by Ella Brooke
“You’re pregnant? Really?”
The grin was breaking across his face faster than he could contain it. There was nothing he wanted more than this. It hadn’t actively been on his mind, not really, but now that it was happening? Now that he could have a family to replace the one he lost when his mother died? Well, he couldn’t be happier with the news.
He picked her up and spun her around. “This is amazing!”
She chuckled as he set her down, and then put her hand to her mouth. For a few seconds, her skin had a pale, green cast, and he was worried that she was going to be sick. Tiffany stumbled a bit, and he caught her by the shoulders.
“Are you okay, Tiger?”
“Heh, maybe not completely for five more months. I get a bit of morning sickness and tons of heart burn. I don’t know if spinning me around was necessarily the best idea. I’m okay now, but for a few minutes I’ll feel like I just got off the tilt-a-whirl.”
Sirhan grabbed her close and squeezed her tightly to his chest. “Then I’ll have to be careful with you and the baby. Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”
“I just took the test this morning, after my fitting was too tight. I should have put everything together, but we’d been so careful…”
His eyes widened. “Except that one time in the limo.”
She nodded. “Omara says that one time is all it takes. I think she’s right.”
“This is amazing, habbibi. I never dreamed for something so amazing. Do you know what this means?”
She shook her head and started picking at her cuticles. “Does it mean that now you have an heir?”
“No,” he replied, kissing her, wishing she seemed more enthusiastic but, try as he might, their kiss remained chaste. Pulling away, he stroked her hair back from her face. “It means that the woman I love is carrying my child, and that we’re a family. We were going to have the ball because it was a family function and tradition, but now we actually have a reason for it. Tomorrow night, I’ll announce you as my new, official intended and announce the news of our coming heir. I want everyone to know; I want our whole kingdom to be as happy as I am right now.”
Her eyes widened. “I was so scared you wouldn’t want this, that you liked having fun with me, but I couldn’t dare hope that you’d love me back.”
“Why? I think I was struck by you the minute you spoke back to me. I’ve rarely met a woman with as kind a heart or as wild, deep a spirit. I think you’ll make an amazing queen for my people.”
“But I’m an American, an infidel. What about Azah and the needs with Quataria? What about what you father wants?”
He put both his hands on either side of her face and kissed her lips again before speaking again. “I don’t care about what my father wants. Azah and I were betrothed as children, and nothing is as important as our family and what you want.” He paused, for the first time wondering if some of her hesitation was because Tiffany didn’t want to start a family with him. “You do want this, don’t you?”
Her back went rigid and she grabbed her abdomen with both hands then. “Of course I do. I just mean…we’re so different. When I first found out, it felt like too much to hope for, that I couldn’t even dare to dream this.”
Sirhan let out a long breath of relief and then brought her close to him again. “This dream is something we’re both sharing, and it never has to end. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and with the baby. So just say ‘yes’ and we’ll set up everything for the ball, and I’ll work on finding the right engagement jewelry for you.”
“The right one?”
“There are things from the vault through centuries of my family. I need something that befits the most beautiful sheikha Dubaya has ever had.”
She blushed and he loved the way even the tips of her ears seemed to change color when she was flustered. “You don’t have to do anything. Everything you’ve given me, given my father, that’s everything I could ever want.”
He kissed her, his tongue finally coaxing hers into a languid, playful dance. When Sirhan spoke, he was certain he was grinning almost maniacally. Then again, he’d rarely felt such joy in his life. Why shouldn’t he broadcast it for all to see? “Well, then consider it a bonus so that I can surprise you.”
“I’m just glad you want me and the baby.”
He put his hand over hers on her belly. “You know this is my mother’s garden. I say is because even if she’s been gone for years, this is still her place. This was where she was happiest, where she spent her time and escaped.”
She nodded solemnly. “From your father?”
