Carrying the Sheikh's Baby Page 14

  ‘What from?’ she asked, still confused.

  ‘From me.’ He huffed out a chuckle, the husky sound unbearably sexy. ‘Which was pretty dumb in the circumstances.’

  His gaze drifted down to where his hand now caressed her belly in widening circles, making her sex throb in earnest.

  His expression, dark with passion and intensity, made her belly float into her throat and her insides become giddy.

  ‘I didn’t know at the time I was shutting the stable door long after the damn horse had bolted and crossed the whole of the Narabian desert,’ he added.

  A laugh popped out of Cat’s mouth, the unbearable tension dissolving as her heart lifted in her chest. She covered his hand with hers. ‘I still desire you very much too,’ she said. He still wanted her, as much as she wanted him. The realisation felt intoxicating. And powerful.

  The amusement died on his face. Gripping her hips, he slid her across the bed, and lifted her into his lap. She grasped his shoulders, her knees straddling his hips as the gown rose up. She felt the muscles bunch and tighten beneath her hands, his breath gushing out as his hands rose up her back, drawing her towards those sensual lips that had always promised so much and delivered even more. The ridge of his erection butted against her sex, and she rubbed her yearning clitoris against it. His lips captured hers.

  The kiss was urgent, demanding, possessive, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth, and claiming her in the most elemental way possible. She ground against his length, the contact too much and yet not nearly enough.

  Her fingers threaded into his hair, clasping, clinging, dragging him closer.

  The feeling of connection, of empathy, of need blossomed inside her. This passion, this desire, had to mean something, didn’t it?

  The insecurities that had battered her burned away as he devoured her mouth.

  He dragged her head back at last. ‘Damn it, we can’t. Not here. Not now,’ he said, his tone rough with frustration.

  He lifted her off his lap and stood up. The thick erection was still prominent in his suit pants. ‘We should wait,’ he said. ‘Until after the wedding.’

  ‘The wedding?’ she said, still dazed and yearning.

  Then to her astonishment he sank to his knees in front of her. The gesture was so romantic, her heart stopped.

  He gripped her hands in his much larger ones, quelling the shaking as all the insecurities his kiss had swept aside came rushing back.

  ‘Marry me, Catherine, and become my Queen,’ he said, his voice so full of purpose she felt her heart dissolve.

  She should say no, a voice whispered in her head. This was a proposal born out of duty and passion. And how could that ever be enough? They hadn’t even discussed an emotional commitment. He didn’t love her. And she already knew it would be far too easy for her to fall hopelessly in love with him.

  But all the questions, the doubts, hung on her tongue as the spontaneous bubble of hope expanded in her chest.

  Marriage was a big step, but having a baby together was a huge one. And that was a step they were already taking.

  This wasn’t an end, it was a beginning. And surely duty and passion were something sturdy they could build on while they got to know each other better. In every way.

  The blush rose up her throat at the thought of how much pleasure they could have discovering just some of those ways.

  And even love didn’t come with guarantees, she reasoned frantically. It could be reckless and fickle—the way it had been for her mother. Or become twisted and destructive—as it had been for Zane’s parents.

  Surely this was a chance to learn from those mistakes? And start out right? Why couldn’t this marriage lead to something wonderful? He wanted her, and he was a good man. Not just gorgeous and ridiculously sexy, but also strong and responsible and so protective.

  And he was the father of her child.

  Zane rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs. ‘My ego is dying here, Catherine,’ he said in a hoarse, self-deprecating chuckle.

  But she heard the slight edge in his tone—proving he was more concerned about her answer than he was letting on—and that tiny glimmer of insecurity was enough to allow the hope to expand and push aside the doubts.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, suddenly shy when the tension in his jaw released and an assured smile spread across his features.

  ‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘I’m not used to spending so long on my knees,’ he added and they both laughed.

  Standing, he tugged her off the bed, until she was flush against the line of his body, his arms banded around her.

  Happiness filled her as he stroked her back.

  She mattered to him. They both wanted this. And that was more than good enough for now.

  ‘The wedding will need to be a state occasion,’ he murmured against her hair. ‘But I’ll instruct Ravi to keep it as small and manageable as possible. I’ve waited more than long enough already to have my woman in my bed again.’

  The urgency and possessiveness in his tone was like an aphrodisiac. He clasped her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and the deep well of yearning opened inside her.

  But then the same feeling of vertigo that had crippled her when he’d first persuaded her to come to Narabia paralysed her again. Because this time the cliff was so much higher, the landing so much more uncertain and her ability to stop herself from tumbling over the edge so much more unsure.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE SMALL AND manageable ceremony Zane had alluded to on the day of their engagement turned out to be anything but.

  After a week of planning and preparation, a five-day tour of Narabia was arranged—during which Catherine was introduced to her new subjects as His Divine Majesty’s betrothed. Once they had returned to the palace, two days of feasting with five hundred invited guests were followed by a lavish ceremony in which Cat signed a lengthy document and then Zane made a series of solemn vows to support Cat and their children before presenting her with a gold chest full of jewels that looked to her like a prop from a Hollywood pirate movie.

