The Desert King's Secret Heir

by Annie West

  ‘You could say that.’ He moved closer, Dawud tucked in his arms.

  ‘You look tense. Is something wrong?’ She frowned. The way he looked at her began to make her nervous.

  ‘A slight crisis, caused by the fact neither your security detail nor the palace staff had any idea where you were going this afternoon. You gave your bodyguards the slip.’

  ‘I did no such thing! I told them I wanted time alone with Dawud. I didn’t see them after that.’

  Idris shook his head. ‘You thought they’d return to the palace without you? That’s more than their jobs are worth, or their honour. They withdrew to give you space but they couldn’t let you walk off alone. You gave them the fright of their lives when they lost you in the covered bazaar.’

  Arden scrambled to her feet, shock hitting.

  ‘You told me Dawud and I were safe in Zahrat. Everyone was friendly in the markets, and you said yourself it would be a good thing for us to get about more with the people, rather than being surrounded by courtiers.’

  Idris shut his eyes for a second and Arden knew he was gathering his patience. She hated this feeling that, again, she’d inadvertently done the wrong thing. Nor was she used to explaining her every move.

  ‘Is it so wrong to want to spend time doing something normal?’

  ‘Normal?’ He looked as if he’d never heard the word.

  Arden gestured wide. Even her choice of picnic spot was dictated by the fact royals didn’t simply set themselves down to eat in public parks. Weeks ago Idris had shown her this little palace on its own rocky outcrop just beyond the city. It had been the dower residence of his grandmother and Arden loved its tranquillity and beauty. Today she hadn’t been ready to return to the palace and, after just over three months in Zahrat, this was the only other private place she knew.

  ‘Yes, normal. Doing a little shopping. Passing the time of day. Spending time with other mothers and children.’

  It wasn’t till she’d visited the playgroup that she’d realised how much she missed those small freedoms. She’d been invited in her role as Sheikha, but in reality it had been plain Arden, mother of an inquisitive, busy toddler, who’d chattered with the other mums. ‘I need some freedom, Idris. You must understand that.’

  With a sigh, Idris lowered Dawud to the ground then wrapped his palm around the back of his neck as if easing an ache. It made her want to massage his knotted muscles, and wish she’d never even thought of a picnic.

  Dawud plonked down at their feet and reached for some dried apricots.

  ‘Idris?’

  ‘I understand. You weren’t born to this world. It takes a lot of adjustment. But next time let the staff know what you intend. You caused a security scare going off grid like that.’ The corners of his mouth tucked down and he rolled his shoulders.

  Seeing his tension, Arden felt a familiar wriggle of guilt in her belly. She got it every time she said the wrong thing at a royal event or broke some unwritten tradition.

  ‘How much of a security scare?’ Her eyes rounded. ‘That helicopter?’ At his nod she squeezed her eyes shut. Had they mobilised the army too? She felt about an inch tall. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise.’

  Idris was right. She didn’t understand all the rules. His life would have been easier if he’d married a real princess who knew how to behave and didn’t disrupt the smooth workings of the royal machine.

  Arden shook her head. She refused to go there again. She was doing her best.

  ‘Hey.’ An arm wrapped around her, tugging her against him. She opened her eyes to find herself fixed by his dark, velvety gaze. ‘It’s all right. There’s no harm done.’

  Her mouth crumpled in a travesty of a smile. ‘I’m sure it’s not but thanks for pretending. Just tell me, my bodyguards won’t get into trouble, will they?’

  He shook his head. ‘Chastened but fine. Think of it as keeping them on their toes.’ A sudden grin lit his face. ‘You’re good for them. They have no chance to get complacent.’

  This time her smile felt real, but still distress lurked. She’d so enjoyed this afternoon. Hadn’t dreamed it could hurt.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ His breath warmed her forehead as his arm slipped around her waist.

