Innocent In The Sheikh's Palace (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Dani Collins

  “So you don’t ever want to have sex with me,” she said, speaking as plainly as she thought the situation warranted. “Are you going to have sex with other people? Are you gay?” she asked.

  “Why would you think that? No, I am a straight man who has gone without sex for various lengths of time in the past. I’m capable of doing it again. Are you?”

  “Yes.” Duh. She was having a baby without having had sex, wasn’t she?

  “You planned to stay home and work at your online job. You can do that from Baaqi.”

  Not all of it. Sometimes she needed feet on the ground, but she could do a lot of it online and through correspondence to various library collections and other archives.

  He was doing it; he was talking her into it! And she was already too exhausted to continue their war of wills to keep resisting his cutthroat logic.

  “I can’t just leave, Akin. I still have a few weeks of work—”

  “It will be handled. My staff will close your apartment and ship your things within the week. Your employer will be notified.” He was probably making all of that happen as they spoke, cutting all her ties to her old life, leaving her no path to go backward.

  “What exactly will happen when I get there?” She hated herself for asking. It sounded too much like she was surrendering.

  “We’ll marry in a private ceremony, immediately. Then a single announcement will go out encompassing all of this. You needn’t appear in public until after the baby is born.”

  “Every girl’s dream.” To be forced into a marriage that would be a paper-only footnote to bigger news, her existence hidden from view like a shameful secret. A brand sat against her heart, scoring deeper with each slighting word and potential action. “I don’t want...” Her throat was so tight she could barely force any words out. “That. I don’t want any of that.”

  “I know.” Why did he have to sound so pitying? If he’d been outright mean, she might be able to hate him. That tone was far more cruel. It carried the same pained pitch Grammy had used when sharing hard truths. Life isn’t fair. We don’t always get what we want.

  Hannah drew a breath, wanting to protest, but after a moment the air left her body in a rush. She deflated like a balloon, drooping forward, desolate but still refusing to cry. She had never missed Grammy more in her life.

  “You will be well cared for, Hannah. Your child will have an incredible life.”

  “But it won’t be mine.” She sat up straight. Not her child. Not her life. “I won’t ever forgive you for this, Akin.”

  He was only the messenger. She knew that. And he didn’t look too bothered either way, but she was in agony because she knew what she faced would be hell. She had had to work really hard to find her confidence and turn the other “chipmunk cheek” to the incessant litany of insults that had come her way all her life. Bucky and Four-Eyes and Fats were the least offensive.

  Now she would be in a new place, already a stranger who didn’t know the language or customs. She might be educated and have basic manners, but she wasn’t a polished diamond the way Akin and his family were. People like him didn’t know what it was like to be someone like her. They didn’t want to, not when they could point and laugh instead. Her suffering would have to be swallowed and endured, the way she’d done through each level of hell called “school.”

  And how would her son be treated if he didn’t come out looking look like some Botticelli cherub—

  She snapped an accusing look at Akin.

  “What?” he asked with caution, sensing the change in her.

  No one would ever bully her child. No one. Not ever. Not without earning her unmitigated wrath.

  Not that she knew how she would protect her son no matter which world they occupied, but being the mother of a future monarch would bestow a lot more power on her to quash attacks against her child. Her son would be less of a target, growing up in that role.

  “If I go with you, I expect to sign a prenup that outlines clear and fair terms for our marriage and eventual divorce. It must include stringent language that declares my absolute right to oversee every single stage of his upbringing. If you agree to that—”

  “I do.”

  “I’ll hold you to that. No lies,” she reminded, pointing her finger at him.

  “You have my word.”

  “Fine.” She reached for the latch again, pausing to take in the red carpet that was collecting snowflakes as it trailed up the steps into the jet.

  What on earth was she thinking?

  But here he was, coming around and offering his arm to guide her into his world.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AKIN HAD THOUGHT Hannah was staging a sulk, setting her head against the window the minute she sat down, but she fell asleep before the plane left the tarmac.

  A pang of something that might have been guilt or concern struck against the dented shell of honor he wore to shield against less tolerable states of mind.

  She’d spoken briefly with the nurse when they’d boarded, but aside from a bit of breathlessness after climbing the stairs, he hadn’t heard any concerns raised by either of them. If he had realized how tired she was, he would have sent her to the stateroom. He started to nudge her awake to do so, but she must be exhausted if she was crashing so hard and fast.

  He waited until they’d leveled off, then signaled for a pillow and pressed the button to recline her seat. She barely stirred as he eased her from the window into a more comfortable position. He accepted the blanket from the attendant and draped it over her.

  He tilted his own chair back alongside her, wishing sleep came as easily to him, but it never did. He felt as though he’d been on an adrenaline high for twenty years straight. It had grown worse, not better, as time passed.

  He had chided Hannah that she couldn’t expect to raise her son in America and have him ready to take over Baaqi at eighteen, which was true. Ironically, Akin wasn’t much better prepared at thirty-two.

  In his country—in his family—the first son was groomed for that role. Pampered and encouraged and revered. When not at school, Eijaz had sat with their father, learning the fine arts of diplomacy and protocol.

