Sarah And The Secret Sheikh

‘You care about this baby?’

The question was raw, Sarah’s voice full of heartbreak and hope, and he didn’t know which one would win out.

He nodded. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that if Sarah had this child—if—he would love it with everything that was inside him.

Then tell her that. You need to give her more.

But he didn’t want to pressure her one way or the other.

She winced. ‘Majed?’

He realised he was all but crushing her hand. He loosened his grip immediately and massaged her hand gently before releasing it. ‘Last night I found myself getting excited about the prospect of a baby.’ A grandchild for his parents—what a gift! ‘I know this is completely unexpected. Not in a million years would I have thought... I mean, we were careful.’

‘We were. This is so...unplanned.’

‘But it doesn’t follow that it’s not a blessing.’

She went still and he chose his next words with care. ‘I had to rein in my excitement last night because you deciding not to go ahead with the pregnancy is a valid choice, and an understandable one.’

She sat back and massaged her temples. The conflict he saw mirrored in her face tore at him. Without a word, she reached out and turned over the first page of the notepad. She’d written a list of pros and cons. Only one item was listed under the ‘pros’ heading. He read it and something fierce gripped his gut. He didn’t bother reading her long list of cons. He seized her hand again. ‘If you love this baby, Sarah, then you must keep it.’

Her gaze dropped from his. Her hand trembled. She pulled it free and reached for her tea. ‘This baby deserves more than I can give it.’

‘We’re in this together. I’ll help you financially. Between us—’ He broke off, his heart thundering in his chest. ‘You won’t deny me access to the child...will you?’

Her mug clattered back to the table. ‘Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it—not if you want to be a part of the baby’s life.’

‘I want that very much.’ He wanted them to be very clear on that point.

‘But, Majed, I’m not talking about the financial arrangements here. I have—’ she rolled her eyes ‘—marketable skills. I don’t doubt my ability to get another job.’

It would be so much harder with a baby, though. And they both knew it.

It took a beat longer for what she wasn’t saying to hit him. He wanted to take her hand again, to offer her silent support, but she had both hands wrapped tightly around her mug. His heart continued to pound. ‘Then tell me what you’re really afraid of.’

She lifted her gaze and the shadows in her eyes made his stomach clench. ‘I think we need to be completely honest with each other from this point forward, if we’re going to have a baby together. Don’t you?’

There was so much she didn’t know about him. And she’d need to know. He resisted the urge to lower his forehead to the table. ‘I agree.’

‘I need to be honest with you, even if it means you come to despise me.’

For good or ill, his opinion mattered to her. It was why she’d let him think she’d broken up with Superior Sebastian rather than the other way round. He couldn’t let her down now. Gently, he reached out to brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek. ‘I could never despise you. The idea is unthinkable.’

She took his hand and squeezed it before releasing it with a smile. ‘That was the right thing to say.’

Everything inside him sharpened. He sat back with folded arms, his hand still warm from where he’d touched her. ‘Now, if I can only get you to believe it. Come, tell me what you’re afraid of.’

She swallowed and her throat bobbed. ‘Majed, there’s a hole inside me—as if there’s something essential that I’m missing. And I try to fill it up with things—like my relationship with Sebastian, a relationship I knew wasn’t good for me—in an effort to distract myself from that sense of lacking something. It’s why I bounce from job to job. Once I start to feel settled in a job, the emptiness starts gnawing away at me. And...and I have to create upheaval to keep it at bay.’

He stared at her. ‘Is that why you invited me back to your apartment that night?’

‘No, that was something I wanted to do. I was feeling jubilant and happy and it felt right.’ She met his gaze. ‘The night I spent with you, I wasn’t thinking about filling up any kind of shortfall or lack inside me. I wasn’t trying to distract myself. I’m not sure I was thinking at all. I acted on impulse, yes, but on instinct too.’ Her frown deepened. ‘I felt as if I was living—as if I were properly alive. It was...exhilarating.’

It merely meant she hadn’t had time to become bored with him yet. ‘And you’re afraid that a baby won’t be a big enough distraction? You think you’ll find yourself becoming bored with the baby, the way you do with your jobs?’