  ‘That next time I want to go on a picnic I’ll probably have three chefs and a dozen attendants with me. After filling out a security form detailing my intended movements down to the minute.’

  ‘It’s not that bad.’ When she raised her eyebrows his lips twisted. ‘Not quite that bad. And I’ll see what I can do about making things easier. Starting right now.’

  ‘Now?’ Surely her little escape had ended.

  ‘Now.’ His voice deepened and a slow smile lightened his features. ‘You’ve got me away from the office and I intend to make the most of it. I vote we play hooky together.’

  Abruptly he sank to the ground, pulling her with him so she fell across his lap. She had an impression of midnight eyes and gleaming golden skin then his lips were on hers, not softly but with a pent-up hunger she recognised. Arden grabbed his shoulders, fire igniting instantly at her feminine core.

  She was just going under for the third time when a strident voice piped up. ‘Mama.’ A little, warm body pushed against her, one sticky hand touching her cheek. ‘Dawud kiss too.’

  She heard Idris’s chuckle, felt him shift to tug Dawud close and for one exquisite moment let herself believe in the perfection of the three of them together, like a real family.

  * * *

  Idris made the most of his unscheduled escape from royal duties, turning the afternoon into an idyllic family adventure exploring the tiny but lovely old palace. Tiny by Zahrati standards. It was still a mansion, filled with gorgeous furnishings and with an unrivalled view to the coast, the city and the mountains beyond.

  With Dawud they investigated, admiring splendid mosaics, bedrooms and grand salons. The palace was furnished with beautiful antiques but somehow felt more like a sprawling home than a royal estate.

  Evening came and with it a grander picnic than anything Arden had imagined. White coated servants from the Palace of Gold spread turquoise and scarlet rugs on the grass. Braziers were lit around the garden, glowing and scented. The array of delicious food was a feast for the senses.

  Later the servants disappeared and Dawud’s nanny carried him, sleeping, to the car for the drive back to the citadel.

  Finally alone, Idris insisted on feeding Arden dessert with his own hands. Ripe peaches, bursting with rich juice, dark red grapes still with the bloom of the vine on them and sweet oranges.

  Then he licked up the spills where juice had dripped. She laughed, buoyed by the delight of this special time alone, by the hungry look in her husband’s eyes and the eager yet tender touch of his hands as he stripped her clothes away. It was no surprise when Idris carried her inside to find that one of the beds had been made up with fine linen sheets scented with cinnamon and rose petals. Candles glowed around the room, turning it into a romantic bower.

  ‘The honeymoon we never had,’ Idris said when she exclaimed at the beauty of the scene. Then he laid her on the bed and she stopped thinking about her surroundings.

  * * *

  Arden gasped for air, her lungs tight. Her blood pounded as bliss shuddered through her in aftershocks so intense she thought they’d never end.

  She didn’t want them to end. Not when Idris was there, above her, inside her, surrounding her with his big body and powerful shoulders, quaking like her as his climax slowly faded. She felt the throb of his life force, the sensation that together they touched heaven, and she didn’t want to let go.

  She loved him coming apart in her arms, his weight hemming her in, his breath jagged in her ear, his formidable control shattered. In this they were equals and she revelled in it.

  He groaned agai
nst her shoulder, sending fresh waves of pleasure juddering through her. Then Idris rolled onto his back, pulling her with him to sprawl naked across his steaming body.

  Arden squinted one eye open, seeing the pink flush of dawn streaming in the open window. Soon Idris would get up to begin work.

  But she didn’t want to leave the Dower Palace. The spell of the place enveloped her. She wanted to hold Idris here, make him stay so she could enjoy the luxury of being alone with him, away from royal responsibilities. Here she’d felt not only happy but cherished.

  Was she reading too much into last night’s bliss? Into their sexual compatibility? Was she mistaking the afterglow of orgasm for a tenderness centred on mutual feeling?

  ‘I was thinking,’ he murmured, his lips moving against her hair, one arm wrapped around her waist.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘About another baby.’

  Arden stilled, her finger poised where it had been stroking light circles across his ribs.

  ‘A baby?’

  ‘A brother or sister for Dawud. What do you think?’ Did she imagine a thread of excitement in his voice? No. She’d been wrong. Idris sounded as calm as ever.

  ‘You want another child?’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  Yes. The answer slammed into her. She didn’t need to think about it. Something deep down, something intrinsic to the woman she was, knew the answer as if she’d pondered it long and hard.

  Arden blinked, stunned by the excitement she felt bubbling up. She’d got pregnant so young she hadn’t really had time to think about having kids and since having Dawud she’d been too busy even to consider a relationship and another child.

  ‘Arden?’ Idris crooked a finger under her chin, lifting her face. He was propped up a little, his arm folded behind his head. The way he lay emphasised the impressive muscles of his arm and shoulder. Instantly heat drilled through her tight chest to her pelvis. Exhausted from sex and still she craved this man!

  ‘Yes? I...’ She refocused on his question. ‘I don’t know,’ she prevaricated, for reasons she didn’t understand. ‘Why do you want another?’

  Those jet eyebrows crunched together as if he didn’t like her question. Had he expected her to jump at the idea? That was intriguing.

  ‘Don’t you think a sibling would be good for Dawud?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Actually, she thought it would be wonderful but she reminded herself she owed it to her son and herself to do more than act impulsively. She’d done that when she fell for Idris years ago and it had turned her life on its head.

  ‘Neither of us had siblings. We know how lonely that can be, especially when tragedy strikes.’

  Grimly Arden nodded, her stomach cramping, not at the memory of those lonely childhood years bereft of family but at the idea of anything happening to Idris.

  Horror filled her. A deep-down chill like the one she’d felt six months ago when for a few heart-numbing minutes she’d lost Dawud in a crowded shop.

  She laid her palm flat on Idris’s chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart, telling herself it was stupid to hypothesise about tragedy striking down Idris.

  ‘Besides,’ he went on, unaware of her fear, ‘it sounds old-fashioned but it’s a good way to ensure the security of the throne, and the nation, for the future. That’s an important consideration too.’

  ‘In case anything happens to Dawud?’ Her voice was harsh.

  Idris cupped a soothing palm around her bare shoulder. ‘Nothing is going to happen to Dawud. But you never know—’ he smiled in the way he knew made her melt ‘—our firstborn may want to go off and become an academic like my cousin, or a rock star. Having a brother to take the throne—’

  ‘Or a sister,’ she bit out, anger rising. As the law currently stood, only a male could inherit the throne. Unfair as she thought it, it wasn’t that fuelling her temper. It was the notion she should have Idris’s child to keep the throne safe and avoid political turmoil. They were talking about children! Children who deserved to be loved for themselves. Not pieces in some dynastic game!

  ‘Or a sister.’ Idris raised one eyebrow. ‘Which would lead us to a discussion on exactly how many children we’d like to have.’

  She recognised that lazy smile. It spoke of sexual promise. She had no complaints about making love with Idris. He made her feel not only satisfied but treasured. Which showed how skilled Idris was. To him having a child meant sex, which he clearly enjoyed. Enjoyed it enough to appear almost insatiable for her, a woman foisted on him by circumstance rather than personal preference.

  But having a baby was about a lot more than that, as she knew too well.

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ She pulled back, putting a little distance between them and watching his complacent smile slip. ‘It’s a lot to ask.’

  His stare raked her. Clearly he hadn’t expected that response. ‘Of course.’ Yet a frown rippled his broad brow and his grip on her shoulder tightened. ‘There’s plenty of time to think it over. Neither of us is going anywhere.’

  Because he’d given his word.

  Because he’d married her in front of thousands of witnesses.

  Because he had no other choice but to stick with her.

  Suddenly exhaustion filled her.

  She hadn’t married for love, other than the love of a mother for her child. She’d actually been enjoying her marriage to Idris, discovering as the months passed that their marriage suited her. He suited her. Even her life in Zahrat, though still challenging, brought satisfaction and a tentative sense of accomplishment. So why did the reminder that this was a purely practical union bring a bitter taint to her tongue?

  Because your husband sees all this—you, your marriage, even your children—through the lens of practicality. Whereas for you...your heart is engaged.

  Idris hauled her close, cupping the back of her head and drawing her against his chest. Automatically Arden fitted herself to him, one knee across his thigh, an arm round his waist.

  But her mind raced, horrified by the stark truth of her discovery. That sudden, unbearable flash of insight had exploded her convenient belief that she could accept a loveless marriage.

  Furtively she blinked back the haze of moisture misting her view of the dawn.

  How had she deluded herself so long? It seemed impossible she’d never seen the truth before.

  You didn’t want the truth. You were wilfully blind because you knew the implications and didn’t want to face them.

  Arden bit her lip and tried not to panic, but it was almost impossible.

  She’d congratulated herself on being reasonable and civilised, giving Dawud’s father shared access. Accepting a sensible, convenient marriage though it meant living with a man she barely knew and embracing a whole new culture, giving up her safe, familiar world.

  She’d even applauded the fact she could embark on a sexual relationship with the man she’d once loved and it wouldn’t matter.

  Of course it mattered.

  Some sly part of herself must have realised the truth from the first. That it hadn’t been so much of a sacrifice to marry him.

  Because she was in love with Idris.

  She had been all along. Only pride and pain had made her pretend she wasn’t.

  He was the only lover she’d ever had and, she realised with a hollow fear that threatened to engulf her, the only man she’d ever want.

  * * *

  Back at the Palace of Gold, Arden paced her sitting room, arms folded tight around her middle as if that could prevent the deep-seated ache inside.

  Idris had left her with a bold kiss and a gleam in his eyes as soon as they returned from the Dower Palace. She’d clung to him, desperate to be held, though her brain said she needed to break free and decide what to do. For that she needed space and solitude.
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  First she’d cancelled her appointments for the day, surprising an understanding smile on one of the secretaries. Arden supposed all the palace staff knew she and Idris had spent an unscheduled belated honeymoon night.

  Then she’d gone to Dawud, eager for the familiarity of his sturdy little frame and bright smile. She joined him in a game involving toy cars and a road map floor mat and lots of noise. But even as she smiled and crawled along, there was a terrifying blankness inside her where she fiercely shut out the hurt that would flood in if she let it.

  Finally, when she felt calm enough to face what she must, she’d left Dawud with Misha and come here to her room. Stopping by the window she stared out beyond the city to the small Dower Palace.

  She longed to recapture the magic of last evening. The thrill of being with Idris, not as a bride forced upon him by circumstance but as his lover. The woman who loved him and for a few thoughtless hours had lived as carefree and content as if he loved her too.

  The wall damming the dark pain cracked and despair poured out, making her clutch at the window frame with the force of that hurt.

  Desperate, she told herself nothing had changed. Idris had never pretended to love her. He was decent and caring, dependable, honourable and, yes, charming. She loved his wry humour and he was great with Dawud. The pair were building a fantastic rapport.

  It was she who’d changed. Or, if her suspicions were correct, not changed, but finally realised she’d been fooling herself. Because she loved Idris with all her being. Just as she’d loved Shakil all those years ago. Loved and lost.

  Arden clawed the window frame and sank, a bundle of brittle bones, onto the window seat.

  Loving and losing was a constant theme in her life.

  First her parents. Then her foster parents. Then Shakil.

  Now Idris.

  No, she wouldn’t lose him, not that way. He’d promised to stay with her, support her and do the right thing by Dawud. He’d do it, she knew he would. She knew him now, better than she had all that time ago. He saw this marriage as his duty and he’d stick at it no matter what.