Sheikh's Pregnant Cinderella

by Maya Blake

  It stood beside his chair, offering dangerous hope she couldn’t stem.

  A noise echoed through the room. When Zufar’s eyes narrowed on her, she realised it’d come from her.

  ‘That will be all,’ he said abruptly. ‘Thank you. Dr Basim, you will remain.’

  The others bowed and filed out. Sensing suspense wouldn’t be tolerated, the doctor reached for his briefcase. ‘Your Highness, I’ve consulted my old notes. We’ll need to do further tests, of course, but the blood type I have on file matches yours. And I’ve gathered pictures of all royal skin markings including the Princess and your...um... King Nazir’s. The one of the Princess is an identical match to yours.’

  King Nazir. Her father. Maybe.

  A jagged whimper left her throat. Zufar’s warm hand enfolded hers, lending her much-needed strength. ‘What...what was his...their full names?’

  Zufar answered, ‘Your father’s name is...was...King Nazir Al-Bakar, Sheikh of Rumadah, and your mother was Queen Ayeesha. If the records are correct you also had an older brother, Jamil, who perished in the crash. Your own name is Princess Nazira Fatima Al-Bakar, named after your father.’

  Nazira not Niesha.

  She had a name. A history. But she was still all alone.

  Her cracked heart broke into further pieces at the thought of the parents and brother she would never meet, never share a smile or a joke with. Never confess her worries to or share theirs. ‘How did you know?’ she croaked.

  ‘I did some research of my own while you were asleep.’

  ‘A-and?’ Her voice shook horribly but she was past caring.

  ‘And you are the exact likeness of your mother,’ Zufar delivered with a deep, low voice. ‘In hindsight, it’s astonishing how the similarities could’ve been missed.’

  Shock continued to reel through her. In some distant corner of her mind, she knew she was crying but she couldn’t help her tears. ‘Because no one was looking for a pr-princess in an orphanage. Or in a chambermaid’s uniform.’

  Silence throbbed as her words seeped into their very bones. A moment later, Zufar handed her a handkerchief.

  She dabbed her eyes, then refocused on the doctor. ‘You said you’ll need to do further tests?’

  ‘Your blood type is rare. So was your father’s. Because of that we kept samples in storage in case they were needed for surgery. Comparing yours to his won’t be a problem.’

  ‘But how can they still be in storage twenty years later?’

  ‘The laws of your kingdom prohibit the destruction or disposal of a king’s property for twenty-five years in case of his sudden death and no heir apparent. But besides the blood, there are other forms of DNA we can test. With your permission, of course, Your Highness.’

  Niesha nodded numbly, shock holding her prisoner. ‘I... Of course. You have my permission.’ She bit her lip, unable to contain what was happening to her. ‘But...how is it that I ended up in Khalia and not Zyria with my family?’

  Zufar’s hand tightened on hers. ‘The place where the tragedy happened was very close to the border with Khalia, separated by a deep ravine. I think you were thrown clear when the accident happened and you wandered off.’

  ‘What? But I was only five years old.’

  ‘I only met you a few times, Your Highness, but you struck me as very determined, even at such a young age. You may have gone to seek help and got lost. Or you may just have been disorientated, the trauma wiped from your memory by the time you were discovered,’ Dr Basim said.

  Niesha realised then that she would never truly have all the answers she sought. But there was one deep, burning curiosity she could satisfy. She licked her dry lips and nodded to the sleek tablet lying on the coffee table. ‘Can I see... Do you have pictures of my family?’

  ‘Of course,’ Zufar said, reaching for the tablet.

  Seconds later, she found herself staring into eyes that looked so much like her own, further tears welled. Her mother was delicately beautiful, like a rare flower. Her father stood tall, broad-shouldered in traditional clothes. His eyes were darker than hers but, within the depths, Niesha recognised herself. Her soul.

  She moved to another picture. In this one, a candid shot probably taken in between more scripted ones, her parents were staring at each other with such utter devotion that the camera was an intrusion. Her gaze moved to her brother and her heart began to break all over again.