Sirhan forced his jaw to unclench so he could answer. “Yes, my father never hit her. I think he says that as a point of pride, as if breaking away from some of our most archaic traditions was a point of pride for him. Big deal. He cheated on her with the harem even when she begged him to disband it, and he was always picking at her, always hated how she encouraged me to like reading or the arts as well as the things he deemed worthy for a ruler to know. He still thinks I’m tender-hearted because of her, too sentimental.”
A soft hand was on his cheek and soulful eyes regarded him kindly. “She raised a good man, and someone I can tell already has pleased Dubaya as its new sheikh. Whatever your father wants are all his plans. I think your mother would be so very proud of you, Sirhan. There aren’t many people who would care enough to save a stranger’s life with expensive cancer treatments.”
“It’s not a huge cost for my family.”
She shook her head. “But the old sheikh, your father, he’d never do this.”
“No. It would be sappy and soft.”
“Then, I think that whatever your mother did with raising you was the right thing.”
He nodded, trying to remember how to swallow. Although it had been some time since her death, the pain still struck him fresh every time he thought of his mother. He’d been the only child of the court, even if it was Dubayan tradition to have many heirs just in case. For whatever reason, his parents could only manage to have him. It had made him and his mother a pair against the world, especially the world as molded by one Sheikh Duman Hakim.
Reaching out, he grazed one finger over the rose petals around him. “This was her sanctuary, yes. I’d find her out here, pruning her roses or just reading her poetry in the sunlight. It was a place Father never came, and we’d spend hours here, especially when I was small. She’d read me her poems from Keats or Byron and sometimes the kids’ books I’d bring her as well. I didn’t understand a third of what she recited to me, but I just loved her voice, how soothing she was. How she’d always smell of Darjeeling tea and the roses she loved.”
Soft lips were on his cheek. “You’ll be a great father. I don’t care how big an ass your dad is. With that kind of love from your mom, you’ll be the best father any child could ever have. I can’t wait for the baby to get here. It’s going to be amazing.”
He grinned and kissed her one last time. “Yes, it is.”
Chapter Ten
It felt as if all her fairy tale dreams had come true. Tiffany wasn’t going to tell her family about her engagement or pregnancy until the following week when she and Sirhan visited Chicago. She thought the surprise would be even bigger when they could see her expanding belly for themselves and glimpse the stunning platinum band with giant ruby and diamond settings on her finger. It had been Sirhan’s mother’s engagement ring, and Tiffany felt the supreme honor it was to wear it. It wasn’t that it was beautiful or priceless. Of course, it was both of those things. No, what mattered most was that he trusted her enough to show her his heart, to show her everything about his mother and the pain he suffered growing up under a tyrant like Duman.
Right now, she was standing in the corner, sipping on some water and waiting anxiously for the full, official announcement from Sirhan. Just five months ago she was just a maid, and now she was being unveiled to the court as the next sheikha of Dubaya. All of this was insane, as if she’d slipped through
a wardrobe or down a rabbit hole to a completely foreign universe. Yet, this was where her heart lie; the loving relationship with her fiancé and the child now nestled safely in her belly. Tiffany wouldn’t trade anything for it.
Other women glanced over at her, and she kept her head held high. Part of her was afraid they were appraising the short, obviously pregnant American who seemed to have stolen her way into the kingdom. While the new tailor had done a smashing job in creating a flowing, emerald empire waisted number for her to wear, it was still easy to spot the growing bump of her belly among her flowing silk skirts. It made her feel exposed.
“You shouldn’t fidget or worry, Tiffany,” Omara said, handing her a date.
“God, I’m starving. Thanks!”
“You need to eat more.”
She shook her head. “I’m about to be unveiled to every dignitary in the Middle East, and I feel like everyone is staring at me like I’m the village bicycle or something.”
