She took it from him, icy drops stinging her fingertips. He sat on the opposite sofa and leaned back, broad bare shoulders sprawled on the dark leather. He took a sip of water and looked at her expectantly.

Silence hung in the air and a surge of panic shot through her as she realized the time had come for her confession. She cleared her throat and placed her glass on the floor with an awkward clunk.

“Er, Elan…” Blood rushed around her brain as she struggled to keep her thoughts coherent. She’d tried rehearsing what to say, but her attempts always dissolved into panicked babbling or tearful self-pity. This was no time for self-pity. She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “I have something to tell you.”

His brow furrowed. She waited for him to interject a polite response, along the lines of “Oh?” or “What is it?” but he didn’t. He merely took another sip of his water and regarded her steadily through hooded eyes.

“I…I don’t know how to tell you this…” she paused again and wrapped her arms around herself as if assaulted by a cold gust of wind. Elan’s eyes narrowed and he put his glass down. He adjusted the waist of his jeans against his hard, tanned belly and leaned forward a little. Expectant.

The baby shifted, flooding her with resolve.

“I’m pregnant.”

He blinked. Other than that he didn’t move a muscle. He stared at her, and his eyes searched her face. A furrow appeared above one eyebrow. Sara shrank inside. Did he not believe her?

“I…I…I’m four months along.”

His brow creased into a deep frown and his lips parted. His eyes darted down to her belly, which she realized she was clutching, then back up to her face.

Sara struggled to find the words to make it seem real. “I’m going to have a baby.”

The words hung in the air for a few seconds as he continued to gaze at her in astonishment. Then he sprang to his feet and strode across the room, bare feet on the stone floor.

He still hadn’t uttered a word.

Sara shriveled inwardly and dropped her eyes to the floor as she heard his footfalls moving away from her. She’d tried and failed to imagine what his reaction might be. She’d never seen him fly into a rage at the office. His anger was always quiet and controlled, a fire burning deep within.

Was he angry?

She sneaked a glance across the room, and at that very moment he wheeled around and stared at her. His eyes were blazing, his face set in a stony expression that was unreadable, frightening.

“You’ve carried this secret for four months?” The words seemed to emerge from a closed mouth, hissed between tight lips.

“I’ve only known for two weeks,” she whispered. Her heart clenched as she saw a shadow of confusion cross his features. He stared at her a few more seconds, then turned abruptly away again. He strode around the perimeter of the large room and approached her until he was standing over her, his shadow invading her space.

“May I see your belly?” His voice emerged low and quiet, yet clearly a demand. His request wasn’t polite, but then it wasn’t a gracious situation. Sara rose to her feet ungracefully. She knew her face was blazing as she lifted her T-shirt and pushed down the waistband of her bike shorts.

She avoided his eyes and looked down at her belly. It looked so vulnerable, pale and soft, a slight curve that announced the presence of a third person in the room.

Elan slowly lifted his right hand and reached out to her abdomen with his fingers extended. She heard his intake of breath as the tips came to rest on her skin. Gradually, gently, he lowered his hand until it covered her belly, cupping the roundness.

Her womb stirred under his touch. A sudden rush of sensation flooded her limbs. She struggled to keep her breathing under control. Didn’t dare look at his face. Her nipples tightened involuntarily and she tore her eyes away, desperate that he not see the way her body responded to the gentle pressure of his hand.

For, even now, Elan’s touch made her body hum with thrilling awareness. A dangerous awareness of his hard-sprung masculinity, his harsh beauty. Humbling awareness of the razor-sharp intellect that matched her own. But above all, awareness of the man who had loved her that night with a passion and tenderness that would haunt her as long as she walked the earth.

He pulled his hand back. “We must marry.”

The words, spoken low and fast, blew away the fog of sensation that had engulfed her.

“What?” She barely recognized her own voice. It sounded strangled, distant. With a tremendous effort of will she looked up at his face.

