by The Prince
Cleo pushed aside her dinner plate and reached for the wallpaper sample book.
“Sadik, you have to be practical. Despite your claims to the contrary, the baby could be a girl.”
Her husband of two months dismissed her with a flick of his hand. “I am a prince of Bahania. I only have sons.”
“While I can appreciate that, you do know it’s not your decision.” She shook her head when he would have interrupted. “I know that technically the father determines the sex of the child. My point is, you don’t get to pick which sperm decides to do the happy dance with my egg. What if it was a girl sperm?”
Instead of answering, he simply stared at her. No doubt his point was that as he was a Bahanian prince, his girl sperm would have the good sense to stay behind the boy sperm, thus ensuring the birth of a male child.
She gave a mock sigh of surrender. “Fine. We’ll assume the baby is a boy. But on the one-in-a-million chance that it’s a girl, I would prefer we not pick trains and airplanes for the border print. Either we find something neutral or we wait until the baby is born.”
They sat at the dining-room table in their suite, having just finished dinner.
Sadik still wore the suit he’d put on for work, but he’d removed his jacket and pulled off his tie.
Now he reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Whatever you would prefer, Cleo. If you like your teddy bear paper, then that is my wish, also.”
She wasn’t surprised by his statement. In the past few weeks, they’d both gone out of their way to defer to the other person’s opinion. She supposed they were figuring out how to make their marriage work. Once she’d given up on the idea of having Sadik love her, everything else became easier. He was supportive, attentive and affectionate. Whenever she got a knot in her stomach or thought how much better things could be, she reminded herself that this was enough.
“Bears it is,” she said, opening the sample book to that page and writing down the order number. “I’ll call about it in the morning.”
“I can have my secretary order the paper.”
She smiled. “By the time I explained what I want, I could have just as easily called the company myself.” She flipped to another page on the pad. “Also, we have to coordinate what day we want the baby’s room painted.”
“I remember. You pick the most convenient day and I will arrange for us to use one of the guest rooms for the night.” He rose and drew her to her feet, then kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I do not want you breathing in the paint fumes. We will stay in a guest room until the paint is dry and the smell is gone.”
She knew there was no point in arguing. The baby’s room was on the other side of the suite, and she doubted the paint would bother her. Still, Sadik was being sweet, and she didn’t want to discourage that kind of behavior.
He led her to the sofa in the living room. When she settled herself on the soft cushions, he sat on the coffee table in front of her and lifted one of her feet onto his lap. Strong fingers massaged her arch. As he rubbed away her tension, she let her head fall back.
“You do that very well,” she murmured.
“I read about it in one of my books.”
She opened her eyes and glanced at the stack of books on pregnancy that Sadik had ordered from the Internet. He hadn’t simply ordered them—he’d read every word and he’d remembered what he’d learned. He was constantly spouting off information she didn’t know. Of the two of them, he was far more mentally prepared to have the baby than she was.
“Circulation is most important for the pregnant woman,” he said matter-of-factly. “It is why I encourage you to sleep on your side and not on your back. There is a large vein that returns blood from your lower body. When you sleep on your back, you cut off that route. You must use your body pillow.”
“Yes, Sadik,” she said meekly.
He raised his eyebrows. “You say the words, but I do not think you agree with the seriousness of the matter.”
“When you’re doing that to my toes, it’s hard to take anything seriously.”
He responded by changing the subject. “Have you chosen the furniture yet? It will all have to be made by hand, so there is not much time.”
They’d pored through dozens of catalogs, along with visiting local baby boutiques. “I’m leaning toward using antiques that are here in the palace. The king showed me some of the things placed in storage last week.” She smiled.
“Maybe I can find your old crib.”
He placed one foot on the ground and reached for her other leg. “I would prefer our son not be forced to use my old castoffs.”
“They’re not castoffs. They have sentimental value.”
“Not to me.”
“You were a baby. You can’t remember.”
“I recall enough. You may use any antiques you wish but not things I had as a child.”
Sadik could be difficult and arrogant and stubborn, but except for the topic of their baby’s gender, he was almost never unreasonable.
She pulled her foot free of his touch and leaned toward him. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
She reached toward him, but before she could touch him, he rose to his feet and stalked to the far side of the room.
“Sadik?”
“I ask that you not argue with me on this matter.”
“If it means so much, I promise I won’t look for anything that belonged to you.
But I don’t understand why you’re being so insistent.”
He stood by the French doors leading out to the balcony that encircled that level of the palace. The sun had long since set and they hadn’t pulled the drapes, so as he gazed at the glass all he could see was a reflection of the room. Cleo stared at that same reflection, trying to read her husband’s expression.
“Are you angry?” she asked.
“No.” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. After what felt like several minutes, he turned to her and drew in a deep breath. “Some time ago you told me of your past. How you had grown up in poverty, with a mother who was rarely around.”
She nodded.
