Sheikh's Convenient Marriage

She told her retinue that she intended to rest for the remainder of the evening and instructed them to order themselves food from room service. Then she phoned Sara, cutting through the princess’s delighted exclamations by telling her that she needed a favour.

‘What kind of a favour?’ asked Sara.

‘Just that if my brother calls and asks if we’re having a good time together, you tell him yes.’

‘I think it’s unlikely that your brother will call me himself,’ said Sara drily. ‘Is there something going on, Leila? And does that something have to do with a man?’

‘How did you guess?’

‘Because with most of my girlfriends, it’s usually a man,’ answered Sara with a wry tone. ‘Don’t suppose it’s anyone I know?’

Leila hesitated. In a way she was wary of saying anything, but part of her wanted to blurt it out. ‘Actually, you do. You used to work for him and he came to your wedding.’

There was a long silence. ‘I hope you don’t mean Gabe Steel?’ said Sara, her voice low and disbelieving.

‘That’s exactly who I mean.’ Leila could feel a skitter of panic washing over her skin. ‘Why, what’s the matter with him?’

‘There’s nothing the matter with him—that’s the trouble. Just about every woman in London is or has been in love with him at some point. He’s gorgeous, but he’s a heartbreaker, Leila—and my advice is to stay away from him.’

It’s too late for that now.

‘I can’t,’ said Leila slowly. ‘Will you cover for me, Sara?’

Sara’s sigh came heaving down the phone. ‘Okay, I’ll cover for you—just so long as you promise me you won’t do anything stupid.’

I already have, thought Leila, but she injected a breezy note into her voice.

‘I promise,’ she said as she put the phone down.

She could hear the sound of the room-service trolleys being trundled along the corridor towards the rooms of her retinue. Praying that their attention would be occupied by the novelty of eating Western food and that they would eat too much of it, she settled down to wait.

Shortly before ten, she allowed her servants into the room to turn down the bed and generally fuss around while she did a lot of exaggerated yawning.

The next few hours seemed to tick by with agonising slowness but Leila was too strung out to be sleepy, despite her long flight. Just before two o’clock she dressed and slipped on her raincoat and peered outside her room to find the corridor empty. With a surreptitiousness which was becoming second nature, she took the lift down into the empty foyer and walked straight outside to where Gabe’s car was waiting.

Her heart was hammering as the plush vehicle whisked her through the darkened streets of London, before coming to a halt outside a looming tower of gleaming glass which overlooked the wide and glittering band of the river Thames.

And there was Gabe, waiting for her.

The pale moonlight illuminated his features, which were unsmiling and tense. As the vehicle drew to a halt she could see that he was wearing faded jeans and a sweater which hugged his honed torso and powerful arms. He looked shockingly sexy in a rock-star kind of way and that only added to Leila’s feelings of discomfiture. As he bent to open the car door his eyes looked as forbidding as a frozen lake which had just been classified as unsafe.

Her mouth felt dry. Her legs were unsteady as his narrowed gaze raked over her. How was she going to go through with this?

‘Hello, Leila,’ he said, almost pleasantly—and she realised he was doing it again, just as he’d done on the night of the banquet. His civilised words were sending out one message while his eyes glittered out something completely different.

‘Shall we go inside?’

Glass doors slid silently open to let them inside the apartment block. She was aware of a vast foyer with a jungle of elaborate plants. A man sitting reading by lamplight at a desk seemed to show surprise when he saw her walking in beside the tycoon with the dark golden hair. Or maybe she was imagining that bit.

But she certainly wasn’t imagining Gabe’s detached manner as they rode in one of the glass elevators towards the top of the tall building. She might as well have been travelling with a statue for all the notice he took of her, but unfortunately she wasn’t similarly immune.

She tried to look somewhere—anywhere—but he filled her line of vision in his sexy, off-duty clothes. Her gaze stayed fixed determinedly on his chest for she didn’t dare lift it to his face. She tried to concentrate on the steady rise and fall of his breathing instead of giving in to the darkly erotic thoughts which were crowding into her mind. He didn’t want her—he couldn’t have made that more clear. Yet all she could think about was the way his hands had slid round her waist when he’d still been deep inside her, the spasms dying away as he’d pumped out the last of his seed.

