The Sheikh's Princess Bride Read online

  * * *

  ‘Risay, you’re becoming such a big boy.’ Samira smiled encouragingly as he tackled the long noodles in his bowl, amazed at how he’d grown in the months since the wedding.

  Beside him Adil was absorbed in pulling the pasta apart and dropping it from his high chair. He caught Samira’s eyes, picked up another thread of pasta, then let it fall, crowing with delight as it hit the floor. Samira laughed. ‘And you, Adil, are going to be a charmer with that cheeky smile and those big green eyes.’

  Just like his father. No one would call Tariq cheeky, but his smile made her heart flip over. It transformed his face from austere to stunningly charismatic. Every time she saw it Samira’s breath caught beneath her ribs.

  She shifted in her seat. Strange that she had that slightly breathless feeling now, as if carrying the boys down the corridor and putting them in their high chairs was more effort than before.

  ‘Is everything all right, madam?’

  Samira smiled up at Sofia who’d just appeared with the boys’ juice cups. ‘Yes, thanks. Just getting a bit more comfortable.’

  She tugged at the fabric of her skirt that had bunched high when she sat. How could the waistband need adjusting again?

  She’d got in the habit of wearing loose dresses in private, but she’d been with a client today and had put on a narrow tailored skirt and jacket of peacock-blue in the retro fifties style Tariq appreciated so much. Probably because of the way it clung to her hips and thighs.

  Samira frowned. Maybe she should give up wearing it until she slimmed down. She hadn’t noticed herself eating more but clearly Tariq’s excellent royal chefs were having an impact. If she didn’t do something soon to get back in shape she’d be as fat as butter.

  ‘Are you sure nothing’s wrong, madam?’

  ‘Nothing at all. Just a little too much good food.’

  Sofia nodded and clucked her tongue as she removed Risay’s empty bowl. ‘Fitted clothes like that will get more difficult to wear. You’ll be more comfortable in traditional dresses and loose trousers from now on.’

  Samira sat straighter, surprised at the nanny’s readiness to discuss her employer’s weight. None of the servants at home in Jazeer would have dreamed of making it obvious they’d noticed.

  ‘I didn’t mean to offend, madam.’ Sofia must have seen her surprise. ‘It’s only natural, though it does take some getting used to.’ She patted her own narrow waist and Samira stared, perplexed.

  ‘I’m sorry. You’ve lost me. What takes getting used to?’ Samira stood up, ready to lift Risay from his chair.

  ‘The way pregnancy changes your body. It can seem overwhelming the first time.’

  For a heartbeat Samira stared, stunned, then her arms dropped to her sides, leaden weights. She’d expected this sort of speculation but still it was discomfiting.

  ‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken.’ Deliberately she shaped her lips into a casual smile. ‘I’m not pregnant.’ She would have to school herself to say it without sounding quite so hollow.

  ‘You’re not?’ Sofia looked taken aback. ‘I’m so sorry. I could have sworn... I’ve never been mistaken before. And you have the look.’

  Despite herself Samira was curious. Her one experience of carrying a child had been over almost before she’d realised it. She’d never had regular periods and hadn’t had any obvious symptoms so she’d been blithely unaware of the baby she carried. There had barely been enough time to adjust to the wondrous news before the trauma of losing it.

  ‘There’s a look?’ She couldn’t help asking, though she knew she shouldn’t torment herself by prolonging this.

  Sofia nodded emphatically. ‘You’ve got it. There’s a look in the eyes, and your skin glows, and...’ She stopped, her gaze sliding away.

  ‘And?’

  Sofia shrugged. ‘You’ve gained a little weight. Not only in the waist but here too.’ Her hands plumped up her own breasts.

  Suddenly Samira found herself sitting, her head spinning.

  No. It was completely far-fetched. It was impossible.

  And yet...

  She bit her lip, admonishing herself for even that brief flight of fancy. There was a world of difference between wishful thinking and reality. She’d made it her business to live in the real world, not pine for what could never be.