  The whole experience was overwhelming; as the marriage ceremony finally began to draw to a close, Cat felt as if she had stepped into an alternative reality.

  Other than the series of fittings with a team of dressmakers to make her a wardrobe fit for a queen, the endless meetings with Zane’s financial, legal and religious advisors to brief her on the customs and legalities of the marriage, and the intensive language lessons she’d embarked upon with Kasia to learn enough so she could converse fluently with her new subjects during the betrothal tour, Cat had had no part in the organisation.

  She didn’t mind. She already felt overwhelmed enough by the prospect of marriage to such a powerful, intoxicating man and the realities of her pregnancy—which made themselves felt quite forcefully each afternoon.

  In fact, she was glad she hadn’t had to do much during the ceremony itself. The feasting had been exhausting enough with her and Zane situated on two gilded thrones while the neighbouring princes, kings and dignitaries came to pay their respects to the Sheikh’s new bride. She tried to learn all their names and answer them as best she could in the Narabian language. She was pathetically grateful to see a familiar face when Kasim marched into the hall in full battle dress, flanked by an honour guard of his tribesman. After giving a sweeping bow before Zane and her, he winked at her and for the first time in days she found herself smiling—when he whispered, ‘So it seems you are Zane’s woman after all?’

  She hid a laugh behind her hand. The man was incorrigible, his dark eyes tempting her to share the joke.

  ‘You must name your firstborn after me,’ he added for her ears alone. ‘As I believe the babe was conceived in my camp.’

  She blushed, making Kasim laugh.

  She shifted her gaze to Zane, who was watching them both intently, and hoped no one else h
ad heard Kasim’s claim.

  The pregnancy was not yet common knowledge—even though Zane’s advisors had assured her there would be no need to hide the fact the baby had been conceived before the nuptials.

  Marriage in this culture was about practicalities, they had told her. A union between two like-minded souls in which the man was required to prove he would always protect and nurture his wife and their children.

  She assumed it was the weight of that responsibility, as well as the many legal and constitutional practicalities Zane had to observe in the run up to the marriage, that explained why she had barely seen him during the past two weeks. And when she had seen him, she’d detected a strange distance, as if he were constantly distracted.

  He’d done his very best to prepare her for the responsibilities that would fall to her as his Queen. But even so she felt exhausted when she and Kasia finally left the festivities and made their way to the bridal chamber.

  She stood on the balcony in the elegant chamber, which the palace staff had spent days preparing for her, and watched the pop and sparkle of fireworks light up the night sky above the courtyard.

  Kasia set about filling a copper tub with steaming water, while Cat listened to the music and merriment from the wedding celebrations, which were still in full swing.

  Goosebumps rose on her arms and she rubbed the sensitive skin as Kasia helped her out of the scarlet robe, edged with gold thread, which she had worn during the ceremony.

  She’d felt Zane’s eyes on her all day, and now her skin felt too tight, her breasts tender and swollen, her belly alive with the tangle of anticipation and anxiety that had dogged her for days as they’d both conducted what had seemed like a never-ending roster of official duties.

  She still wasn’t entirely sure what she’d got herself into. But what had felt like a marvellous adventure after his proposal didn’t feel quite so uncomplicated any more.

  She already knew she was in love with this diverse, fascinating country and culture, and its people.

  But much more disturbing were her feelings for Zane.

  She was already more than halfway in love with this man. But in the past two weeks, as she’d been prepared for the marriage, paraded around the kingdom by his side without ever getting a chance to talk to him properly and then serenaded and feted during the feasting and the final ceremony, she had begun to realise how little she knew him.

  They were virtual strangers. That night in the tent, when he had shared a few tragic details of his childhood, seemed so long ago now. The glimpse she’d got of that vulnerable and lonely LA teenager a million miles away from the indomitable, autocratic ruler whom she had become so aware of in the last few days.

  Kasia helped her into the large copper tub. Cat let out a deep sigh, sinking into the heated water—and tried to force herself to relax—as the scent of lavender filled her nostrils.

  ‘You are truly the most beautiful bride,’ Kasia said dreamily, working to unpick a hairdo that an army of stylists had taken several hours to create that morning. ‘The Sheikh did not take his eyes from you the whole day. He is a man very much in love, I think.’

  Cat’s heart clutched painfully at Kasia’s romantic statement.

  ‘Zane’s chief cultural advisors told me love is not a requirement of a successful Narabian marriage, especially for the Sheikh,’ she said.

  She had tried not to overreact at their insistence on mentioning this pertinent fact over and over again during her briefings. She had tried to convince herself the repeated warnings about the fickle, mercurial nature of such emotions was simply a necessary part of their job to inform her of Narabia’s culture and customs. Or maybe they were just being overcautious, trying to assess if she would be as much of a liability as Zelda Mayhew, after the love match between Zane’s parents had ended so disastrously.

  But after being told this ‘fact’ several times, she had begun to wonder if this warning was coming from Zane, instead of his advisors. Had he briefed them on what to say to her?