“You were surprised that I did not judge you or find you wanting. You were surprised when I admired your strength for overcoming the conditions under which you had been born.”
“I remember.”
“I am Prince Sadik of Bahania, second-born son to King Hassan. I am the master of my fate.”
She smiled gently. “I’ve actually heard that speech before.”
“I know. Sometimes I say it to make myself believe it is so.”
What was he talking about? “There’s no question of you being the king’s son.”
“Agreed. I do not fear being branded illegitimate. My parents were married.” He returned to the sofa and sat down next to her but not touching. He didn’t look at her. “My father had two great loves in his life. Zara’s mother, and Reyhan and Jefri’s mother. His first arranged marriage produced my older brother, Murat, and his second produced me. There was no love lost in either case.
Murat’s mother died in childbirth, and my mother killed herself rather than be with him. Or me.”
All the blood rushed from Cleo’s head, leaving her feeling as if the room had begun to spin. Her heartbeat sounded loud in the silence. She struggled to find words.
“What happened?”
“She took pills. I was still very young and did not realize the significance of what she had done for some time. It does not matter.”
But of course it mattered. Cleo knew it mattered very much, although she couldn’t say exactly how.
“So you were left alone?”
He shrugged. “My father was king. He had affairs of state. There were nannies for a time, then I was sent off to school when I was seven.”
Cleo might not have a drop of royal blood in her veins, but she knew what it was like to grow up lonely. She couldn’t fix Sadik’s past, but she could promise him that history would not repeat itself
.
“When I was very young, I swore that no matter what, I would never abandon my child the way I’d been abandoned,” she told him. “No matter what, Sadik, I will be there for our child.”
“As will I.”
Sadik stared into Cleo’s beautiful face and saw the conviction blazing in her eyes. At that moment, as they shared their vows, he felt closer to her than he had ever felt to anyone. He had never shared the horrors of his past before. His brothers knew, of course, but they did not speak of such things. He had never talked of it with his father. Yet the information was all there, in the back of his mind. The knowledge that his mother could not have been bothered to stay alive to be with him for the first few years of his life.
He told himself he was a grown man and such events from his past had no meaning.
Most of the time he believed the words.
He shifted on the sofa and held out his arms. Cleo came to him instantly. She snuggled close, her growing belly pressing into his side. He accepted her comfort, enjoying the heat of her body and the way her small hands clung to him.
Her nearness made the ghosts of the past fade as his body responded to her curves and her fragrance. Desire filled the empty places inside of him. But he did not reach for her. Not yet. Instead he waited, wanting her to be the one to reach for him.
Over the past few weeks he had seen a change in Cleo. She no longer demanded that he love her. The word never passed her lips. He had seen her trying to make their marriage a success and he did his best to improve things between them. Yet despite her smiles and easy laughter, he sensed there was something missing.
When he touched her in bed, she was always willing, yet she never touched him first.
He did not mind seducing her each time. Seducing Cleo was the stuff of dreams.
But he knew there was still a wall between them. Sometimes he thought even she did not realize there was something wrong. Because he knew her so well—the sound of her breathing, the beat of her heart—he could not likewise be fooled.
She was like a boat cut adrift on a slow-moving river. At first she seemed to simply hang there, but eventually she would slip away. He wanted to reach out and grasp the rope, pulling her in. He knew the problem and he knew the solution. She wanted him to love her. Love.
Why did she seek the one thing he could not provide?
And then, because he could not resist her any longer, he reached for her. She responded instantly, kissing him with a fervor that took his breath away. As he pulled her into his arms and carried her into their bedroom, he told himself that the boat hadn’t drifted out so very far that day. Perhaps the tide would turn and she would come to rest in a place she would never want to leave.
“Our holiday celebrations are unique,” King Hassan said as he and Cleo strolled through his garden. “We celebrate many faiths in our country, and each is given its due. You will find much of the old city decorated as if for a large party.”
He motioned to a bench in the shade of several palms. It was a frequent stopping place for them on their twice-weekly walks.
Cleo settled on the stone bench and rested her hand on her belly. Based on her growing girth, she found it difficult to believe she still had over two months left.
“As long as I can have a Christmas tree for the suite,” she said, smiling at her father-in-law. “I love the smell of pine.”
“Something we do not have here in our world.” He nodded. “I have already arranged for the palace to be a winter wonderland, specifically for your pleasure.”
His kindness made her feel all weepy inside. “You’re spoiling me.”
“I enjoy the process. Besides, you are the honored mother of my firstborn grandson.”
Cleo had thought that Hassan’s attention to her might drop off once he found out that Sabrina was pregnant, but so far that had not happened. Perhaps he actually liked her for herself. Since returning to Bahania, she’d spent much time with the king. While he still had the power to make her incredibly nervous, she enjoyed his company and their times together.
“Tell me of your studies,” he said as he leaned down to pet one of the palace cats that strolled along the path.
