SECRETS OF A PREGNANT PRINCESS

by Carla Cassidy

  That meant Samira herself had removed the screen and disappeared into the encroaching shadows of the night.

  Why? The question rang in his head as he raced out of the house. He hesitated on the sidewalk, unsure of which direction to go. He had to find her. As a princess of Tamir, she should not be wandering around alone.

  Dammit, she knew better than to go off on her own, he thought as he hurried down the sidewalk. His gaze swept left, then right as he ran, searching for any sign of the princess under his protection.

  Sheik Ahmed would have his head if anything happened to his beloved daughter. And Farid would not be able to live with himself.

  He knew the palace grounds were huge, and he had no idea if he was going in the right direction. As he hurried along, he encountered two palace guards. The first one had seen nobody all evening long. The second guard told him he'd given Princess Samira directions to Desmond Caruso's quarters and gave the same directions to Farid.

  Farid ran, knowing that as long as Samira was alone she was in possible danger. As he raced in the direction the guard had indicated, his anger peaked into a new burst of rage.

  What had possessed her? Had this entire trip to Montebello been about a romantic liaison? If so, it was the most irresponsible thing she'd ever done.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as he spied her familiar, petite shape standing on the sidewalk just outside Desmond Caruso's residence.

  Although her back was to him, he recognized the bright coral dress that hugged her slender shape. He grabbed her by the shoulders and whirled her around to face him.

  "How dare you compromise my position and your own safety by sneaking out?" he exclaimed angrily.

  Her beautiful eyes widened at the sight of him, then she burst into tears. He instantly dropped his hands from her shoulders.

  "And don't think your tears will temper my anger with you at the moment," he continued irritably. "I will not be manipulated by your tears. What you did was foolish and irresponsible."

  "You have no idea just how foolish and irresponsible I've been," she cried, and before Farid knew her intent, she threw herself against him, sobbing as if her heart was breaking in two.

  * * *

  Desmond Caruso was irritated, but he hid his irritation beneath the charming smile that was his trademark. It wasn't enough that in the last couple of weeks he'd felt himself being subtly cut off from all palace gossip and news, now he had Ursula to deal with.

  "Ursula … darling … give me a minute to breathe." Gently, but firmly, he moved away from the slender, busty blonde.

  Ursula Chambers had been the last person he'd expected to show up at his place, although he'd known she was in Montebello.

  Over the past week he'd received numerous messages and phone calls from her, but he'd accepted none of them. He had bigger fish to fry than a failed actress with desperation in her eyes.

  He had met Ursula almost five months before when he'd traveled to Shady Rock, Colorado to get information about King Marcus's eldest son and heir to the throne, Prince Lucas. It had been more than a year since Lucas's plane had gone down in the Rockies.

  Although the wreckage had been thoroughly searched, as had the area in and around the crash site, no body had ever been found.

  Desmond had received information that it was possible the crown prince had worked as a ranch hand on a small spread in Shady Rock, so he had flown to Colorado to check it out. There he'd met Ursula, and instantly he'd recognized her as a kindred spirit.

  "You've been avoiding me," she now said, her plump lips pulled into a pout.

  "That's not true," he protested. "I've just been so busy." He'd been busy romancing a princess from Tamir. A man had to do what a man had to do in order to achieve his plans for his future. "But you were never far from my mind. By the way, how did you get past the guards?"

  Ursula sank down on the sofa and crossed her long, shapely legs. "It took me almost every night of the last week to finally convince a guard to let me in." She smiled and twirled a strand of her long hair between two fingers. "It took a combination of seductive flirting, money and the promise of more of both to come before he'd tell me where you lived and let me in."

  "And who was this guard who takes his job so seriously?" Desmond asked. He would see to it that the guard was fired for dereliction of duty.

  "Edwardo something…"

  "Edwardo Scarpa." Desmond knew the guard well. Scarpa had a weakness for women and many suspected a bit of a gambling habit.