  Of course, it would be foolish of her to get upset about it even if he had. She’d agreed to this marriage knowing full well they hadn’t declared any deeper feelings for each other... But even so it had made her feel increasingly insecure.

  Had she made a terrible mistake agreeing to this marriage? What if Zane didn’t believe in love? Or, more importantly, what if he wasn’t capable of loving her? After spending two weeks involved in all the pomp and circumstance surrounding their wedding, she certainly couldn’t underestimate any more how big a step it was to agree to marry the Sheikh.

  But why did she suddenly feel so vulnerable? What had happened to that balloon of hope that had made her say yes in the first place?

  ‘Pfft!’ Kasia scoffed, as she massaged shampoo into Cat’s scalp. ‘What do a load of old men know about love anyway?’

  Cat pushed out a laugh at Kasia’s irreverence, trying to ignore the apprehension that had been building for days now, but the breathless chuckle sounded strained even to her.

  ‘The Sheikh is so handsome and he wants only you,’ Kasia insisted as she rinsed Cat’s hair—the luxurious pampering helped relieve the tension tying the muscles of her neck into tight knots. ‘Tonight he will make you his again. And then you will know how he feels.’

  Cat doubted she would know that much. But at least she would feel much more secure. It was Zane’s distance in the last fourteen days that had allowed all her insecurities to flourish.

  Once she was back in Zane’s arms the hope and euphoria would return. She was exhausted and on edge, never a good combination for a pregnant lady.

  Of course, she didn’t know Zane yet. They’d slept together twice and been married for approximately two hours. And they had only managed to share three private conversations since he’d proposed. All three of which had consisted of him asking her if she was nauseous, if the marriage arrangements were too stressful and if she was getting enough sleep.

  He’d been kind and considerate, attentive and solicitous—despite the enormity of the responsibilities weighing him down. She was blowing everything entirely out of proportion. Kasia was right, tonight was the beginning of a new phase in their relationship. A stunning new adventure.

  Maybe they had never spoken about love. But they had spoken about commitment. Because what could be more of a commitment than marriage?

  He’d made her his Queen, for goodness’ sake, and here she was freaking out over something—a shared intimacy—that could only develop over time.

  She forced herself to sink into the water—and put all the what ifs out of her mind—as Kasia finished washing her hair.

  The bridal chamber was lavishly furnished and had a walk-in wardrobe full of the clothes the dressmakers had made for her over the last two weeks.

  She and Kasia spent half an hour selecting the perfect night robe for her marriage bed. They sipped the spicy fruit liquor that had been left in the chamber to help relax her as Cat tried on the different outfits.

  It reminded her of her first night with Zane. The night she and Kasia had snuck into his mother’s salon. Who would have thought only six weeks later she would be waiting to spend her wedding night with this remarkable man?

  Anticipation turned to desire as she stared at herself in the mirror. The robe they had eventually chosen was in a deep purple and although not as elaborate as her wedding robe, it was a great deal more revealing. Especially as Kasia had been adamant she mustn’t wear any lingerie.

  ‘The Sheikh will not want to wait. And neither will you,’ she had said, as if she were an experienced courtesan instead of a nineteen-year-old virgin.

  The shadow of Cat’s nipples, already enlarged in pregnancy, and the hair covering her sex, which had been trimmed by the beautician that morning, were clearly visible through the shimmer of silk.

  Gold and silver thread and what looked like real gemstones were em
broidered in Moorish patterns in the robe’s bodice and hem. The garment flowed around her, accentuating her curves, while the deep V almost reached to her navel.

  Kasia had spent ages brushing and drying her hair after her bath. The thick waves sparkled in the candlelight, while a few curls had been teased out to caress her cheeks.

  Kasia had also washed off the heavy wedding make-up and replaced it with the barest hint of lip gloss, which made her mouth glisten in the evening light.

  Cat sucked in a tortured, tremulous breath.

  Her skin hummed with agonising sensation, as if she were being stroked all over at once.

  Kasia grinned at her in the mirror, her face a picture of approval and anticipation.

  She didn’t recognise herself as the mousy academic who had first met Zane less than three months ago in Walmsley’s office. She looked sultry and sexy and bold, in charge of her own sexuality. Which wasn’t entirely true. She still wasn’t the most experienced woman on the planet.

  But over the next weeks and months that would change.

  Getting to know Zane—getting close to him, learning what made him tick, discovering his likes and dislikes, his strengths and weakness—was going to be an adventure equally as exciting and exhilarating as becoming Narabia’s Queen and unlocking the limits of the passion they shared for one another. And then they would be embarking on a whole new adventure when their baby was born.

  She’d already begun to sample the good stuff. This dramatic change in her life and circumstances was overwhelming at times, but that was only because it was so unexpected. Nothing had prepared her for this journey, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t adapt and enjoy it.

  All she needed to do was embrace each new experience as it came and not panic herself into an early grave, before she got to the best stuff.

  Love had gone terribly wrong, for both her parents and Zane’s; neither of them had any experience of a happy marriage. But perhaps that was a good thing. It would make them more cautious, more measured. Maybe Zane’s advisors were right after all.