SECRETS OF A PREGNANT PRINCESS

by Carla Cassidy

  Don't be stupid, she chided herself inwardly. It was impossible to read him by merely looking at him. His facial features were as stoic as ever.

  "I … I don't know what to say," she finally managed.

  "It's a good plan," Farid said. "I realize I am but a mere servant and not worthy of a princess's hand in marriage—"

  Although he said the words, there was a touch of arrogance to his tone that made Samira think that he truly believed he was more than worthy of a princess' s hand.

  He continued "—but I'll do whatever it takes to save you from disgrace, to protect the good name of your father and the crown. It is my job … my duty."

  A new wave of despair swept through her. Of course, she should have known his offer of marriage had nothing to do with his heart and everything to do with duty.

  She was fairly certain Farid Nasir had no heart. And as far as she was concerned, marrying him simply wasn't a viable option.

  "Thank you, Farid." She looked down at her hands in her lap. "I'm sure my father would be pleased by your obvious devotion to him and the crown, but I cannot accept your proposal."

  His dark brows rose up in obvious surprise. "What I am suggesting is a marriage in name only," he said. "Of course there would be no … no intimacy between us. The marriage would be for the benefit of the child you carry, and for the sake of your honor."

  She wondered if Farid had ever made love with a woman. Didn't lovemaking require some sort of feelings, some sort of emotions? She couldn't imagine Farid experiencing any sort of heightened emotions or passion that might lead to a bout of lovemaking.

  "A marriage between us just isn't the solution," she said.

  "Then what is the solution?"

  She looked up and met his dark, brooding eyes. If she'd seen any hint of softness there, any sign of even the smallest affection or emotion of any kind, she might have relented.

  But there was nothing there, and she once again looked down at her hands as she rolled his question around in her head. "I don't know," she replied softly. "I think what I need is to go to bed and sleep on it."

  She was suddenly exhausted. What had begun as a trip of joy and expectation had suddenly become a study in heartache, the like of which she'd never suffered before.

  She stood, and Farid did the same. "Before you go into the bedroom, I need to replace the screen in the window frame." She nodded and sat back down on the sofa as he disappeared into the bedroom.

  He returned a few minutes later and stood rigidly at one side of the sofa. "Can I be assured that you won't slip out the window again?" he asked, his voice laced with the heavy displeasure her previous escape had apparently provoked in him.

  "Trust me, you don't have to worry about me sneaking away from you ever again. Good night, Farid." She had almost reached the bedroom door when he called to her. She turned back to face him.

  "The marriage proposal still stands," he said. "You will need somebody to take care of you and the child."

  She wanted to protest, to say that she would be fine all by herself, but instead she just nodded, then escaped into the bedroom before tears could once again fall from her overburdened heart.

  It took her only a few minutes to unpack and change into her long, silky nightgown. Then she stood in the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

  Pregnant. She was pregnant, and the man who was the father of the baby, the man she'd thought loved her above all others, was nothing but a snake in the grass.

  He'd held her in his arms and lied to her. He'd stroked her naked body and lied to her. Every kiss, every caress and every promise had been a lie.

  The promises he had made … she sighed miserably as she thought of the future Desmond had painted with his lies. He'd spoken of a house and a family, of children's laughter and passion-filled nights.

  It had been the kind of future she'd dreamed of since she'd been a young child, the kind of future she'd longed for as a young woman. Lies. All lies.

  She placed her hand on her tummy, where there wasn't as yet any telltale pouch, no indication whatsoever of the little soul growing within.

  The obvious solution was a quiet, discreet abortion, but as far as Samira was concerned, that wasn't an option at all. She'd been raised to revere life, and no matter what she now thought of Desmond Caruso, she already loved the baby inside her with a fierceness that surprised even herself.

  She left the bathroom, turned out all the lights and climbed beneath the soft, luxurious sheets of the king-size bed. Lying on her side facing the window, she could see the moon in the sky.

  Where before the fat silvery orb had appeared to her to be a lover's moon, now it mocked her with its beauty. How could she tell her parents what she had done? How foolish she had been?

  She could never tell them the name of the man who had impregnated her. She knew without a doubt her father would either see her married to Desmond, or have his head on a platter.

  She wanted neither. She just wanted to forget Desmond Caruso. She sighed and forced her eyes to close. Nor did she want to marry Farid. She couldn't imagine being married even in name only to such a cold, emotionless man.

  She didn't know what she wanted. In the best of worlds she would have arrived here in Montebello and delivered the news of her pregnancy to Desmond, who would have taken her in his arms and eagerly, joyously demanded they marry immediately.

  She thought again of Farid and his impromptu proposal. A marriage in name only, undertaken to alleviate any scandal to the crown. She could never agree to such an arrangement. She'd always wanted more for herself than a loveless marriage.

  Tears oozed from beneath her eyelids. She could not so easily give up her dreams of being loved by a special man, of creating the kind of family she'd been raised in … a family bred in love.

  No, she would not accept Farid's offer of marriage, but she also had no idea what, exactly, she was going to do. At the moment, it seemed that all she could do was cry.