  Ursula dropped the strand of her hair and leaned forward, her blue eyes as guileless as a newborn baby. "But let's not talk about him. Let's talk about us."

  There is no us, Desmond wanted to yell. There had been a time when he'd actively pursued Ursula, a time when he'd believed her useful to his goals.

  Believing she had information about the missing crown prince, he'd become her lover and confidante.

  However, since Prince Lucas had returned alive and well and Desmond's hopes of seeing his half brother, Lorenzo, on the throne had been dashed, he no longer had any use for the striking, scheming has-been actress.

  But he also realized it would be dangerous to toss her out like a piece of spoiled meat. She knew too much, and it was possible that if he spurned her she would make trouble for him.

  He sat on the sofa next to her and placed his arm around her. Her scent surrounded him, the scent of expensive perfume. She held herself stiffly for a moment, the innocence in her eyes transforming into something almost ugly. "I shouldn't even speak to you, much less let you touch me. You've been mean and hateful in ignoring me. I will not be ignored, Desmond."

  Her words, subtle with an unspoken threat, fired his irritation once again, but he smiled and stroked a hand down the softness of her hair. "Darling, I told you I haven't been ignoring you. Since Prince Lucas's return, there has been much business to attend to here in Montebello."

  The anger left her eyes, replaced by an edge of desperation. "So, you still want me?"

  "Of course I do." He pulled her closer and kissed her eager lips.

  As the kiss ended she sighed with pleasure and smiled at him, a new twinkle in her eyes. "I had to come to see you. I missed you so much … and I have some information for you."

  "Information?" Desmond sat back. "What kind of information?"

  Her lips curved into a smug, secretive smile. "Information that just might be worth a king's ransom."

  Desmond's pulse quickened. "What are you talking about? Tell me."

  Again her lips puffed out in a pout. "I don't think I'll tell you now, you've been so mean in not returning my phone calls and messages."

  Desmond clenched his fists in frustration. Damn this woman and her foolish games. He knew she wouldn't have traveled all this way if she didn't think the information she had was valuable.

  Ursula was looking for the same things Desmond was … a future filled with riches, and a place among royalty. And like himself, he knew she would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.

  "How many times do I have to tell you, I've been busy. I was not intentionally avoiding you. Now, tell me what this tidbit of information is."

  She shook her head, a glassy glitter hardening her gaze. "I think you should take me out for dinner tomorrow evening. Someplace nice and expensive … someplace where I'll be seen by important people. Then perhaps I'll share my secret with you."

  She stood, looking like the proverbial cat that had dined on the canary. "I'm staying at the Montebello hotel, room 212. I'll expect you about seven tomorrow evening."

  Desmond stood, fighting against his desire to wrap his hands around her slender neck and throttle her until her face turned blue. However, before he could do that, he had to learn the secret she possessed that was worth a "king's ransom."

  Once he got that secret out of her, he would see to it that he was rid of her forever, and her permanent silence was assured.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  «^»

  Oth
er than an occasional inadvertent brush of shoulders or the accidental touching of hands, Farid had never before touched Princess Samira. Now they stood breasts to chest, hip to hip.

  He had never considered before how soft her breasts might be against his own chest. He had never before considered how neatly the top of her head would fit so perfectly beneath his chin.

  The spicy scent of her perfume was intoxicating, as were the soft curves that filled his arms. Farid drew in a sharp breath as he realized the thoughts that flittered at the edges of his mind were distinctly unbodyguardlike.

  For just a moment, he wanted to wrap her in his arms. He wanted to tangle his fingers into her shoulder-length, silky black hair and taste the sweetness of her full lips.

  These thoughts were fleeting and completely inappropriate. Instead of following through on any of them, he once again gripped her by her slender shoulders and pulled her away from him.

  Her tears had now changed to deep, wrenching sobs. "I don't know what I'm going to do… I've been so incredibly stupid … how am I ever going to tell my parents…" The words came jerkily from her, interspersed with choking sobs.

