by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"Because I didn't want to break the rule that you set down when we married."
She smiled and stroked a hand through the tuft of hair that decorated the center of his chest. "It was a foolish rule."
"I won't disagree with that," he replied and tightened his arm around her.
"I wish I could sleep in your arms tonight, Farid."
He smiled, that slow, sexy grin that created a new burst of heat through her. "You can sleep in my arms on the plane tonight."
"Then tomorrow night I'll sleep in your arms in our bed," she said, the thought shooting a new burst of warmth through her. She slid from his arms and sat up, eyeing the clock on the nightstand next to him. "I need to go pack up the last of my things in the bathroom."
He nodded and she felt his gaze on her as she left the bed, picked up her robe from the floor and walked to the bathroom. Once in the privacy of the master bath, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair was tousled and her cheeks were filled with color. Her lips were slightly swollen and she looked as if she'd just been thoroughly and completely loved.
As she had been. Happiness soared through her as she thought of Farid's passion, how sweetly he had made her body sing in response.
She may be relatively inexperienced, but she knew instinctively that Farid was a wonderful lover. It had been foolish of her to believe they could live a life together, share the intimacies of marriage, yet not share a physical relationship.
She would have been denying herself incredible pleasure in denying them a physical intimacy. She also knew now that there was no going back. From here on out their marriage would be a real one, including frequent lovemaking.
Pulling on her robe, then a pair of panties, she realized that in the past two and a half weeks that they had been in Montebello, her tummy had grown more pronounced.
A new thought shot a touch of fear through her. Would Farid still want her when her stomach bulged and her ankles swelled with her pregnancy? Would he still desire her when she was fat and pregnant, or would he find her repulsive?
It took her only minutes to pack her toiletries into a small suitcase. When she returned to the bed, Farid was lying on his back, his arms behind his head.
He motioned for her to rejoin him. "We still have a little time before we have to get up," he said. As she got into the bed next to him he once again placed an arm around her and pulled her against his side.
His hand stroked her shoulder and although she tried to relax, she couldn't with the weight of her worry on her heart. She raised her head and gazed at him.
He touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. "What's wrong? I see a frown."
"I was just wondering if you won't want me anymore when my belly gets big and fat."
He sat up, his features registering surprise. "Is that what you're worried about? That as your pregnancy advances suddenly I won't want you anymore?"
To her surprise, he pushed up her robe to expose her tummy. Placing a hand against the tiny bulge, his gaze held hers. "I'm going to want every ounce, every pound of weight that you gain. I'm going to find you beautiful and desirable as the baby grows inside you."
He leaned down and kissed her lower abdomen and tears of happiness momentarily filled Samira's eyes.
Gently, he pulled her robe back down and once again drew her into his embrace against his side. "For as long as you want me, Samira, I'll want you."
She released a sigh of contentment and snuggled against him, loving the feel of their bodies so close together. She knew that all too quickly it would be time for them to get dressed and go to the airport, where the jet would be ready for take-off.
And in all probability within the next twelve to fourteen hours, she would have to face her father. Her mind replayed the scene in the restaurant and again she berated herself for being such a fool where Desmond was concerned.
"Samira, we'd better get up. A car will be here in just a few minutes to take us to the airport."
Reluctantly she once again left his arms. They both got out of bed and dressed in silence. Samira felt as if a magical time in her life was coming to an end. She only hoped the future they faced together would be as magical as these past few days with him.
They were ready and waiting when one of the royal limos pulled up to take them to the airport.
When they were ensconced in the back of the limo, Samira leaned against Farid and sighed. "I'm almost sorry to say goodbye to Montebello," she said. "These last two weeks have been wonderful."
"I've enjoyed spending time with you, Samira."
She sighed once again. "I can't quit thinking about what a horrid man Desmond is," she said. "And what a fool I was to have anything to do with him."
"Wolves often wear sheep's clothing very well. You need to stop blaming yourself for being a good and trusting human being who got taken advantage of."
She looked at him gratefully. "You're right," she agreed. "But he is vile and hateful and I'm never going to tell him about the baby – never," she finished vehemently.
"You're just upset right now," Farid replied. "The scene in the restaurant was terrible, but you know that you have to tell Caruso about the baby."
She moved away from his side and eyed him in surprise. "I know nothing of the kind. I don't have to tell him anything."
"Samira…" he began.
"I will never let him know that he's the father of my child," she exclaimed, interrupting whatever he was about to say. She wasn't sure exactly when she'd made this decision, but she was absolutely, positively adamant about it now.
"Don't be ridiculous," he exclaimed.
"Ridiculous?" She stared at him. "I'm not being ridiculous," she protested as she eyed him in amazement.
A darkness had usurped any light in his eyes and he looked frighteningly cold and distant at the moment. "You know what kind of a man Desmond is. I do not want that man in my child's life."
"You have no right to make a decision like that," he replied, his voice tight with an anger that seemed to have sprung from nowhere.
