The Sheikh’s Pregnant Foreigner

by Leslie North

  Skandar had to find a way to mend fences after today. The polo match had to mean something, otherwise it would be a waste of time and effort—and he wasn’t the kind of man who wasted time. Not like this. Gina’s sunshine way of looking at the world could have a negative effect, he realized. On his family and his kingdom. What was he going to do about that?

  Skandar seemed tired on the way home, and at first Gina followed his gaze out the window—but then she felt Shahd looking at her. She and Shahd had shared confidences in bits and pieces throughout the day. I love that Amjad is here, Shahd said at one point. I love it, too. And then, after Saud had come to stand at their table—He’s hardly bearable. In these stolen phrases, Gina had floated a plan to her. A vague one, so that Shahd wasn’t in a position to stop her. Now Shahd arched an eyebrow. The SUV pulled up to the guarded entrance at the back of the palace, and Gina gave her a quick nod.

  The driver hopped out to open the door for them, and Skandar helped them each to the ground. Gina held back to be last, and she made sure Karima and Shahd were almost inside before she spoke, putting her arm through Skandar’s.

  “It might be nice to invite Amjad over for a meal one evening.” She put a smile on her face, but Skandar missed it—he was looking straight ahead, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Nothing official. Just with the family and—”

  “No.” He sounded so final that her gut turned into a block of ice. “Shahd knows her duty. She’ll be with Saud for as long as I say she will, and that’s going to be quite a long time if we’re going to keep moving forward.”

  The ice started to melt under hot frustration. “But Amjad is so wonderful to spend time with,” she tried again. “What could be so bad about a single dinner?”

  Skandar sighed. “You don’t understand, Gina. There are important things at stake.” He met her eyes, his own irritation flaring there, and oh, it was awful. Her chest tightened, and so did her throat. “Your actions are undoing my work.”

  “You’re right,” she heard herself say. “I’m sorry.”

  They went inside the magnificent palace, which had stood for more than a century, and Gina felt lightheaded, her pulse at the very surface of her skin. Skandar was like the palace, wasn’t he? They could paint it and paint it as much as they wanted, but it would never change, not at its heart. The hope she’d been carrying for Shahd extinguished. While she was here, she only had one job—to help Skandar. And she would do that job. She wouldn’t mess this up.

  13

  One week later, Gina and Halima paused on the hot sidewalk outside the courthouse. They were headed to a meeting in one of the local schools, and Gina felt superheated despite the airiness of her clothes and the parasol Halima held above their heads to block the sun.

  “Maybe you should sit down,” said Halima. “It’s quite hot. Or we could cancel the meeting and go back to the palace. I’m sure no one would mind rescheduling.”

  Halima sounded just like Skandar, who had wanted her to stay in and rest. But the sight of the courthouse spurred her on. How could she go lounge in bed at the palace when they were another day closer to the convocation? Lying around wasn’t going to help Skandar keep the crown. And that was her most important mission.

  “No, I’m fine.” Gina fanned herself with a small notebook she’d tucked into her purse. “It’s only another block. I’m sure we had a good reason for wanting to walk.”

  “Traffic,” said Halima. “But I’ll call security right now if—”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  The sun was relentless here in the city. Gina daydreamed of the oasis. Why hadn’t she dipped herself in that cool, clear water when she had the chance? Such a terrible oversight. Anyway, she had no time for visiting an oasis now. She’d been out and about all week with Halima and her guard, getting to know different groups of people in Mahamar. Skandar needed support from all kinds, not just the wealthy who frequented the polo clubs and owned the big businesses. He’d have to present his argument as ascendant king very soon, but before the formal argument came this one—the argument on the ground.

  Halima shook her head as they moved past the courthouse and down the block. “You know, I learned in school that there used to be actual combat at the convocations, but it’s become more civilized since then. There hasn’t been a convocation for a hundred years. Nobody’s challenged the succession in at least a century.”

  The weight of it pressed down hard on Gina’s shoulders, along with the heat. “Then I’d better be at my best today,” Gina said. “Where’s that water?”

  Her guard handed her a bottle of water, and she sipped from it judiciously while they approached the school. The low brick building was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence decorated with hanging flower baskets. They were met in the courtyard by a clutch of educators—teachers and administrators—who ushered the two women into the center of their circle and inside, where the air was blessedly cool.

  In the inner meeting space—the gymnasium and lunch room, depending on what time of day it was—Gina picked up a flaky pastry from a tray and took her seat at a long table. One of the teachers came around with tea, and once it was served, excitement hummed in the room.

  “I’m so glad to be here today,” said Gina into that excitement. “Tell me all about your school.”

  For the next hour, they told her everything—their needs, projections, and budget concerns. She asked questions, taking down the answers in her notebook. A school photographer stood nearby, capturing photos of the event. When the hour was up, Gina reluctantly put down her pen. “Thank you so much,” she told all of them, stepping around the table to shake hands. “I’ll pass along your concerns to the sheikh. He’ll be anxious to hear them.”

  But something didn’t feel right about it. Gina got into the back of the SUV and put her head back on the seat with a sigh.

