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He didn’t move.
She pulled back immediately. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Sorry. Force of habit. I have trouble remembering all these strange rules.” She snapped her full mouth shut. That lasted only a second. “Not that I think your country is strange. Just strange to me. New. New to me. I—”
“No offense taken.”
“You look just like your brother.” The words spurted from her before she pressed her full lips together once again.
His mood darkened. Maybe at one point Aziz and he had looked alike—they were identical twins. But nobody had dared compare them for a long time now, not since a childhood accident had taken the sight of Karim’s right eye, leaving a hideous scar on his face. “You knew Aziz well?”
She glanced away.
So, Julia Gardner, too, had some trouble looking at his face, despite her earlier bravado. He resisted the impulse to shift into his usual half turn.
“We met when he was in Baltimore a couple of months ago,” she was saying. “I haven’t been able to reach him and I came here and—Look, I just want to talk to him. The man at the front desk told me I should ask you.” She kept her hands clasped together tightly in her lap, but her shoulders were drawn straight and tall.
“Aziz is gone.” The muscles in his jaw pulled tight. The pictures that flashed into his mind brought raw pain every time. He’d been closer to his twin brother than to anyone else in the world. The hot rage over the unfairness of Aziz’s death hadn’t diminished any in the month since his funeral. Nor had Karim’s desire to seek revenge.
The corners of her eyes crinkled with worry, which she tried to mask with a nonchalant smile. “When is he coming back?”
He forced air into his constricting lungs. “We had a well explosion last month.”
He could see when she understood finally. Shock and pain flashed through her eyes. She stood, agitated, a hand pressed to her stomach, then opened her full, lush mouth, but no words came out. Color drained from her face all over again. She swayed.
He caught her and helped her fold to the gurney.
“She fainted, sir.” The paramedic who sat in the corner, trying his best to remain invisible and give them privacy, moved forward and managed to clip a monitor on her index finger without actually touching her. Her vital signs showed on the small screen behind him.
Fainted. Karim blinked and let her go, stepped away from her. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time for her. Period.
He would absolutely not allow her to sully Aziz’s memory with scandal. He was fairly certain about why she was here. She wasn’t the first. Others had come looking for Aziz after his international trips. They wanted to keep the party going, have access to Aziz’s wealth and a shot at becoming one of oil-rich Beharrain’s latest princesses.
She was too late. He watched her. Miss Gardner might not know it yet, but she was leaving on the next plane out of the country.
It seemed perversely insane that he was actually looking forward to going a few rounds with her before her stubborn nature would accept that decision.
He was ready to give her his ultimatum, but she still didn’t stir.
His annoyance with her switched to concern. She did look vulnerable, her skin losing color again, all that hair tangled around her. She looked like an angel, injured after falling to earth. “What’s wrong with her?”
He preferred that stubborn chin of hers thrust forward, as she faced him down, even if she were here to cause trouble.
He wouldn’t let her.
“Could be from the stress or heat exhaustion. She’s probably not used to our climate.” The paramedic was administering an IV, again with the absolute minimum of touching. Then he drew blood into several vials. “If we went to the hospital, they could do tests as soon as we got there.”
Karim rested his gaze on her face. She hadn’t wanted to go to the hospital, had been pretty adamant about it. And he’d told her he wouldn’t take her there. “Call ahead and have Dr. Jinan meet us at my house. You can take the blood to the hospital and call over when the results are ready.”
He was about to take the troublesome angel home. He ignored the voice in his head that said he would probably live to regret his decision.
JULIA WOKE IN a strange bed in a strange and ridiculously opulent room, with a strange woman peering over her. An IV bag was attached to her arm. She panicked for a second, her gaze darting around. Her hand slid to her abdomen under the cover. No pain there. “What happened to me?”
“Hi, I’m Dr. Jinan.” The woman smiled. She wore a gold-threaded, deep blue abaya, no veil. Her startlingly sharp eyes, which were lined with kohl, fixed on Julia. “You were near an explosion and fainted afterward.”
Disjointed memories rushed her, and Julia pulled the silk cover higher on her body. The dark red fabric was as resplendent as the rest of her accommodations. “Where am I?”
“You are a guest of Sheik Karim Abdullah in his Tihrin palace. You’re fine. You have a good, strong pulse. Once this IV runs out, we can remove the needle. Feeling better?”
“Thank you. Yes.” She sat up to prove it. She didn’t like the idea of some strange doctor examining her while she’d been unconscious. She didn’t want anyone to know her secret.
“Did you have enough to eat and drink today?” the doctor asked.
Julia noticed the platter of food on a low, round table behind the woman—fresh fruits and other bite-size nourishment that looked exotically unidentifiable, but not the least bit appetizing at the moment. These days she was alternating between ravenous and nauseous, and was currently feeling the latter.
“Yes, thank you.” She drew a deep breath to dispel the queasiness around her middle.
“Please do remember plenty of fluids. Our summers are mercilessly hot. I hope this little incident won’t ruin your enjoyment of our beautiful country.” The doctor smiled, all mothering warmth. “Looks like the IV is done. Let me take care of that.” She removed the needle without causing any pain, stuck a cotton ball over the puncture wound. “Bend your elbow and hold this here for a few minutes.”
She stood and began placing everything into her old-fashioned, black leather doctor’s bag. “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow. Try to get as much rest as possible until then.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” With Aziz gone, she had no reason to stay in the country. “I will be leaving here.”
Dr. Jinan gave her a smile one would give a petulant child. She was poised and self-assured, obviously a woman secure in her own power, challenging Julia’s preconception of the women of Beharrain. Every rule had a few exceptions, she supposed.
Not that she had time to ponder the doctor. Karim Abdullah walked in immediately, as if he’d been waiting outside. He paused at the door and exchanged a few words with Dr. Jinan.
Julia searched their faces, unable to figure out anything. They spoke in Arabic. Did they know? They couldn’t. Nobody could tell just by looking at her that she was pregnant, not even a doctor, she was pretty sure of that.
She would have told Aziz her secret. Probably. That was why she had come here. He was the father and he deserved to know, even though he had cut off communications with her. Or so she had thought. Now she knew the truth about why he hadn’t returned her calls. The shock was still as fresh as it had been when she’d first heard the news.
Pain filled her chest and squeezed her lungs. Aziz was gone. It seemed impossible. She had never known anyone as filled with life and wide-open to the world, as charming.
He’d charmed a great many people; she had found that out when she ran a search on him on the Internet after he’d returned to his home, and she’d seriously considered taking him up on his invitation to visit him. The celebrity reports were full of his pictures, labeling him the Playboy Sheik. That had been a disappointment, not that he had promised her anything. The information had been enough to make her realize the brief affair for what it was: a few days of fun with an exotic stranger. She’d succeeded in putting Aziz out of her mind until those two pink lines appeared on a white plastic stick.
She took a few days to digest the news. Then called him without success. If she’d checked the Internet again, she would have found out about his death…wouldn’t have come here…to his daunting brother.
A few of those news reports she’d read mentioned Aziz’s twin. They had called him the Dark Sheik, without explanation, making her wonder. And now she was in the Dark Sheik’s house. She looked around. Scratch that. The Dark Sheik’s palace. God, it sounded like a gothic novel.
She had figured she would come here, would see how Aziz felt about the possibility of a baby. She wasn’t going to tell him until she got a better idea of what kind of man he really was. Their time in Baltimore had been way too short. They had had some whirlwind dates and one night of passion, the day before he left. She had thought herself to be half in love with him and had been sure he felt the same. She was pretty certain now that he hadn’t, but still, he was the father, and she had wanted to give it another go, if for no other reason than so she could tell her child later in life that she had tried. Her own parents had been all messed up. If she could help it, she wanted something better for her baby.
She was going to come here and see how Aziz was in his own environment. When and if she felt comfortable with it, she would have told him her news. Not a moment before that. Whatever happened, she was going to protect her baby. She was never going to let her or him go.
“Doctor Jinan tells me you are well.” Karim came over once the woman left. He was not handsome, not with that scar. But he had a strong, masculine presence that drew her full attention to him. He stopped at a respectable distance from the bed, looking larger and harder than Aziz, infinitely more dangerous. Where Aziz’s face had reflected humor, mischief and a sexy sort of cockiness about life, Karim’s was bathed in darkness. And she didn’t think all of that came from his scar.
He was wearing a fresh, crisp suit, his hair neatly combed. She felt dirty and sweaty and rumpled in comparison, but wouldn’t let that stop her.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Abdullah.” Grateful that nobody had undressed her, she pushed off the cover and swung her legs over the side of the bed, glancing around for her shoes. There. She slipped into them. “I’m sorry for all the inconvenience I caused.”
With Aziz gone, she had no intention of staying here a day longer, no intention of letting Aziz’s family know about the baby. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, but she was leery of the culture and felt none too trusting toward Aziz’s twin brother. He looked as if he could—and would—take the law into his own hands if he felt the need. And he was a sheik, son of a king, as Aziz had been. He probably had a fair amount of power.
When her child was eighteen, she would reveal the truth and leave the decision up to her or him.
“Would it be possible to call a taxi?” She flashed Karim her most polite smile, refusing to be intimidated by him.
Given her social and economic background, she’d spent half her life being intimidated by the wealthy and powerful, by people in charge. But she’d had to get over that in a hurry when she had joined a nonprofit organization and had to interact daily with the elite. And over time, she’d learned that they were just like everybody else, with the same joys and fears and virtues and weaknesses.
Not that she could see Karim having a whole lot of fears or weaknesses. He had faced that car bomb down, cool as anything, and the memory of the incident was still making her heart beat faster.
“May I ask what your plans are?” He had his hands in his pockets as he rested his dark gaze on her. He might as well have been carved of solid rock, he looked that unmovable. But he was quick—she remembered him diving for her from his car. He loomed larger than life.
Exactly the kind of man she needed to avoid at all cost. She swallowed to wet her mouth.
“I’m going back to the hotel and probably flying out tonight if I can change my flight. I’m truly sorry about your brother.” She was, and she needed time to deal with the sudden news. But she needed to get away from Karim Abdullah’s searching gaze first.
“Perhaps you could tell me why you were looking for him?” His voice was even and low, with the sort of tone that made it clear he wasn’t a man to mess with.
She’d gotten that message already.
“We were friends. I thought I’d stop by to see him. You know, long time no see. A chance to catch up. That sort of thing.” She flashed him another winning smile.
He watched her as if he could see right through her, and she didn’t appreciate how nervous he made her. It had nothing to do with the four-inch scar that made him look like a desert warrior despite his elegant suit. The overwhelming sense of power that emanated from him was what she was leery of.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” She got to her feet and stepped around him, half expecting him to stop her.
He didn’t. “Were you going to tell Aziz that you are carrying his child?”
She was halfway across the room, but the words stopped her more effectively than anything else could have. She was too scared to turn around and look at him, afraid of what he might read in her face.
“I’m not—”
“The paramedic took your blood in the ambulance. The hospital called with the results,” he said in an icy tone. “You’re not the first woman to come looking for him after one of his foreign escapades. I assume you’re here for money?”
She winced, because that came uncomfortably close to the truth. “It’s not Aziz’s child,” she lied. She would manage on her own somehow. She didn’t want this dark sheik to have any kind of hold on her.
“My thoughts precisely, but I’d just as soon be sure. I want the case closed once and for all. I hope you won’t mind a DNA test when the child is born.”
She’d be long back in the U.S. by then, protected by U.S. law. They couldn’t take her baby away at that point, even if they could find her, which she would make sure they couldn’t.
“No, of course not.” She schooled her face and chanced a look at him.
His expression remained unreadable, only his eyes darkened further, if that was possible. “Good. I hope you’ll like your rooms. I’ll introduce you to the staff this afternoon. You can pick your personal maid then.”
The air got stuck in her lungs as she stared at him, startled. Was he completely nuts? “I’m not staying.” She wanted to be very clear on that.
He paused for a moment. “That’s a good strategy. Reverse psychology.” He inclined his head with a small smile. “I give you this, you seem smarter than the others. But whether you prefer to stay or go has no bearing on anything. Your child might be the grandson of a king, and as such, one of the heirs to the Beharrainian throne.” He watched her closely.
She felt the blood drain from her face. She’d known that Aziz was one of the king’s cousins. But she knew they hadn’t had a close relationship. And the king had a son. She hadn’t taken succession into account. It wasn’t something someone in her life and position thought much about.
“I’m sure you already considered that,” he went on. “I hope you won’t be disappointed to hear that a child, even if proven to be Aziz’s son, would not be at the front of the line of succession. But in the line nevertheless. You must understand that I cannot allow you to leave the country until the bloodline is determined. Our very law would forbid it, except with the permission of the father. Aziz is gone. As his brother, I’m responsible for you and your baby.”
If ever a sentence had the power to stop her heart, this was it. She was getting sucked in, losing control, the very thing she’d been most afraid of. She shouldn’t have come here.