"I have every right," she returned, with a rising anger of her own. "I'm the baby's mother."
"And Desmond is the baby's father and no matter how you wish to change that, you can't. You and Desmond Caruso made a baby together, and Desmond has a right to know that you're going to have his child."
"I don't care. I think I know what's best for my child," she said stiffly.
"Your baby has a right to know its biological father. If you really think that it's best to keep a secret like that then you're a selfish woman thinking only of yourself and your own comfort."
She hadn't even realized they had reached the airport until he opened the car door and got out. He held out a hand to help her out but she ignored it, a seething anger rising up inside her.
What did he know about it, anyway? How dare he accuse her of being selfish? She swept into the jet, aware of Farid just behind her.
How could he be so mean and hateful to her after the tender, beautiful lovemaking they'd shared less than an hour before?
She nodded curtly to the pilot who greeted her, then made her way toward the back of the small luxury jet. There a sitting area awaited her, complete with a buttery-soft leather sofa, a coffee table bearing a fresh-cut floral arrangement and two captain chairs in the same soft gray leather.
She sank down on the sofa. Although she was as angry as she'd ever been with Farid, she was bitterly disappointed when he didn't join her.
In a thousand thoughts, she'd never have dreamed that Farid would feel as strongly as he obviously did, and she hadn't realized until this moment how much she had wanted his support, not his censure.
Was it so selfish to want to protect her child from a man like Desmond Caruso? Was it so horrible to want to keep her child from the influence of a man she knew would not make a good father? He just didn't understand. He couldn't understand how deeply she felt about this particular issue.
Tears oozed from h
er eyes as she thought of Farid's reaction to her announcement. Would she have to choose between protecting the baby she already loved or pleasing a husband she loved?
She loved Farid? No. Impossible. What she felt for him was gratitude for marrying her … what she felt for him was an incredible physical attraction based on their magnificent lovemaking. But she didn't love him.
Still, this wasn't the way she'd wanted to return to Tamir, with cold words echoing and a chasm of emotional distance between them.
She hated the sick feeling that their confrontation had left in her, hated the coldness that had radiated from his eyes as he'd spoken to her.
Tears once again blurred her vision as she stared out the window, the weight of Farid's disapproval like a stone around her heart.
Swiping the tears from her eyes with the back of one hand, she wondered how they could present a united, loving picture to her parents when they weren't even speaking to one another.
* * *
Farid was more angry than he could ever remember being, and he wasn't sure exactly what he was most angry with – the situation, or Samira's apparent ultimate decision, or how both had brought his personal emotional baggage smashing to the forefront.
Samira was making the same selfish decision his mother had made, and Farid recognized that her decision had stirred fires of resentment inside him that really had nothing to do with her.
Samira had no idea of the ramifications of the decision she'd made. She had no idea the harm she would do her child if she denied the child the knowledge of its biological father.
His chest tightened as he thought of his mother's deathbed confession, of all the wasted years, of all the aching loneliness. How on earth could she have kept such a secret from him? How on earth could she have been so damned cruel?
He stared out the window, wishing they were already up in the air. But traveling with a princess required more than just starting up the engines and taking off. Airspace had to be cleared and a military escort needed to be in place.
He eyed his wristwatch. Just before ten. By midnight they would be in Tamir, and in all likelihood, first thing in the morning they would face Sheik Ahmed to tell him their news.
"Farid?"
He turned to see Samira standing in the doorway that separated the two compartments of the small plane. She looked miserable, her eyes holding the residual emotion of their argument. In spite of his anger, he felt a softening as he gazed at her.
"Can we discuss this issue without yelling at one another?"
"I'm not sure," he said honestly.
"Would you come back here and we can try?" Her gentle brown eyes pleaded with him and he couldn't deny her request.
He stood and followed her into the back compartment, where she sat on the sofa and patted the spot next to her.
He sat and stared at the windows opposite them as the jet engines whined and the plane began to move. Within moments they would be in the air.
"Farid, I don't think you really understand that my only motive in not disclosing that Desmond is the father of my baby is to protect my baby."
He directed his gaze to her. "And I don't think you understand that ultimately keeping that secret might very well destroy your child."
He could tell by her expression that she thought his words overly dramatic. As the jet left the ground and ascended into the sky, Farid knew then that it was time for him to tell her about his mother's lies.
Raking a hand through his hair, fighting to suppress the deep, wrenching emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, he moved to one of the captain chairs facing her.
"My mother lied about who my father was until the day she died," he said without preamble.
Samira's brown eyes stared at him intently. "I don't understand … you said your father was Hashim Nasir and that he died when you were twelve years old."
"That's what I was told until last year when my mother got sick. Then she confessed to me that Hashim Nasir wasn't my biological father." He gazed out the window where there was nothing but darkness, the same kind of darkness he'd felt when Hashim had died.