  “That was good.” Halima patted her hand. “They felt good about meeting you.”

  “Wasn’t it a little...polite and sanitized? I got a list of all their talking points, but it’s obvious they were carefully planned so they didn’t offend Skandar. That’s—” Outside the window, a market was buzzing with activity. Too much activity. People leaned in toward one another, talking in loud voices. Something was going on. “Let’s stop here.”

  “I don’t know about that—”

  “I want to stop.” The SUV driver had already pulled up to the curb, and as Gina insisted he got out of the car and opened her door. He and the guard conferred and looked back at her for the next steps. Halima hurried out of the SUV and came to stand by her side. Gina’s heart pounded. This had seemed like a good idea from inside the car, and now—well, now she didn’t know what to do. What did her life experience tell her? Use the scientific method. Make some observations first.

  She moved a step closer and looked at the scene with a more critical eye. A bulldozer was parked along one side of the market, and scaffolding had been built against the wall of one building, but no workmen were there. Where were they? She spied three hard hats down at street level. One of the men held up his hands to the approaching crowd. And those people looked like stall owners and merchants. One woman had a tool belt on, the array of tools delicate and shining. A jeweler? Another had a towel slung over her arm, and a smudge of flour across one cheek. A baker, then. So who was doing the construction?

  Only one way to find out.

  Gina waded into the crowd at an even pace, letting them see her in her formal robes. She’d worn a robe in a pale pink lined with white for her meeting, as a sign that she and Skandar would look to the future while maintaining traditions. One by one, the people noticed them—her and Halima, and their guards.

  “Hello,” she called, putting on a big, welcoming smile. “What’s going on here?”

  A whisper skittered through the people, and the woman with the tool belt stepped out in front. Someone put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to mutter something in her ear. “You’re here from the royal family.” Her eye
s skidded warily over the guard and Halima.

  “This is Gina, Sheikh Skandar’s wife,” answered Halima. “Good afternoon.”

  “We saw your conversation and wanted to ask about it,” offered Gina. “What’s going on?”

  The jeweler lifted her eyes to the sky. “Only what’s been going on for the last several years—the owners of the land are ruining our market.”

  Gina looked at the bulldozer. It was set to take down a crumbling building whose stones were disintegrating at the edges. Old pieces of wood jutted out from the remaining wall, and the tattered remains of market stalls hung limply in the wind.

  “The construction is a problem?”

  “They want to tear down this building and all the rest.” The jeweler pointed sharply at the bulldozer. “They want to cover over the entire space and make it an indoor market. You know what happens then.”

  “I don’t.” Gina held her hands up. “Please, tell me.”

  “They will increase the rates for the stalls.” Fear flashed into the woman’s eyes and disappeared. “We have precedent to be here. There’s an ancient agreement—” Murmurs of assent filled the small square, which led back into more rows of stalls. “A traditional verbal agreement that this space will always be the people’s market. The building plans go against that. They just want to—to—gentrify it.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “They want to make it into a quirky bazaar for high-end stores. That’s why everything needs to be indoors. That way, the capital will be more attractive to foreigners. Like a theme park.”

  “If you’re from the royal family, then you know about this,” called someone else. “Skandar is the one who okayed this plan for rebuilding.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t realize—”

  “How could he not realize?” shouted a man from the back. “He knew what he was doing. He was probably counting his money while he signed the contracts.”

  Gina’s pulse sped up, and the heat intensified—or was it only her embarrassment? She’d come out here with no plan in mind, and it had been a mistake. But that was what royals did, right? They tried to help. She was trying to help.

  “I’m sure this is something we can discuss—”

  “We’ve been discussing it for years,” insisted the jeweler. “Nobody is listening to us.”

  “I’m listening,” Gina said, but her answer was drowned out by rising angry voices.

  “They’re not,” Halima said urgently, her hands on Gina’s arm. “We need to go.” She waved over the guard and driver, and the two of them fell in behind the women as Halima led her back to the SUV. “You tried,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder to see if the crowd was following. “I’ll give you that.”

  “I didn’t help.” Her mind seemed full of a thousand problems. They would always pop up around the city and the country, wouldn’t they? And Gina would be left trying to solve them without enough information. Fumbling. Just like Skandar didn’t want her to do. But he wanted her out among the people, didn’t he? That was why he’d come to her, before the baby forced them to marry. Because she’d made connections with the tribes and could do the same with the people of the city. It was a knot that refused to be untangled.

  Back at the palace, Skandar met them at the back and took Gina up to his rooms, a careful arm around her waist. “You need to rest,” he said. “The heat was too much. I should have known.”

  “It wasn’t the heat. I—I overdid it on trying to make things right in the city.”

  “I heard.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “You don’t have to win everyone over singlehandedly, you know. What you’re doing already is more than enough. And if you need to stop—”

  “I don’t,” she insisted. Skandar swept her into the enormous bathroom, where a salon chair had been set up. “What’s this?”

  “I’m ordering you,” Skandar said, turning her to face him, “to be pampered.”