  He'd thought her tears to be an attempt at manipulation so he wouldn't stay angry with her. Now he recognized them as something much different, and a touch of alarm shot through him.

  What could be so bad that she couldn't go to her parents?

  A million questions filled his head, but as he saw several royal guards wearing expressions of concern walking in their direction, he took her arm. "Princess, pull yourself together," he commanded brusquely. It would not do to create a scandal.

  The answers to his questions could be told to him when they were back in their private quarters. This was not the time or the place.

  Still holding her arm, he guided her away from Desmond Caruso's residence and back toward the guest house where they were staying. He nodded curtly to the guards, apparently satisfying them that everything was under control.

  Neither of them spoke on the way back to their quarters. The only sounds were those of the singing of night insects and Samira's soft crying.

  Once they were again in the guest house, she sank down on the overstuffed cushions of the sofa and buried her face in her hands.

  Again concern filled Farid. He stood directly before her. "Princess … do you wish to talk about whatever it is that has you distressed?" Aware of his position as her servant, not her equal, he was reluctant to push her too hard.

  She looked up at him, her dark eyes liquid with tears and the tip of her nose slightly reddened by her crying. "What is there to talk about?" Her voice held a slight edge of hysteria. "I loved him. I thought he loved me … he told me he loved me, but he lied. It was all lies."

  Farid relaxed as he realized the reason for her tears was apparently nothing more than a foolish matter of the heart. Women, he thought. Such passionate, emotional creatures.

  Farid had never been bothered with such nonsense. He'd had women before … physical relationships that were pleasant, but with women who expected nothing from him, women who knew his life, his honor and his heart were bound to Sheik Ahmed Kamal and the Tamir crown.

  "Who told you he loved you?" he asked curiously. "Desmond Caruso?"

  She nodded, her silky dark hair partially obscuring her delicate features as she stared down at her folded hands in her lap. "I thought we were going to get married. He led me to believe we'd have a life together. I thought he was the man for me." Once again tears fell from her eyes and trekked down her cheeks. "He told me I was the only woman for him, but he lied. He was with somebody else just now … his lover."

  Farid frowned, unsure how to handle this uncustomary display of emotion. In the months he had been with Samira, she'd always been cheerful and optimistic, never given to dramatic outbursts.

  "Then the man is a snake and you'll find another man who will marry you," he said gruffly. He wanted nothing more than for her to stop crying.

  "No, I won't," she cried miserably. She jumped up off the sofa and walked to the window, looking like a wilted, peach-colored flower. "You don't understand," she said, her back to him. "No man will ever want me now."

  He stared at her in bewilderment. "Don't be silly. You're an attractive young woman and I'm certain you will have many suitors in your future."

  "I'm not a young woman," she protested, her back still to him. "I'm twenty-nine years old and no other man will ever want me because … because…" She twirled around and looked at him, sheer misery reflected in the darkness of her eyes. "I'm pregnant with Desmond's child."

  Farid sucked in a gasp of shock. Pregnant? How was that possible? He couldn't remember a time when she'd been out of his sight. When had she had the opportunity to meet privately with Desmond Caruso … privately enough to make love?

  Had Farid been less than vigilant in his duties? Had there been a time when Princess Samira had been out of his sight? "How … when?"

  "Don't look so worried," she said dryly, finally managing to get her tears under control. She swiped quickly at her eyes with the back of one hand, then looked at him. "It happened before my father assigned you to me. It was when Desmond came to Tamir for Hassan's wedding."

  Although her words did nothing to alleviate the problem, a small wave of relief swept through Farid. At least he knew he hadn't fallen down in his duties. "Then we must return to Tamir immediately and speak to your father," he said. "He and your mother should know about this."

