by Maggie Cox
He’d never before experienced wanting a woman as much as he’d wanted Darcy. Her shapely body and golden hair had captivated him from the very first. And it hadn’t been only that. As he’d begun to get to know her he’d realised she had so many more attributes for him to admire. Kindness, generosity, and a ready smile no matter what she might be feeling. All came to her as easily as breathing, it had seemed.
A mere week later, having developed the habit of calling her in to his office more regularly than was strictly necessary—either on the pretext of taking dictation or to look over some ‘important correspondence’ with him—he had known he was falling in love...
Now, pushing his long hair back from his face, he immediately honed his gaze in on her tearful eyes. ‘I don’t despise you,’ he said throatily. ‘What is it you want to say? You may as well tell me now.’
Breathing out a sigh, he dropped down beside her on the bed, taking care not to jolt her elevated ankle. She immediately looked startled, then she quickly collected herself.
‘All right, then. After you dismissed me... I—I found out that I was pregnant.’
There was a sudden deafening silence inside Zafir’s head. The intensity of it, along with his racing heartbeat, tuned out any other sound. He likened it to standing in the vicinity of an explosion. When he finally composed himself, he considered the possibility that he might be dreaming. She had been pregnant? How could that be? He’d always made sure to protect her.
He was suddenly furious. ‘Is this some kind of twisted joke you’re playing on me, Darcy? I always took care to protect you from such an event. If you were pregnant, then the baby couldn’t have been mine. Are you telling me that it was my brother’s?’
The very idea made him feel sick to his stomach.
‘I know you don’t regard me very highly, but that’s a vile accusation. The baby I had is yours, Zafir...your son. That first time we were together neither of us were as careful as we should have been. I’d started taking the pill, but I hadn’t been taking it long enough before we...before we spent the night together. Even though we’d planned it, everything happened so fast—don’t you remember? We could barely contain our feelings.’
She meant that they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other.
Even now the memory made him feel weak with longing. But at the back of his mind it suddenly nagged at him that in the throes of a desire as powerful and urgent as theirs had been he probably hadn’t been as diligent with protection as he should have.
The evening they’d first become intimate had been when he’d taken her to one of the newest and most exclusive hotels in London. They had only stayed one night, but Zafir had made sure it was a night she would remember. He’d arranged for the lavish bed to be strewn with rose petals and the luxurious suite to be scented with a rare perfume that he’d had flown in from Zachariah. There had been nothing he wouldn’t have done to help Darcy feel as if she was the centre of his universe...to show her that he was devoted to her happiness.
But later, when he’d learnt that she’d been cheating on him, his hopes that they would share the most joyous future together, that he would even go against tradition and make her his Queen, had shatteringly blown up in his face. And now she was telling him that he’d left her pregnant...
Zafir was glad he was sitting down. He felt as if he was in the middle of a storm whose power threatened to unbalance him no matter how hard he fought to stay upright. It wasn’t the first time he’d reflected that he might have made the most terrible mistake when he’d let her go. But now, faced with the damning consequences of that decision—as well as wanting to somehow put things right—he needed to absorb the real possibility that he was a father. And if he was, he now had an heir.
His dearest wish had seemingly come to pass and he hadn’t even known it. But the cruelty of doubt, of not being able to receive the news with any real confidence, still tormented him. Could he really have been such an utter fool back then when he’d fired her? Was he really the father of her son?
But as he examined her more closely he couldn’t help but warm to the idea. ‘Was I honestly so irresponsible as not to use protection the first time we made love?’
Darcy flushed. ‘We were so crazy for each other that I don’t think either of us had time to think about anything much...let alone be sensible.’
Remembering, Zafir was suffused by heat similar to that of a hot air current that swept across the desert sands. No one could turn him on as she had.
But he quickly returned to her story. ‘Do you have any idea of what it means for someone in my position to have a son? It means that the ancient dynastic line of my forebears will continue. Nothing can bring greater satisfaction and purpose than that.’
His mind was racing with the implications of the news and how it was going to affect not just his life and his family’s, but the people of Zachariah too.
‘I’m glad that it’s important to you. So, am I right in thinking that you want to be involved in our son’s life?’
‘If he is my son, then of course I want to be involved in his life. Did you not hear what I just said?’
‘But...’ Again, Darcy turned pink. ‘What about your fiancée? Won’t she want to have a say in any decision you make about that? It’s surely going to come as a great shock to her that you have a son by someone else?’
Realising that he’d barely given his bride-to-be a thought since setting eyes on Darcy again, Zafir knew that he had to get out of marrying a woman he didn’t love and had no chance of ever loving. He actually welcomed the idea of extricating himself from the arrangement.
Farrida came from a powerful Arabian family that was as wealthy and privileged as his own, and they’d known each other for years, but in truth she was a cold fish. She might be one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom, with an impeccable pedigree, but she had grown up utterly spoilt. Consequently she thought only of herself.
Zafir had only agreed to the marriage because—as his mother regularly reminded him—at some time or other he would have to produce an heir. He needed to put his duty first, and his union with Farrida would be considered highly advantageous by both families.