  She crossed her arms, then immediately dropped them at the graze of fabric over her nipples.

  ‘Sensitivity there too.’ Sofia added helpfully, as if reading her discomfort.

  ‘I—’ Samira shook her head. She would not go there. Her breasts had been sensitive for some time, but she couldn’t tell the other woman it was because of the attention Tariq devoted to them. If he wasn’t caressing her breasts with his hands, he had his mouth on them, knowing it drew exquisite pleasure from her. Her nipples tingled as she remembered the attention he’d lavished on them last night, and on every other part of her body.

  Her breath sucked hard.

  ‘Thank you for your concern, Sofia, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken.’ She stood briskly and began to help the nanny clear the boys’ food away.

  But, as she put the twins down for their nap, Samira couldn’t shake the memory of Sofia’s certainty. Samira’s grandmother had prided herself on her uncanny ability to spot a pregnancy. She’d claimed it was a gift and that in all her decades she’d never been wrong.

  Was Sofia also gifted with such insight?

  If she was, she was badly mistaken this time.

  Samira looked down at the boys, already drowsing after their busy day, and found her hand had crept unbidden to her stomach. It wasn’t just her waist that thickened. Her belly curved out now too. Yet, though she’d always had a curvy figure, Samira had never had weight problems.

  She bit her lip, trying to force down the tremulous hope that rose like a tiny green shoot in an arid desert.

  The anguish of losing her tiny infant, and of hearing she’d never conceive again, was a raw wound in the darkness of her psyche. She couldn’t afford to reawaken that pain with false hope.

  Yet as she left the bedroom she found herself wondering.

  * * *

  Samira slumped down onto the side of the marble bath, staring at the test result. Her fingers shook so much she told herself she wasn’t reading it right.

  She pressed her palm against her abdomen as if she could feel anything new there. Or as if the touch of her hand could protect the new life sheltering within.

  Panic slammed into her. She hadn’t been able to protect the baby she’d carried four years ago. How could she this time?

  Nature hadn’t wanted her to be a mother. Hadn’t she been told she wouldn’t conceive again?

  Her skin tightened. Her forehead and the back of her neck prickled, turning clammy with the cold sweat of fear.

  The test indicator clattered to the floor as Samira’s vision hazed with nightmare memories. Blood and pain and the devastatingly gentle tone of a stranger telling her it was too late, she’d lost her child.

  Instinctively Samira pressed her legs together so hard they grew numb. She blinked back the hot tears glazing her eyes and forced herself to think. She’d hunched over into a foetal position, body bowed and knees drawn up to protect the new life inside.

  Her breath hissed, loud in the silence. She carried a new life!

  She was pregnant. Against the odds she was pregnant.

  And if one miracle could happen—her conceiving again—perhaps it was possible another miracle might happen and her child would be born alive and healthy.

  Samira gulped over the burning ball of emotion in her throat.

  If she’d learned one thing it was never to give up. She’d dragged herself from the darkest of places after the grief and scandal of her past. She refused to go back to living in the sha
dows.

  Gingerly she straightened, taking stock of how she felt.

  A smile hovered. She felt fine. More than fine, she felt fit as a fiddle, except for the way nerves made her stomach roil.

  She breathed deep, then bent to pick up the test result, her fingers closing tight around it.

  It could be a false positive. Gravely she nodded to herself as if she actually believed that. As if excitement wasn’t skittering through her, as if her blood wasn’t fizzing with elation and her toes curling.

  What she needed was certainty, a doctor.

  Again she nodded. Good, she was thinking clearly and logically.

  Yet when Samira stood up she saw that the woman facing her in the mirror wore a smile so broad it could only be described as rapturous.

  * * *

  Tariq paused midstride and stared at the retreating back of the man following one of the maids at the far end of the corridor. An icy hand clamped his neck.

  No, he was mistaken. It was a trick of the light. The obstetrician had no reason to visit the palace.