  * * *

  She awakened to morning light dancing in through the window and it took her several seconds to orient herself. She wasn't in her familiar bed in her room in the palace in Tamir. She was in a guest house in Montebello … pregnant and unwanted by the man she'd thought she'd loved, the man she'd thought loved her.

  Amazing how quickly betrayal could transform feelings of love into something different, she thought. This morning, rather than heartache, she felt a growing edge of anger. How dare Desmond Caruso play games with her head … with her heart?

  Her anger was not only directed at the man who had betrayed her, but at herself as well. How could she have been so stupid?

  She sat up quickly and instantly flopped back down as a wave of nausea swept through her. It was not unfamiliar. The morning sickness had begun the week before, which had prompted her to take a pregnancy test … the test that had told her her time with Desmond had not been without consequence.

  Knowing from experience that the nausea would pass in a few minutes, she simply remained still, letting her mind flow free over the events of the past twenty-four hours.

  She'd always known that, as a Princess of Tamir, she might be sought out only for her position and wealth and not for herself as a woman. But she'd always believed she'd know the difference between a man who was coveting a closeness to the crown and a man who wanted to capture her heart.

  Desmond had fooled her completely, and the thought of how easily she'd been fooled left a bad taste in her mouth.

  Dismissing him from her mind, she focused on the room where she had slept. She'd paid little attention to it the night before, and now looked around with interest.

  As with the living room, the dominant colors of the bedroom were blue and gold. Thick royal-blue curtains hung at the window, held open by braided gold tiebacks. The furniture was a light wood, graceful and unobtrusive, as if refusing to compete with the beauty of the intricately designed, sumptuous bedspread and the Oriental rug that looked far too beautiful to walk upon.


  She sat up slowly, tired of the bed and of her own thoughts. She knew it was probably after ten by the cast of the sunshine from the window. The nausea was gone, so she got out of bed and padded into the bathroom.

  She took a long, hot shower, luxuriating in the energizing hard spray of water, then dressed in a short-sleeved, long cotton dress. She had brought both Western and traditional Tamir clothing with her, but opted for the simplicity of the dress.

  By the time she had dressed and left her bedroom, a bit of her normal optimism had returned. Somehow, someway, she'd come up with a solution to her dilemma. All she needed was a little time.

  Farid was seated on the sofa as she walked into the living room. He sprang to his feet as she entered, and she waved him back down.

  "Don't you ever relax?" she asked with a sudden edge of irritation. The man looked as tightly coiled as a cobra ready to spring. Clad in his usual attire of a crisp white shirt, navy dress slacks and a suit jacket with the Tamir family crest on the pocket, there was no way he could be mistaken for anything other than what he was … a bodyguard.

  "Never when I'm on duty," he replied. "Coffee and a basket of bread and rolls were delivered a little while ago. Would you like me to pour you some coffee or perhaps order something more substantial for your breakfast?"

  "No, thank you." She knew better than to try coffee first thing in the morning. She was better off keeping her stomach empty until after noon.

  "I made some phone calls this morning and the jet can be readied at a moment's notice for the return trip to Tamir," he said.

  "I'm not returning home today," she said and sat down on the sofa. She picked an apple from the fruit bowl in the center of the coffee table and ran her fingertips across the firm, shiny red skin.

  "With all due respect, Princess, putting off the inevitable changes nothing."

  She wasn't sure why, but the calm reason in his voice only served to spark another dose of irritation.

  "I came to Montebello for a week of vacation. I intend to stay the week … perhaps even longer."

  He gave her a curt bow, his handsome features reflecting nothing. "As you wish."

  She put the apple back in the bowl and gazed up at him. "You know what I really wish? I wish that for just a little while I could be a simple tourist enjoying the sights of Montebello with nothing more on my mind than what presents to bring back to my family."

  She stood, far too restless to sit still. "You're right, Farid. Putting off telling my parents changes nothing, but it also doesn't hurt anything. I need some time, and I've decided we're staying."

  "As you wish."

  "And please stop saying that," she exclaimed fervently. "None of this is as I wish." She flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell."

  She wasn't certain, but she thought she saw a ghost of a smile touch his lips. It was there only a moment, then gone. "With all due respect, Princess, that was a very low-key kind of yell."

  The smile she thought she had seen gave her courage, and she reached out and grabbed his hands in hers. He had big, strong hands, and for a moment she wished they would close around hers, communicate to her a sense of security and well-being.

  "Oh, Farid, what I want is a week of not being a princess, a week of not being a pregnant, unmarried princess who has no idea what's going to happen to her. I don't want to think of what is facing me upon my return to Tamir. I don't want a bodyguard, and I don't want attention. I just want some time to feel free, and think, and try to decide what my future will be."

  He frowned and pulled his hands from hers, his dark eyes obviously troubled by her words. "I cannot permit you to wander Montebello alone. My duty is to protect you from harm and I won't shirk that duty."

  Again she reached for his hands and grabbed them tightly. "I'm not asking you to let me wander alone. But don't you have other clothing, something more casual without the official Tamir royal crest? Can't you accompany me on my explorations looking like my friend and companion instead of my bodyguard?"