  Jamil.

  Eight at the time of his death, he bore all the hallmarks of turning out just like their father.

  Lastly, she located a picture of herself as a child. She wore a deep lavender dress with a white ribbon tied at the waist. The ribbons were replicated in her hair and she was beaming at the camera, leaning forwards with the eagerness and impatience of a five-year-old. Her hands were propped on her knees, and there, clear as day, was the starfish imprinted on her skin.

  At the sight of the birthmark, another sob escaped.

  ‘Niesha.’ Zufar’s voice held a throb of concern, but she waved him away.

  ‘I’m fine, I promise.’

  She scrolled through until she found a video interview of her parents. They were about to celebrate some event and had given a few minutes to a reporter. Fingers shaking, Niesha hit the play button. Her father was speaking, his deep, baritone voice authoritative but warm.

  And then her mother spoke.

  Niesha gasped, a deep trembling seizing her body as she listened to her mother’s voice. The voice she carried in her head. The voice that soothed her in times of distress...was her mother’s voice.

  ‘Mother...’

  She didn’t feel the tablet slipping from her fingers.

  Or the tight curse from Zufar before he caught her in his arms.

  All she felt was blessed darkness.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE WOKE UP propped against soft pillows, the thick coverlet pulled up to her chest.

  ‘What happened?’

  Zufar’s mouth tightened and his darkened eyes scoured her face. ‘You fainted after hearing your mother’s voice.’

  Memories rushed back, buffeting her with profound sadness. But beside that emotion there was a curious warmth, a lessening of the hollowness that had been part of her life for so long.

  Her mother’s voice.

  It had stayed with her all these years, assuring her that she wasn’t truly alone. That she was loved.

  Tears began to well again, but she blinked them back, if for no other reason than because she was sure any more tears would make Zufar confine her to bed indefinitely. She couldn’t allow that, not when there was so much more to learn about her family. About herself.

  Absently, she noticed her wrist being tugged and turned her head to see Dr Basim taking her pulse. She held her breath as he finished up.

  ‘Well?’ Zufar demanded.

  ‘She’s fine, Your Highness.’ Dr Basim smiled at her. ‘As long as you take it easy, the episode shouldn’t happen again.’

  ‘It shouldn’t have happened at all,’ Zufar stated with a near growl.

  ‘I’m fine. Really.’

  ‘So you keep telling me. And yet the evidence tells a different story.’

  Dr Basim tucked his stethoscope away. ‘I’ll leave you to rest.’

  ‘Wait,’ Niesha rose off the bed, only to be firmly tucked back in by Zufar. Her glare merely bounced off him. She redirected her gaze to Dr Basim.

  ‘Can we... Can we keep this confidential? I don’t want anything to get out until...in case it’s a false alarm.’

  The doctor smiled. ‘I’m almost certain it won’t be, Your Highness—’

  ‘Nevertheless, I want your word that nothing about this will get out until we have an answer one way or the other. Zufar... I mean, Khalia can do without the upheaval right now.’

  Beside her, she saw her husba
nd’s imperceptible stiffening. ‘You’re thinking about me? My people? In this moment?’ There was a trace of astonishment in his voice.

  ‘They’re my people too, aren’t they? They deserve better than to have another bombshell thrown in their laps.’

  An emotion shifted across his face, gone before she could read it properly. ‘You forget that our marriage ended up being less of a bombshell and more of a welcome celebration.’

  ‘And I’d like to keep it that way for as long as I can, if you don’t mind,’ she said.

  Again something gleamed in his eyes, arresting her focus, not that she needed much to take her focus from Zufar’s face. Everything he did, every breath he took seemed to captivate her in some way.

  In all ways.

  She wasn’t sure how long they stared at each other.

  A discreet cough reminded her the doctor was still in the room.