Shocked eyes met his. ‘That’s not what I mean at all. No. I’m afraid that I’ll make the baby the very centre of my life—that I’ll use it to fill all those empty places inside me. That’d be wrong. It wouldn’t be fair to put that kind of pressure on a child. I have a feeling it would be shockingly unfair.’

Her honesty stunned him.

The care she was already taking for her child humbled him.

He had empty places inside him too, but he knew exactly what had caused them—the guilt and responsibility he bore over his brother’s death. How did he mean to protect a child from those?

‘You sense it in me too, don’t you?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t appear to me as if some essential part of you is missing. You don’t strike me as lonely, or even as if you’re afraid of loneliness.’ She had a wide network of friends. He’d seen her with them in the bar. From the outside, Sarah’s life seemed full. ‘Before Sebastian, you were nearly a year without a boyfriend, yes? You don’t strike me as a person who needs to constantly be in a romantic relationship to feel whole.’

‘The emptiness has nothing to do with romance or loneliness. If it did, I’d be able to fill it.’

‘What does it have to do with, then?’

She shrugged but her gaze slid away. Instinct told him not to push. ‘Sarah, you don’t strike me as someone who is lacking. You strike me as someone who is searching.’

She swung back to gaze at him. ‘Searching for what?’

‘I expect you’re the only person who can answer that.’ Though he’d do anything he could to help her find the answer.

She scrubbed her hands down her face. ‘I don’t want my...lack...to hurt the baby.’

‘If we’re both aware of it as a potential problem then we can remain on our guards against it—cut it off at the pass, so to speak.’

She bit her lip but it didn’t hide the hope that flared briefly in her eyes. ‘You make it sound easy.’

‘I don’t think it’ll be easy. I think raising a child must be the most challenging thing a person can ever do in this life. I think it must also be one of the most rewarding.’

She sagged back in her chair. ‘You make me believe that I could do it.’

She could do it! And how much he wanted to do it too—with her—should scare him. Instead, it elated him.

She pointed at his list. ‘Which of these options is the most attractive to you?’

His heart thundered so loud it was all he could do to hear his thoughts over it.

She tapped a finger to the notepad. ‘Do you have a...for the lack of a better term...favourite here?’

‘Yes.’ She’d just been completely honest with him. She deserved the same in return.

‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘Hit me with it.’

‘You want the truth? Right now?’

She moistened her lips. ‘What are you afraid of?’

‘Terrifying you.’

After a beat, she started to laugh. ‘Being pregnant terrifies me. Wondering whether I’ll be a good mother or not terrifies me. But, Majed, you don’t terrify me.’

Without another word, he pointed to the last item on the list. ‘This is my preference.’

Her quick intake of breath told him she hadn’t expected that.

‘You want us to marry?’ she whispered. ‘You want to marry me and take me and the baby to live in Keddah Jaleel with you?’

‘Yes.’ The word croaked out of him. ‘Have I terrified you?’

‘Umm...no.’

He didn’t believe her. But nevertheless it was time to tell her the truth. ‘Sarah, there’s something you need to know about me. My father is the ruling Sheikh of Keddah Jaleel...and I’m his heir.’

Her face remained blank for a disconcertingly long time before she straightened. ‘You...you mean that you’re...like a king?’

‘My father is the king.’

‘But you’ll be king one day?’

Acid burned the back of his throat. ‘Yes.’ Maybe.

‘And if we marry, and our child is a boy, he’ll one day be king too?’

He had to force his answer out. ‘Yes.’

She folded her arms tightly in front of her. ‘Okay, you can now colour me terrified.’

CHAPTER THREE

SARAH WASN’T SURE at what point she stopped listening. Majed’s rich tones continued to wash over her but her mind whirled in a million different directions. He was the son of a king. He was a prince! And then one of his statements cut through all her confusion, crystallising into an overarching and urgent question.

‘Whoa, wait!’ She held up a hand. ‘You were sent away from Keddah Jaleel for your own safety? Because of border infractions and rebel activity?’

