Carrying the Sheikh's Baby Read online

  Had she totally blown their kiss out of proportion? Because she had no frame of reference for these things?

  ‘So, what is it you wanted to ask me?’ he said.

  He looked so calm, so confident, so implacable. The opposite of how she felt. But also the opposite of the man who had kissed her with such passion, such purpose yesterday afternoon.

  Stop thinking about the kiss.

  She flexed her fingers, then brushed her palms down her robe to steady herself. And regain at least a modicum of composure and professionalism.

  She dragged out the notepad and pencil she kept in the pocket of her robe. It helped ground her as she flicked through the notes she’d made yesterday in the marketplace. She reread the questions she’d scribbled down before Zane and his men had arrived.

  She cleared her throat, nerves assailing her. These were extremely personal questions, but surely he’d just given her his permission to ask them?

  ‘I guess my first questions would be about how you came to be in Narabia when you were fourteen. Was there a custody hearing in LA, because I couldn’t find any evidence of one? And did you get any say in the decision to transfer custody from your mother to your father?’

  The muscle in Zane’s jaw clenched, and his brows lifted. His expression became stormy and turbulent but the shadow of pain was clear and unequivocal before he had the chance to mask it.

  Cat’s insides clenched with the brutal sense of connection.

  And she realised his reaction had already given her one of the answers she sought. To the question of whether she had any chance of rebuilding her objectivity after yesterday’s kiss.

  Because the answer was a categorical no.

  * * *

  Zane struggled to school his features... As his insides churned. And sweat gathered on his upper lip.

  He’d woken up last night painfully aroused, the taste of her still on his lips. But as he’d lain in bed, staring at the ornate plasterwork on the ceiling of his bedchamber, he’d decided he didn’t want Catherine to leave. He’d told himself it was because this project was too important. And he’d convinced himself he could control the hunger for her like everything else in his life. But now he wasn’t so sure.

  He’d decided to offer her the interview to re-establish clear boundaries. But now he could see he’d miscalculated. And he hadn’t been entirely honest with himself.

  What was the real reason he wanted her to stay? Was it really the project? Or the taste of her that he couldn’t seem to forget?

  And now this? Just when he thought he’d contained the problem, it had blown up in his face.

  She was looking at him with sympathy and concern in her gaze. As if she could see inside his mind, and had already dragged out the answers he had no intention of giving her.

  He wanted to halt her line of questioning, but in his arrogance he’d opened himself up to exactly this kind of intrusion. And now he could hardly shut her down without making it seem as if he had something to hide.

  ‘The custody arrangements were agreed in private.’ He swallowed, his throat raw as he tried to beat back the memories. ‘My mother was...’ He paused, knowing he would have to give Catherine something, even if every one of his instincts was rebelling at the thought of revealing even this much. ‘She wasn’t capable of handling me any longer. Like most teenage boys I was—’ scared, lonely, confused ‘—unruly,’ he managed. ‘I needed a firm hand.’ He shrugged, but the movement felt stiff and unconvincing, his back and shoulders stinging with the stark memory of the angry welts, the brutal pain that had been inflicted with so much relish. ‘My father was able to supply the discipline she could not.’

  ‘Were you happy here, when you first came to Narabia?’ she asked, her voice soft and unthreatening, but ripe with compassion.

  He stiffened. ‘Of course,’ he lied again, disgusted with himself now, not just for giving her the opportunity to ask the questions, but also for nearly giving in to the momentary urge to tell her the truth. ‘But exactly how are my feelings as a boy relevant to this project?’ he countered, going on the offensive.

  She stared at her notepad, and the flush of colour spread out across her collarbone. But when she raised her head, he could see the compassion was still there.

  To his shock he felt the jolt of awareness.

  What the hell?

  Nothing could have disturbed him more.

  ‘Because in many ways your journey then is the same journey the outside world will experience now. Your story is the story of Narabia.’

