Sheikh's Royal Baby Revelation

by Annie West

  The idea of Tori, his woman, in love with some other man, giving herself to that unworthy stranger, filled him with a taste for blood he hadn’t felt since he’d been a teenager, facing his father’s sneering contempt.

  ‘You gave yourself to me.’

  His voice sounded strange, as if it came from a distance. Ashraf felt a constriction in his throat that matched the sudden cramp in his gut.

  Her gaze turned to him and he watched understanding dawn.

  ‘That was sex.’

  She had the gall to make it sound like nothing.

  ‘You wanted me. You accepted me.’

  ‘Yes, I wanted you.’ She said it slowly, enunciating each syllable. ‘And you wanted me.’ That was pure challenge—as was the flash of defiance in her fine eyes. ‘But it was sex. It had nothing to do with...’ Tori waved her hand, as if struggling to find the words.

  Ashraf found them easily enough. ‘My marriage proposal?’

  Tori shook her head, her pale hair slipping around the deep rose-coloured robe that reflected the colour cresting her cheekbones. She wriggled to the side of the bed, holding Oliver close.

  Ashraf caught tantalising glimpses of her slender thighs, then she stood, clutching her robe closed with one hand, the other cuddling Oliver.

  ‘You never proposed marriage. You put it forward as a solution to a problem. Oliver isn’t a problem.’ Her voice rose to a wobbly high note.

  Ashraf felt his forehead knot. What had happened to last night’s passionate, accommodating woman? The woman who, he was sure, had finally agreed to be his?

  Impossible as it seemed, his intended bride was rejecting him. Again. He clenched his teeth so hard that pain radiated from his jaw.

  Never had a woman rejected him. Yet this woman made a habit of it.

  ‘Is that what you want? Me on bended knee? Or would you prefer a candlelit meal with violins playing and a shower of rose petals? Would that satisfy you?’

  Anger tightened every muscle. Disappointment, sharp as acid, blistered and scorched its way through his body.

  And there was more.

  Hurt.

  Ashraf told himself it could only be hurt pride. He’d never considered offering any other woman what he offered Tori. His name, his honour, his loyalty.

  ‘There’s no need for sarcasm, Ashraf. I thought men were supposed to be good at separating sex and love or marriage.’

  Despite the jibe, and the arrogant angle of her jaw, Tori’s voice was brittle, her mouth a crumpled line. And abruptly, despite his roiling emotions, Ashraf realised something his anger had blinded him to.

  Tori was scared. He read it in the obstinate thrust of her jaw and those over-wide eyes. In the protective way she held their son and the tremor she couldn’t hide.

  Scared of committing herself?

  Or scared that he’d take Oliver?

  That, as absolute ruler, he’d force her into a life that terrified her?

  Drawing in air through his nostrils, Ashraf reminded himself that Tori barely knew his homeland except as a place of peril. He hadn’t really helped her acclimatise. He’d deliberately left her alone during the day, believing she needed rest. And their evenings together had tested his determination not to seduce her.

  How right he’d been. Sex had resolved nothing.

  Tori hadn’t tried to tease him or mislead him, giving him a night of unfettered passion and then withdrawing. She’d simply surrendered to a force too strong to withstand.

  ‘Say something.’ Her voice sounded stretched as if from tight vocal cords. ‘What are you going to do?’

  That was easy. He’d do whatever was necessary to secure Oliver and Tori.

  Marshalling control, he smiled and watched her gaze drift to his mouth. ‘I’m going to spend the day with you.’

  And the next and the next. However many it took to convince Tori that life in Za’daq, with him, was the right choice. He’d court her till she stopped putting up barriers and surrendered.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TORI LOOKED AT the vast landscape spread below the chopper and felt a mix of awe, curiosity and unease. The desert plain seemed to wash up to the edge of ragged mountains that fringed the border.

  She gulped, tasting remembered fear. It was somewhere there that she and Ashraf had been abducted.

