The Sheik and the Pregnant Bride

by Susan Mallery

“She has nothing to do with this.”

  Woman? What woman? Maggie made a mental note to get on the computer and check out Qadir’s past.

  “If you cannot find a bride on your own, I will find one for you,” the king said. “You will do your duty.”

  There was the sound of footsteps, then a door closed. Maggie stayed in place, not sure if both men had left.

  She breathed as quietly as she could and was about to go back the way she’d come when she heard Qadir say, “You can come out now. He’s gone.”

  Maggie winced as heat burned her cheeks. She stepped into view. “I didn’t mean to listen in. I was taking a walk and then you were talking. I was really quiet. How did you know I was here?”

  Qadir nodded toward the plate-glass window that reflected the balcony. “I saw you approaching. It does not matter. My quarrel with the king is common knowledge. It is an argument my brothers and I share with him.”

  “Still, I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose.”

  “You seem intent on repeating that fact.”

  “I don’t want you to think I’m rude.”

  “But I have already hired you. What does it matter what I think?”

  “Because you’re my boss. You could fire me tomorrow.”

  “True, but per our contract, you would still get paid.”

  She fought against the need to roll her eyes. “While the money is important, so is doing a good job. I don’t want to leave until the car is finished. It’s a matter of pride.”

  Maybe being über-rich and a sheik meant he wouldn’t understand that. Maggie doubted Qadir had ever had to work for anything.

  “Will your father really find you a wife?” she asked.

  “He will try. Ultimately the choice is mine. I can refuse to marry her.”

  “Why would he think anyone would agree to an arranged marriage?”

  Qadir leaned against the railing. “The woman in question will be marrying into a royal family. We trace our bloodline back more than a thousand years. For some, the dictates of history and rank matter far more than any matters of the heart.”

  A thousand years? Maggie couldn’t imagine that. But then she’d grown up under relatively modest circumstances in a fairly typical medium-size town. Over the past few years movie stars showed up every winter to ski, but she didn’t have any contact with them. Nor did she want any. She preferred regular people to the rich and famous. And to princes. Even one as handsome as the man in front of her.

  “You must have all kinds of women throwing themselves at you,” she said. “Aren’t there any you want to marry?”

  Qadir raised his eyebrows. “You take my father’s side in this?”

  “You’re royal. Doesn’t having heirs come with the really plush surroundings?”

  “So you’re practical.”

  “I understand family loyalty and duty.”

  “Would you have agreed to an arranged match if it had been expected?”

  Maggie considered the question. “I don’t know. Maybe. If I’d always known it was going to be that way. I’m not sure I would have liked it.”

  “Such an obedient daughter.”

  “Not on purpose. I loved my father very much.” He’d been all the family she’d ever had. She still expected to see him in the house or hear his footsteps. One of the big advantages of her job in El Deharia—besides the money—was that she could escape the sad memories for a few weeks.

  Qadir shook his head. “I am sorry. I had forgotten your recent loss. I did not mean to remind you of your pain.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m kind of bringing it with me everywhere I go.”

  He nodded slowly as if he understood what it meant to lose something so precious. Did he? Maggie realized she knew nothing about Qadir beyond what she’d heard on television. She didn’t read gossip magazines. Or fashion magazines for that matter. Her idea of a great evening was when Car and Driver arrived in the mail.

  “You must have other family back in Aspen,” he said. “How will they cope with you gone?”

  “I, ah, I’m kind of alone. It was just my dad and me. I have a few friends, but they’re busy with their lives.”

  “So you had no one to call and tell about your new job?”

  “I called Jon. He worries about me.”

  Qadir’s dark gaze settled on her face. “Your boyfriend?”

  “Not anymore,” she said lightly. “He’s someone I’ve known forever. We grew up next door to each other. We played together when we were kids, then kind of fell in love in high school. Everyone assumed we’d get married, but it never seemed to happen.”

  She’d always wondered why they hadn’t taken that last step. They’d dated for years, been each other’s first time. He was the only man she’d ever been with and until Elaine, Jon had only been with her. She still loved him—a part of her would always love him.

  “I think we fell out of ‘in love,’ if that makes sense. We still care for each other, but it’s not the same. I think we would have broken up a long time ago, except my dad was sick and Jon didn’t want to dump that on me, too.”

  But she’d sensed the changes in their relationship. “I ignored the obvious because of my dad dying. After he was gone, Jon and I talked and I realized it had been over for a long time.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “He’s met someone else. Elaine. She’s great and they’re crazy about each other. So that’s good.”

  She mostly meant that. Jon was her friend and she wanted him to be happy. But every now and then she wondered why she couldn’t have met someone, too.

  “You are very understanding,” Qadir said. “Even if it is all a mask.”

  She stiffened. “I’m not pretending.”

  “You’re saying there is no anger at Jon for replacing you so easily?”

  “None at all,” she snapped, then sighed. “Okay, there’s a twinge, but it’s not a big deal. I don’t really want him for myself, exactly.”

  “But he should have had the common courtesy to wait a while before finding the love of his life.”

  “I can’t agree with that. It makes me sound horrible.”