  ‘How?’ he asked, disturbed now not just by the compassion in her voice, but the earnestness in her expression. She actually believed this nonsense.

  ‘You spent the first fourteen years of your life living in the United States,’ she explained, her tone rich with conviction. ‘When you came here you couldn’t possibly have been prepared for the immense cultural shift you would experience. Isn’t this project about giving the outside world the same unique experience you had sixteen years ago? The chance to uncover the same secrets, to explore the same mysteries you found when you first came here?’

  Absolutely not.

  The thought horrified him.

  The last thing he wanted was for the whole world to know the circumstance of his arrival in Narabia. But he steeled himself against letting his horror show.

  The whole purpose of this project was to exorcise the pain, obscure the sordid truth and lock his past away in a place where no one would ever find it.

  But as she stared at him, willing him to open up to her, he couldn’t quite bring himself to stamp out the hope in her eyes.

  ‘What I think,’ he said, measuring his reply, ‘is that it would be unwise to make me the focus of this project, Catherine.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked, still earnest, still convinced.

  And he knew he would have to be ruthless after all.

  Something was happening here that was a great deal more disturbing than that damn kiss. Something that could be a great deal more dangerous.

  ‘Because people might question why you find my story so fascinating,’ he said. ‘Especially if they discover that your conduct here hasn’t always been strictly professional.’

  Blinking, she stiffened, the earnest expression turning to shame and humiliation as the delectable blush bloomed in her cheeks like a mushroom cloud.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She was clutching her notebook so hard, he was surprised it didn’t break in two. ‘I see what you mean.’

  He wasn’t sure she really did see, because there was nothing more he wanted to do in that moment than finish what they had started the day before. Did she know she wasn’t the only one struggling to maintain an appropriate distance?

  He cut off the thought, forcing his mind, and his libido, back to the matter at hand—he needed to find a way to redirect her research and prevent her probing again into areas he couldn’t let her go.

  ‘You asked during our initial interview if you could review Narabia’s ancient scrolls,’ he said, seizing on a possible solution. ‘I have asked Ravi to make them available to you.’ He hadn’t, but he would. ‘They will make a much less compromising focus for your research.’ The documents were the basis for the Narabian constitution, its ancient laws and customs. But there should be nothing in them that could feed back into the subject of his past.

  ‘Oh, yes... That’s...’ She hesitated, her uncertainty strangely endearing.

  He stifled the thought. He’d be wise not to mistake her honesty and transparency for harmlessness again.

  ‘That would be very helpful,’ she finally managed, her studied politeness doing nothing to mitigate the vivid blush running riot on her skin. ‘Thank you. I look forward to reading them,’ she added, but the passionate interest of moments before had dulled.

  He tried not to regret it. With her searching questions,
and her unsolicited sympathy, this woman had come closer than any of the women he had actually slept with to awakening needs which he’d thought he’d buried years before.

  He couldn’t risk having that happen again.

  The kiss the day before was one thing. The chemistry they shared might well flare out of control again—and he wasn’t quite as averse now to giving it free rein as he had been yesterday.

  Physical desire, after all, was easily controlled, and easily forgotten once satisfied.

  Catherine Smith captivated him, he might as well admit it—that fascinating mix of intelligence and innocence as irresistible as her live-wire response to his kisses. And she was going to be here for several months. The chances of them being able to keep a lid on the hunger that had flared so easily between them yesterday were slim to none, if he was being realistic. But before he let anything happen between them, he intended to be sure he could control the fallout.

  He certainly could not allow her to get this close again to unmasking the weaknesses his father had worked so hard to kill—the neediness, the loneliness, the yearning for support and unconditional love that had crippled him as a boy—because they were the same weaknesses that had left him defenceless and had very nearly destroyed him sixteen years ago.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CAT YAWNED AND rubbed her eyes, which had become gritty in the lamplight. Glancing up from the ancient transcripts, her tired gaze focused on the pale moon glittering through the geometric carvings on the shutters that shielded the library’s precious documents from the outside.