  A warm hand closed around hers, making her turn to the man beside her.

  ‘Okay?’ The expression in those ebony eyes told her he understood the fear closing her throat.

  Tori nodded, refusing to succumb to panic.

  ‘I enjoy travelling by helicopter,’ Ashraf added, as if suspecting she needed distraction, ‘but I know some find it challenging.’

  ‘I like it,’ she finally admitted. She’d often flown to remote locations for work.

  Why they were venturing so far from the city, she didn’t know. Yet the opportunity to spend time with Ashraf, seeing him in his own environment, had been too precious to pass up. Tori had important decisions to make about Oliver’s future. Getting to know Ashraf and his country was part of that.

  Even if, after last night, part of her wanted simply to succumb to his demand for marriage.

  If she’d known how profoundly making love to him would affect her she’d never have gone to bed with him.

  Who did she think she was kidding? It would have taken a far stronger woman than she to say no. From the start he’d been irresistible.

  She shivered and Ashraf stroked his thumb across her hand. Darts of arousal pierced low in her body. It worried her, how easily and how deeply she responded to him.

  ‘Here we are.’ He leaned across and pointed to a valley between two trailing spurs, where she saw traces of green and the sinuous curve of a river. ‘That’s our destination.’

  ‘It’s a long way to travel for a picnic.’ When he’d suggested leaving Oliver behind for a couple of hours, she’d imagined they’d go to a beauty spot near the city.

  His hand squeezed hers. ‘I wanted you to see something of Za’daq apart from the capital.’

  She turned to meet his eyes, trying to decipher that intent stare. ‘And you wanted to show me how safe this part of the country is now?’

  It was a guess, but the curling groove at one side of his mouth gave Tori her answer. He had chosen this location deliberately. Did he know she was still anxious about returning to the desert? Did he read her so easily?

  ‘I don’t want you afraid of shadows, Tori.’ His eyes held hers. ‘Plus, I want you to meet my people. For a long time this region hasn’t had the benefits found in the rest of my country.’

  The helicopter descended and he gestured towards what looked like irrigation channels following the contours of the land, and a surprising amount of green vegetation.

  ‘They are proud and hard-working. And things are changing here now Qadri has gone.’

  Tori took a slow breath and nodded. She hated the anxiety niggling at her insides. Surely facing her fear would help her overcome that? It would be good to replace those terrifying memories with something else.

  ‘I’ll be interested to see them.’

  Ashraf’s smile as he threaded his fingers through hers made something hard inside her shift. Logic told her to keep some distance between them. He’d so readily assumed she’d changed her mind about marriage because she’d gone to bed with him. But she didn’t have the energy to hold herself aloof. Basking in the warmth of his smile, in his company, was too tempting.

  It was impossible to switch off the current of connection between them. Just this morning she’d gloried in his body and he in hers. She’d found heady delight and a sense of personal power in their lovemaking. How long since she’d felt powerful, much less mistress of her own destiny?

  Since the kidnap she’d felt as if she was at the mercy of forces beyond her control. First her abductor
s, and then as her body altered to accommodate a new life, and later as she changed her life to put Oliver’s needs first. She’d taken her current job so she could work child-friendly hours, not because she especially wanted to work there.

  ‘Tori? Are you all right?’

  Ashraf squeezed her hand. She looked around to discover they’d landed.

  He leaned close, looking concerned. ‘If you’d really rather go back...?’

  But a crowd had gathered. A cluster of serious-faced older men in traditional robes, and behind them people of all ages.

  ‘No. They’re expecting you.’

  From what she could see of the village, with its tumble of mud brick houses, Tori guessed a visit from their Sheikh would be a special event. She couldn’t make him leave and disappoint them.

  ‘How will you introduce me? Won’t people wonder who I am?’

  Ashraf grinned. ‘Don’t worry about that. Just come and meet them. Be yourself.’

  Undoing his seatbelt and headset, he alighted from the chopper.

  Tori hesitated, a hand going to her hair when she noticed most of the women wore headscarves.