  Yet Tariq was blindsided by memories of the last time he’d seen that doctor. Tariq had been hollow with shock, unable to believe the world had turned on its head. He’d been given his precious sons but at the cost of Jasmin’s life. Joyful expectation had turned to disaster.

  He’d grappled with the unnerving sense that he’d lost control. All his wealth and influence hadn’t been able to save Jasmin. In fact, his need for an heir had caused her death.

  Shaking off fraught memories, he continued on, opening the door to the royal suite and striding in. He wanted Samira. Just being with her made him feel good. How corny was that? Her warmth and understanding, her company, were as essential to him now as her physical generosity.

  After that moment in the corridor, when dark tendrils from the past had wound around him, squeezing so he couldn’t breathe, he needed Samira.

  She wasn’t in her room but he heard water running in her bathroom. His step quickened.

  ‘Samira?’ He rapped on the door.

  Fragrant steam rose from the bath, hazing her skin, warming it to a delectable rose pink. His gaze dropped to the neckline of the unbuttoned shirt she clasped closed in one hand, then to her silky, loose trousers. She looked ripe and delicious. His hands twitched as he stepped into the bathroom.

  ‘Tariq.’

  The husky way she breathed his name recalled nights of carnal delight. He reached for her, the lingering tightness in his chest disintegrating as he wrapped his hand around her waist and felt her, warm and alluring, beneath his palm.

  ‘I want you,’ he growled, spreading his feet wide and hauling her in between his thighs. ‘Now.’

  Her lips tasted like heaven. Her body arched into his as he slid his hands down the sweep of her back and anchored them on her taut buttocks.

  She sighed into his mouth and Tariq wanted nothing more than this, to be here with Samira.

  ‘The bath!’ She leaned back in his hold, twisting to look over her shoulder.

  Tariq feasted on his view of bountiful breasts, plump above her creamy lace bra. He swallowed a groan.

  Fortunately for his sanity Samira had yet to realise how utterly compelling he found her body. She didn’t play coy games but always gave herself generously, participating equally in every erotic adventure.

  He’d lifted his hand to caress her breast when she pulled away, bending to turn off the taps.

  A tight smile curved Tariq’s mouth as he appreciated the view. From her casually upswept hair, to the swell of her hips and neatly rounded bottom, Samira was all woman.

  All his.

  She turned, surveying him from under the long fringe of her lashes. He felt that look right to the soles of his feet.

  In a more reflective moment he might worry about her ability to reduce him to molten hunger. Right now he was too busy enjoying himself.

  He stepped forward, then halted, puzzled by her expression. She looked... He couldn’t pin down her expression but sensed secret satisfaction. Her smile was pure Mona Lisa.

  ‘Samira, what is it?’

  She opened her eyes wide as if surprised he’d sensed the energy radiating from her. Tariq wondered that he hadn’t noticed it sooner, but he’d been absorbed responding to other needs. Now he paused, surveying her face.

  Her eyes glittered like faceted gems. He’d never seen them so bright. And there was something wistful about her smile that drew him on a level that had nothing to do with sex.

  She was simply the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  His eyes traced the gentle curve of her mouth, the throb of her pulse at the base of her neck, and something punched hard and low in his belly. Something more than desire or possessiveness. Something he’d never known before.

  ‘Samira, talk to me.’

  ‘I have some news.’ Her gaze cut from his and he noticed her hands twisting together.

  Instantly Tariq tensed. He stepped forward and took her hands. They trembled in his and he frowned. ‘Bad news?’

  She shook her head, loose tendrils of ebony silk swirling around her throat. ‘Good news. Unbelievable news.’

  Her eyes met his again and heat scudded down his spine to flare out into his belly. Her radiant smile pulled his own lips wide. Anything that made her happy was worth celebrating.

  ‘Don’t keep me in suspense.’

  Her hands turned in his, fingers clasping tight.