He dragged a hand down his face and she hated how grey he’d gone. ‘Majed?’

‘Yes.’

‘And yet this is a place you want to take me? You’re prepared to put your unborn child in danger?’

‘No!’ His head shot up and his eyes flashed. ‘I would never knowingly place you or our child in danger. The skirmishes were minor and quickly smothered, the perpetrators dealt with. It wasn’t necessary that I leave, but it put my parents’ minds at rest.’

Her heart thumped so hard she swore it would leave bruises. ‘Then why have you stayed away from your homeland for the last four years?’

He shot out of his seat to stalk across the room. ‘That is not something which I wish to discuss. You have my word of honour, though, that is has nothing to do with fearing for my safety.’

He wanted her to take his word for it? Maybe, if it were only her life at stake here, she would. But it wasn’t. She had a baby to consider. She could no longer afford to be reckless or irresponsible.

Rising, she ran her hands over her blouse in a vain effort to smooth out the wrinkles. ‘I think it’s time I went home.’

Her apartment—Mike’s apartment—was only a couple of blocks away. A walk in the early-morning air might help.

Or not. Probably not. But it wouldn’t hurt.

His nostrils flared. ‘You’ll consider my proposal?’

‘No.’

Not a single muscle moved and yet he seemed to sag. ‘You think the idea too outrageous?’

It was utterly preposterous, yet it wasn’t outrage that gripped her. ‘I’m not going anywhere near Keddah Jaleel when I’ve no idea why you’ve stayed away so long. I know no one there. You’d be my only friend and support, and if I can’t trust you...’

Her stomach churned. ‘I am not putting myself in that position, Majed. My mother taught me better than that.’

He swung away to pace the length of the room before swinging back to face her. Agitation—anger, perhaps?—crackled from him like a force field. ‘An Internet search will provide you with everything you need to know.’

She located her purse and slung it over her shoulder as she made for the door. ‘Goodbye, Majed.’

‘That is not enough for you?’

She swung back. ‘I’m surprised you even need to ask that question. We’re going to have a baby and yet you can’t be honest with me.’ Her hands clenched. ‘If you can’t see the problem with that, then I’m not going to try and explain it to you.’

His nostrils flared. His chest rose and fell. And for a moment he looked so forbidding, her mouth went dry. He’d never hurt her, she knew that, but she could suddenly see the legacy of his heritage—the fierce and fearless warriors who’d fought and won innumerable wars on the ancient sands of Keddah Jaleel. Their blood flowed in his veins and, beneath his veneer of polish, that same fierceness resided in Majed’s DNA.

‘You’re going to do it. You’re going to keep the baby.’

His words were more statement than question. He smiled and she felt as if she were falling. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, realising that she’d come to a decision in spite of herself. Her heart beat hard. She and Majed would be tied to each other always through this child. And, regardless of what happened between them, the thought of the baby could still make him smile. And that mattered.

She rubbed a hand across her chest, trying to dislodge the ache attempting to settle beneath her breastbone. ‘I...’ She pulled herself up to her full height. ‘Yes, I am. I’m going to have this baby.’ If nothing else, this morning had made that crystal clear to her.

And that was something to be grateful for.

He strode towards her, and for a moment she thought he meant to hug her, but he stopped short and she saw shadows gathering in his eyes, ousting the excitement and tenderness that had momentarily lit them.

He dragged both hands through his hair. ‘Four years ago my brother was killed by the rebels.’

The floor bucked beneath her feet. Sarah braced herself against the door, pressing her spine back until the hard wood bit into her.

‘He’d organised a secret assignation with a woman who couldn’t be trusted. It was a reckless and foolish thing to do and he paid heavily for it. Too heavily.’

The anguish in his eyes tore at her. ‘Oh, Majed.’ She reached a hand towards him but he flinched.

‘I loved my brother, Sarah. I’ve not returned to Keddah Jaleel because I cannot imagine living in my homeland without him.’

