. ‘Good. But as to staying here for the night—I couldn’t afford to, even if I was at death’s door. Not all of us have money to burn like...’

‘Like me? Is that what you were going to say?’

Shrugging his shoulders, as though it didn’t disturb him one iota what she thought, Zafir started to walk away. But then he suddenly stopped dead and turned towards her.

Piercing her with eyes as black and mysterious as a moonless night, he breathed, ‘You will not have to pay this particular bill, Darcy, I will. But do not doubt you will have to recompense me...one way or another.’

As the door of the room swung closed behind him she dropped her head back onto the pillows and stared wildly up at the ceiling. Her physical discomfort had eased, thanks to the pain medication kicking in, but she didn’t know how she was going to relay the extraordinary events that had happened to her mother. And all because she’d finally taken matters into her own hands and recklessly sought Zafir out at his resplendent home...

* * *

Coming face to face with Darcy again did not help Zafir to sleep easily in his bed that night. The magic the woman weaved around him was like a drugging opiate that was impossible to resist, and when he was near her he felt like an addict on a recovery programme.

It was well over four years since he had seen her and at last he’d thought he’d got used to the idea that he would never see her again. But fate, it seemed, had had other plans. If it turned out to be the truth that he’d left her pregnant, then his whole life would change now that he had a son and heir.

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep he recalled the memory of her telling him how much she’d been hurt too—more than he would ever know. Now he knew what she’d meant—knew that she’d been pregnant by him when he’d fired her from her post—he felt like the cruellest tyrant imaginable for misjudging and abandoning her. But he still couldn’t be sure she hadn’t cheated on him with his brother, and until he was the idea would hang over him like Damocles’ sword.