Sheikh's Royal Baby Revelation Page 18

  What would it be like, living the rest of his life without her?

  The laceration in his throat became a raw ache that descended to his chest, intensifying to a sharper pain with each breath.

  But he had to protect her. In his arrogance he’d assumed they’d face the scandal together. That it would be directed at him, with his notorious past, and that Tori would be seen as a victim of his licentious ways. He hadn’t bargained on her being represented as some...

  He frowned. Was that a sob?

  Tori stood with her back to him, facing the courtyard. Her shoulders were straight but her head was bent. As he watched another quiver passed through her.

  Seconds later he was behind her, hands lifted but not touching those slim shoulders. ‘Tori, are you all right?’

  Stupid question. Of course she wasn’t. But how could he comfort her?

  ‘Does it matter?’

  Her steady voice made him feel, if possible, worse. ‘It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let this happen.’

  ‘Which? Suggesting marriage or fathering Oliver?’ She snorted. ‘Don’t answer that. Clearly you regret both.’

  ‘No!’ His fingers closed on her shoulders and he gritted his teeth, fighting the need to spin her round and into his arms. To hold her properly one last time. ‘You can’t think that.’

  ‘There are a lot of things you control, Ashraf, but what I think isn’t one of them.’

  ‘Parting is for the best.’ How he wished there were another way.

  ‘Whose best? Yours? Not Oliver’s or mine.’ She shrugged from his hold and swung to face him.

  Ashraf stared into eyes that glittered with tears she refused to let fall. For the first time he felt himself to be the failure his father had accused him of being.

  The one woman in the world he wanted to protect from harm and he’d brought her infamy and scandal. The sight of her, brim-full with pain, knotted his conscience and stole his resolution.

  ‘Don’t lie, Ashraf. Just say it. It’s too risky for your crown to take on a woman with a bastard son, even if you’re his father.’

  His breath hissed at the words and her eyes narrowed.

  ‘That’s it, isn’t it?’

  For a second she stood stock-still, eyes wide. He’d seen the victim of an accidental gunshot look exactly the same—that moment of disbelief before he crumpled to the ground. But Tori didn’t crumple. She turned and stalked to the bedroom.

  ‘It won’t take me long to pack. We’ll leave today.’

  It was what he wanted. What was best for Tori. Yet Ashraf couldn’t let her do it. He was too selfish.

  ‘Wait!’

  She kept walking, head up, shoulders back, but she stumbled as if she wasn’t watching her step.

  His heart twisted. ‘Tori.’

  ‘There’s nothing to say.’

  But there was. So much he barely knew where to start. He inserted himself between her and the bedroom door, frustrating her attempt to shove him aside.

  ‘This isn’t about me protecting my position—it’s about protecting you.’

  ‘You’re not protecting me. You’re banishing me.’

  His heart, the organ he’d so long thought dormant, beat harder at the torment in her voice.

  ‘If you’re not here they’ll focus on me, like they always have. You won’t be a target.’

  Silence. Silence that lasted so long he wondered if she were trying to freeze him out. Finally she blinked, like a sleepwalker rousing.

  ‘The stories aren’t about you?’

  ‘Partly. But...’

  But the most negative ones made it sound as if he’d fallen prey to some avaricious femme fatale who went through men like a fish through water.

  ‘They focus on me, then,’ she murmured. ‘That makes sense. It makes you look bad and you can’t afford that.’

  Unable to stop himself, Ashraf grabbed her upper arms and pulled her close. ‘How many times do I have to say it? I’m used to bad press. It’s you I want to protect. You shouldn’t have to put up with this.’

  Her eyes rounded and she stopped trying to pull free. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes, I’m serious!’

  He saw her blink and realised he’d raised his voice. It was something he never did. His father had shouted all the time when he was riled—at him, at servants, at inanimate objects.

  Ashraf shuddered. Another sign he was losing control.

  ‘Tell me what they’re saying,’ she said.

  At first he refused, but Tori wore him down. When he’d finished she shook her head sadly and Ashraf knew he was right to send her away. If only he had the courage to do it.

  ‘You’d really banish me so the press won’t hound me?’

  His chest rose high on a deep breath. ‘It’s not banishment. It’s—’

  ‘Sending me away from the man I love is banishment.’ Her soft voice cut across his.

  Everything inside Ashraf stilled. Even his pulse slowed, before speeding up to a gallop. He swallowed. This time the sand in his throat had been replaced with a choking knot of tangling emotion.

  ‘You don’t love me.’

  It was impossible. Even his mother hadn’t loved him, choosing instead to run off with her paramour and leave Ashraf to her husband’s mercy.

  ‘Why don’t I?’