She wanted to hug him but everything in his posture forbade it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

He nodded, but all she could see in his face was pain and anger. Her stomach churned in a sickening slow roll. Oh, no you don’t. This was not the time to throw up. Closing her eyes, she rested her head back and concentrated on her breathing.

‘Come, Sarah.’

Her eyes sprang open at the touch of warm fingers against her arm.

‘Come take a seat on the sofa.’

She couldn’t fight the nausea and talk at the same time so she let him lead her across to the plump comfort of the sofa. Once seated, she shoved her head between her knees, murmuring, ‘I’ll be right as rain in a moment.’

When she was finally sure she’d mastered the nausea, she lifted her head. ‘I’m sorry about that. I—’

‘I shouldn’t have told you in such a way!’

‘I’m glad you did tell me.’

‘Has it made you more afraid to journey to Keddah Jaleel?’

‘Not more afraid, just sadder.’ And to her surprise she realised she spoke the truth. ‘Your brother...’

‘Ahmed.’

She swallowed. ‘Did Ahmed not follow proper security protocols? I assume you have security measures in place?’

He nodded. ‘It’s necessary for any ruling family. But that night Ahmed gave his bodyguard the slip.’

Nobody deserved to pay such a high price for wanting a single night of freedom.

‘Why did they kill him?’ she whispered. ‘What did they hope to achieve?’

‘My father is a progressive monarch. At some future point, he’d dearly love to introduce democracy to Keddah Jaleel. There are still those in my country, however, who cling to the old ways.’

‘Progressive? Is he working towards gender equality? Will, for example, the daughters of the ruling sheikh ever be allowed to rule?’

For the first time that morning, he smiled—really smiled. ‘Ah, Sarah, we’re progressive...and we’ll continue to work towards a fair and just world for all of our citizens...but change cannot always be introduced as quickly we would like.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Progress takes time. And we must be seen to respect the traditions of our people, even as we move beyond them. If they believe us to view our heritage as worthless, then we would lose their trust and loyalty. If our child is a daughter, and if she shows an interest in politics, then she’ll have some kind of leadership role.’

‘But she won’t be ruler?’

‘I cannot see that happening for the next generation, no. But, if we have a granddaughter, things may be different for her.’

She stared at him and her heart thumped. What a difficult task it must be to lead a country. This man was a prince—one day a ruler by birthright. She had no right telling him what he should and shouldn’t do politically, not when she had no notion of what his people held dear, what they valued and what they hoped for.

She swallowed. ‘Your family have paid a heavy price for their service to your country, Majed. I’m more sorry than I can say about the loss of your brother.’

This time when she reached out to touch his hand he didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned his palm upwards and laced his fingers though hers. The scent of amber and spices—cloves and cardamom—teased her senses as a thick, pregnant silence wrapped about them. It was all she could do not to chafe the gooseflesh that rose on her arms.

‘There is one other thing you need to know.’

His tone lifted the tiny hairs at her nape.

‘Ahmed was my older brother.’

‘Do you have any other siblings?’

He shook his head and that was when she realised what he was trying to tell her. ‘Oh!’ Her heart started to thump. ‘You... Ahmed was supposed to ascend to the throne, not you?’

‘Not me,’ he agreed.

Wow! Okay. ‘And...and that’s another reason you haven’t wanted to return?’

‘Yes.’

And yet he was prepared to face his demons because he had a baby on the way—because he wanted to be a good father. ‘I think you’ll make a fine ruler, Majed. I know you must miss Ahmed, but you haven’t usurped him.’

‘I know that in my head. But it’s not the way it feels in my heart.’

‘What would Ahmed tell you to do?’

He spoke a phrase in Arabic that she didn’t understand. But then he laughed and he suddenly looked younger. ‘He’d tell me to stop over-thinking things. He’d tell me I need to curb my impatience for change and to tread with respect in relation to the traditional ways.’ A sigh shuddered from him. ‘He’d tell me to take my place at my father’s side. He’d want me to fight for it.’

Fight for it...?

She wasn’t sure what that last bit meant but, as she stared into his face, she couldn’t agree more with Ahmed’s advice. Majed was destined for great things. It was time for him to embrace his destiny.

