“There is a perfectly serviceable bedroom in the rear, Ms. Downing. Please take the little one and get some rest.”
She blushed prettily, and he stood up, taking the sleeping child from her and carrying her in his arms back to the bedroom he used. He knew what she saw when she walked in ahead of him…a richly-appointed bedroom, complete with queen sized bed, white silk sheets and a black and gold duvet. There were more pillows than one man would ever use, and she pushed most of them aside to make room for the child, who had still not stirred in his arms. He laid her down gently, and then said,
“The bathroom is through that door. It is private. I’ll have Malik bring your overnight bag to you. Enjoy your rest.”
She looked into his eyes for a moment, and he saw the heat of interest flare there for a second before she doused it. He felt her withdrawal like a sharp loss of contact, and he wished he could pull her in and hug her. He let her see that he returned her interest, and then he turned away and left the room before he forgot himself. He was still a prince, first and foremost, and he could not allow himself to lose his focus. She was not in his private jet, in his own bedroom, because she was anything to him personally. If she had not had a child with her, he would have let her stay in the reclined seat.
That falsehood took him back to his seat in the main cabin where he immediately called up the last screen he had been working on and tried to re-immerse himself in the documents he had been studying. It was a struggle, and he finally gave up just as Malik walked up to him and said,
“Are you ready for dinner, Your Highness?”
“I think I might as well be, Malik,” he replied, and stood with him, going back to the elegant dining space that doubled as a conference table when he had business meetings aboard.
The hostess served his dinner, while Malik sat across from him answering his questions about the latest border treaty Mubaira had just signed. The terms had been hard won, but the trade would be worth it, as well as providing an assurance of joint support in protecting each other from hostile intrusions. Then their talk turned to the woman asleep with her child in his bed.
“What do we know about her, aside from the few things she has told us?” he asked.
“There don’t seem to be any relatives, my Lord,” Malik began, “and the child’s father has apparently been absent for a significant amount of time as well.”
“So she is truly alone in the world,” Amir murmured to himself.
“Indeed,” Malik replied, eyeing him without further comment.
Amir smiled. He and Amir had forged a relationship which it would be difficult to describe to anyone else. Malik was the youngest brother of his father’s closest friend, a member of the sheikh’s cabinet. He had fallen on hard times when he lost his wife and child, as well as his house, to a fire that ravaged the whole community where he had lived. He had disappeared for over a year, and when his brother found him, he had been at the point of death. He had needed considerable rehabilitation, and a new purpose, if he were to avoid a relapse into the addictions from which his brother had saved him.
Enter Amir, then a sullen and introverted fourteen-year-old, whose mother had died only the year before, and whose father was at a loss as to how to reach his only son. Malik had been hired as his personal assistant — Amir insisted he was too old for a babysitter, so his father had given Malik a new title — and it had been his job to train the boy to be a man, even as his father was training him to be a king. Malik had been the one to hire his personal trainer, to establish his training routines in horse riding, fencing, mixed martial arts, including krav maga, swimming, rugby…anything Amir had evinced even the slightest interest in was something Malik made happen for him. He had been there through Amir’s four years of university in Scotland, and his three years of postgraduate work in England. He had been there for the two failed attempts on his life, back before their borders had been properly secured, and the enemies of the state were looking to give the king a reason to give up his throne.
Now Malik managed his life in every aspect, from the time he woke in the morning until the minute his head touched the pillow. The only things Malik didn’t do for him were wash and feed him. He had even, on occasion, acted as Amir’s valet, helping him make wardrobe decisions, and making sure he was well-turned out for important social and state functions. Amir didn’t quite know what he would do when Malik finally decided that he had had enough. But he knew he could trust the man who was smiling back at him with his life. They had talked about everything over the years, including what Amir ought to do about Amina, and about his father’s looming death.
“Go ahead, Malik,” he said, chuckling. “Have your say. It’s not as though you haven’t been thinking about all you want to say since Ms. Downing first met with us last Friday.”
Malik sat back in his seat, the professional demeanor dropping away, replaced by a warm regard for the younger man sitting across from him.
“She is a worthy young woman,” he began, cutting to the chase. “And she has no recognition of her value or appeal. You could not do any better than her.”
“I will not deny that I have observed, the same as you have, the way she is efficient and unpretentious,” Amir commented.
“I am sure you have also noticed her womanly charms, and her warmth,” Malik added, smirking. “You cannot deny it to me, my Lord. I have been witness to it. And I have never seen you respond to any other woman as you have to this one, not even the ones who throw themselves at you. And definitely not to Amina.”
“Don’t you think we are perhaps getting a bit ahead of ourselves, my friend?” he wondered, his gaze turning inward.
“Your father is not long for this world, my Lord,” Malik reminded him gravely, “and I cannot think how you will manage with Amina as your consort. You must be aware of how fiercely she is pushing her own candidacy? She has brought her parents over for unofficial visits on two occasions, once this past weekend while we have been here. She will not happily release you, unless you cut whatever ties you have made with her immediately.”