His seed.

The elevator stopped, the doors opened and Leila stepped out—straight into a room which momentarily took her breath away. An entire wall consisted of windows which commanded a breathtaking view of the night-time city, where stars twinkled and skyscrapers gleamed. The floors were polished and the furniture was minimalist and sleek. It was nothing like the ancient palace she called home and she felt as if she had walked into a strange new world.

For a moment she just stood and stared out of the windows. She could see the illuminated dome of St Paul’s Cathedral and moonlight glittering on the river Thames. There was the sharp outline of the Shard and the pleasing circle of the London Eye. For years she had longed to come here, but never like this—because now she was seeing the famous city through the distorted lens of fear.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked.

Leila allowed herself a moment of fantasy that this was a normal date between two people who had been lovers. How would that work? Would he open champagne and let her drink some before taking the glass from her hand and kissing her? Was that how he usually operated? Probably not at two in the morning when his night was being disturbed by a woman he was indifferent to...

For a moment she wondered what she might have done in this situation if she’d been a normal, Western woman—with all the freedoms that those women seemed to take for granted. There would have been no need for her to behave like this. Moving around under cover of darkness. Having to throw herself on the mercy of someone who didn’t want her...

‘No, I don’t want a drink, thanks,’ she said. ‘That’s not why I’m here.’

‘Then why don’t you sit down,’ he suggested, ‘and tell me why you are?’

She sank onto a leather sofa which was more comfortable than it looked. ‘Look, there’s no easy way to say this—and I know it’s going to come as a shock, but I think I’m pregnant.’

For a moment Gabe didn’t say a word. He couldn’t. It was a long time since he had felt fear, but he felt it now. It was there in the hard beat of his heart and the icy prickle of his skin. And along with fear came anger. The sense that something was happening to him which was outside his control—and hadn’t he vowed a long time ago never to let that happen to him again?

Yet on some instinctive and fundamental level, her words were not as shocking as she had suggested. Because hadn’t he already guessed what she was going to say? Why else would she have pursued him like this across thousands of miles? She was a desert princess and surely someone like her wouldn’t normally seek out a man who’d shown her nothing but coldness, no matter how much she had enjoyed the sex.

But none of his thoughts showed in his face. He had been a survivor for too long to react to her dramatic words—at least, not straight away. He had spent his life perfecting this cool and impenetrable mask and now was not the time to let it slip. He studied her shadowed eyes and seized on the words which offered most hope. The only hope.

‘You only think you’re pregnant?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, but I’m pretty sure. I’ve been sick and my...’

Her words tailed off, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to say the next bit, but Gabe was in no mood to help her out—and certainly in no mood to tiptoe around her sensibilities. Because this was the woman who had disguised herself. Who had burst into his suite and come on to him without bothering to tell him who she was. She might have been a virgin but she certainly hadn’t acted like one—and he was damned if he was going to let her play the shy and sensitive card now. Not when she was threatening to disrupt the ordered calm of his life. Disrupt it? She was threatening to blow it apart.

He felt a sudden flare of rage. ‘Your what?’ he prompted icily.

‘My period is late!’ she burst out, her cheeks suddenly turning red.

‘But you haven’t done a pregnancy test?’

‘Funnily enough, no.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s not exactly easy for me to slip into a chemist back home to buy myself a kit. Somebody might recognise me.’

He wanted to say, You should have thought of that before you let me strip you naked and lead you to my bed. But he was culpable too, wasn’t he? He had deflected the advances of women before and it had never been a problem. So why hadn’t he sent this one on her way? Why hadn’t he read any of the glaring clues which had warned him she was trouble? Had the subterfuge of her disguise and the fact that she was being pursued by bodyguards turned him on? Brought colourful fantasy into a life which was usually so cool and ordered?