  “It makes you sound human.”

  “I’m emotionally tough.” At least she was trying to be. There had been a single breakdown about five weeks ago. She’d called Jon, sobbing and trembling with pain. She’d hurt everywhere, not only from the loss of her father, but from the loss of her best friend.

  Jon, being Jon, had come over to comfort her. He’d hugged her and held her and she’d wanted more. She’d kissed him and…

  Maggie walked to the balcony and stared out into the night. Thinking about that night made her so ashamed. She’d seduced him because she’d wanted a chance to forget all that had happened in her life. And maybe to prove she still could.

  At the time, he’d only known Elaine a couple of weeks, but Maggie had sensed they were getting serious. In a way it had been her last chance with Jon.

  When it was over, neither of them had known what to say. She’d apologized, which he’d told her wasn’t necessary. Things had been awkward between them. They still were.

  “Life is complicated,” she murmured.

  “I agree.”

  She looked at him. “You’re not going to get any sympathy from me, Prince Qadir.”

  “You’re saying my life of wealth and privilege means I don’t deserve to complain.”

  “Something like that.”

  “You have many rules.”

  “I like rules.”

  “I like to break them.”

  Hardly a surprise, she thought as she smiled. “Of course you do.”

  He laughed. “I still do not intimidate you. What was it you called me? A guy with a checkbook and a car?”

  “Is reverence an important part of the job?”

  “Not at all. You may even call me by my first name, without using my title.”

  “I’m honored.”

  “No, you’re not, but you should be.” He took a step t
oward her, then touched her cheek. “Do not mourn for the man unwise enough to let such a prize go. He was born a fool and he will die a fool. Good night.”

  Qadir disappeared with a speed that left Maggie gasping. She didn’t know what to think about first. The soft brush of his fingers on her cheek or what he’d said.

  She wanted to protest that Jon wasn’t a fool. That he was actually a really bright guy, which was one of the things she’d always liked about him. Except she liked Qadir’s attitude about the whole thing. She also enjoyed thinking about herself as a prize to be won…by a man who was not a fool.

  Chapter Two

  M aggie finished getting ready, then hovered by the door, not sure if she was just supposed to go down to the garage or wait to be called or what.

  “Palaces should come with instruction books,” she murmured to herself as she reached for the door handle. She might as well see if she could find her way to the garage and…

  Someone knocked on her door. She pulled it open to find a pretty blonde about her age in the wide hallway.

  “Hi,” the woman said. “You’re Maggie, right? I’m Victoria McCallan, secretary, fellow American and your guide to all things royal. Victoria, never Vicki, although honestly I can’t say why. It started when I was little. I think I was in a mood and I haven’t gotten over it.”

  Victoria smiled as she spoke. She was a few inches shorter than Maggie, even in her insanely high heels. She wore a tailored blouse tucked into a short, dark skirt. Her skin was perfect, her nails long and painted and her hair curled to her shoulders. She was the very essence of everything female. Maggie suddenly felt tall and awkward. Not to mention seriously underdressed in her jeans and T-shirt. She didn’t want to imagine what Victoria would think about the coveralls she had in her duffel.

  “You are Maggie, aren’t you?”

  “Most days.”

  Victoria laughed. “Welcome to the palace. It’s great here.”

  “Is there a map?”

  “If only. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been lost. We need internal GPS or something. They could implant us with a chip and track us.” She wrinkled her nose. “On second thought, maybe not. Are you really here to fix a car?”

  “Work on one. I’m restoring an old Rolls-Royce.” She thought about going into more detail, but figured the other woman’s eyes would glaze over.

  “On purpose?”

  “It’s not going to happen otherwise.”

  “I never got the car thing.”

  Maggie looked at Victoria’s perfect outfit. “I never got the clothes thing. I hate shopping.”

  “I shop enough for two so you’re covered. Come on. I’ll show you the way.”

  Victoria waited while Maggie grabbed her duffel.

  “Do I want to know what’s in there?” the other woman asked.

  Maggie thought about her personal tools and coveralls. “No.”

  “Good to know. The El Deharian palace was originally built in the eighth century. There are still parts of the old exterior walls visible. I can show you later, if you’d like. The main structure is broken down into four quadrants, much like the interior of a cathedral, but without the religious implication. There is artwork from around the world on display. At any given time, the paintings alone are valued at nearly a billion dollars.”

  Victoria pointed to a painting on a wall. “An early Renoir. Just a little FYI, don’t even think about taking it back to your room for a private viewing. It’s protected by a state-of-the-art security system. However, if you insist on trying, rumor is they’ll take you down to the dungeon and cut off your head.”

  “Good to know,” Maggie murmured. “I don’t know much about art. I’ll keep it that way. How do you know so much about the palace?”

  “I like to read. There’s a lot of great history here. Plus I’ve been asked to fill in a few times when foreign dignitaries want a private tour after dinner when the regular tour staff has gone home.”

  “You live here—in the palace?”

  “Just down the hall. I’ve been here nearly two years.” She paused at a staircase. “Look at that hideous baby in the painting.” She pointed to a large oil painting on the wall. “It’s the easiest way to remember your wing and floor. Trust me, most of the other art is much more attractive.”