Amir sighed. “I have made no ties, nor do I ever wish to.”
“That is good. She cannot call upon a closer relationship, or any hopes established thereby, to bind herself to you. Ms. Downing is ripe for the taking…”
“As long as she is willing,” Amir interrupted him.
Malik tsked impatiently at him. “At this point, my Lord, don’t you think you ought to give in to the more practical aspects of such a partnership, and get her to see the benefits of a connection with you, than trying to wait for love? After all, she may never love you, but she will always be perfect for you.”
“I must disagree with you there,” Amir said seriously. “I will never marry, unless it be for love.”
“Then let us hope you each fall quickly. Your future depends on it.”
Chapter 4
Alex wished she could luxuriate in the whirlpool tub that she found in the bathroom, but she was only able to give Simone a quick bath in it, and then hurriedly clean herself before she had to appear for breakfast. She cleaned up as best she could, running her hands over the extra soft, extra large towels one more time before exiting the bathroom and dressing herself and her daughter. The bedroom was as luxurious as the bathroom, and she wondered if she would ever sleep on silk sheets again in her life. She dressed quickly, and put Simone into clean clothes, then spread the bed, repacked the overnight bag, and opened the door in time to see Malik Faisal standing there with his hand upraised, ready to knock.
“Good morning, Mr. Faisal,” she said, smiling brightly, and then colored slightly as she realized that she wasn’t really sure what time it was.
“Good morning to you too, Ms. Downing,” he replied, and then turned his beatific smile on Simone, going down on one knee before the child. “And good morning to you, Miss Parker,” he added.
“Good morning, Mr. Fi…” Simone stumbled over his name. “Mr. Fice.” She looked him in the eye as she short
ened his name and fumed, “I can’t say it right.”
Malik Faisal laughed, and said, “Not to worry, little one. Mr. Fice is good enough.”
“Did you sleep well?” he asked her, still on his knee.
“Yes, thank you,” she said politely.
Then she looked up at her mother. “Mommy, what’s for breakfast?”
Alex smiled down at her daughter, amused that she had dismissed the man still on his knees in favor of food. She looked at him as he stood up, and said,
“I think Mr. Faisal knows that better than I do.”
“Indeed, Ms. Downing,” he said, “I was just coming to tell you that breakfast is served.”
“Thank you,” she said, following him out into the main cabin, which was already occupied by a man whom she had to do a double take to recognize as Prince Amir.
He was dressed in a dark blue suit, complete with a light blue shirt and dark blue tie, but with a white keffiyeh bound to his head by a dark blue agal. He looked a different man, and yet, when his eyes caught hers, she recognized the spark that still arced between them. It had not been a dream, then, and she would do well to guard her heart. This man was out of her league. He was royalty, and she didn’t wish to jeopardize her job by being at all familiar, or responding to what in an ordinary man might have been read as interest. He was just being polite, and the spark was all in her mind.
His gray eyes darkened as he took note of the way she avoided his gaze, but he said nothing, only stood and greeted her, removing his headgear as he did so. She returned the greeting, and sat where Malik Faisal was holding a chair for her. The prince was seating Simone, helping her to sit in the booster seat so that she would be able to reach her food comfortably.
“I did not know what you would like for breakfast, Ms. Downing,” Malik Faisal said, “so I ordered some continental breakfast items as well as foods more traditional in our culture. Please help yourself to whatever you wish. We will be landing in two hours, so you have a little time to enjoy the repast.”
Alex asked Simone what she wanted to eat, and gave the child half an orange, some scrambled eggs and a piece of bacon.
“If you want to have a bit more, you’ll have to finish this,” she told her, and smiled when Simone said, “I’m hungry, Mommy,” as though that was a guarantee that she’d eat it all.
Noting that the Prince was not eating, she wondered if she had been late for breakfast. There was still a lot of food on the table, and she was a little worried about eating too much. She didn’t want to come off as greedy, but like Simone, she was hungry. She finally settled on bacon, eggs over easy and thick French toast, which she slathered with syrup.
“Would you prefer tea or coffee, Ms. Downing?” Malik — she really had to stop thinking of him as both his names — asked.
“Coffee will be fine, thank you,” she said, and accepted the delicate cup he offered her full of the steaming liquid.
“Your work will begin as soon as we arrive, Ms. Downing,” the prince said, “So I thought we should discuss a few last things.”
Alex listened as he told her that her quarters would be right across from the sheikh’s, joined by a sitting room. He had installed a baby monitor so she would be able to hear what was happening even when she was out of his actual bedroom. She would take her meals with her daughter only, or with his father, unless otherwise instructed to do so. The nurse who had been working with him part time had been instructed to leave a detailed list of times and medications, as well as any other activity important for his upkeep. He would be given his baths by a male attendant. She paid close attention, feeling her tummy flutter with nerves. She knew her job, and could provide quality elder care for the king, but what if he weren’t as agreeable as his son?