‘Why don’t you let me deal with that,’ he replied tersely, ‘and focus on getting your ankle better?’
‘You must know I’m concerned about the fact you’re getting married? It will have implications for me—and my son too. It’s been a long, hard road with just my mum to help me with the childcare, so I can work and earn the money we need, and though I won’t deny it would be helpful to have your support I don’t want to risk losing Sami if you decide to sue for joint custody. Will you agree to his still living with me? When you talk about “dynastic lines”, it worries me. I’ve wanted to tell you about our child for so long...but, as I said, I could never get through to you. When I read that you were getting married I knew it was more important than ever that you had the news.’
‘And the boy... Sami...he is four now?’
‘Yes.’
Darcy saw his glance soften for a moment as he seemed to take the time to reacquaint himself with her features. He followed it up with a lingering examination of her wheaten hair. He had always been fascinated by it... But she brought an abrupt halt to the memory when she started to remember how he’d loved to run his fingers through it.
It was perhaps fortunate when he quickly reverted to his previous less than friendly stance.
‘I confess I am still having trouble believing all this, Darcy. I have plenty of reasons not to believe you...remember?’
His statement sent cold shivers scudding down her backbone. She saw that she still had to deal with his suspicion and mistrust.
‘I never lied to you. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. You weren’t the only one who was hurt by what happened. Not only did you think I was a liar and a cheat, but I also had to suffer the humiliation of being fired from my job as though...as though I was worthless. What happened wounded
me more than you can possibly imagine. Let me go home, Zafir. Please,’ she implored. ‘I really do have to get back tonight. I give you my word that I’ll be there should you want to discuss any plans concerning our son.’
He seemed to stare into her eyes for a very long time before he spoke, but she found no reassurance in his gaze...anything but. In those endless few seconds Darcy felt as if she was standing in front of a pitiless magistrate who was just about to condemn her to a prison cell for life. Was there nothing she could say that would move him?
‘No matter how I feel personally about your predicament,’ he remarked, ‘in all conscience I cannot allow the hospital to discharge you tonight. You will have to stay here until tomorrow, when the doctor will re-examine you. After that, if I am satisfied they have done all that they can to aid your recovery, you can, of course, go home. But you can be sure I will be taking your details.’
‘Why? Because you want to see Sami or because you still intend to prosecute me for trespass?’
Now her eyes did fill with tears.
His returning glance was unperturbed, and cool as iced water. ‘To see my son, of course. I don’t intend prosecution now I’ve learned the reason for your trying to break into the house.’
Sniffing, Darcy blotted her tears with the back of her hand. She bit her lip at his reference to her trying to break in. ‘Good. But as to staying here for the night—I couldn’t afford to, even if I was at death’s door. Not all of us have money to burn like...’
‘Like me? Is that what you were going to say?’
Shrugging his shoulders, as though it didn’t disturb him one iota what she thought, Zafir started to walk away. But then he suddenly stopped dead and turned towards her.
Piercing her with eyes as black and mysterious as a moonless night, he breathed, ‘You will not have to pay this particular bill, Darcy, I will. But do not doubt you will have to recompense me...one way or another.’
As the door of the room swung closed behind him she dropped her head back onto the pillows and stared wildly up at the ceiling. Her physical discomfort had eased, thanks to the pain medication kicking in, but she didn’t know how she was going to relay the extraordinary events that had happened to her mother. And all because she’d finally taken matters into her own hands and recklessly sought Zafir out at his resplendent home...
* * *
Coming face to face with Darcy again did not help Zafir to sleep easily in his bed that night. The magic the woman weaved around him was like a drugging opiate that was impossible to resist, and when he was near her he felt like an addict on a recovery programme.
It was well over four years since he had seen her and at last he’d thought he’d got used to the idea that he would never see her again. But fate, it seemed, had had other plans. If it turned out to be the truth that he’d left her pregnant, then his whole life would change now that he had a son and heir.
Just as he was about to drift off to sleep he recalled the memory of her telling him how much she’d been hurt too—more than he would ever know. Now he knew what she’d meant—knew that she’d been pregnant by him when he’d fired her from her post—he felt like the cruellest tyrant imaginable for misjudging and abandoning her. But he still couldn’t be sure she hadn’t cheated on him with his brother, and until he was the idea would hang over him like Damocles’ sword.
Waking early, Zafir hastily showered and dressed, then immediately instructed his chauffeur to drive him to the hospital. Half expecting Darcy to have somehow found a way of escaping, despite the fact that he had left Rashid guarding her door and she couldn’t presently so much as put her foot to the floor, he couldn’t suppress his relief when he saw her sitting on top of the hospital bed, fully dressed. She looked a little peaky, and she didn’t seem best pleased to see him.
‘Oh, it’s you.’
Wanting to smile, he didn’t. The situation was far too serious for any levity. ‘Yes, it’s me. Did you manage to get any sleep last night?’
‘What do you care if I did or I didn’t?’
‘Don’t be such a child.’
‘I just want to get out of here and go home.’