  He looked down at the dark suit jacket he wore, the Tamir royal crest emblazoned on the breast pocket. "I only brought my official clothing with me."

  She forced a bright smile. "Then we'll spend the day shopping." She felt her smile falter. "And we won't talk about what I'm going to do when I return to Tamir."

  She dropped Farid's hands, wishing the man didn't look so grim. She knew what he wanted, what he thought best was that they immediately return to Tamir and speak to her father and mother about the condition she found herself in.

  But she wasn't ready to face her parents' disappointment and anger. She wasn't ready to go home and face the fact that not only would her pregnancy create a royal scandal, but it would break her parents' hearts.

  Besides, before she returned home, she had to figure out how she could give her child the best possible future.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  «^»

  The piazza just outside the gates of the Royal Palace grounds teemed with people and activity. The air was an olfactory delight, scented with the citrus smell of fresh fruit, the heavy odor of exotic spices and the savory scents that wafted from the open doors of the restaurants.

  There was a cacophony of sound – merchants hawking wares, children laughing as they chased one another and adult voices greeting each other or haggling over the price of a particular item.

  Farid stood just behind Samira, watching as she looked at a display of brightly colored silk scarves in one of the open markets that lined the cobblestone streets.

  He felt naked without his suit coat, but Samira had insisted that he remove it before they left the guest house. He knew later, as the sun overhead grew more intense, he would be grateful to be rid of it, but at the moment he felt uncharacteristically underdressed.

  "These are beautiful," Samira said to the man selling the scarves as she pulled money from her purse. Farid noticed how the sunlight danced on the darkness of her hair, and found himself wondering if it was as silky to the touch as it looked.

  He had no doubt that she would agree to marry him despite her words to the contrary. She had no other viable alternatives. She simply needed some time to reach the realization that marriage to him was the only solution to her problem.

  Without emotion or passion for one another muddying the waters, there was no reason why a marriage between them wouldn't be a success, especially since he was fairly certain the arrangement would be temporary.

  Once she got back to Tamir and resumed her life as a princess, she wouldn't want to remain married to her bodyguard. But he would claim fatherhood to the child she carried and they could work together to provide the best possible life for the child without loving one another and without staying married to each other.

  To the outside world, he would be the father of her child until the child was old enough to know the truth of its parentage.

  He focused on the transaction taking place between Samira and the vendor.

  "I'll take them both," Samira said, two scarves in her hand.

  The overweight seller of scarves grinned, his oversize teeth flashing beneath his thick mustache. "A thousand blessings on you, my dear," he said as he took her money.

  Samira laughed, the sound melodic and sweet. "Thank you, sir. I can use a thousand blessings," she replied.

  A wave of pleasure swept through Farid. Even before he'd become her personal bodyguard, Farid had always loved the sound of Samira's laughter. It was filled with innocence and a love of life.

  When he thought of Desmond Caruso, plundering her innocence for a moment's pleasure, promising her things that were nothing more than smooth lies, his blood boiled.

  With the purchased scarves folded and safely tucked away in a bag, Samira rejoined Farid.

  "You should have haggled with him. You probably could have gotten both scarves for the price of one," he observed.

  She wrinkled her nose with displeasure. "I don't like to haggle. Besides, my mother will be please
d with the scarves," she said, then eyed him curiously. "Does your mother like pretty scarves?"

  "My mother died a year ago," he said curtly.

  Samira placed a hand on his arm, her beautiful brown eyes darkened with the compassion that was so much a part of her personality. "I'm so sorry, Farid."

  He wasn't sure what made him more uncomfortable, the personal topic of the conversation, or the sweet empathy that flowed from her eyes and the gentle heat of her hand on his forearm.

  He never discussed his background with anyone, and he didn't intend to start with the pretty pregnant princess he was responsible for. Besides, thoughts of his mother brought forth a well of conflicting emotions … love for the gentle woman who had raised him – and an intense anger for what she had done to him.

  He stepped away from Samira's touch. "I'm sure your mother will be most pleased with the scarves. She's a good woman."

  Farid was rewarded with a smile from Samira as her thoughts apparently turned to her own mother. "I think sometimes she makes my father nervous. She can be very outspoken at times."

  They continued to walk through the busy piazza. "Yes, but she's a woman who has a reputation for wisdom and laughter."

  It was odd for Farid to be walking next to her, talking to her. For the months that he had been her bodyguard, she had stayed fairly close to the palace in Tamir.

  When he did accompany her to meetings, or charity functions, or simply to the homes of friends, he always remained several discreet steps behind her, and he never conversed with her on any personal level.

  "My mother is a wonderful, loving woman and I've always admired the relationship she and my father have." Samira's eyes darkened with a hint of pain. "I'd always hoped to find a man who would love, honor and respect me as my father does my mother. I always hoped that I'd marry a man who loved me more than anything else on the earth, a man I would love the same way."

  Farid said nothing, but he wondered if perhaps when they returned to Tamir she would regret telling him too much of her personal life and dreams.