‘Will you come to Keddah Jaleel with me, Sarah? Will you at least come and see the life you could have there, the life I can give you and our child?’

‘What will your parents think about a baby?’

‘It will...’ The lines about his mouth deepened. ‘It will bring them joy.’

She had a feeling that there were family issues at play here that she had no hope of understanding.

‘Our unmarried status will not thrill them. It will...disappoint them. But if you find you like Keddah Jaleel then maybe you will stay.’

‘And marry you?’

‘That is my wish.’

‘And what kind of marriage do you think we can have?’

‘One based on respect and honesty. One based on friendship.’

She pulled in a breath. ‘What about love?’

He dragged his hand from hers. She immediately missed the warmth and connection. He pushed that hand back through his hair once...twice. ‘We said we would be honest, yes?’

She couldn’t speak. She could only nod. He was going to tell her that he could never love her...and she didn’t know why, but she wasn’t sure she could bear to hear him say it.

‘I do not believe in love.’

She blinked.

‘And if I did, I’d not want it in my life.’

What on earth...? So it wasn’t that he couldn’t love her in particular. It was that he wouldn’t love any woman at all.

‘Love—romantic love—leads people to do wild and foolish things. It clouds their judgement. I want no part of that.’

Her mouth went dry. He was talking about Ahmed and the woman who had entranced him so completely that he’d thrown caution to the wind.

Oh, Majed.

‘I can sincerely assure you, however, that I believe my happiness in marriage with you has a better chance than with anyone else I know. I like you, Sarah, and that has to count for something.’

He said that now. But what would happen when he met a woman who stirred his blood? How much would he resent the ties that bound him then—and the woman and child responsible for those ties? Would he become like her father? Would she become like her mother?

She couldn’t let that happen.

She moistened parched lips. ‘Do you believe in fidelity?’

His eyes flashed. ‘I do.’ He took her chin in a firm grip and forced her gaze to his. ‘I can assure you that, if you marry me, you will not think of other men.’

And then his lips slammed to hers with a force that was far from polite and more demanding than any kiss she’d ever experienced. One hand slid to her nape to prevent her from drawing away, while the other remained at her jaw, holding her still while he plundered her lips with a ruthless and seductive intent that had her melting even as she wanted to resist. The relentless, primal possession continued, sending the blood stampeding through her veins while the strength leached from her muscles until it finally tore his name from her throat.

He lifted his head, his eyes glittering. ‘Are we clear on this point?’

She lifted fingers that trembled to swollen lips. That kiss had been an outrageous attempt at domination, yet she wanted him to kiss her like that again...and not stop.

‘I’m clear on the fact that you expect fidelity from me. Do you demand it of yourself?’

‘Naturally.’ His chin tilted at an arrogant angle. ‘But then, I expect my future wife to make sure my mind does not stray to other women.’

She tossed her head, dislodging his grip, thrilled and appalled in equal measure. But before she could give him the put down she was sure he deserved, his lips were on hers again—warm, gentle...playful. They teased and tantalised until her anger had dissolved and she threaded her fingers through his hair to pull him closer.

He obliged until she lay half-sprawled beneath him, their only barrier the thin material of their clothes, his kisses sending something inside her spiralling free. She wanted all barriers between them gone. She wanted to move to the dance he’d taught her six weeks ago. She craved the spiralling pleasure, the adventure of it all, and the peace that followed. She ached...

A whimper broke from her when he lifted his head. He muttered words she didn’t understand but could translate all too easily.

There’d be no more kisses today.

He lifted himself away from her and then helped her back into a sitting position with a gentleness that had the backs of her eyes burning.

‘I’m sorry.’

He physically removed himself from the sofa, his words emerging clipped and short. If she hadn’t heard the regret threading through them, she might’ve fled in mortification.

‘I’m only sorry you stopped.’ She’d aimed for levity but fell far short of the desired mark. It was the truth of her words that rang in the space between them rather than humour. What the heck, she’d made a fool of herself over lesser things. ‘Why did you stop?’

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