  Zufar was the first to regain himself by standing and sliding his hands into his pockets. ‘You will do as my wife says. Keep the circle of trust small and tight. Report directly to us once you’ve done your tests.’

  The doctor executed an elegant bow. ‘Of course. It will be exactly as you wish.’

  ‘A private jet will be chartered to fly you to Rumadah today. We’re returning to Khalia tonight. You have forty-eight hours to present us with your findings there.’

  The doctor bowed again and left. Zufar crossed the suite to the phone and picked it up.

  Unable to lie still, Niesha rose and padded to the window. Through the window of their presidential suite in the heart of Paris, the Seine glistened sinuously in the sunshine and the spear of the Eiffel Tower looked almost close enough to touch.

  But this time the view didn’t hold as much appeal. Alternate waves of heat and cold surged through her as she wrapped her hands around herself.

  ‘I suspect I’ll have a fight on my hands if I suggest you return to bed but I have ordered an early lunch for you and you will eat something.’

  She rounded on him, her heart pounding. ‘What if I’m not this...this person? What if all of this is a wild coincidence?’

  ‘It’s not,’ he replied. ‘The pictures alone prove your connection. Besides, you were the only one unaccounted for following the accident. You were most likely presumed dead because no one expected a five-year-old to survive such an incident.’

  Another shiver danced down her spine. A moment later, warm hands cupped her shoulders, then drew down her arms.

  ‘You are the Princess. It’s time you start believing it,’ Zufar commanded, his deep voice sending a different sort of shiver through her.

  The small laugh she gave held a touch of hysteria. ‘I don’t know that I can. It all feels so...overwhelming. And so messy for you.’ She gave a pained laugh. ‘Perhaps you would’ve been better off going after Amira, after all.’

  His hands tightened fractionally. ‘I’ve found that it’s useless dwelling on things we cannot change.’

  Her insides shrank a little that he didn’t issue a firm denial of any desire for his ex-fiancée. Because deep down it was what she’d been selfishly, hungrily angling for.

  ‘As for things being overwhelming, you proved that you can handle overwhelming when you married me three weeks ago.’ That odd note she’d heard a little while ago pulsed through his voice, but, scrutinising his face, Niesha couldn’t decipher his thoughts.

  ‘If my name really isn’t Niesha, do I have to change it?’

  ‘I expect you can do whatever you please. You are the Queen of Khalia. And soon to be confirmed as the rightful heiress to the throne of Rumadah.’

  She gasped. ‘But...how will that work?’

  For a single moment, his jaw clenched tight, and Niesha was reminded that whatever happened to her would also cause Zufar, and more importantly Khalia, huge upheaval.

  The very thing he’d striven to avoid by marrying her.

  ‘With very careful strategising,’ was all he said before he released her.

  Before she could speak, a member of his staff wheeled a trolley onto the grand terrace, where a table had been set for two.

  Despite her inner turmoil, Niesha forced herself to finish the vichyssoise starter. She was eating for two, after all.

  She saw the gleam of approval in Zufar’s eyes as she tucked away a good portion of pasta with rich creamy sauce and French bread. When she was done eating, she placed her napkin on the table and attempted to enjoy the view.

  ‘Would you like to go out?’ Zufar asked abruptly.

  She returned her gaze to him and watched the sunlight dance over his glossy hair. ‘Where?’ she asked warily.

  He shrugged. ‘Wherever you please.’

  ‘I thought you’d cancelled all our engagements.’

  ‘I did. But I won’t have you cooped up in the suite, climbing the walls. We’re not scheduled to fly for another few hours. If you wish to go out, we will.’

  She wanted to point out that they were in a fifteen-room suite, hardly a space that evoked a coop. But her eyes lit on the tower again, and she nodded. ‘I’d like that. Thank you.’

  He rose and held his hand out to her. Pulse jumping into her throat, she placed her hand in his, absorbing the tingles that raced up her arm as she let him help her up from the table.

  In their bedroom, he walked her to the dressing room. ‘I’ll summon your attendants.’