His eyes blazed with black fire. He looked directly at her, his features set in an expression of determination.

“You will be my wife.”

She fumbled with her shorts and T-shirt, covering the exposed flesh of her belly. She felt altogether naked and exposed in the face of his authoritarian command.

But she shook her head.

Elan’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak.

“I can’t marry you.” Her voice was clear, quiet but resolute.

“Why not?” The words flew from his mouth in a growl.

“Because…”

Because you don’t love me.

She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Certainly in her mental anguish she’d imagined the possibility of a proposal. It was, after all, the honorable thing to do. And Elan was an honorable man.

She was “in trouble” and he was the man who’d gotten her that way. Even in the twenty-first century it was still common politeness that he should offer to give the child a name. It was the same reason her father had proposed to her mother, decades ago, when her oldest sister had come unexpectedly into existence.

Elan regarded her with total astonishment. His brow lowered farther as he raised his hands to his hips. “You refuse me?”

Sara swallowed hard. Her hands flew to her belly and clutched each other, fingers trembling. “Yes,” she whispered. “I can raise my child alone.”

The confusion that darkened his face tore at her heart. For an instant she itched to step toward him, throw her arms around him and shout “Yes, I’ll marry you, I’ll be your wife and bear all your children and we’ll live happily ever after!”

And the thought brought a fresh flush of color to her cheeks. A twinge of embarrassment that she could harbor such childish fantasies. That she could dream even momentarily of a happy future with a man who’d made it crystal clear that ardent women were the bane of his existence.

No doubt her mother had nurtured those same foolish fantasies when she’d chosen marriage over single motherhood—a miserable marriage that had drained her strength and kept her constantly pregnant or tending to a baby, despite her increasingly poor health. That had kept her chained to a cruel man who cheated on her and to a succession of low-paying part-time jobs that would never give her the means to escape.

Sara didn’t intend to make that same mistake.

Eight

Elan tore his eyes off her and strode across the room. His mind whirled with confused thoughts and he couldn’t grab a single sensible one from the mix.

Sara is pregnant with my child.

He’d needed to place his hand on her belly to fully accept the truth of it. And nothing could prevent his heart from soaring with the knowledge.

He was assaulted with a vision of Sara living in his home, of the quiet desert ringing with the sounds of childish laughter. For an instant all the entanglements he’d dreaded seemed like the most blissful kind of bondage he could imagine. Sara in his bed each morning. A family to provide and care for the way a man is born to. A son or daughter—and the promise of more—to carry his legacy into the future.

Then she’d refused him.

His gut burned with unfamiliar emotion as he wheeled around to face her. She looked so small and delicate standing there, clutching her belly with both hands as if he might try to rip the baby right from her womb.

“You wish to deny me the right to raise my child?”

She flinched as he said my child. Blinked and looked down at the floor. An ugly thought sneaked up on him, bringing with it a cold chill of fear.

She’d said she was pregnant, but she had not said the baby was his.

Was it possible that she carried another man’s child and was merely informing him of her pregnancy as a professional courtesy? The image of Sara with another man assaulted him like a kick in the gut.

“Is it my child?” The words shot from his mouth like bullets from a gun. There was no dignified way to ask the question, but he had to know.

Sara nodded, her face flushing crimson. “Yes,” she hissed between closed lips.

Recrimination seized him as he realized how he’d shamed her with his doubt. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to imply…” He couldn’t bring himself to spell it out. The idea of Sara with another man stole his breath.

Since that one night in the desert he’d been tormented by the longing to gather her in his arms again. He was haunted by memories of her gentle touch, her fiery passion. But the memories were tainted by the realization that he’d taken advantage of her.

She was a young girl, barely out of college. Even if she had desired him, too—at that moment—he should have known better than to let the situation get out of control. Than to let himself get out of control.

He was her boss. The abuse of his authority was inexcusable.

When she’d accepted his apology without protest, she confirmed that night had been a terrible lapse of judgment. As he’d suggested, they had never mentioned it again.