“Is there a direct line to your office, or to a hospital, in the event of an emergency?” she asked, draining her coffee cup, and reaching for the glass of water on her placemat.
“There will be three numbers, programmed on the handset. The first is mine, the second is Malik’s, and the third is the hospital. I would prefer that you call me first always. Malik is usually with me.”
She could feel his gaze on her as she ate, and turned to Simone, using the child as a shield.
“Are you done, baby?” she asked, and the little girl nodded.
She had managed to eat everything but a forkful of the eggs, for which Alex was grateful. She reached for a napkin, and barely managed to suppress her shock that they were warm, damp cloths. She cleaned the little girl’s hands, and then placed a half-finished glass of water before her.
“Now drink up. And then you may be excused.”
Malik helped her off the seat, and she scurried away to the box of toys by her seat, apparently oblivious of the fact that she was soaring thousands of feet above solid ground. At the thought, Alex swallowed nervously and excused herself to get another Xanax. She took it in the bathroom, not wanting either her employer or his right hand man to know. Smoothing her skirt, she returned to the main cabin and found the prince on his laptop. Malik was also busy on his tablet, and she sat next to Simone and tried to read the novel she had downloaded for the flight.
Something made her look up, in time to catch the prince staring at her intently. Should she smile at him? Pretend not to notice? She didn’t wish to encourage his attentions, but neither did she wish to appear rude. He took the decision out of her hands by smiling at her, a soft, engaging, meaningful smile, as though he wished to convey some important message to her. She didn’t understand it, but she returned his smile with a fleeting one of her own, before looking back at the words on her tablet which she had been re-reading uselessly for the last minute. This man was going to stretch her control beyond measure, she realized, because there was just something about his handsome face and kind nature that made her want things she shouldn’t want, and knew she couldn’t have, with him.
Finally, the pilot announced that they were descending, and as she strapped her in, she showed Simone what they were passing over, once they came through the clouds. The landing was smooth, although she supposed the Xanax helped with that, and before she knew it, she was walking down the stairs and into a blast of heat that had her gasping for breath. A delegation was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs, and Malik, who had followed his prince out of the aircraft, waited to help her and Simone off the last stair. She stood where he indicated and waited until all the official greetings had been done.
The prince, once again in his headgear, looked right at home among the men who surrounded him, and Alex realized, as she followed along behind the group, that at least four of the men were his personal security detail. She wondered where they had been back home, and on the plane, but she didn’t think then was a good time to ask. And she wondered why a Crown Prince from a country she had never heard of needed four men guarding him. That was not a question she would ever ask, especially worded the way she had just thought it. The last thing she needed to do was to insult the man who would be paying her an obscene amount of money to care for someone who would be gone very soon.
“You will ride with me, Ms. Downing,” the prince said, surprising her.
On the way to the airport, they had ridden in separate vehicles, he by himself, she with Malik and Simone. She wondered why things had changed, but again refrained from asking. Instead, she sat across from him in the cool luxury of the limousine, and when Simone came after her, she settled the child in her seat and strapped her in. One of his bodyguards walked around and sat in the front, and she saw Malik getting into the second limousine with the other three.
“What can I offer you to drink?” he asked, as she put on her own seatbelt. “I know it is very hot and stifling here. I’m sure Simone could use some water or juice?”
“What would you like to drink, honey?” she asked her daughter, completely floored by his kindness.
“Juice, Mommy,” the little girl replied, her eyes glued to the cartoon on the little screen that the prince had turned o
n.
Alex watched as Prince Amir leaned forward and removed a box of juice from the hidden refrigerator next to his seat. He pushed a thin straw into the opening and handed it to Simone, who murmured a distracted “Thank you”.
“And for you?” he asked, looking at her again.
“Oh…water, please,” she said, accepting the glass he handed to her, and watching him pour water from a bottle into it. And then, before she could censor herself, she added, “I’m pretty sure it’s not standard royal protocol for the Crown Prince to serve his servants.”
“Standard royal protocol is whatever I choose to make it,” he replied arrogantly, smiling to take any sting out of it. “What is wrong with me giving you a drink?”
Alex felt flustered, not knowing how to extricate herself from a conversation she should have known better than to start.
“I…I didn’t mean it was wrong, Your Highness,” she stuttered. “I wouldn’t dream of criticizing your actions or decisions.”
He leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving her face, and waited a very long moment more before replying.
“Perhaps I wish to show you that everyone deserves to be served, and pampered, and cared for,” he replied. “You did it daily in your last job, and you are getting ready to do it again in my home.”
Another long pause, while she struggled to think of something to say in response, and then he ended with a question..
SHEIKH'S SURPRISE BABY: A Sheikh Romance Page 93