  ‘The most wonderful news in the world. We’re going to have a baby.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  THROUGH A HAZE of elation Samira watched Tariq’s broad brow furrow in amazement. She nodded eagerly, urging him to accept it was true, though she found it hard to believe herself.

  Time stood still on this moment of pure joy. The seconds slowed as he stared down at her, his features setting into lines of disbelief.

  ‘It’s true. Really.’ She felt like a giddy kid, excitement fizzing in her veins.

  ‘You told me you couldn’t have children.’ Tariq’s eyebrows arrowed down in a black line and his tone sounded almost accusing.

  ‘I did. That’s what I thought, what I’ve believed for years.’

  ‘You didn’t think to check?’

  Samira started at his harsh tone. This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. ‘You don’t sound happy.’

  He shook his head as if to clear it, his expression surprisingly grim. ‘I sound like a man whose wife assured him children were an impossibility.’

  She frowned. Surely she imagined his disapproval? ‘I was told by my specialist I couldn’t have children.’

  Even now those words rang like a death knell, making her shiver. For they had been a death knell. He’d broken the news after she’d lost her precious child. It had been a double blow, to miscarry then learn there could be no other babies in future.

  ‘Here. You need to sit.’ Tariq took her by the elbow and led her to the seat beside the bath.

  Immediately she felt better. For an inexplicable moment she’d worried he wasn’t pleased with her news. Samira sighed as she sat, her legs none too steady.

  ‘Thank you. It’s still a bit of a shock.’

  ‘But you’re absolutely sure?’ His look was intent.

  ‘The doctor just confirmed it.’ Not just any doctor, but the best obstetrician in the capital. She slipped her hand across her abdomen, reassuring herself. ‘He was just here. He assured me the earlier diagnosis was flawed. Obviously, since there’s a baby.’ She found her lips curving once more in a smile.

  Tariq nodded. ‘I thought I recognised him in the distance.’

  For a moment Samira wondered how Tariq knew him, till she realised the same doctor might have attended Jasmin. She blinked and looked quickly away.

&
nbsp; In her excitement Samira hadn’t considered how her news would dredge up bittersweet memories for Tariq. No wonder he seemed a little...aloof. She’d been so wrapped up in excitement she hadn’t thought of anything else.

  ‘Doesn’t he need to do further tests?’

  Samira dragged her eyes back to Tariq, wary at his lack of animation. Surely, when he had time to acclimatise...?

  ‘Yes, to make sure everything is normal. But the doctor was very reassuring and there’s no question I’m pregnant.’ She paused, savouring the words. They were an incantation of hope and joy. Her—a mother! ‘The doctor thinks I’m already well along.’

  ‘How is that possible?’ Tariq’s words sounded brusque. But then, he was still processing the news. No doubt he’d be beaming when it sank in.

  ‘I didn’t have any symptoms, except now I’ve started to put on weight. Not even any morning sickness.’ He didn’t say anything and she felt heat climb her cheeks.

  Still Tariq didn’t say more, just stood watching her, his stance rigid. He was within touching distance but he hadn’t reached for her since he’d helped her sit.

  Suddenly that tiny distance between them seemed telling.

  He’d had time now to absorb her news. Wasn’t a father-to-be supposed to be pleased as well as surprised?

  Tariq loved children. He was a family man through and through. Yet he watched her as if looking at a stranger.

  Icy fingers played a fugue down Samira’s spine. Her smile frayed around the edges.

  ‘I realise it will mean some adjustments for Adil and Risay, to have a little brother or sister. But they’re young enough to adapt.’ Was that what bothered him? ‘I already love them both and I promise they’ll never be second best in my eyes.’

  ‘The more the merrier?’ Tariq’s shoulders rose as he dredged up a deep breath. ‘You were always up-front about your desire for children. Of course you’re thrilled.’

  ‘And you’re not?’ Looking up as he towered over her was giving her a crick in the neck. She stood up, hauling the edges of her shirt close together with stiff fingers.

  ‘You have to admit it’s...unexpected. You told me you couldn’t have children.’