  Kasia lay on the divan opposite, having fallen asleep not long after they’d finished the evening meal served to them in the library’s antechamber.

  Cat stretched her neck, aware for the first time of the kinks that had set in while she’d been studying the scrolls.

  She checked the time on her smartphone. Ten o’clock? Goodness, she’d been deciphering the ancient Narabian texts and jotting down notes on the origin of different customs and cultural norms for four hours straight without a break. No wonder her neck felt as if someone had tied it in a knot.

  Pushing out a breath, she rolled the parchment, careful to overlay it with the linen used to absorb moisture, and tied it with the ribbon. Stacking it in the ornate chest, she sealed the lid and turned the key.

  She’d been studying the scrolls for five days now. And had a wealth of notes to transcribe tomorrow in the office that had been set up for her in the women’s quarters. But she’d done enough for tonight. Kasia needed her bed, and so did she.

  After she’d woken her assistant—and friend—they made their way back through the labyrinth of corridors. Perhaps because Kasia had been half-asleep when they’d set off, after walking for twenty minutes, passing through several walled gardens and a series of covered walkways, Cat began to suspect they might have taken a wrong turn.

  ‘Shouldn’t we have reached the women’s quarters by now?’ she murmured.

  Kasia turned in a circle. Two doors, one of which looked ornate and imposing decorated in hammered bronze, stood in front of them. Neither one looked familiar to Cat.

  ‘I think we are lost...’ Kasia confirmed Cat’s fears, but then pointed to the more lavishly decorated door. ‘But this looks interesting.’ She tried the door, and it opened onto a flight of stairs. She smiled over her shoulder as she headed up the spiral staircase. ‘Let us explore. This is part of the old palace—it will help with your research? No?’

  ‘Wait, Kasia. We don’t have permission to be here,’ Cat whispered as she followed her friend. She didn’t want to inadvertently incur Zane’s anger again, especially given how that had ended the first time. In a kiss that she still hadn’t been able to forget even after a whole week—during which she hadn’t seen him once.

  ‘If it was forbidden, the door would be locked,’ Kasia whispered back, her shadowy figure disappearing round the curve in the staircase.

  Cat raced to keep up with her, her footsteps echoing on the stone. They shouldn’t be doing this. But she couldn’t contain the shimmer of anticipation and curiosity—her fatigue forgotten—as they reached the top of the stairs and Kasia opened the door onto another chamber.

  She heard Kasia catch her breath before she entered behind her.

  Her own lungs ceased to function for two crucial seconds. Moonlight gilded the room in a silvery glow, but did nothing to disguise the staggering beauty of the gold-and-jewel-encrusted mosaic that covered the walls. A balcony looked onto a garden, the colours were muted in the darkness but the tinkle of water from the fountains and the heady perfume of the flowers convinced Cat it would look magnificent in the daylight.

  Kasia flung her arms wide and twirled in a circle in the centre of the room, laughing softly. ‘This is the Queen’s salon. I have heard many tales of it, but I have never seen it for myself.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Cat whispered, wishing Kasia would keep her voice down. Wasn’t this private? They really shouldn’t be here, she was sure of it now, even if the staggering artistry of the chamber was hard to resist.

  ‘Because it is so beautiful,’ Kasia said, as if it were obvious. ‘Let’s explore more.’ Rushing to a dresser that stood against one wall, she switched on a lamp, casting a golden glow over the room.

  Jewels sparkled and glowed, and dusty linens draped the furniture, which obviously hadn’t been used for many years. But Cat couldn’t help noticing the more modern touches. An old-fashioned record player stood on a book stand full of paperback novels, while a lavish couch was covered in a quilt with the Stars and Stripes on it, that looked incongruous next to the ornate Arabic-influenced interior design of the rest of the salon.

  ‘Which queen did this place belong to?’ Cat asked, but she already knew.

