by Fiona Brand
Her heart pounded out of control at his words, because in that moment she realized he was going to suggest the one thing she had wanted from him over four months ago: a relationship.
Although she wasn’t sure how she felt about any of that now. Half of her was melting inside, teetering on the brink of hope, the other half still blazing mad that he had left her alone for so long. “What did you have in mind?”
He extracted a platinum card from his pocket.
The temper she had been trying to keep a lid on spilled out. “If you think you’re going to start paying my bills, you can think again.”
Before he could stop her, she grabbed the card, marched out on the deck and threw it over the side, down onto the lawn below. “I don’t want your money, so you can forget it. Forget me—”
“I can’t.” With a swift movement, he pulled her toward him so that she found herself plastered against his chest.
His mouth came down on hers. She could have ducked her head or pulled away, but her precarious mood had taken another swing, from fury straight to desire. She didn’t like what was happening. She didn’t want his money. But after the sweet, tender moments in his Jeep, which had spun back the clock, with every cell in her body she wanted him to kiss her again.
Long, dizzying minutes later, she pulled free. Her mouth tingled; her body was on fire. She loved that he still wanted her, but they had been in this place once before. That time she had gotten pregnant. Before anything else life-changing happened, she had to be clear about whether or not they had a chance at the one thing that was important to her in a relationship: love. “Where, exactly, are you in this scenario?”
She finally identified the glimpse of emotion in his eyes that had baffled her from the moment she’d first seen him at her door—not quite cool detachment, but wariness. “I’m proposing marriage.”
Her legs went weak at his blunt statement. “What about your fiancée?”
“First I’ll need to go back to Zahir and terminate the agreement with Nadia.”
The word terminate sent a chill through her. Had he not felt anything for his fiancée? At the name Nadia, alarm bells rang. Sarah walked back inside and sat down, her legs feeling wobbly. She had read something about an engagement in Zahir online. Suddenly the way Tarik and the consulate receptionist had behaved in protecting Gabe began to make perfect sense.
Gabe had said he was an accountant. It was possible he simply worked for the sheikh as part of his business team, but she was beginning to think Gabe was something more than that.
She remembered the piece of paper with Gabe’s full name on it, which she had ripped up and tossed away before she’d read it properly. She thought she might have glimpsed the name Kadin somewhere. Her stomach plunged as a wild notion occurred to her, a notion that made sense of all the cloak-and-dagger behavior surrounding Gabe’s identity and whereabouts. “Who are you, exactly?”
“My full name is Sheikh Kadin Gabriel ben Kadir. I’m not the ruling sheikh. That’s my father, but I will rule one day.”
Eight
Gabe, Sheikh Kadin Gabriel ben Kadir, insisted he take her to lunch while they talked over the situation. Too shocked by his announcement to refuse, Sarah found herself courteously helped into a gleaming Jeep. As Gabe pulled away from the curb, she took better note of the vehicle, which was brand-new and luxurious. Now, too late, all the subtle clues about him registered, like the way he had spoken to Tarik—not as a subordinate, but as someone in command. The fact that he’d had accommodations at the consulate, and that he’d gone to Harvard. Of course he was a member of Zahir’s ruling family.
His gaze touched on hers. “How do you feel?”
“I’ll feel fine when you explain why you didn’t let me know who you are.”
She noticed they were heading away from the city into the wilder hill country.
Gabe stopped for an intersection. “The same way you didn’t let me know you’re an ancestor of Camille’s?”
She flushed at the quiet statement, although it wasn’t as if she had concealed her identity. “How did you find that out? No, wait, let me take a wild guess. The son of a sheikh, with bodyguards and an impenetrable security force field around you? I’m betting you had me investigated.”
“We had unprotected sex—”
“So you had to find out exactly who you had gotten entangled with.” A horrified thought occurred to her. “I suppose you thought I was some kind of adventurer, maybe even a journalist.”
He turned into a very beautiful, secluded drive that, from the signage, led to an exclusive private resort. “I didn’t tell you I was a sheikh because I thought all we would share was the one night. And I knew you were exactly what you said, a history teacher, but the investigative process went ahead because security protocols still needed to be satisfied.”
“And you were worried about a pregnancy.” Her fingers tightened on the strap of her handbag as he parked beneath a shaded portico and a uniformed valet opened her door. “If you had left me your contact details, you could have saved yourself the trouble. I would have told you.”
There was an uncomfortable silence as she climbed out of the Jeep. Gabe handed the keys to the valet. They were shown to a restaurant with a fabulous cliff-top view of the ocean. As he took a seat opposite her, she glanced around at the other diners. They were without exception beautiful, very well-groomed people with perfect tans. Most of them, even the men, were dressed in shades of white and cool pastels. Dressed as she was in vibrant turquoise, with her hair wisping damply around her face, all of the elegant restraint made her feel overly bright. It shouldn’t have mattered, but the restaurant suddenly made her see the gulf in lifestyles that existed between her and Gabe.
“What’s wrong?”
She frowned, hating that she was actually allowing herself to be stressed-out by surroundings that were formal and just a little pretentious. “I can’t relax in this place. What if I need to be sick?” Just the thought made her feel queasy.
His gaze sharpened. “Do you feel unwell?”
“A little. It comes on suddenly.”
The waiter who was delivering beautiful leather-bound, gold-embossed menus, blanched. Within minutes Gabe had canceled their reservation and the valet had delivered the Jeep to the portico. Gabe opened the passenger-side door, but instead of simply helping her up, he clasped her waist and boosted her into her seat.
Breathlessly, she released her hold on his shoulders. “I could have gotten in by myself.”
“Since we’re engaged, I thought we should start getting used to the idea of being a couple.”
She blinked at the subtle way he was trying to bulldoze her into agreeing to marry him. “I haven’t said yes yet.”
He released her, but there was a curious relief in his gaze as if he liked that she wasn’t jumping at his proposal. Although, she wasn’t so sure she liked the idea that if they were to marry he would be happy with a certain distance in their relationship.
When Gabe slid behind the wheel, she directed him to a small beachside café in Lyall Bay that was casual and cheerful, with enough background noise that they could have a conversation without being overheard.
Gabe shrugged out of his jacket and dragged off his tie. With the sea breeze ruffling his hair, he looked breathtakingly handsome. While they ate he asked questions about her family and supplied details about his. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he knew her cousin, Laine—who had sent Sarah the journal—and who was married to the Sheikh of Jahir, a distant relative of Gabe’s. But the fact that he was close to that branch of her family was reassuring. As big a leap as it was, it somehow made it easier to imagine being married to the next Sheikh of Zahir.
Marriage to Gabe. For a split second, her heart pounded out of control. Her last two attempts at getting married had both ended in disaster and she
couldn’t quite believe that this one would work out.
When they’d finished, Gabe suggested they take a walk on the beach. When he clasped her hand in a loose hold, a dangerous thrill went through her because even if Gabe didn’t feel the romance of what they were doing, she did, and she was afraid of being too happy. Her experience of happiness was that once you thought you had it in your grasp, it was snatched away. “Are you certain you want marriage?” Taking a breath, she offered him an alternative that would dispense with the need for a relationship altogether. “Sharing custody is an option.”
Gabe stopped and pulled her into a loose hold, his gaze oddly fierce. He hooked a loose strand of hair behind one ear, the small possessive gesture sending another sharp little thrill through her. “We’re both mature, educated people. There’s no reason we can’t have a...successful marriage.”
Sarah frowned at the way Gabe framed marriage, as if it was something one had to be qualified for, even while his measured response reassured. After all, with a baby on the way, if she was going to marry, she needed her husband to be responsible and trustworthy.
When Gabe dipped his head, she allowed the kiss and tried not to love it too much. Reluctantly, she planted her palms on his chest and kept her gaze fixed on the pulse jumping along the side of his jaw, because if she looked at his mouth or into his eyes, she would kiss him again. “We can’t make love until...things are settled.”
“Until you’ve agreed to marry me.”
Her chin came up and this time she met his gaze. “Yes.”
It was a fact that they couldn’t get engaged until Gabe had ended his current arrangement. And Sarah knew better than anyone, a lot could go wrong between an engagement and the altar.
* * *
Two weeks later, Sarah, finding her state of relationship limbo a little too lonely after Gabe had gone back to Zahir went online to indulge her new favorite hobby, searching out news about Zahir and the ruling family.
During the two days they had spent together, they had eaten out and gone for walks. Gabe had sketched in brief details of his life, including the startling fact that he was a widower. When he’d flown out they’d agreed to stay in contact by phone. However, he hadn’t called for a whole week now, and the silence after the long, cozy calls had her worried even though he had mentioned the possibility of sketchy cell phone coverage. With time passing she was beginning to have flashbacks to the silent, empty months that had followed the one night they had spent together.
Worse, she was beginning to think she had been foolishly optimistic in trusting that Gabe would choose her over Nadia Fortier. She needed to know more about his engagement, even if it was just internet gossip. And she needed to know more about the wife he had lost.
Her mother, who made a habit of dropping in unexpectedly, walked through the door, just as Sarah found a reference site. Hannah, who was naturally suspicious of Gabe, paused beside the screen, which was currently displaying a dated story about Gabe’s engagement. “If you were having a boy, he would have put a ring on your finger immediately.”
Sarah blinked at the flamboyant outfit her mother was wearing. A saffron-yellow dress over blue leggings. Cobalt-blue earrings made her short, spiked blond hair look even more startling. “What makes you say that?”
Hannah fished in her bag and placed cold cups of fresh fruit smoothies on the table. “Stands to reason. The sheikhdom is patriarchal, so only male children can rule, specifically the first male child. If the baby was a boy, he would be the next sheikh.”
Sarah picked up her smoothie, took a sip and decided she would have to tell her mother the truth. “Gabe proposed. I’m the one who hasn’t agreed, yet.”
Hannah stared at her as if she’d just landed from Mars. “I thought you wanted to marry him?”
“I do.” But only if Gabe truly valued her and their baby girl. Only if there was the possibility of love.
Hannah dug two salad rolls out from the depths of her bag and plunked them down on the table. “You’ve wanted to get married for years. Now you’re dangling one of the most eligible, hot men on the planet?” she sat down and peeled plastic wrap off a roll. “Sometimes I don’t know you.”
With difficulty Sarah refrained from pointing out that her mother had just expressed two conflicting views about Gabriel. “Is it such a bad thing to not want to make another mistake?”
Too irritable to eat, she searched a site she normally never bothered with, because it was full of the kind of magazine articles and sensationalized gossip that normally didn’t interest her. Moments later she found a short article posted just two days ago. She stared at a photo of Nadia Fortier in a skimpy bikini lying on a dazzling beach, a glass of champagne in one hand.
Nadia was accompanied by a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man who had his back to the camera. Sarah’s heart stuttered to a halt in her chest. It looked like Gabe, and the text confirmed it. Apparently, Gabe and Nadia were spending some quality alone-time at a secret hideaway in Tuscany before the wedding.
Sarah pushed to her feet so fast the chair went flying. So much for angsting about Gabe’s dead wife, when it was the gorgeous young fiancée she should have been worrying about.
At the periphery of her vision she was aware of her mother, staring at her with a frown. Sarah righted the chair, too focused on Gabe’s blatant betrayal to try to appear normal or calm.
She had begun to trust him again. She had liked his phone calls, especially when he’d called late at night and she’d been snuggled up in bed.
His behavior during their two days together had made her think he would be a wonderful father. She had seen it in his absorption with all the aspects of her pregnancy. She had loved it when he had fussed over her when she’d felt tired and ordered takeout. The next day he had insisted on stocking her pantry with healthy low-fat food.
But it had all been a smokescreen. He had lied. He hadn’t gone back to Zahir to make any kind of arrangement that would benefit her and the baby. He was spending his time wining and dining his beautiful, slim fiancée at some swanky Italian castello.
And in that moment Sarah knew why she had been both ecstatic and miserable for the past two weeks. It wasn’t just that her hormones had been running riot. She had been busy falling head over heels in love with Gabe all over again—the father of her child and a man who would be marrying someone else in three months’ time.
Her mind was spinning. She could scarcely believe how completely Gabe had deceived her. Although this kind of betrayal had happened to her before.
Sarah glared at the grainy, blurred photo, which had obviously been taken with a telephoto lens, and clicked on the mouse to close the site. Caught between fierce anger and utter misery, she walked out onto her small deck, barely registering the humid grayness of the day, which was a whole lot different from the arching blue sky and blistering heat of Tuscany. A brisk wind laced with spits of rain flattened her dress against her body and sent her hair flying. So much for her improbable daydreams of moving to Zahir, of Gabe really and truly falling for her once they had time to spend together.
Trying to stay calm, she walked back into her sitting room, which was cluttered with baby paraphernalia: a pretty white bassinet and piles of bright fluffy toys. She picked up a pink bear Gabe had sent, and which was so ridiculously large it occupied its own chair. Fury boiling over, she marched the bear through to the spare room and jammed it in the closet, out of sight.
Slamming the door, she leaned against it, breathing hard.
Hannah, who had been making tea in the kitchen poked her head around the corner, looking concerned. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” No. “Eat your lunch, I’ll be out soon. Promise.”
Maybe the photo and the article hadn’t portrayed the absolute truth. She had to stop reacting emotionally and start operating on the facts. The only way she could reliably gat
her facts was to go to Zahir.
Returning to the computer, she found a travel site and searched for fares. Once she had made bookings, she felt shaky but glad she had acted. She had lost two potential husbands because she had not cared enough to actively claim her man. But this time was different. Her heart and her baby’s future happiness were both at stake.
She was over sitting quietly at home. Whether Gabe liked it or not, she was joining him on Zahir.
In just two days’ time she would no longer be Sheik Kadin Gabriel ben Kadir’s guilty secret.
Nine
Gabe walked into Gerald Fortier’s office in Paris flanked by Xavier and Hasim, Gabe’s personal assistant, just ten minutes short of midnight. They were all wearing the formal business attire of Zahir: well-cut suits, white shirts with ties and white kaffiyeh headdresses fastened with black rope agals. Kadin’s agal was differentiated by the badge of his family, a lion rampant.
This was a meeting he had demanded ten days ago, after he’d received information that Nadia was not staying with an aunt in the South of France as her family had claimed but instead was shacked up with an Italian count in Tuscany. Fortier, clearly aware that Gabe could declare the marriage contract null and void on the basis of it, had ducked the meeting until now.
Gabe presented his ID to a doorman who seemed mesmerized by his scar, the headdress and the entourage. Seconds later, they stepped into the elevator to the penthouse suite. When they emerged, Fortier was standing at a large plate-glass window, staring out at the spectacular view of Paris at night and the glittering landmark of the Eiffel Tower.
Fortier turned to face Gabe. As always the older man’s expression was smooth and urbane, although when he noted the kaffiyehs, something usually reserved for formal or ceremonial occasions, his dark gaze became wary. He consulted his wristwatch, as if he were in a hurry to leave despite the late hour. “You’re lucky you caught me, I have a plane to catch.”
“To Tuscany?”