That was the best phrase she had for it. It would hurt too much to be more accurate, to say she was worried that everyone would only see her as the “baby-momma,” and the upcoming nuptials to be nothing more than a shotgun wedding (or the Dubayan equivalent) to legitimize the heir. But wasn’t that what all of Dubayan society would say? Had she already messed up being a mother by branding her child as lesser somehow? As a bastard, at least from conception?
Omara seemed to follow her train of dark thoughts and put her hand on her shoulder. “They’re staring at you because they’re green with envy. You’re beautiful and wearing the most sought-after ring in the region. Everyone can see how Sirhan can’t stop glancing lovingly back at you.”
“Or maybe they think I’m a big, pregnant American blimp?”
“Then that’s their jealousy and sour grapes. I helped raise Sirhan. I know he has impeccable taste, and you just prove that. Let the old women and the debutantes both stew. They can’t have him.”
“But I’m—”
“—Perfect,” Omara said firmly. “If he wanted a Middle Eastern princess, we both know he could have her. You are who he wants. So enjoy all their jealous glances. They’re the ones going home in the cold, far away from the palace tonight.”
“Omara!”
The old woman smiled. “You know it’s true.”
“Yes, but you don’t have to be so blunt about it.”
“I’m almost seventy years old. I’ve found I neither have the time left or the patience to be delicate. The truth is they all wish they were you, so let them.”
“Thank you. I—”
“Excuse me!” Sirhan called, waving to the string quartet as he came to the center of the stage set up by the throne. “I’d like to say a few words.” His father stood and started making his way to the stage, but Sirhan shook his head and held firm. “I have two major announcements to confirm here for my people.”
Sheikh Duman Hakim didn’t sit down and quietly acquiesce, but he didn’t rush for the microphone either. Frankly, Tiffany wasn’t surprised. Sirhan’s father barked loudly and dug into humiliating a woman alone in a foreign land, but he was older now and frail. It was the reason he retired and ceded his title, after all. While he clearly felt no compunction about bullying her, he wasn’t ready to have a showdown with his son, to lose so obviously to the new, young buck in public.
Good, then. He’s an ass.
Sirhan looked lovingly at her, as if his father’s attempted interruption never happened. Tiffany approved of that, too. She was beginning to learn already that the best way to deal with the elder (and former) sheikh was to ignore his hateful rhetoric. She grinned back at her beloved and strove to follow his lead of ignoring Duman, of not letting the old man ruin their day.
“My fellow allies, the elite of Dubaya, and all the friends of the royal family throughout the Middle East, I’d like to share wonderful news with you. I’m engaged to Tiffany Saunders, the love of my life, and we’re expecting our first child in July!”
A few of the crowd stilled but most of them smiled broadly and clapped for both of them. A chant spread up even through the upper crust of Dubaya: “Kiss her! Kiss her!”
Omara helped her up to the stage and she gave Sirhan a quick, simple kiss on the lips. She had to work hard not to fall into temptation. Every time his lips were on hers, she wanted to make out with him and then some. However, there were only so many things she was willing to do in front of the crowd that filled the massive ballroom. She was soon to be their sheikha, but she wanted to bring as much class and decorum to the role as she could, despite the rocky and unconventional start.
Omara looked over the crowd and shouted as well. “Three cheers to the sheikh and sheikha. Hip-hip-hooray!”
The crowd echoed behind her and Tiffany felt as if she had to struggle to fight back happy tears, to brush away the ominous churning in the pit of her stomach that said none of this happiness could ever last. Sirhan swept her into his arms, even as the quartet started playing an old 1940s swing number. She didn’t know the songs, so she had no idea which one, but it had a steady rhythm that made swaying in Sirhan’s arms even more effortless than normal. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the elder sheikh balled up his fists at his side and stomped out of the party.
Good riddance. You can’t plan out everything for Sirhan anymore. You can’t make him miserable.
“What are you looking toward, my Tiger?” he asked.
“Nothing, at least not anymore.”
He dipped her just a little, nothing drastic, especially considering her condition, but she cooed with the motion nonetheless. “Maybe we can dance more when you’re not pregnant.”