‘I used a condom,’ he bit out.

Like a snake gathering strength before striking again, she drew her shoulders back and glared at him with angry blue eyes. ‘Are you seriously suggesting that somebody other than you could be the father, Gabe?’

He remembered the way her trembling hand had circled his erection until he had been forced to push it away, afraid he might come before he was inside her. Had she inflicted some microscopic tear in the condom with those long fingernails of hers? And had that been deliberate?

But he pushed those thoughts away, because nothing was certain. And a man could drive himself insane if he started thinking that way.

‘I’m not suggesting anything, because at the moment all we have is a hypothetical situation,’ he said. ‘And we’re not doing anything until we have facts. There could be a million reasons why your period is late and I’m not going to waste time thinking about some nightmare scenario which might never happen.’

Nightmare scenario.

Leila flinched as his words cut into her like the nicks of a dozen tiny blades. That was all this was to him. Remember that. Hold that thought in your mind and never forget it. A nightmare scenario.

Had she thought that he would make everything all right? That he would sweep her into his arms as men sometimes did in films and stroke her hair, before telling her that she had no need to worry and he would take care of everything?

Maybe she had. Maybe part of her had still bought into that helpless feminine fantasy, despite everything she knew about men and the way they treated women.

‘Perhaps you could go and buy a pregnancy test for me,’ she suggested, staring out at the dark sky, which was punctured by tiny stars. ‘Since I find the thought of braving the London shops a little too much to contemplate at the moment.’

Something small and trembling in her voice made Gabe’s eyes narrow in unwilling comprehension. He wasn’t used to picturing himself inside the skin of a woman—except in the most erotic sense—but he did so now. He tried to imagine this pampered princess transplanted to a foreign country, bringing with her this terrible secret. How must it feel to give such momentous news to a man who did not want to receive it?

‘We’re not having some do-it-yourself session,’ he said flatly. ‘I will make an appointment for you to see someone in Harley Street tomorrow.’

Her eyes were suddenly wide and frightened.

‘But somebody might tip off the press if I am seen going to the doctor’s. And my brother mustn’t find out. At least, not in that way.’

‘Haven’t you ever heard of the Hippocratic oath?’ he questioned impatiently. ‘And patient confidentiality?’

Leila almost laughed. She thought that, for a man of the world, he was being remarkably naive. Or maybe he just didn’t realise that royal blood always made the stakes impossibly high. It made the onlooking world act like vultures. Didn’t he realise that professional codes of conduct could fall by the wayside, when a royal scoop like this offered an unimaginably high purse?

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she said.

Gabe watched as she reached for her handbag. She was wearing that same damned raincoat, which reminded him uncomfortably of their erotic encounter in Qurhah. For one tempting moment he entertained the thought of having sex with her again. It had been the most amazing sex of his life and he still couldn’t work out why.

Because he had been the first?

Or because her touch had felt like fire on a day when his heart had been as cold as ice?

He remembered the way her long legs had parted eagerly beneath the quest of his hungry fingers. The way she had moaned when he had touched her. He could almost feel the eager warmth of her breath on his shoulder as he’d entered her, as no man had done before. Vividly, he recalled the sensation of tightness and the spots of blood on his sheets afterwards. He closed his eyes as he remembered seeing them spattered there like some kind of trophy. It had felt primitive, and he didn’t do primitive. He did cool and calculated and reasoned because that was the only way he’d been able to survive.

Pain gnawed at his heart as he tried to regain his equilibrium, but still his body was filled with desire. Wasn’t it also primitive—and natural—for a man to want to be deep inside a woman when she’d just told him she might be carrying his child?

His mouth tightened. If he pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her, she would not resist. No woman ever did. He imagined himself reacquainting himself with her scented flesh, because wouldn’t that help him make some kind of sense of this bizarre situation?

‘Leila,’ he said, but she had stood up very quickly and was brushing her hand dismissively over the sleeve of her raincoat, in a gesture which seemed more symbolic than necessary.

‘I must get back before anyone realises I’ve gone,’ she said.

She walked across to the other side of the room, and Gabe felt the bubble of his erotic fantasy burst as she fixed him with a cool look. For a moment it almost seemed as if she had just rejected his advances—even though he hadn’t actually made any.

‘Phone me at my hotel and tell me where to meet you tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I will have to use Sara as a decoy again, but I’m sure I can manage it.’

‘I’m sure you can,’ he said with the grim air of a man whose whole world was about to change, whether he wanted it to or not.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘SO,’ SAID LEILA slowly. The word was tiny and meant nothing at all, but one of them had to say something. Something to shatter the tense, taut silence which had descended on them the moment they’d left the consulting room. Something to make Gabe move again instead of sitting there frozen, staring out of the windscreen as if he had just seen some kind of ghost.

He had brought the car to a halt in a wide, tree-lined street, and Leila was glad he’d driven away from the Harley Street clinic which had just delivered the news she had already known.

He hadn’t said a thing—not a thing—but she’d noticed the way his hands had tightened around the steering wheel, and the ashen hue which had drained his face of all colour.

She was pregnant.

Very newly pregnant—but pregnant all the same.

A new life growing was beneath a heart now racing as she waited—though she wasn’t really sure what she was waiting for.

She remembered Gabe’s barely perceptible intake of breath as the expensively dressed consultant had delivered the results of the test. The doctor had looked at them with the benign and faintly indulgent smile he obviously reserved for this kind of situation. Probably imagining they were yet another rich young couple eager to hear what he had to say. Had he noticed the lack of a wedding ring on her finger? Did anyone actually care about that kind of thing these days? She swallowed. They certainly did in Qurhah.

She wondered if the medic had been perceptive enough to read the body language which existed between the prospective parents. Or rather, the lack of it. She and Gabe had sat upright on adjoining antique chairs facing the medic’s desk, their shoulders tense. Close, yet completely distant—like two strangers who had been put into a room to hear the most intimate of information.

But that was all they were really, wasn’t it?

Two strangers who had created a life out of a moment of passion.

She turned in the low sports car to glance at Gabe. She didn’t know what to do. What to say or how to cope. She wanted something to make it better, but she realised that nothing could. Something unplanned and ill-advised had resulted in both their lives being changed—and neither of them wanted this.

The sunlight illuminated his chiselled features, casting deep shadows beneath the high slash of his cheekbones. But still he hadn’t moved. His profile was utterly motionless, as if it had been carved from a piece of golden dark marble.

She knew she couldn’t keep sitting there like some sort of obedient chattel, waiting for his thoughts on what had happened. She wasn’t in Qurhah now. No longer did she have to play the role of subservient female. She had always longed for equality—and this was what it was supposed to be about. Taking control of her own destiny. Learning to express her own feelings instead of waiting for guidance and approval from a man.

Knotting her fingers together in a tight fist, she knew something else, too. That she didn’t want this icy-eyed Englishman to feel that she had trapped him. What kind of a man was he who could sit there like a statue in the face of such news? Didn’t he feel anything? ‘Whatever happens, I’m not going to ask you for anything,’ she said. ‘You must understand that.’

Gabe didn’t answer straight away—and not just because her accented words sounded as disjointed as if she had been speaking them in her native tongue. He had learnt when to be silent and when to speak. Once—a long time ago—he had given in to the temptation of hot-headedness. But never again. It had been the most brutal lesson and one he had never forgotten. And then, when he’d started out in advertising and was clawing his way up the slippery slope towards success, he had learnt that you should never respond until you were certain you had the right answer.

Except that this time, he couldn’t see that there was a right answer. Only a swirling selection of options—and none of them were good. The facts were unassailable. A woman with a baby and a man who did not wish to become a father.

Who should never become a father.

He felt a dark dread begin to creep over his heart as he wondered whether history always repeated itself. Whether humans were driven by some biological imperative over which they had no control. Driven to make the same mistakes over and over again.