  Tori’s smile trembled and his heart with it. He shook his head, unwilling to say the words. It was too big a risk. Yet perhaps for the first time in his life he needed to open himself up, though it made him even more vulnerable.

  ‘Because I’ve never craved anything so much. And life’s taught me never to expect such a blessing.’

  ‘You poor, deluded man.’

  Her palm covered his cheek and his eyelids drooped as the pent-up tension was expelled from his lungs. One touch, just one, did that.

  ‘I’ve been in love with you more or less since we met.’

  ‘That’s crazy. You didn’t know me.’

  Yet he greedily hoarded each precious word. His hands firmed around her waist, pulling her closer.

  ‘It was instinctive, and everything I believed about you has turned out to be right.’ She frowned. ‘Even down to your managing ways. Do you really think I’ll curl up and die because the gutter press prints lies about me?’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to face that.’

  Her chin lifted. ‘You’re right. I shouldn’t. And I’m sure you and your lawyers will help me make them stop. But if you think I’m going to be scared away by gossip, think again.’ Her mouth tilted at one corner. ‘I work in a male-dominated industry. I’ve faced prejudice and sexual innuendo all my working life. Most of my peers are great, but there are always some who can’t cope. I won’t put up with it and I certainly won’t let it destroy my happiness. Besides, I’ve learned a thing or two from my father about dealing with the press.’

  Ashraf stared, stunned by the pragmatic courage of his beloved. He’d known she was special, yet still she surprised him.

  ‘Ash?’

  Her use of the old nickname was even more intimate than the feel of her hand on his flesh.

  ‘You do want me?’

  ‘Of course I do. I never want to let you go.’

  He wrapped her tight in his arms. Not kissing her but simply embracing her. Feeling her heart beat against him, her breath a warm caress against his collarbone, her body a perfect fit to his.

  Tori’s uncertainty made heat prickle at the back of his eyes. His breath shuddered. He had a moment’s recollection of feeling this close to tears only once before. He’d been about four and he’d often gone to play in the courtyard that had been his mother’s. The garden’s fragrance had reminded him of a long-ago comforting presence that he guessed must have been hers. But someone had told his father of his secret visits and he’d arrived to fi
nd all the scented roses pulled out. The place was a barren waste.

  But Ashraf’s palace wasn’t barren. He had Tori—his woman, his lover, soon to be his wife. A heroine strong enough to stand beside him through whatever life held. And there was Oliver too.

  ‘You do know,’ he murmured, tilting her chin so he could look into her glorious eyes, ‘there’s no turning back now.’ His chest swelled with feelings he’d suppressed too long. ‘I love you too much ever to let you go. If you get cold feet before the wedding I’ll have the border closed and—’

  ‘What? You’ll kidnap me and ride off with me to your secret desert encampment? I like the sound of that.’

  Her smile was wide and unshadowed. It seemed his Tori really had moved on from the trauma of their abduction.

  Ashraf lowered his head so his mouth hovered above hers. ‘I’d planned to honeymoon on my private island off the coast, but if you prefer the desert...’

  ‘I prefer you kiss me and tell me again that you love me.’

  He looked down, reading marvellous things in her gentle smile.

  This. This was what he craved.

  ‘Your wish,’ he said against her lips, ‘is my command.’

  EPILOGUE

  IT WAS A long wedding. Days long. Filled with good wishes, lavish entertainment, music, feasting and enough pomp to convince Tori that she really had married a king.

  She returned to the audience chamber after freshening up to find Karim waiting for her, a query in his moss-green eyes. Beyond him the room was filled with guests in their finery, the air buzzing with animated conversation.

  Funny to think she’d been wary about meeting Ashraf’s brother. Everyone spoke of him in glowing terms and she’d wondered if it was true that he really didn’t want Ashraf’s crown. Till the brothers had told her their story and Karim had welcomed her into the family with genuine warmth.

  His smile had been almost wistful as he’d admitted he’d never seen Ashraf so happy. That neither brother had expected to find true love. Tori’s heart had squeezed at his words and she’d hugged him hard, eliciting mock protests from Ashraf and a quaintly clumsy hug from Karim. Clumsy, she suspected, because like Ashraf he wasn’t used to emotional displays. It certainly couldn’t be from lack of female companionship, for despite Karim being only his half-brother he shared Ashraf’s chiselled good-looks and potent appeal.

  ‘How are you holding up?’ he asked.

  Tori beamed at him. ‘I’m doing well. Especially since everyone is so happy for us.’

  Contrary to expectations, the ghastly rumours had ceased almost straight away when it turned out that the die-hards who disapproved of Ashraf were completely outnumbered by those who thought him an excellent Sheikh.