  ‘Queen Zelda,’ Kasia said, her footsteps soft on the silk rugs that covered the marble flooring as she rushed to an archway in the far wall and hauled back a screen. Her soft gasp propelled Cat across the room.

  Kasia stood aside to reveal an array of silk robes, hanging in what had to be the Queen’s dressing chamber. Made of gossamer-thin silk like the ones they both wore to stave off the heat, these lavishly embroidered garments had one crucial difference: the material was completely transparent.

  Cat’s cheeks heated as Kasia ran her hands under the cloth. ‘Look how fine they are.’

  Cat touched the silk, the fabric unbearably sensual against her fingertips. ‘Do you know anything about Queen Zelda’s time at the palace?’

  It had never even occurred to her that Kasia might know something about Zane’s mother. Zelda had left Narabia when Zane was still a baby, which was over thirty years ago. Plus, the girl was an inveterate gossip, happy to give Cat the inside scoop on all the comings and goings of the women in the women’s quarters, but she’d never spoken about the royal family. No one had.

  Kasia looked sheepish. ‘I only know the stories.’

  ‘What stories?’ Cat asked, dropping her voice to a whisper to match Kasia’s furtive tone.

  ‘They say that Tariq built this chamber for her when she became pregnant. He did not want her to drink the wine she loved too much. But when she became sad, he would not let her leave.’

  ‘Are you saying he kept her here against her will?’ Cat asked, unable to keep the shock from her voice.

  Kasia nodded, avid curiosity lighting her face. ‘Yes, that is what they say. That he kept her locked in here for many months, until the new Sheikh was born—like a beautiful bird in a gilded cage.’ Kasia’s florid imagery and her obvious eagerness to repeat the unsubstantiated gossip made the story sound preposterous. Like the plot of a trashy novel. Or a Gothic romance. But something about the chamber—its haunting beauty, the lingering scent of white musk perfume—felt oppressive... And desperately sad.

  If Tariq had kept Zane here against his will as a teenager, wasn’t it also possible he had kept his m
other here against her will too? He would certainly have had the power to do so, if what she’d read in the ancient scrolls still held true today. That the Sheikh commanded a divine right to rule, not just over his subjects, but also over the royal household.

  ‘That’s tragic, if it’s true,’ Cat murmured. Maybe Tariq had been trying to save Zelda from her addiction, but he should have got her help, not just locked her up here. No wonder she had run away from him.

  ‘No, no.’ Kasia looked shocked by Cat’s assessment. ‘No, it is not tragic. It is romantic.’ Kasia sighed and Cat realised in that moment how young and sheltered the girl was. ‘Do you not see? He loved her with such passion, he could not let her go.’

  ‘But she would have been a prisoner here,’ Cat said.

  Kasia only laughed. ‘Would you not want to be a prisoner here—’ she swept her hand out to encompass the stunning suite of rooms ‘—if you could have His Divine Majesty make love to you every night?’

  Of course not, she wanted to say, but the denial got lodged in her throat, swallowed up by the wave of desire that had sprung from nowhere.

  Heat rose up her torso, her nipples peaking painfully beneath her robe as the memory of Zane’s lips feasting on her mouth blazed through her body like wildfire.

  Oh, for pity’s sake.

  What was wrong with her? It had been a simple kiss. A mistake. They’d both agreed as much. Why couldn’t she forget it?

  Kasia lifted one of the negligees off the rail and held it in front of Cat.

  ‘Imagine you are wearing this and the Sheikh comes to you,’ she teased, batting her eyelashes outrageously. ‘He is so handsome, and he wants only you. Would you say no?’

  ‘Yes!’ Cat croaked, wanting desperately to mean it, but the picture Kasia painted was all too reminiscent of the lurid pleasures that had chased her in dreams every night since she and Zane had shared that ill-advised kiss.

  ‘Put it on. See how glorious it makes you feel.’ Kasia grinned, the mischievous twinkle as enchanting as it was dangerous as she thrust the garment into Cat’s hands. ‘And then tell me you would turn the Sheikh away.’