‘Not here,’ he said, his voice tight with restraint. ‘I don’t intend discussing something as important as this in the front seat of a car. Do up your seat belt and let’s go.’

But he could see that her hands were trembling as she struggled to perform the simple action. He leaned forward to help her, and her proximity left him momentarily disorientated. The warmth radiating from her body seemed to have intensified the spicy scent of her perfume. The sunlight was bouncing off the ebony gloss of her hair and her lips looked so unbelievably kissable that he was left with the dull ache of longing inside him.

And wanting her would only complicate things. It would cloud his mind and his judgement at a time when he needed to think clearly.

Clipping in the seat belt, he quickly moved away from the temptation she presented and started up the engine.

For a while they were silent as they stop-started through the busy streets, where outside the world carried on as normal. While inside...

He shot her a glance and saw that her face looked as white as chalk and he found himself unexpectedly shocked at the sight of her physical frailty. ‘Have you eaten?’ he demanded.

She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You should be. You haven’t had any lunch.’ And neither had he. The morning had passed in a dazed kind of blur ever since he’d met Leila at the Harley Street clinic, where she had been dropped off by Sara, a princess who had once worked for him.

He was still remembering the look on his assistant’s face this morning when he’d told her to clear his diary for the rest of the day. Surprise didn’t even come close to it. He could just imagine the gossip reverberating around the building as people started second-guessing why Gabe Steel had done the unimaginable and taken an unscheduled day off work.

And when they knew? When they discovered that the man who was famous for never committing was to become a father? What then?

‘You need to eat,’ he said implacably.

‘I don’t want anything,’ she said. ‘I feel sick. I’ve felt sick for over a month.’

‘Is that intended to make me feel guilty, Leila? Because you’d better know that I won’t accept all the blame.’ He sent out a warning toot on his horn, and the cyclist who had shot out from a side road responded with a rude gesture. ‘If you hadn’t come on to me in a weak moment, then we wouldn’t have found ourselves in this intolerable situation.’

Wondering briefly what the weak moment had been, Leila leaned her head back against the seat as the cool venom of his words washed over her. Yet, she couldn’t really condemn him for speaking the truth, could she? It was intolerable—and there wasn’t a thing that was going to make it better. A wave of panic hit her and the now-familiar refrain echoed around in her head.

She was ruined.

Ruined.

Outside the car window, London passed by but she barely noticed the brand-new city which should have excited her. She felt like an invisible speck of dust being blown along and she didn’t know where she was going to end up. She was with a man who did not want her but was forced to be with her, because she carried his child within her belly.

‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked.

‘To my apartment.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t be seen at your apartment. My brother might find out.’

‘Your brother is going to have to find out sooner or later—and this isn’t about him or his reaction to what’s happening. Not any more. This is about you.’ And me, he thought reluctantly. Me.

Without another word he drove to his apartment and parked in the underground garage before they took the elevator to his apartment. The rooms seemed both strange yet familiar and Leila felt disorientated as she walked inside. As if she was a different person from the one who had arrived here in the early hours of this morning.

But she was.

Yesterday nothing had been certain and there had still been an element of hope in her heart, no matter how misplaced. But with the doctor’s diagnosis, that hope had gone and nothing would ever be the same. Never again would she simply be Leila, the princess sister of the Sultan. Soon she would be Leila, the mother of an illegitimate child—a baby fathered by the tycoon Gabe Steel.

The man who had never wanted to see her again.

She tried to imagine her brother’s fury when he found out but it was hard to picture the full extent of his predictable rage. Would he strip her of her title? Banish her from the only land and home she had ever known? And if he did—what then? She tried to imagine supporting herself and a tiny baby. How would she manage that when she’d never even held a baby?

She was so preoccupied with the tumult of her thoughts that it took her a few minutes to realise that Gabe had left her alone in his stark sitting room. He returned a little while later with his suit jacket removed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. She noticed his powerful forearms with their smattering of dark golden hair and remembered the way he had slid them around her naked waist. And wasn’t that a wildly inappropriate thing to remember at a time like this?