Determined to rid himself forever of his craving to hold her, of the memories he couldn’t seem to shake, he’d done his best to challenge her beyond her capacity and drive her away.

When that hadn’t worked he’d planned to send her away. Push her out of sight, out of reach, out of his mind. To rid himself of the compulsion to take her in his arms, of the foolhardy urge to protect and care for her.

He didn’t need her.

But now there was a child to consider. That changed everything.

She regarded him steadily with those cool, pale eyes that haunted his nights. A few strands of golden hair had escaped her bun and curled around her face. She reached up and gathered them in her hands, tucking them back into the knot behind her head.

The movement of raising her arms pulled her T-shirt tight against the new fullness of her belly and the heavier curve of her breasts and he looked away quickly as his breath hitched. Her pregnancy did not dampen his desire for her.

Anger sliced through him. Anger at the power she had over him, power only magnified by the fact that she carried his child.

Power he could harness only though marriage.

Why did she refuse him? It was hard to comprehend. Perhaps she felt guilty for breaking the pact that she had proposed on her first day of employment?

They had both broken it. That was moot and it was time to move forward.

“I hold myself fully accountable for this unfortunate situation. You bear no blame—”

“But I—” She began to protest and he held up his hand to silence her.

“Your pledge to me on the first day of employment was broken by my rash actions, not yours. Rest assured, we’ll never mention it again. I will provide you and our child with every advantage and opportunity. As my wife, you’ll want for nothing. You will bear my name and we’ll share life as a family.”

Already his heart swelled with the idea. How strange that the universe should provide such an opportunity! That fate should deliver a woman into his arms who was his match in every way.

Their marriage was an ideal outcome to this strange predicament.

“We’ll make our announcement tomorrow. We’ll be married before the month is out and our child will suffer no shame.” He rubbed his hands together. “We shall plan the wedding immediately, perhaps by next week—”

“I can’t marry you.” She spoke quietly, but with no hesitation.

Her renewed refusal struck him like a slap.

“But you must. Can’t you see that?” He couldn’t keep angry indignation out of his voice.

She looked away across the room for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, then back at him, eyes wide. “I know that in some ways marriage does seem like the sensible thing, the obvious thing to do, but I also know that in the long run we’d both regret it. We’d feel trapped, like we were forced together.”

“Arranged marriages are common in my country. Few matches arise out of love, but many achieve it.”

The cruel irony stung him. He was making the argument his father had made to him when he came of age. A suitable bride, a lifetime of duty. He’d rejected it out of hand and claimed the right to choose his own bride, shape his own destiny, even if it meant abandoning his homeland for good. He’d given up enough already at the hands of his father.

“Did your parents have a happy marriage?”

Sara’s question penetrated the dark fog of ugly memories that surrounded his last face-to-face encounter with the man who stole his childhood.

“No.” He would not lie to her.

She turned to face him, fixed him with her wide-eyed stare. “So you know firsthand that a marriage of convenience doesn’t always lead to—love.” The last word caught in her throat slightly and Elan’s heart constricted as she said it.

Love. It was not a commodity to be bought or sold, searched for, found or extracted with the aid of high-tech equipment. It was something strange, unknowable, elusive—that no amount of money could buy.

He doubted he would know it if he saw it. His life had been empty of love since his mother’s death. Even his once-beloved brothers were now virtual strangers to him, all of them victims of his father’s power games.

“What went wrong in your parents’ marriage?” She asked the question cautiously. He bridled at the unpleasant prospect of airing his family’s dirty linen with an outsider. Some things were better left unspoken. But her steady gaze called to him, demanded his honesty.

“My father liked to be in control and to have those around him know he was in control.”

“And he tried to control your mother?” The pulse flickering at her throat contradicted her calm voice.

“Yes. She was much younger than he, bright and free-spirited, with her own way of doing things.” Elan swallowed. Even after all these years he could still see her smiling face, feel the soft touch of her soothing hands. He’d clung to those memories as a balm to his loneliness. “My father did not brook any contradiction.”

“So they argued?”

“Yes. About many things. Until my father declared that in his household he laid down the rules and everyone would obey. When my mother defied him he punished her in the harshest way he could think of. By taking her sons away and sending them abroad.”

“Including you.” Her eyes narrowed and he stiffened at what looked like pity in her expression.

“Yes. She died shortly afterward and his punishment was inflicted permanently on all of us. He died a lonely and bitter old man who had lost his sons, as well as his wife.”

“That’s terrible.”

The soft expression in her eyes seemed to invite him to sink into the warm comfort of her arms, but her rigid posture held him at bay and those wide jade eyes begged him to keep his distance.

He straightened his shoulders, held his head erect. He didn’t need her sympathy or anyone else’s. A hard shell had formed around the tender core of his emotions and now he supposed there was nothing left inside it to give or receive love.

His deficiencies must be obvious to Sara. She was a lively young girl who hoped to spend her life with a whole man, not one whose spirit was hollowed by loneliness and toughened by exile.

“If you think it’s best, I’ll offer my resignation.” Her words penetrated his grim thoughts.

“No!” Heat surged through him.

She took a quick step back as if he might hurl himself at her, then quickly steadied herself, one hand resting on her belly.

“You must not leave your job.” The thought struck a chord of alarm. That she might get on a train, leave town and never come back… It was not something he could contemplate.

Conviction roared through him. Immediate marriage was the only possible course of action. It was the sensible thing to do. The right thing to do. His heart played no role in his decision. He would handle this situation as he would manage any business crisis, with decisive action.

“You will remain at the headquarters, of course. As for travel in your condition—”

“If I stay I shall continue my job exactly as planned. I do not wish for any special favors or considerations. I’ll leave for Louisiana next week as we discussed.”

He blew out a snort of laughter. “You can’t stay on a drilling rig. It’s dangerous and dirty.”

“No more so than it was yesterday, when you briefed Mrs. Dixon and myself on my responsibilities there.”

“Yesterday, you weren’t pregnant.” He shoved a hand through his hair. This situation was a challenge to his wits. “Of course, you were pregnant, but I didn’t know that at the time. It is the nature of our business that it’s dangerous and dirty, there’s no avoiding those aspects of it, but you will certainly not risk exposure to pollutants while you’re pregnant with our child.”

“El Mansur Associates prides itself on the containment of potentially harmful substances at all phases of exploration and recovery,” she said, her eyes flashing a challenge at him. “One of my tasks is to make sure those goals are being met.”

He suppressed a chuckle. Yes, this woman was a match for him. “You will stay at the head office during your pregnancy. I have need of you here.”

She lifted her chin. “I would prefer to be in the field,” she said coolly.

“As I said, I have need of you here.”

She stiffened and her eyes narrowed. “You are the boss.”

A cool finger of sensation slid up his spine. He risked abusing his authority again in this situation. Still, the circumstances called for a strong guiding hand.

“I will exert my authority in matters of business. It’s a question of liability, surely you understand that?”

She hesitated, drew in a breath. “I understand.” She held her chin high, proud and beautiful, her face radiant and her body strong, yet soft and devastatingly female. Her eyes glittered, the flecks of gold catching light from the skylights overhead. Her cheeks were pink from the physical exertion of her long bike ride and the mental exertion of revealing her secret.

And what a secret!

A secret that would change his life forever. Until now he’d wanted nothing more than the quiet calm of solitude. He’d grown weary of eager females and the entanglements they tried to thrust on him.

But despite all his efforts to the contrary, this woman had crept into his mind and cast a spell on him. Now their blood was linked in a child they’d created and there was no way she could leave him now. He’d make sure of it.