She impatiently smoothed back a stray corn-gold strand of hair from her face, and her stare was defiant.
Zafir shook his head. ‘You are going nowhere until I speak with the doctor—and even then not until you give me your phone number and address.’
* * *
That had sounded like a veiled threat, not something even remotely reassuring. Inside, Darcy’s emotions clamoured. Wasn’t it enough that he’d already stamped her heart into the ground and caused irreversible damage?
A mournful sigh escaped her. The reason she’d been so determined to confront him was because they had a son together...she should never forget that.
‘I already told you I’d give them to you. I want to give you the chance to step up to your responsibilities—at the very least I thought you’d want that. And, more importantly, I want my son to know his father and likewise for you to get to know him and be proud of him.’
His tanned brow furrowed. Did she imagine she saw the shadow of pain and regret in his glance?
‘I would want all those things too,’ he agreed soberly, ‘if he is indeed my son.’
Her stomach lurched at the idea he still didn’t believe her.
‘In any case, I intend to maintain contact with you. But right now I will go and tell the nurse we’d like to see the doctor.’
Darcy had no choice but to stay put. But when the time came she hoped she would be able to ring for a cab to take her home. She didn’t want to resume relations with Zafir by feeling obligated. It was one thing having his support for Sami—if he gave it—and quite another having him lay down the law about what she did.
The question was would she be allowed to leave the hospital without any further intervention from him? It was hard to guess. The way her luck was going probably not.
When Zafir returned, she asked hopefully, ‘Will I be discharged after I’ve seen the doctor?’
‘We will soon find out. A nurse is coming to transport you to the examination room as we speak.’
A short while later Darcy nervously submitted to the doctor’s examination of her swollen ankle. As Zafir watched the proceedings she saw his gaze was steely-eyed and serious.
Faint with worry, she mulled over the possible outcomes. What if they wanted to keep her here for another night? If that happened, what would she do? She was hardly in a position just to walk out. It went without saying that her mother would insist on visiting her, and if that happened by necessity she would have to bring Sami with her. It was a Saturday and the school week was over. But if Sami saw her in hospital she knew he would be distressed, seeing her incapacitated like this...
‘Well, Ms Carrick, the outcome of your injury is presenting just as I expected. While it is very sore now, the ankle should heal beautifully if you take the proper care and rest. No doubt you must be relieved you didn’t break any bones although you will still have to take some time off work.’
‘Thank you. I am relieved that it’s not as bad as I feared. All I want to do now is go home.’
‘That is completely understandable, but first you must see our physiotherapist to be given some walking aids. When you have those, you may leave. The final thing I want to do is to tell you that you’re a very fortunate young woman to have been aided by such a personage as the Sheikh of Zachariah himself.’
The doctor was hardly adept at concealing his curiosity as he peered at her more closely.
For his part, Zafir detected the man’s too interested examination of Darcy’s features straight away. Was he imagining that the delicate blonde with the angelic visage was his mistress? He didn’t know why right then, but it seriously aggravated him.
‘It won’t be necessary for you to guide us to the physiotherapist, Dr Khan. A nurse can just as easily escort us.’
‘As you wish, Your Highness.’
The doctor b
eamed and smiled, but Zafir didn’t miss the brief flash of anxiety that flickered across the heavily lidded eyes. He could tell the man wasn’t quite sure whether his services had pleased him or not, and no matter how admired he was in his field he wouldn’t want to risk losing the Sheikh’s patronage under any circumstances.
* * *
‘I don’t know why you thought I needed a wheelchair, Zaf—Your Highness.’ Colouring in embarrassment beneath the too astute scrutiny of Rashid, as he parked her chair by the side of his boss’s gleaming black car, she privately cursed Zafir’s insistence that she refrain from using his name because she was supposedly his subordinate.
The devastation she’d endured that day when he’d cruelly told her he didn’t want anything to do with her any more was still able to wound her grievously. It wasn’t unlike the symptoms of post-traumatic stress in that it was ever-present—it never went away. That being the case, she couldn’t—wouldn’t pretend that their association had been a casual one, no matter how high he’d risen in the meantime.
‘It’s not that difficult to manoeuvre a couple of walking sticks.’
The Sheikh’s velvety dark brows came together in a forbidding frown. ‘Why am I not surprised you would say that? I shouldn’t have forgotten how stubborn you can be. Stop making a fuss and I will help you get into the car.’
All of a sudden he clicked opened the strap that secured her and, as Rashid held open the door, lifted her bodily into the car. Carefully arranging her bandaged ankle in the footwell, he briskly fastened her seatbelt and ordered his guard to take care of the crutches. Then, without even sparing her so much as a cursory glance, he sat down next to her. Rashid climbed in next to the driver.
Once more the sensual scent of exotic agar drifted beneath Darcy’s nose, whilst the heat from her companion’s body seemed to reach out to meld with her own. Pursing her lips, she wondered forlornly if anyone had recorded how fast a woman’s heart beat when the love of her life acted as if it was a penance even to be in the same vicinity as her. Was there, in fact, a record for such a thing?