For him, the sun had stopped shining on the day they had buried Hashim. "I grieved so long and so hard for Hashim," he said aloud, his voice sounding thick and deeper than usual. "And for years I missed his presence in my life – and all the while my mother knew that I had a biological father I could have turned to."
She frowned thoughtfully. "And that knowledge would have taken away your grief at losing Hashim?"
He stared at her in surprise. "Of course not," he exclaimed automatically. And yet, wasn't that what he'd secretly believed? That somehow if he'd known he had a father somewhere else his grief over losing Hashim would have been taken away?
Of course, the idea was utterly ridiculous. Nothing and nobody could have eased the grief he'd felt over losing Hashim.
He sat forward and once again raked a hand through his hair in perplexity. "I don't know, maybe I did sort of believe that if I'd known my real father, then I wouldn't have felt such grief over losing Hashim. But that's not true. I loved Hashim."
"So, who is your real father?"
"His name isn't really important. Apparently he drove through the little village where my mother lived when she was eighteen years old. His car broke down and he came to her house for help. One thing led to another and I was conceived that night. The next morning he was gone."
"Then your mother married Hashim," Samira said.
He nodded. "She and Hashim had been promised to one another for years. I think they loved each other very much but they had had a fight the day before my real father showed up at my mother's house. Anyway, she never spoke of my real father, never told me the truth about the circumstances of my parentage."
"Did you ever meet him? Your real father, I mean?" she asked softly.
"Yeah. When my mother discovered she was so ill, she wrote him a letter, telling him of my existence. The day that she was buried, he came to meet me and we developed a relationship that lasted six months." Again pain ripped through his guts. "Then six months ago he was killed in a car accident."
He stood, the anger rich and bold inside him. "Don't you see? She did to me exactly what you want to do to your baby … she deprived me of my real father."
"Farid…" She reached out and took his hand and pulled him down to sit next to her once again. She cupped his face between her hands, her eyes radiating a tenderness that somewhat soothed the beast inside him. "My hearts aches with the losses that you've suffered in your life. You lost not only your mother, but two fathers in the space of one lifetime."
He jerked away from her touch, needing to sustain his anger so that the pain didn't consume him. "She could have made things easier on me if she hadn't kept the secret. I lost years of time with my real father because she was too damned selfish to tell me the truth."
Samira sighed, her gaze troubled as it lingered on him. "Oh, Farid, do you really think it was selfishness that drove your mother?"
He didn't reply … couldn't because of the emotion that clogged his throat. It was a combination of anger and anguish, blended with regrets and recriminations.
Samira grabbed his hand in her small, warm one. "Needless to say, I didn't know your mother, but you said she was a warm, loving person whose family was her priority."
She looked down at the wedding band that circled her ring finger. "The ring is warm, Farid … warm with a mother's love, and I can't imagine that the woman who wore this ring made a decision to intentionally hurt her child. I can't believe her decision was based on anything but tremendous love for you. Do you really, in your heart of hearts, think differently?"
For the first time since his mother's death, for the first time since the startling confession that had brought his real father into his life, Farid was faced with the realization that the mother who had raised him, the mother who had loved him, would have never intentionally hurt him.
The emotions that had moments before been so tight, so
suffocating in his chest, broke apart.
"I just wish I'd had more time with my real father," he finally said and squeezed Samira's hand in his. He looked at her searchingly. "I don't want you to make the same mistake my mother did. Don't steal away the relationship between Desmond and your child. You never know what kind of an impact that will have later."
She nodded almost imperceptibly. "All right, Farid, when the child is old enough I'll tell him the truth about his father and Desmond can decide then what sort of an influence he will be in his child's life."
Once again she framed his face with her hands, her eyes so sweet, so gentle he wanted to fall into their depths forever. "I wish you were the father, Farid."
Her words, spoken with such heartfelt emotion, shattered the last of any anger he might have about his past, leaving his heart open and vulnerable.
He drew her against his side. She came willingly, snuggling into him as if she belonged with her head against his heart, his chin resting on the top of her head.
He sighed, feeling a helplessness soar through him with every mile that carried them closer to Tamir. He was glad she'd changed her mind about telling the baby about his real father, but she had capitulated to his wishes so easily.
If she wouldn't stand up to him for what she believed to be best for her child, how on earth would she ever stand up to her father if push came to shove?
Chapter 11
Her bedroom.
Always in the past when Samira had entered this room, decorated in sunshine yellow and white with accents of green, she'd felt warm and secure and happy.
Tonight she felt only an abiding loneliness as she looked at the king-size bed where she'd always slept alone and would sleep alone again tonight.
She had tried to talk Farid into staying here with her tonight. After all, they were married and would announce that fact to her parents first thing in the morning.
But he had insisted that he go to his own quarters, that it would not be right for him to sleep in her room until after they had talked to her parents.
He had left her at the foot of the staircase that led up to her private quarters, assuring her that he would be at her side in the morning when they met with her parents.