  Gina laughed, surprised and pleased. “What? You’re not angry about the market?”

  “We’ll discuss the market later. For now...” He reached over to a small table and produced lemon sorbet from the Fun Palace in a neat little cup. “Sorbet. And a foot bath.”

  It had been arranged at the foot of the dressing chair, and Gina let him take off her formal robes and slip a silk bathrobe around her body. She sank gratefully into the chair and put her feet into the bath. Gina took a bite of the lemon sorbet, the taste bright and cold on her tongue.

  “This is so good.”

  Skandar glanced up at her from his position kneeling on the floor. “Would it be better with a foot massage after your soak?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  He grinned at her, sitting back on his heels. “Which foot salts and oil do you like?”

  Gina giggled. “I’m flattered that you think I’ve gotten so many foot massages as to have a favorite oil. Those aren’t very common on research trips.”

  He gave her a sultry look. “I think you’ll like this one.” Skandar plucked a bottle from a tray by his knees and uncorked it, bending his head to take in the scent. Then he held it up to her. Oh, he was right. It was gorgeous—fresh and flowery, and it reminded her of the oasis. If she couldn’t go for a swim, this would be the next best thing.

  “How do you know me so well?” Gina took the bottle and leaned forward, tipping a small amount into the bath.

  Skandar put his fingers around hers and added more. “I said pampered.” His voice had gone husky, and she caught her breath.

  “If you keep talking like that, I won’t be able to keep my feet in this bath. Or my body in this chair.”

  Dark eyes lingered on the opening of her robe at her neck. “You’re under strict orders.”

  “And what happens if I disobey?”

  Skandar rose to his feet and bent to give her a wicked kiss. “I wouldn’t recommend it,” he warned. “You’ll be too tired to attend your meeting tomorrow.”

  Slowly, very slowly, Gina lifted her spoon between them and took a long, slow lick of sorbet. Skandar made a strangled sound in his throat and straightened, shaking off a tension that had taken over his body. She watched as his shoulders relaxed, then his back, and finally he let out a long breath. The only sign she’d gotten under his skin was a bulge at the front of his pants.

  But Skandar only took a seat opposite her on a plush bench. “Tell me about the market,” he said.

  “Well, I saw it from the car.”

  She ate her sorbet as she told the story, and Skandar countered with something that had happened in the office. His voice rolled over her in waves and brought along a layer of guilt. He shouldn’t be spending his time in here with her when he could be working for the country. But it felt so nice. It felt so good.

  I could get used to this.

  Skandar laughed, and every nerve in her body bent toward him.

  She wanted to get used to being with Skandar. Wanted it more, in fact, than she’d ever wanted anything. Because Gina was falling for him.

  14

  Karima shot Gina a sidelong look from where she sat on the patio, the two women shaded by a white awning that caught the wind every so often and let it go with a muffled crack. Her deft fingers were busy unpicking Gina’s latest embroidery project. It had taken approximately forever for Gina to make it, but she’d discovered at the last moment that the little bird on the cloth was misshapen. Karima had offered to take it out so she could start again. It turned out that ripping apart a project was significantly easier than creating it in the first place.

  Her mother-in-law handed the hoop back with an appraising look. “This is the second time I’ve taken out this bird,” she said lightly. “Do you truly enjoy handicrafts, Gina? Or are you just doing it to bond with me?” Gina’s face must have shown her the answer, because Karima laughed. “Ah. I understand. You have other interests, don’t you?”

  “I’m passionate about systems.” Gina put the embroidery hoop in her lap and put her feet on the chair’s footrest. “I’m
very interested in ecosystem conservation. There are certain terrain conditions in the desert that could be paired with little-known techniques to preserve the flora and the heritage.” She sighed a little. “But I’m not really a botanist.”

  “What did you study in school?” Karima bent over her own embroidery, adding what seemed like a hundred stitches in the course of a few quick movements.

  “Maths.”

  Karima let out a surprised laugh. “Not plants?”

  “I took some biology courses,” Gina admitted, looking out over the palace gardens. “But maths was my focus in school. And I always wanted more from those science classes, anyway. More...specific knowledge.” They sat in a comfortable silence that quickly became uncomfortable—for Gina, anyway. She could always study when the month was up. In a couple of weeks, the convocation would be over and so would her extended project. And thinking of the extended project reminded her that she hadn’t been working very hard on it, in favor of her duties with Skandar. An edge of guilt glanced against the back of her throat. Of course Skandar’s kingship was the top priority, but there would be an afterward without him, and that—

  That very nearly stopped her heart.

  Karima put down her embroidery and leaned over to squeeze Gina’s hand. “I have a meeting. Are you all right here?”

  “Of course,” she said quickly. The balcony was one of the prettiest places in the palace, with all its stonework and the stunning views of the gardens. But after Karima had been gone a few minutes, Gina pushed herself out of her chair. A maid rushed forward to pick up their embroidery projects.

  “Oh—were you finished, Sheikha?” The maid’s wide eyes almost made her laugh. Why would anyone be intimidated by her? But then—she was Skandar’s wife.