“Sitters for date night so we can go a whole few rooms over and use our giant ballroom? That sounds so scandalous.”
He laughed and kissed her cheek, also mindful of the crowd watching them. “There’s nothing I can’t do for you now.”
She sighed and looked down at her ring. “I’m just so honored you trust me with something that meant everything to your mother.”
“It was my grandmother’s before her. I think if it had been just from my father, then Mother wouldn’t have cared, but it was something left over from her family, one of the few things she brought with her to Dubaya in the middle of the dowry and arrangements. Dear Allah, I hate all those parts of tradition. I don’t know why we did it for so long.” He drew her closer to him so that he could whisper in her ear. As he did it, she shuddered and also delighted in the cinnamon and saffron wafting from him. “The only thing I want is you. Real love… it matters so much more than duty.”
Tiffany smiled for him and nodded. “I agree.”
***
Being pregnant sucked.
Not only was she sick every morning, dying of heartburn at night, and too big for most of her old clothes, but she had to pee more than usual, even at only four months along. As magical as dancing in Sirhan’s arms had been, when nature called, there was nothing that Tiffany could do about it. She’d just finished up, getting back to her feet with whatever grace her pregnant body could afford her, and made it to the bank of sinks in the expansive rest room. It was as large as any in a restaurant and clearly designed for all the crowds at balls and state events. However, she was one of only two women in there. The other was a tall, dark-haired beauty who was close to six feet tall. Her gold leaf dress spread over her curves like a second skin and she commanded the room about her. Statuesque.
As Tiffany reached over to turn on the sink, the woman stepped in front of her. Crossing her arms over her chest, the stranger glared back at her. “You think you matter, don’t you, American?”
Instinctively, she backed up and spread her hands over her abdomen, part of her wanting to protect her child even if this woman looked more like Cosmopolitan than an actual threat. Still, there was a feral gleam in the beauty’s eyes that sent shivers down Tiffany’s spine.
“Excuse me?” she barked back, trying to be as tough as possible. All she had to do was get back o
ut of here and then she could have palace security deal with this problem.
“Do you know who I am, infidel?”
She looked back over the model-like woman before her and then really let her attention focus on the jewelry and the expensive designer duds. “You’re Azah, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m the princess of Qutaria and the rightful queen of Dubaya. It’s been promised to me since I was a child, and now you swoop in and get pregnant, steal him from me? How dare you!”
Tiffany stood taller and glared at the other woman. Putting her hands on her hips, she worked to try and be as imposing as possible. It was a hard feat when the other woman had close to eight inches on her.
“Sirhan loves me. Whatever your father and his father plotted decades ago is over. It has nothing to do with me.”
“Or that bastard brat you’re carrying.”
The slap rang out against the tile of the bathroom. A deafening sound in the middle of utter silence. Azah grabbed her reddening cheek in shock and then scowled at her stomach.
“You know it’s true. You probably plotted this all out. Maybe poke a hole in a condom, maybe forget your pills a few weeks in a row until you snare him. You’re not worthy of our throne or the power. You’re not one of us. You think that the few stares and whispers tonight were bad? How do you think your child will deal with it? The fair-haired ruler of Dubaya? The half American. It’s a joke. I’m willing to take Sirhan back and move on from all of this. I think that’s the best thing we can do, don’t you? All of us, we need to move on from this type of failure.”
“My child — our child is a miracle. They’re loved already.”
“But you don’t want this, do you? You don’t want your child to be mocked and laughed at, to only be so trusted because he’s not truly a full Dubayan.”
“You’re from Qutaria.”
“You know what I mean. No matter what type of sheikh he grows to be, he’ll always be half American. Lesser. If you run now, then you’ll save Sirhan, give him the chance to have the right type of family, the right type of heir. Not just some American mutt like you’ve got growing there, bitch.”