“This is insane. I have nothing to do with you. You can’t keep me here. I’m an American citizen.” She backed toward the door, relaxing marginally when he stayed where he was.
“You will find that in Beharrain, Beharrainian laws are given a priority over ideals of foreign countries thousands of miles away.”
Was there a hint of threat in his steely voice?
She kept moving, but he still didn’t follow. Not even when she reached the hallway and ran to the left, not knowing which way the exit was, but wanting to get away from him and the nightmare this trip was turning into.
Before long she’d reached a palatial marble foyer. The front door was open, but there were armed guards at the wrought-iron gate that led to the street.
“Excuse me,” she said when they wouldn’t move out of her way. Maybe they didn’t speak English.
Step aside. Please, step aside. She wanted to get out before Karim decided to come after her. She didn’t think he would let her go this easily. She glanced behind her, then back at the men who looked as unmovable as the seven-foot-tall brick walls that surrounded the property.
“I need to leave,” she said slower and louder, knowing that was unlikely to make a difference. “Please.” She pointed toward the gate. They had to know what she wanted.
“You are to leave the palace only in the company of Sheik Abdullah,” one of them said after a moment, without looking at her.
So the language barrier wasn’t an issue.
Her breath caught. Desperation rose inside her—desperation, fear and anger. She shouldn’t have come. She had thought she would be able to keep her child safe while giving her or him the kind of large family she never had. But she understood now that wasn’t possible. To keep her baby safe and with her meant that she had to escape far, far away from here. She would never give up control of her baby.
There had to be a way. She refused to accept that she, along with her unborn child, was a prisoner in a foreign land, held at the will of the Dark Sheik.
Chapter Two
She was fighting a losing battle. Sheik Karim Abullah’s palace was better guarded than the Pentagon. But Julia wasn’t the type to give up.
Since she had resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t be able to escape on the ground level, she went up, sneaking through the night. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for, perhaps a large tree that came near one of the balconies. Trying something—anything—had to be better than sitting in her gilded prison of a room and crying her eyes out like she had done for the first half of the night.
She hated how weepy her overactive mommy hormones made her. This was not the time to give in to weakness. But she was emotionally exhausted and ravenously hungry. Hungry to the point that she was afraid her growling stomach would be heard.
She stole down the second-floor hallway, pausing in front of the first door. She pushed it open a fraction of an inch at a time and glanced around the lavishly appointed living room she discovered. Some sort of a suite. Other doors opened from here. The furniture was exquisitely made—all ornately carved wood—and was breathtaking even without her being able to make out the true colors of the luxurious fabrics in the moonlight.
Her gaze settled on a phone on a small, octagonal table. Her U.S. cell phone didn’t work here and there wasn’t a phone in her room. She wished she knew the number of the U.S. embassy by heart, and dialed zero, hoping to get directory assistance. Nothing happened.
She tried zero-zero, her stomach continuing to growl. No ringing on the other end. Zero-one. Just one. One-one. A disembodied voice said something in Arabic then the line went dead again. She gritted her teeth with frustration and took a banana from the fruit bowl next to the phone. An apple’s crunching might give her away. She peeled it then bit in, and nearly moaned at the soft sweetness that diffused on her tongue. Heaven.
Her food tray had been removed that afternoon on her request when the smell of food had made her nauseous. She had refused dinner on principle—not the smartest thing, in hindsight.
She grabbed another banana and was stuffing it down the front of her shirt when a small noise came from behind one of the doors opposite her. She froze, nearly ran, but stopped herself. She needed to find a balcony, a way out.
She picked a door that was half-open, figuring she would make the least noise that way, and found herself in a large bedroom. The space was dominated by a sprawling bed, draped in black sheets, that didn’t look slept in. A handful of papers lay tossed on the nightstand, next to a book.
Then her gaze was drawn to the source of the noise she’d heard before. A bathroom off the bedroom, lights on, the water running. She was facing a full-size, gilded mirror on the bathroom wall that was angled away from her. The picture it presented made her mouth go dry and her feet freeze to the tile floor. She swallowed the chunk of fruit in her mouth with some trouble.
Karim stood in an open shower with black mosaic tile and one of those drenching, foot-wide showerheads, water sluicing down his tanned skin. He stood with his back to her, so she had an unobstructed view of the scars that ran down his back, breaking up the otherwise perfect lines of the most incredible male body she had ever seen. He had his hands up, bracing himself on the wall, his head hanging as if deep in thought, tension evident in his corded muscles.