Cleo shifted to get comfortable. “They’re going really well. I figure that realistically I won’t actually be taking classes at the university until next fall. When the baby comes, I want to be free to get used to being a mother. But until then, I’m working hard. I actually have three tutors now.”
Hassan raised his eyebrows. “How many subjects are you…” He frowned. “What is the phrase?”
“Brushing up on.”
“Ah. That is it.”
Cleo shrugged, feeling vaguely guilty. “Well, it’s gotten a little more complicated than that. Alice was my first tutor. She helps me with my general knowledge and study habits. I’m learning how to read a textbook and understand the central points and how to take notes. She started talking to me about Bahanian history. I found it really interesting, but she doesn’t consider herself an expert, so one day a week I see Luja. She’s lived in the old part of the city all her life. She’s got to be close to a hundred. Anyway, she knows practically everything about Bahania, so we talk about history and politics.”
Hassan touched her hand. “I am most proud of you, child.”
Cleo ducked her head. “Yeah, well, I’m doing it because it’s interesting.”
“Learning about your new homeland is most wise. And who is your third tutor?”
“That’s the funny part. Alice was going over some basic math stuff with me and I found I really liked it.” Cleo shook her head, still amazed by what she was discovering about herself. “The thing is, I’m also really good at it. So she’s brought in a math tutor. Shereen is taking me through basic algebra and next up is geometry. I can’t wait.”
“So Zara isn’t the only smart one in your family.”
“I guess not.” Hard to believe but true, she thought happily. All those years ago she’d never given school a chance. How would her life have been different if she’d found even one thing to be good at? Maybe she wouldn’t have made so many stupid choices in her personal life.
“And my grandson’s room is ready for his arrival?”
Cleo didn’t even bother correcting Hassan’s assumption about the baby’s gender.
She’d grown tired of fighting that particular battle. She just hoped she was focused enough to enjoy the moment should her baby turn out to be a girl.
“We’re nearly done,” she said, then laughed. “Technically the room is completely empty, but we’ve ordered what we need, and I’ve chosen several pieces from the palace warehouse. Those things are being cleaned.”
She and Sadik had spent a fabulous day strolling through a massive building stuffed with Bahanian treasures. She had been careful to avoid anything from Sadik’s past as she didn’t want to spark painful memories. Even now, when she recalled what he’d told her about his mother, she felt a knot form in her stomach. How could a woman just turn her back on her child? Not that her mother hadn’t done the same sort of thing.
Maybe that was why she found it so easy to love Sadik. On the surface they were nothing alike, but underneath they were very much the same.
Hassan touched her face. “I see a trace of sadness in your eyes. You are thinking about my son.”
His announcement should have startled her, but she’d grown used to the fact that her father-in-law could be very perceptive.
“I am content,” she said quietly. “He’s a good man and a caring husband. He is eager for our child. We enjoy each other’s company. There is respect. Isn’t that enough? To want more is to wish for the moon.”
“How dark the night sky would be without the light of the moon.”
“But she travels on her own path and cannot be ordered to appear.”
He smiled. “You are learning the ways of the desert.”
She was learning because every morning Sadik spoke lovingly to their unborn child, teaching him or her ab
out the ways of Bahania. She supposed he was as much a tutor for her as any of her other instructors. From him she had learned about the lineage of the famed Bahanian stallions, and how to tell if the birds circling in the sky told of water nearby.
“The desert is now my home,” Cleo reminded the king. “I must learn her ways and respect them.”
“What of the sadness in your eyes?”
She didn’t want to think about that. “In time it will fade.”
“Because you will come to love him less?”
She wasn’t surprised that he had guessed her secret. How hard could it have been? “In time I will get used to the situation.”
“Will you get used to him not loving you back?”
The blunt question made her wince. “Yes.” Because she didn’t have a choice. She refused to live her life being unhappy. “In time the friendship and respect will be enough for me.”
Hassan frowned. “My son is a fool but not an idiot. In time he will see the treasure he holds cannot be replaced.”
“Maybe.”
Cleo wasn’t confident that Sadik would ever be willing to let go of his past.
The memory of Kamra was too important to him. And as long as the ghost of his late fiancée had a hold on his heart, he would never be able to offer it to her.
The nurse motioned for Cleo to step up on the scale. Cleo kicked off her sandals and thought light thoughts as she did as requested. The digital number rose upward at an alarming rate, causing her heart to sink in direct proportion. When it finally stopped, she stared, unable to believe anyone her height could actually weigh that much.
“Dr. Johnson is going to have my head on a platter,” she muttered as she slipped back into her shoes. “She warned me on my last visit not to gain more than a pound a week.”
Sadik dismissed her concerns. “You are a vision of health and beauty. If your blood pressure is normal, then Dr. Johnson will not be concerned.”
“Uh-huh.”
Cleo was not convinced. She knew that the combination of stress and fabulous palace food had her eating a whole lot more than she was supposed to. She followed the nurse into the examining room and gingerly shifted her body onto the table.