  Akin had merely been an insurance policy, acknowledged as a member of the royal family but sidelined as expendable. When he was home from school, Akin had trained with the army, beginning with the foot soldiers at twelve. Nepotism had played little part in his rise through the ranks. He’d had to prove himself capable before he’d been given command of their forces.

  Part of that stark contrast in treatment was due to the fact their father had once been challenged by his own younger brother for control of Baaqi. His father had not only become a hardened autocrat as a result, but he would brook no similar mutinies. He had made clear that Akin’s value lay in his unquestioning loyalty toward his brother.

  Akin had been devoted to Eijaz. For all of Eijaz’s faults and sense of entitlement, he’d been the only one to truly care about Akin. Their mother had been broken by grief when Akin had been very young, and she’d developed a resentment toward him that was lately exacerbated by her eldest son’s death and her declining mental health.

  So Akin had suffered a constant message of inferiority as a child, but he had never begrudged his brother for his higher station. When their father’s heart trouble was diagnosed, however, and the King had begun giving more responsibility to Eijaz, Akin had wondered if Eijaz’s temperament was up to the task. The more money he was given to control, the less he controlled himself. Had drugs or mental health issues played a part? Akin couldn’t say, but it had all come to a head two years ago when Eijaz had attempted to turn Baaqi into a beacon of modern ideals—something even their own father had opposed. The seismic political shifts had not made their country a darling in a part of the world that clung to its traditional values.

  Akin had found himself in an impossible situation. T
he few times he attempted to discuss the matter, his father had accused him of dancing close to treason. His only choice had been to put out fires—often literal ones started by dissidents throwing Molotov cocktails.

  He had dreaded what would happen when his father stepped down completely and Eijaz took the throne. That did not mean he had wished his brother dead, but a weight of guilt now cloaked him heavily for his doubts.

  Eijaz’s cancer had been aggressive and cruel. While his parents supported Eijaz, Akin had taken on even more responsibility. When the unthinkable had happened far more abruptly than they could absorb, they were all devastated, but there had been no time for Akin to grieve or ruminate or show any emotions. He had to prepare himself to take the throne. His father was weaker than anyone outside their need-to-know circle could imagine, and the stress of ruling was shortening the little time he had left.

  Even so, the old man had spent what energy he had left on clinging to power, using that power to argue that Eijaz’s sperm samples could be used to produce an heir. The logistics had been a blurry prospect. Could they ask a wellborn lady to conceive a future monarch without taking the baby’s father as her husband? Did Baaqi want a ruler born to a stranger hired for the express purpose of carrying a child? What if conception was tried and failed? Then what?

  After much discussion, his parents had resigned themselves to accepting Akin in the role for which he had been conceived—the fallback heir. He would produce their next monarch the old-fashioned way, via an arranged marriage with a woman of appropriate rank.

  It had fallen to Akin to enact that difficult decision. He had made the call to the clinic like a ruthless Shakespearean king, one who ensured his bloodline would not be threatened by his brother’s issue. It had made him sick. Nothing about taking Eijaz’s place felt good or right.

  Within hours, the clinic had relayed the message that five samples were confirmed as destroyed. One was unaccounted for.

  That had been three days ago, and he had known immediately that his loyalty to his brother was once again being tested. Nevertheless, Akin had rushed to New York to await the results of their prompt investigation.

  Was Eijaz laughing, wherever he was? Because Akin had done the math. If Hannah was due at the end of December, she’d been inseminated shortly after Eijaz had passed. Akin didn’t believe that those in the afterlife could reach into this world to shake things up, but this was definitely the sort of practical joke his brother would have laughed himself weak over.

  Why Hannah, though?

  Akin turned his head, studying her round, pink cheeks. The way she was slumping, her chin had doubled and her glasses were sitting crooked. He gently removed them and set them aside, noting the frown she wore even when fast asleep.

  Such a strange bird, so dull and brown and unassuming, but when provoked, her feathers ruffled up like she was ready to win a cockfight. She reminded him of the geese in the park next to his English boarding school. When they felt territorial, they wouldn’t think twice about nipping someone’s butt.

  I don’t want to marry you.

  Like being goosed by a goose, her words had stung his ego more than doing real harm, but did she not know who he was? Even as second son to a king, women wanted him.

  I am not a bride you would choose for yourself, am I?

  A long-buried bitter agony had arisen in him when she said that. Although his mother had begun tracking potential brides for Eijaz and him even while they were still young boys, making note of social triumphs and bloodlines and dodged scandals, Akin had always been expected to wait until his brother had secured his own heir before Akin produced one of his own. The one time he’d thought to defy that expectation, he’d been quickly reeducated.

  So he had dismissed marriage as a far-off thing, even when his mother’s faculties began to fail. When he had affairs, he confined them to those times when he was outside Baaqi. He always ensured the woman in question understood their relationship was temporary. If she wasn’t fine with that, they didn’t progress beyond dinner, but most took him to their bed anyway. A prince was a catch, even if he only gave her bragging rights on a brief affair.

  But future kings, apparently, were even more of a catch. Legions of eligible women had been reaching out since his brother’s death, wanting to “check in” and offer “a quiet night in.” He’d been exhausted with the courtship chase before it even started, but that didn’t mean he wanted to marry tomorrow. Or to marry Hannah, a librarian who wore cheap pullovers and locked herself in her own car.

  Why recalling that made laughter build in his throat, he didn’t know. He’d been annoyed as hell when it happened. Delirium, he supposed. This had been a hell of a day, but for a moment his heart felt lighter than it had in a long, long time.

  As was his habit, he cut short his straying thoughts and forced his mind back on task. He tried to anticipate all the possible versions of the future he faced, all the moves on the chessboard and all the ways he could react. What result would each produce?

  The exercise was enough to induce a migraine, and his gaze unconsciously drifted to the roundness of her belly. He re-conjured that simple moment when she had set his hand against her taut warmth and let him feel the small piece of his brother, alive and kicking. The most perfect, unsullied parts of his brother, free of vanity and venality.

  As he tried to recall exactly how that strange moment had felt, the fingers of slumber reached out to draw him under. His grasp on clear thought slid away and, for the first time in years, he drifted into a heavy sleep without any trouble at all.

  The Queen’s disappointment was palpable. Her pained expression as she skimmed her gaze over Hannah went into Hannah like a knife. She forced a polite smile to remain on her face while the older woman said something in a plaintive tone to Akin.

  “Please speak English, Ummi. Hannah is American.”

  To be fair, his mother looked about as wretchedly unhappy as Hannah felt. And after sleeping in her clothes and coming off the plane in them, Hannah looked like a crumpled ball of sandwich wrap.

  Queen Gaitha’s face was lined with deep grief, but there was no mistaking the wrinkle on her nose as anything but an expression of dismay. She waved at a servant to show Hannah out.

  Hannah refused to let anyone see how much the old woman’s disdain affected her. She looked to Akin for guidance.

  He nodded distantly to send her away, which stung, but he was about to be her husband in name only. She couldn’t expect him to be some kind of savior who would make this easier. She would have to navigate it on her own.

  A pretty young woman close to her own age introduced herself as Nura. She seemed kind and efficient and spoke several languages including English and Arabic. She explained that the wedding would take place as soon as Hannah and Akin had bathed and changed, then she would be able to rest until the baby came.

  “Change into what?” Hannah asked with a semi-hysterical laugh. She didn’t even have the overnight bag she’d left in her car when she had walked into the clinic.

  “Oh, there are many choices.” Nura drew her through a beautiful entry foyer that had an intricate mosaic floor and gold-framed mirrors on the walls. They reflected the round table in the center that held an enormous arrangement of fragrant flowers.

  Hannah glimpsed a spacious waiting lounge with a view to a beautiful courtyard that had a free-form pool and abundant greenery casting shadows across the water. It looked like the Garden of Eden.

  Nura brought her down a short hallway to a salon of some kind. This must be the palace spa, Hannah deduced. It had a professional hairstyling chair with a huge mirror surrounded by lights. Scissors and brushes and styling tools were all at the ready. There was a manicure station and a pedicure massage chair like at a beauty parlor. On the other side of the room, there was a carpeted dais surrounded by full-length mirrors.

  Nura slid aside a pair of doors and walked Ha
nnah into a boutique. There was a selection of gowns in every color, shelves of shoes and handbags, scarves and belts and other accessories.

  “I thought this one, but there are many beautiful choices.” Nura produced a stunning caftan in silvery gray matte satin. It was demure, with long sleeves and a high neck, but beautifully embroidered with silver and gold beads. There was a matching veil that was so gracefully pretty that Hannah couldn’t help exclaiming over it.

  Since when was she such a girl who couldn’t wait to try on a pretty dress for her forced marriage? Especially when she knew her figure left everything to be desired?

  “Thank you,” she said warmly to Nura, who was clearly pleased that Hannah approved of her taste. “If you could show me where I’ll be staying, I’ll bathe before I try it on.”

  “We’re in your home, Princess.”

  “I don’t think I made myself clear,” Hannah said with a laugh of genuine amusement. “I know I’ll live here in the palace, but I meant my bedroom. Is it close to this shop?”

  “This isn’t a shop, Princess. This is your dressing room. I am your personal attendant.”

  “I don’t need an assistant,” she said with confusion.

  Nura looked at her with concern, as though she feared Hannah was spiking a fever. “Your assistant comes tomorrow, Princess. She will discuss with you your desires for the nursery and help you hire the nannies and the rest of your staff. I am your maid within these rooms, to help you dress and ensure your comfort—although your nurse will also stay in a room next to mine until you deliver, to ensure you and the baby remain in perfect health.”

  “But I don’t need any of that!” Hannah blurted with real panic.

  “You don’t like me?” Nura’s face fell in shocked hurt, as though Hannah had physically slapped her. “My mother attends the Queen. She has trained me my whole life to serve our future queen.” She blinked wet eyes.

  “Oh, Nura. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Hannah grasped her arm, realizing this might be her one chance to make a friend and she was blowing it. “This is all very new to me. I will very much need someone who understands how the palace works and what is expected of me. Of course, I like you and need you here to help me.”