  ‘I’m not really dressed for this.’ She’d worn a bright red top which usually made her feel good, but now it made her wonder if she should have dressed in a more conservative colour.

  ‘You’re perfect.’

  His gaze lingered for a second, as if he could see through her loose-fitting top and summer-weight trousers. Instantly Tori’s self-consciousness was swamped by awareness. Wind rushed in her ears and her breath snagged at the look in those gleaming eyes.

  ‘Come.’

  He reached out, took her hand and helped her down. The dying rotation of the helicopter’s blades made her hair whirl around her face, but Ashraf didn’t seem concerned that she looked slightly dishevelled. Presumably it didn’t matter.

  Then Tori had no time for self-consciousness as she was introduced not only to the village elders but it seemed to every adult in the place. Children stared up at her with wide eyes, but she was used to that. When she’d worked across the border in Assara, people had been fascinated by her pale colouring.

  While Ashraf was deep in discussion with the elders one little girl, held in her mother’s arms, swayed towards Tori, reaching out to her. Rather than pulling back, she let the child tentatively touch her hair.

  The mother looked horrified, trying to draw away, apologising. But Tori shrugged and smiled. ‘She’s just curious. That’s a good thing.’

  The local schoolteacher, acting as interpreter, translated, and suddenly, instead of hanging back, more women approached. There was no more touching, but there were smiles and shy questions which gradually became a steady flow. Not, Tori was relieved to hear, about her relationship with the Sheikh, but about her homeland, so far away, and what she thought of Za’daq.

  ‘If you’d care to take a seat, my lady?’

  The teacher gestured as the small crowd parted and Tori saw, in the scanty shade of what appeared to be the village’s only tree, a striped awning. Spread in the shade beneath it were richly coloured rugs and exquisitely embroidered cushions.

  When they were seated a woman arrived with a bowl and a small towel. Another carried a jug of water, offering it to the guests to wash their hands. Then platters of food arrived—dried fruit and nuts, and pastries dripping with syrup. Coffee was prepared with great ceremony and offered in tiny cups.

  ‘Thank you,’ Tori said in their language. ‘It’s delicious.’ She stumbled a little over the pronunciation but knew by the smiles around her that she was understood.

  Ashraf turned and his expression warmed her even more than the pungent coffee.

  ‘After this I’ll inspect the irrigation scheme behind the village but I won’t be too long. I promise to get you back to the city in good time.’

  Because Oliver would be ready for a feed. It seemed incredible that a king would so readily fit his arrangements around that. As incredible as him changing his schedule at short notice to take her out.

  ‘Would you like to come with me? Or you could stay here and chat? Or maybe see the school?’ Tori saw him glance towards the teacher.

  ‘I’ll stay.’ She turned to the teacher. ‘Perhaps you could show me around?’

  Her choice was a popular one. While most of the men went with Ashraf, the women and children accompanied her. The children pointed out places of interest like the well, now with a pump powered by a solar generator. And then there was the tower on the hill, which had brought modern communication to the valley for the first time. They also stopped to look inside one of the houses, where a loom was set up for silk weaving, and Tori admired the fine fabric.

  The school was a one-roomed stone building. But to Tori’s surprise it wasn’t the bare little space she’d expected. It was well-stocked with books, colourful posters and a couple of computers.

  Seeing her surprise, the teacher explained. ‘The government is keen to ensure all Za’daqis have a good education. In remote areas where children can’t travel to bigger schools we now have smaller schools, each supporting a village or two. In the old days children here didn’t get any formal education.’

  ‘It seems to be working well,’ Tori said, watching the children talk to their mothers about the art on one wall. ‘They seem very engaged.’

  ‘They are. The difference here in just a couple of years is amazing.’

  ‘Only a couple of years?’

  ‘The school is very new.’ He paused, as if choosing his words. ‘Until Sheikh Ashraf there was no funding for local schools here. Now even the children in small settlements have access to education. It will give them a brighter future.’

  Tori felt pride stir at his words, as if she had a vested interest in Ashraf’s achievements. Perhaps she did. She was well past the stage of pretending indifference.

  ‘Sheikh Ashraf tells me there have been a number of changes in the region?’

  ‘There have, indeed.’ The teacher said something to the women surrounding them and received nods and eager comments in response. ‘Life is better here now, with plenty of food and even visiting doctors. It’s peaceful too.’ He shot her a sideways look. ‘In the past there was a problem with evil men...lawless men who did bad things.’

  Despite the warmth of the day ice slid down Tori’s spine. ‘Yes. I’ve heard about that.’

  The man nodded. ‘But now they are gone and we have the Sheikh’s law. Things are much better. The people are safe.’

  His words stayed with Tori through the rest of their visit, as she watched the boisterous children and the women’s smiles. Safe. Ashraf made her feel safe too. Except for her doubts about accepting a convenient marriage and living in a country where his word was law.

  When she was with him she felt different. Better. Happier.

  Were those feelings enough to compensate for accepting a loveless marriage? She was surprised even to be considering it.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Ashraf asked as the helicopter took off and they left the waving villagers behind. ‘You’re very quiet.’

  It was because she was distracted by conflicting feelings. The more she learned of Ashraf, the more she understood his idea of marriage was rooted in good intentions. He didn’t plan to take advantage of her.

  Yet good intentions weren’t always enough.

  Tori looked down at the silk scarf on her lap, a kaleidoscope of sumptuous colour.

  ‘This present is so beautiful but I didn’t have anything to give in return.’ It had been pressed into her hands by the woman whose house she’d visited—the silk weaver. ‘Weaving is her livelihood and I’m not sure she can afford to give it away.’

  Ashraf shook his head. ‘Your interest in her life is enough. That is something these people haven’t had much of in the past. Besides, they’re proud. They brought out their very finest for our
visit, but they didn’t expect an exchange of gifts. You did the right thing, accepting this.’ He paused. ‘Don’t worry. No one will be worse off because of our visit.’

  Tori knew without asking more that he’d be as good as his word. She leaned back in her seat and turned to watch the foothills slide into the distance. This time she felt no nervous tingle of apprehension at the sight.

  ‘It sounds like they’re already better off because of you.’

  In her peripheral vision she caught his shrug. ‘We’ve had some useful initiatives. They’re beginning to bear fruit.’

  ‘Like medical services, education, electricity and reliable clean water.’ She ticked them off on her hand. Most men she knew would crow about their personal role in such successes. Her father especially.

  Ashraf wasn’t like the men she knew.

  He caught her gaze and a surge of emotion enveloped her. Tenderness, yearning and something more. All sorts of feelings that she knew made her weak but which she couldn’t suppress.

  Ashraf captured her hand, setting off whorls of eager sensation just under her skin.

  ‘What are you thinking, habibti?’

  His voice had dropped to an impossibly deep note on the endearment.

  Tori opened her mouth, about to give voice to the tremulous emotions that filled her. But at the last moment caution surfaced. She forced a casual smile. ‘Just wondering how Oliver is doing with the nanny.’

  Was that disappointment in his eyes?

  The impression was gone in an instant, yet Tori couldn’t banish the feeling that she’d been cowardly and less than generous with Ashraf.

  * * *

  That suspicion grew as her first week in Za’daq became a second. Instead of seeing Ashraf only in the evening she began to be taken out daily, introduced to his country and his people.

  Despite her reservations, Tori looked forward to their outings and his company. She told herself she was relieved that he no longer pressed her to marry. Yet, to her chagrin, nor did he come to her bed.

  Torn between pride and fear at how easily he dismantled her defences, she didn’t dare initiate sex, not trusting herself. And that left her frustrated with herself and him. If it hadn’t been for the smoking hot looks Ashraf sent her when he thought she wasn’t watching, and his palpable tension when she stood close, Tori might have imagined him indifferent.