  "No!" she said emphatically. She left the window and walked quickly to stand before him. She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Please, Farid, we can't tell my father. You know how old-fashioned he and my mother are. He'll force Desmond to marry me … or he'll arrange a marriage to the son of one of his friends and I'll just die if that happens."

  She looked so small, so achingly vulnerable with her full lower lip quivering and her beautiful eyes luminous with new tears. A wave of protectiveness surged through him, and he wanted nothing more than to physically pound Desmond Caruso to the ground.

  The man had obviously taken advantage of Samira's naïveté, manipulated her emotions and abused her innocence.

  Farid knew she was right. Sheik Ahmed would not tolerate this kind of dishonor and would demand an instant remedy. And the remedy would, in all probability, be marriage to Desmond Caruso. If Caruso refused, new tensions would arise between the countries of Tamir and Montebello. At the moment the two countries were enjoying relatively good relations, but something like this could destroy the tenuous peace.

  She released his hand and once again sank to the sofa. With one hand she traced the gold threads that accented the blue sofa material. "I will not marry that man. I hope … I pray I never, ever have to see him again."

  He sat next to her, keeping a respectful distance and trying to ignore her spicy perfumed scent. He frowned, trying to find a solution to the mess Samira found herself in. "Perhaps there is a young man you are fond of, somebody you wouldn't mind being married to."

  She shook her head. "There is nobody. You know I don't date often."

  It was true, in the months since he'd been her bodyguard she hadn't had one date, although she had an active social life with friends.

  He watched her trembling fingers tracing the golden threads of the armrest. She had long, delicate fingers, with nails painted a pale pearly pink. For some inexplicable reason, the sight of those feminine fingernails sent a new burst of protectiveness through him.

  His princess was in trouble, and it was his duty to keep her safe. If she returned to Tamir pregnant and unmarried, there would be a scandal. The tabloids would have a field day with the news.

  He stared at the wall opposite the sofa and thought of the vow he'd made both to himself and to Sheik Ahmed when he'd first come to work for the Kamal family twelve years earlier as a twenty-year-old man.

  He had pledged his heart, his soul and his very life to protecting the Kamal family and that meant protecting them from scandal as well as from any physical
harm.

  And if that pledge hadn't been enough to make him do what he was about to do, then a promise he'd made seven months ago was enough … a promise made to a man now dead, a man he'd known for far too brief a time.

  He looked back at Samira. It was his duty – perhaps his destiny – to take care of this situation. "If you refuse to tell your parents the truth, then there is only one other alternative that will make everything all right."

  Her gaze was suddenly hopeful as she looked at him. "What?"

  He didn't love her, didn't even believe in love. He didn't really know her well at all, but knew none of that mattered. He did know she was a good woman, a woman whom others came to for advice, a woman respected for having a soft heart and a listener's ear.

  But none of that really mattered, either. He had to think about what was best not only for her, but for the child she carried.

  "The answer is really quite simple," he said. "Marry me."

  * * *

  Samira stared at her handsome bodyguard, stunned by what he'd just offered. Impossible, she thought instantly, but, in the back of her mind she knew that marrying Farid would certainly alleviate some of the scandal that was certain to blossom when news of her pregnancy got out.

  If she had the baby out of wedlock, not only would it be fodder for the gossipmongers and tabloids, it would also be a poor reflection on her parents.

  Tears once again burned her eyes as she thought of her parents. They would be appalled by her lack of judgment, and she feared her father's legendary temper.

  Marry Farid?

  I wanted to marry for love, her heart cried out. All her life she'd embraced a fantasy of love that she'd believed one day would come true.

  She knew nothing about Farid Nasir except that her father trusted him with her life.

  Tears once again filled her eyes, and she swiped at them with two fingers. She'd always dreamed of a marriage proposal, but in her dreams it had been quite different.

  Casting a surreptitious gaze at Farid, she wondered if it was possible that he cared about her just a little. Was it possible that during the past two and a half months, he'd secretly fallen a little bit in love with her?