  “Good to know.”

  Victoria started down the stairs. “As live-in staff you’re entitled to a whole bundle of goodies. Free laundry, access to the kitchen. I will warn you that you have to be careful with the food. You can really pack on the pounds in a heartbeat. I gained the freshman fifteen when I first moved here. Now I make sure I walk everywhere.”

  Maggie eyed her high heels. “In those?”

  “Of course. They go with my outfit.”

  “Don’t they hurt?”

  “Not until about four in the afternoon.”

  Victoria led her downstairs, then along a long corridor that led to the rear garden. At least Maggie thought it was the rear garden. It looked a little like what she and Qadir had passed through the day before.

  “Back to the kitchen,” Victoria said. “You can call in your request at any time. They do post a menu online, so if you want to just order from that, they’ll love you more. Everything is delicious. Unless you want to weigh four hundred pounds, avoid the desserts.” She looked at Maggie. “Of course, you’re probably one of those annoying women who doesn’t have to watch what she eats.”

  “I’m pretty physically active during my day,” Maggie admitted.

  “Great. And here I thought we’d be friends.” She pulled a key out of her skirt which, apparently, had a pocket, and passed it over. “You have private access. Very impressive.”

  She waited while Maggie unlocked the side door, then they stepped into the massive garage.

  Victoria paused by the door as the automatic lights came on, but Maggie walked directly to the Rolls, stopping only when she could touch the smooth lines of the perfect beauty.

  Victoria paused behind her. “It’s, um, old.”

  “A classic.”

  “And dirty. And kind of in bad shape. You can fix that?”

  Maggie nodded, already visualizing what the car could be. “I’m going to be searching for original parts, if I can find them. It will be a pain, but in the end, I want her exactly as she was.”

  “Okay, then. Sounds like fun.” Victoria walked to a door. “This is your office.”

  Office? Maggie had expected a bay in the garage and a toolbox. She got an office, too?

  The space was large, clean and fully equipped. In addition to the desk with a computer, there were bookshelves filled with catalogs and a wall-size tool organizer.

  Victoria opened the desk drawer and pulled out a credit card. “Yours. You are allowed to get whatever you need for the car. Qadir has placed no restrictions on your spending. I’m thinking you’ll want to avoid a trip to the Bahamas, however. What with the whole beheading thing.”

  Maggie laughed. “Thanks for the tip. Is this really for me?”

  “All of it. I was in here late yesterday and set up your computer. You’re already connected to the Internet.”

  “Thanks.” Maggie had been excited about the job before—working on the Rolls would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for her. But to have all this, too, was unbelievable. “Guess I’m not still in Kansas.”

  “Is that where you’re from?”

  “Colorado. Aspen.”

  “It’s supposed to be beautiful there.”

  “It is.”

  “How’d you end up in El Deharia?” Victoria asked. As she spoke, she rested one hip on the desk.

  Maggie figured with those shoes, she would want to stay off her feet as much as possible.

  “My dad had talked to Qadir about restoring the car. They were still working the deal when my dad got sick. Cancer. Things were put on hold, then he died and I decided I wanted the job.”

  It was the simple version of the story, Maggie thought, not want
ing to tell someone she’d barely met that she had been forced to sell the business to pay for medical bills and that this job with Prince Qadir was her only chance of keeping her promise to her father about buying it back.

  “I’m sorry about your loss,” Victoria said. “That has to be hard. Is your mom still alive?”

  “No. She died when I was a baby. It was just my dad and me, but it was great. I loved being with him in the shop and learning about cars.”

  “Well, I’m sure it’s a handy skill.” Victoria tilted her head so her curls fell. “So that’s all this is about? A job?”

  “What else would it be?”

  “Marrying a prince. That’s why I’m here.”

  Maggie blinked. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Not very well,” Victoria admitted with a sigh. “I work for Prince Nadim—he’s one of Qadir’s cousins. I keep waiting for him to notice me, but so far, it’s not happening. Still, I have faith. One day he’ll look up, see me and be swept away.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure what to say. “You don’t sound like you’re madly in love with him.”

  “I’m not,” Victoria said with a grin. “Love is dangerous and for fools. I’m keeping my heart safely out of the game. But what little girl doesn’t want to grow up and be a princess?”

  There had to be more to the story than that, Maggie thought. Victoria was too friendly and open to only care about money. Or maybe not. Maggie didn’t have that many female friends. Most women were put off by the car thing.

  Victoria glanced at her watch. “I have to get back.” She bent over the desk and scribbled down a number. “That’s my cell. Call me if you have any questions, or if you want to have dinner or something. The palace is beautiful, but it can be a little scary at first. Not to mention lonely. We can hang out.”

  “Eat dessert?”

  Victoria sighed. “Yes, and then I’ll have to take the stairs even more than I do. Good luck with the car.”

  As Maggie watched her go, she wondered if Victoria really meant what she said—about wanting to marry Prince Nadim. She supposed there were women who were more interested in what the man could provide than the character of the man himself. Not something that would interest her.