  She grimaced. ‘Can you not? I’d like to dress myself for once without all the fussing.’

  He hesitated, then gave a regal nod before heading for his own dressing room.

  The off-shoulder design of the maroon jumpsuit came with wide palazzo pants that made it look like an elegant day dress. The outfit was a little more casual than she’d worn for any occasion during her honeymoon but even before she slipped it on, Niesha knew she would love its easy comfort.

  She’d watched Halimah and her attendants closely enough to expertly apply light make-up and twist her hair into a stylish bun in minutes. Deciding on simple diamond earrings, she slipped them on. Then she slid her feet into blood-red heels that matched her belt, scooped up oversized sunglasses and a clutch and left the suite.

  As always, Zufar was waiting for her in the living room. He’d swapped his suit for a softer pair of grey trousers coupled with a light blue shirt over which he’d worn a jacket two shades darker than his trousers. His tie was gone, in its place a silk scarf tucked neatly into his collar. Handmade loafers completed his outfit and she stared, thinking he could easily have stepped off a magazine cover. As he drew nearer, she saw the House of al Khalia monogram embroidered on his jacket pocket. She wanted to say that he didn’t need it.

  Every inch of him shouted his regal status.

  In the lift down, he drew a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slid them on. The moment they stepped out into the sunny reception, Niesha knew what she wanted to do.

  ‘Can we walk for a while?’

  ‘Not unless you want to be mobbed.’ The ever-present paparazzi loitered outside.

  She grimaced. ‘Then I’d like to just drive around, if you don’t mind?’

  He nodded. ‘It will be as you wish.’

  They set off in a smaller convoy.

  From the back of the limo, she tried to forget her turmoil and just bask in the sights. But it proved impossible.

  Strong hands captured her twisting fingers. ‘It will be all right.’

  Different words, said by a different voice but both owned by people she knew she was emotionally heavily invested in.

  She would never get to meet her mother or hear the real-life version of the sweet words she’d whispered in her ear.

  But Zufar was right here, a temptation she’d told herself to resist the moment she’d set eyes on him as a romantic teenager with her head in the clouds. Temptation she knew could decimate her when she took his
name and accepted him into her body.

  His tempting words were the ones she needed to be wary of because Zufar would never see her as anything other than a replacement for another woman. A woman he hadn’t cared about enough to go after. If he’d found it so easy to discard Amira, what hope did she have of ever finding anything deeper with him?

  When her feelings grew too much to contain she tried to prise her hands away. He held on tight. ‘Tell me what troubles you.’

  ‘I’m scared,’ she blurted before she could stop herself. But self-preservation stopped her from expounding.

  To her surprise, he nodded. ‘I know. You’ll recall I, too, have been in your shoes.’

  ‘You’ve been pregnant?’

  He looked startled for a moment, before his mouth curved in a smile. It was the first genuine full smile she’d seen on his face. And it floored Niesha completely.

  ‘No, that is a privilege you will enjoy on your own.’

  Smooth.

  So smooth, she felt a little of her agitation drift away. And when he meshed his fingers with hers and drew her head onto his shoulder, she went with her insides melting, her heart pounding and her head telling her she was just ten kinds of fool for leaving herself wide open for further heartache.

  * * *

  ‘Niesha. Wake up.’

  The low, deeply voiced command tickled the shell of her ear.

  With a small shiver, she blinked awake, and realised she was draped all over Zufar.

  She jumped but didn’t get very far as the arm clamped around her tightened. She raised her gaze, about to murmur an apology for falling asleep on him, when she noticed where they were. ‘We’re at the airport?’

  ‘Yes. You fell asleep in the car. After we drove around Paris for two hours I thought it best to come straight to the airport.’

  ‘I’ve been asleep for two hours?’

  Tawny eyes gleamed at her. ‘Clearly you needed the rest.’

  The thought that he’d driven around with her even though she’d fallen asleep shouldn’t have touched her, not after the stern warning her head had issued her heart.