Sara was growing light-headed under Elan’s steady gaze. Her blood seemed to be draining away, and with growing terror she realized she might actually pass out. She’d been running on adrenaline all morning, and her blood sugar must be getting dangerously low.

“You look pale,” his brow lowered in concern.

“I…I’m rather hungry. Would it be possible to—”

“Of course, you must eat. Come with me.”

He held out his strong hand and reluctantly she took it. Heat coursed through her as his fingers closed around hers and his thickly muscled arm drew her gently to her feet. He gripped her hand, firm but gentle, as he led her across the cool stone.

As he guided her through the cavernous space of his house, emotions and sensations buzzed in her mind and body like a swarm of bees in a hive. There was massive relief that she’d finally let the proverbial cat out of the bag. She was grateful that he’d taken the news relatively calmly.

But not as calmly as she’d hoped. He wanted his child.

The situation paralleled that of her parents far too closely. She knew her mother had refused her father at first. She’d known he was a ladies’ man who didn’t love her. But he’d worn her down with his pleas that marriage to her child’s father was the “sensible thing” to do.

And in some ways it was sensible, at least initially. But in the long run it made for a bitter, hate-filled marriage that cast a pall of misery over their home life and her childhood.

She was fiercely attracted to Elan, but that was just one more reason to guard against him. No doubt he was aware of the power he had over her. To him she was just another of those lecherous women who couldn’t keep their eyes and hands off him.

He’d probably expected her to gleefully accept his proposal of marriage and rush into his arms, only to spend the rest of her life wrapped in a cocoon of regret as he grew to despise her more and more for each year he stayed in a marriage that sprang out of circumstance rather than love.

If Elan was anything like her father, he’d feel free to continue the lifestyle he’d pursued before marriage. He’d be out there under the desert moon, burning mesquite with another woman, while she stayed home taking care of the children.

Her heart squeezed at the thought of Elan with another woman. For all she knew, he did have a girlfriend, or a stable of them. She’d rather walk barefoot through the desert in the blazing midday heat than even catch a glimpse of him with someone else. Just one of the many reasons she’d prefer an oil rig on the open sea to a desk outside his office.

“The kitchen. Please, take a seat at the table. I’ll find something for you to eat.”

He released her hand and she breathed a sigh of relief as cool air replaced his warm grasp.

Commercial appliances gleamed amongst sheets of rare stone. The table she sat at was an extraordinary sliver of metal-flecked granite.

“Would you like some chicken salad?” Elan appeared relaxed and nonchalant as he moved about the large kitchen.

“That would be fine.”

He was acting as if nothing had happened. But wasn’t that what they did every day at the office? Elan went about the business at hand and she struggled to do her duties while her mind whirled with the torment of wanting to touch him.

And today was no different. The muscles of his powerful back flexed as he pulled open the heavy fridge door, causing an echoing ripple deep inside her. His jeans hugged and molded to the firm curves of his athletic backside and long, sturdy legs.

She drew in a silent breath and prayed to retain at least the appearance of dignity.

He stood in front of the fridge, examining the contents of the neatly stacked crocks inside. She couldn’t help but notice his hair was freshly cut, cropped close in back to reveal the thick muscles of his neck.

She started as he turned to her.

“You must be hungry now you’re eating for two.”

“Er, yes.” She was shocked that he could refer so casually to her pregnancy. She still struggled with the reality of it and had to remind herself constantly that she carried another being inside her. Apparently, Elan had no trouble accepting the idea.

He brought out two black ceramic containers and swung the heavy door closed with a denim-clad knee. His bare feet were silent on the stone tile as he moved toward her. Her heart skipped as his eyes met hers.

How could he take this so calmly? Did he really expect her to marry him?

She struggled to plaster a polite expression on her face while her body roiled with the usual mix of uncomfortable sensations that assailed her when Elan was in the room.

His broad hands moved with deft grace as he spooned two salads onto a large black stoneware platter. Even now she was haunted by the sensation of those hands on her, undressing her, roaming over her skin.

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