  As for Oliver being born outside marriage—that didn’t seem to be a problem now Ashraf had legitimised him. If anything, many Za’daqis viewed it as proof of their King’s masculine potency and thought it natural that Tori had been swept off her feet. She’d discovered a strong romantic streak in his people.

  ‘Ashraf sent me to find you.’ Karim offered her his arm and when she curled her hand around it he bent to murmur in her ear. ‘Unless you’d rather skip this bit and rest?’

  She should be tired but Tori had never felt so energised. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for anything.’

  ‘You don’t even know what it is!’

  Karim laughed as he steered her through the throng, his deep chuckle reminding her of Ashraf’s. Even after a few days she knew that Karim, like her husband, rarely laughed aloud. Both were so serious, though Ashraf was learning to relax more.

  ‘So tell me.’

  They were outside now, on the terrace, looking down at the wide space where she’d previously watched horsemen and archers perform stunning feats of skill and bravery. Now the space was filled with people. More than filled. They spilled down the slope beyond into the public gardens and streets as far as the eye could see.

  Tori stumbled to a halt. ‘Where have they come from?’

  A deep, familiar voice reached her.

  ‘From everywhere—all across the country.’

  It was Ashraf, his eyes shining. He looked magnificent in white robes trimmed with gold as he strode up and took her hands.

  Tori’s insides melted. Her Ashraf. Her husband.

  Beside them Karim spoke. ‘They’re not VIPs, just ordinary people who’ve made their way here to wish you both well.’ He clamped his hand on Ashraf’s shoulder, leaning close and lowering his voice. ‘You’ve done well, little brother. They love you.’

  Ashraf shrugged, making little of the praise, though Tori saw that it moved him.

  He turned to her. ‘There’s even a delegation from that first village I took you to in the foothills. Where you got that scarf.’

  Tori looked down at the deep jewel colours of the scarf she’d teamed with a dress of vibrant teal, embroidered at the hem with silver. Over the last three days it seemed she’d worn every colour of the rainbow, and each time her pleasure in the magnificent wedding clothes was outshone by the appreciation in Ashraf’s eyes.

  ‘What are we waiting for? There are a lot of people to greet.’

  Ashraf’s slow smile made her heart drum faster.

  ‘Thank you, habibti. It will mean a lot to them.’ He looked at Karim. ‘You’ll come too, brother?’

  Karim shook his head. ‘This is your day—yours and Tori’s. I’ll go and deal with the VIPs.’ He turned towards the palace, leaving Ashraf and Tori alone.

  As Ashraf led her towards the expectant throng he tucked her close against him. ‘I’m afraid this will add extra hours to the wedding celebrations. You’ll need to rest when this is over.’

  ‘It’s not rest I need. I have other priorities.’

  Ashraf stopped and turned to face her. ‘Have I told you how very much I love you?’

  His deep voice resonated and a ripple ran through the watching crowd.

  ‘Yes.’ She knew there were stars in her eyes as she looked up at him. ‘But I never tire of hearing it.’

  ‘And you love me.’ His declaration was loud and proud.

  ‘I do.’

  The crowd cheered, and Ashraf grinned, and Tori knew she’d just embarked on the most remarkable, wonderful adventure of her life.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed Sheikh’s Royal Baby Revelation by Annie West, you’re sure to enjoy these other Secret Heirs of Billionaires stories!

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  Consequences of a Hot Havana Night

  by Louise Fuller

  CHAPTER ONE

  GAZING OUT AT the sun-soaked, shimmering turquoise sea, Kitty Quested held her breath.

  It was strange to imagine that this water might one day be curling onto the shingle beach near her home in England. But then, even now, nearly four weeks after arriving in Cuba, everything still felt a little strange. Not just the sea, or the beach—this incredible scimitar of silvery sand—but the fact that for now this was her home.

  Home.

  Lifting the mass of long, copper-coloured curls to cool her neck, she felt her throat start to ache as she imagined the small coastal village in the south of England where up until a month ago she’d lived out her whole life.

  Birth.

  Marriage.

  And the death of her childhood sweetheart and husband Jimmy.

  Pushing back the brim of her hat to see better, she blinked into the sunlight as a light breeze lifted her hair, blowing fresh against her cheek and reminding her of everything she’d left behind.

  Her parents, her sister Lizzie and her boyfriend Bill, a two-month tenancy on a one-bedroom terraced cottage overlooking the sea. And her job at Bill’s start-up, distilling what had become their first product: Blackstrap Rum.

  She felt a sharp pang of homesickness.

  When Miguel Mendoza, director of operations at Dos Rios Rum, had called her three months ago to discuss the possibility of her creating two new flavours for the brand’s two hundredth anniversary, she’d never imagined that it would lead to her moving four thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean.