Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child

by Annie West

  ‘If there are consequences from last night…’ His words petered out as the shocking image of Annalisa, blooming with good health and ripe with his child, blasted his mind.

  ‘Impossible.’ She shook her head. ‘There won’t be consequences.’

  Tahir hadn’t been born yesterday. If she tried to convince him she’d been taking contraceptives on the off-chance she’d let a stranger seduce her, she’d never succeed.

  ‘If you’re pregnant…’ his voice dropped on the word ‘…I want you to tell me.’ He held her defiant gaze so long that eventually she looked away. ‘You can reach me via the palace.’

  Silence. He cupped her chin, pulling her round to face him. The contact sizzled and he could almost swear he heard electricity crackle and spark as her eyes clashed with his.

  How he wanted her! Even now, on the brink of farewell, his body swayed forward and his hand tightened on her soft skin. Hunger gnawed at his belly, eclipsing even the burning pain that encircled his torso at every breath.

  The temptation was almost too strong. Just one taste.

  He dropped his hand as if burned. Took a step away.

  ‘Promise me you’ll let me know if—’

  ‘So you can fund an abortion?’ This time there was only scorn in her flashing eyes. She looked proud and dismissive as she eyed him up and down. ‘There won’t be any consequences. But if there were,’ she hurried on before he could speak, ‘I’d tell you.’

  He nodded and turned away.

  Minutes later he was seated on a camel. Its extreme motion, rocking perilously forwards then back as it rose to its feet, seemed expressly designed to torture a man with damaged ribs and a pounding head.

  At least it took his mind off the contempt he’d seen in Annalisa’s eyes.

  The camels swayed out of the oasis, each step sending pain screaming through him. Even so, he mustered the willpower to turn and see Annalisa for the last time.

  He needn’t have bothered. She hadn’t waited to watch him go. She’d already disappeared from view.

  By the time they reached the coast Tahir was barely clinging on. Travelling through the heat of the day hadn’t been sensible. If he’d been fit, perhaps, but with his injuries each kilometre was torture. The pain wrapping round his torso worsened and his head swam.

  But he’d needed to get away while his determination held good. Before he did anything stupid like scooping her close and kissing her senseless.

  He was surprised and grateful when his guide called a halt in a small fertile valley. They were still several hours from the capital, but Tahir could feel the last of his stamina draining away and he had no wish to slide off the camel in an ignominious heap.

  It was only as they stopped in a pool of blessed shade that he realised the grove wasn’t empty. A four-wheel drive and an ambulance were parked there.

  He shot a questioning glance at his guide, already standing beside his mount.

  For the first time his dour companion met his gaze directly, watching as Tahir’s camel settled, lurching him sickeningly first one way then another.

  ‘I called for assistance when we got within mobile phone range,’ he said. ‘Annalisa insisted.’ His unblinking stare radiated disapproval. If he was a friend of Annalisa’s he wouldn’t have missed the undercurrents between her and Tahir.

  Did he have a personal interest in Annalisa?

  Tahir stiffened. His fists clenched and hot, scathing words hovered on his lips, ready to scare off this upstart.

  Till he remembered he had no rights where she was concerned.

  The realisation slammed into him so hard he reeled, and almost toppled over as nausea rose.

  Finally, summoning the last of his strength, he lifted one leg over the saddle and slithered off. He stood, swaying drunkenly on ground that seemed to roll beneath him. His companion merely watched, arms folded.

  ‘Your Highness?’ A voice made Tahir turn, frowning.

  ‘No. I—’

  An older man, vaguely familiar, moved forward with a formal bow. For the life of him Tahir couldn’t reciprocate. It was all he could do to stay upright on legs that shook mercilessly.

  ‘Your Highness, let me express our heartfelt thanks that you’ve been delivered to us safely. We thought your helicopter went down over the coast and we’ve been searching the sea for days.’

  At his nod two ambulance officers hurried forward with a stretcher.

  Tahir opened his mouth to say he wasn’t anyone’s highness, then realised perhaps he was. With Kareef as king, that made him and their brother Rafiq princes.

  The ludicrous notion of the black sheep of the family scoring a royal title pulled him up short. It was so outrageous, so bizarre, he barely noticed when his surroundings blurred around him.

  He heard a shout, saw serious faces shift in and out of focus, then the world faded into oblivion.

  He had to stop making a habit of passing out. He didn’t have the patience for being sick. There was no amusement in it.

  Even the soothing stroke of a soft, feminine hand at his brow lost its attraction when he came to enough to realise he’d dreamed it. What woman would sit patiently worrying at his bedside?

  He’d had enough motor racing accidents to know nurses didn’t caress their patients. And Annalisa, the only woman whose touch he desired, wasn’t here. On the contrary, she’d be thanking her lucky stars she’d seen the last of him.

  Still foggy from dreaming she was here, still weak enough to be plagued by regret that she wasn’t, Tahir was in a sour mood when he woke.

  He wasn’t used to being dependent on anyone. Yet as he stirred he knew a craving for her by his side. He who’d never craved any woman! Who’d been alone so long he couldn’t remember what it was like to wake up with the same woman twice.

  He was in no mood to find himself hooked up to all sorts of machines. He was disengaging himself when the doctor arrived.

  ‘No, sire. Please!’

  Tahir ignored his protests. ‘I don’t need all this. I just need to get out of here.’ Not that there was anywhere he wanted to go—unless it was an isolated oasis inhabited by the dark-eyed beauty he couldn’t get out of his head.

  The thought made him even more impatient.

  There must be somewhere he should be. Something he should be doing. Something to keep him busy.

  ‘I need to see my brother. I have business at the palace.’ Tahir looked down in disgust at the hospital robe he wore. ‘If you want to be useful, bring me clothes.’

  ‘But, sire, you can’t—’

  Tahir waved aside his protests, ignoring the sharp stab of pain through his chest at the movement. ‘Of course I can.’

  ‘You don’t understand, sire.’ The doctor stood his ground and reluctantly Tahir focused on him. ‘You need treatment and further observation. I can’t take responsibility for releasing you yet.’

  ‘I’ll take responsibility. Just hurry up with those clothes.’ Tahir forced himself to sit up and not sink back into the tempting comfort of the pillows. He felt absurdly weak.

  ‘But, si—’

  ‘And don’t call me sire,’ he snapped, ignoring the other man’s hand-wringing. ‘Just get me something to wear; that’s all I ask.’

  ‘Practising your fabled charm on the medical staff, little brother?’ A deep drawl from the doorway drew Tahir’s attention. He stiffened warily.

  A tall man stood inside the door, his big frame suave in a hand-made Italian suit. His short black hair was brushed back severely and familiar ice-blue eyes surveyed Tahir.

  After a moment Tahir saw the gleam of humour in his expression and the tension cramping his shoulders eased a fraction.

  ‘Rafiq!’ He hadn’t seen his family in eleven years. Not since his father had banished him. The potent shot of delight that surged through him was a complete surprise.

  He’d been so busy getting on with life, pursuing pleasure and business in equal measure, he hadn’t let himself think about family. About resurrecting
old ties. Even flying here he’d concentrated on the need to support his eldest brother, Kareef, as he ascended the throne, rather than on reviving personal relationships.

  But the feel of Rafiq’s solid hand gripping his, his other palm at Tahir’s shoulder, as if to make sure he was actually there, evoked a blast of unexpected emotions.

  ‘You’re really here,’ Rafiq said, his sombre expression transforming with a grin of real pleasure. ‘Air control got your mayday, but there was interference and they misheard your coordinates and identification. They’d been searching the sea.’ He shook his head. ‘Why am I not surprised to hear you came out of the desert instead?’

  Tahir felt an answering smile tug at his lips. He hadn’t allowed himself to think what sort of welcome the family would extend to the prodigal son, but he hadn’t expected genuine warmth.

  He returned Rafiq’s grip with his own.

  When he was a kid Rafiq and Kareef had been his role models. He’d striven to be as quick and as strong and as clever as they were. Particularly Rafiq, their father’s favourite. But where Rafiq had been able to do little wrong in Yazan Al’Ramiz’s eyes, Tahir had done nothing right. The unfairness of it had haunted him.

  For a while Tahir had resented Rafiq bitterly, until he’d realised his brother had nothing to do with their father’s favouritism. Or his frightening rages. In fact Rafiq had done his best to protect his little brother.

  ‘You know I was always the contrary one,’ Tahir murmured.

  Rafiq shook his head. ‘You were always a survivor. And I’m glad.’ He nodded a dismissal to the hovering doctor, then pulled up a chair and sat, surveying Tahir with mingled amusement and consternation. ‘You’ve been incredibly lucky, you know.’

  ‘I know.’ Even now, after days drinking all the fluids Annalisa had insisted on, he could taste the desert sand in his mouth. The flavour of death.

  He’d been far luckier than he deserved.

  Rafiq’s grin faded. ‘Do us all a favour, Tahir, and stay here. You need to recuperate.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve got broken ribs and severe bruising, possible concussion, plus what the doctors warn is a severe chest infection. They say you’re not in a good way. In fact they seem to think you’re not as fit as you should be even without the injuries from the accident.’

  Tahir shrugged. ‘I’ve never cosseted myself.’ And lately, as the darkness had closed around him more often and more swiftly, he’d pushed himself to the limits, seeking new thrills. He’d been careless of his health.

  ‘Well, for pity’s sake do it now. Just this once. Our mother has been frantic.’

  Tahir’s eyes widened. ‘Our mother?’

  Of all the people he’d left behind in Qusay she was the one who’d weighed heavily on his conscience. Before his exile he’d tried to convince her to leave with him, lest Yazan Al’Ramiz turn his violence on her once he didn’t have his scapegoat son to vent his anger on.

  But she’d refused to see him, refused to take his calls. At first he’d thought it was fear of her husband that prompted her. But even after he’d left the country she’d wanted nothing to do with him. His calls and e-mails had gone unanswered. He’d assumed he’d alienated her too.

  ‘You must be mistaken.’

  Rafiq looked at him keenly. ‘No mistake. She’s been here since you were admitted, sitting by your bedside. She’s only just left.’

  Tahir remembered the comfort of a feminine hand soothing his brow and stroking his hand. He’d dreamed it was Annalisa.

  Was it possible his mother, the woman who’d cut off all ties with him, was the one whose touch he’d felt?

  It seemed preposterous. Yet Rafiq’s concerned expression was real. Tahir frowned, trying to make sense of the impossible.

  ‘I’m not imagining you, am I?’ He’d suffered enough delirium in the last few days.

  Rafiq huffed with laughter and settled more easily in his chair. ‘Am I that ugly?’

  Tahir’s mouth pulled in a one-sided smile. ‘You expect me to answer that?’ He waved a hand in a gesture that encompassed the hospital room. ‘This is just a bit much to absorb. And what’s with these royal titles? “Sire” and “Your Highness” and so on?’

  ‘Ah. I’m glad you mentioned that.’ Rafiq leaned forward in his chair, his face suddenly serious. ‘There’s been a complication.’

  ‘That’s what Kareef said when he told me our cousin is no longer King of Qusay and that he would be taking the crown.’ He watched Rafiq steeple his fingers and felt premonition spider its way down his spine. Something was wrong.

  ‘Kareef has renounced the throne.’

  ‘He’s done what?’

  ‘He and Jasmine…You remember Jasmine?’

  Tahir nodded. His eldest brother had been besotted by her when he was eighteen.

  ‘He’s given up the throne to marry her and they’ve gone back to Qais to live.’ At Tahir’s stare he continued. ‘Jasmine can’t have children, and Kareef knows it’s the King’s duty to produce an heir.’ He shrugged. ‘You know how seriously he takes matters of duty.’

  Tahir sank back against his pillows, absorbing this astonishing news. ‘Looks like you’ve got a change of lifestyle ahead of you, big brother.’ He’d seen a few articles about Rafiq’s phenomenal business success in Australia. ‘You’ll have to move back here permanently. When do you take up the role of monarch?’

  Rafiq paused before replying. He paused long enough to make Tahir frown again. That inkling of something wrong was back again, stronger than ever.

  ‘That’s one of the things I need to talk to you about.’ There was no laughter lurking in his eyes now. ‘I’m refusing the crown too, and moving back to Australia. Giving up the crown for love seems to be a family trait.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’ What sort of mess had he walked into?

  ‘Believe it, Tahir. And as for the reason the doctor keeps calling you sire…? That would be because you’re now King of Qusay.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TIREDNESS took its toll and Annalisa’s pace slowed as she walked along the wide esplanade in the capital, Shafar. She’d started out briskly from her aunt’s house, needing to walk off her excess energy.

  Her lips twisted ruefully. It wasn’t excess energy but shock at the news she’d just received.

  Yet part of her had expected it. Ever since she’d missed her period. Lately there’d been nausea, and a slight tingling in her breasts when she crossed her arms.

  She’d thrust from her mind hints that her body was changing, telling herself it was the whirl of organising her overseas trip that had thrown her system out of balance.

  What other cause could there be for her unaccustomed moping, her keen sense of distress?

  A shudder marched down her spine at how wrong she’d been about Tahir. She’d known they were from separate worlds. Yet she’d believed herself…connected to him.

  She told herself grief had made her turn to him for comfort. Wasn’t she glad he’d shown his true colours? The return of his memory had revealed a man vastly different from the one she’d thought she’d known.

  Demanding, dissatisfied, selfish.

  She swallowed a knot of rising pain and stared dazedly towards the huge ornate gates set in the wall just ahead.

  It didn’t matter that their night together had been the most wonderful experience of her life. Was one night with an arrogant stranger, albeit a heart-stoppingly magical lover, worth the price she paid?

  Her hand slipped across her flat stomach. It felt hollow because she’d been unable to face breakfast.

  She’d imagined having children after marrying a man she loved. She mightn’t be a traditional Qusani woman, but neither had she dreamed of being a single parent.

  More than ever she felt the loss of her beloved parents and her grandfather. Her cousins were kind and caring, but they’d be shocked to the core by her news.

  She shook her head, rocked by the emotions bombarding her. Excitement, fear, confusion and renewed gr
ief.

  Putting a hand to the wall beside her, she braced herself, fighting nausea as her stomach roiled.

  It will be all right. Women have babies all the time.

  Yet Annalisa felt bereft and shockingly alone.

  ‘Are you all right, my dear?’ The gentle voice made her turn her head.

  A few metres away a silver limousine had stopped across the pavement, before turning into the massive open gates. In the back seat sat an older woman, with a severe yet chic hairstyle, gentle eyes and a fortune in pearls.

  Hastily Annalisa straightened.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, a flush scorching her throat. She felt exposed, as if she’d inadvertently displayed her private fears and worry. ‘I’m fine.’

  The woman regarded her carefully. ‘If you’ll forgive me, you don’t look well. You’re pale. Were you on your way to the palace? Did you have an appointment?’

  Annalisa’s head jerked round at her mention of the palace. She’d been so absorbed she’d barely noticed which way she’d walked. Now, through the ceremonial gates, she saw the royal enclosure’s majestic gardens and the massive domed palace roof.

  Her stomach tumbled over. Had she subconsciously come this way because of Tahir? What were the chances of him still being here? It was more than a month since…

  Hastily she looked away.

  If you’re pregnant I want you to tell me. Promise me.

  Tahir’s voice was so real Annalisa shivered, her arms automatically wrapping around her torso.

  ‘Are you here to see someone?’

  ‘No!’ The word shot out instantly. Then she paused.

  She’d have to tell him. Even though she was almost certain he’d expect her to terminate the pregnancy. A father had a right to know he had a child. That much she knew.

  And the fact that she wanted this baby, come what may.

  The certainty warmed her, strengthening her weary body. Of course she wanted this child! She’d barely absorbed the news of her pregnancy, but that one fact tugged her lips wide in a smile of pure joy.