Pregnant by the Desert King

by Susan Stephens

  What he thought wasn’t printable. Pulling back, he stared at her. That certainly wasn’t the answer he’d expected. ‘The jewellery you’ve seen must tour the world in the New Year, which means that time is at a premium.’

  ‘It can’t be organised exclusively to your timetable. I have a baby to consider.’

  Anger and frustration propelled him up. Why was it that nothing was ever certain with Lucy?

  ‘I have college to finish,’ she reminded him as she clambered to her feet. ‘I need my qualifications before I have the baby.’

  ‘I have forgotten nothing,’ he assured her coolly. ‘And, as you have just so eloquently pointed out, the clock is ticking.’

  ‘I’m going home for Christmas,’ she informed him.

  ‘Home?’ he queried.

  ‘Yes. Back to the laundry.’

  ‘And if that doesn’t suit me?’

  ‘Look,’ she said, obviously trying to be reasonable. ‘I don’t want to appear ungrateful for the wonderful offer you’ve made me here, or spoil what has been a memorable and very special day. I’m longing to work with your team. In fact, I feel quite passionately about it, as if it were meant to be.’

  ‘But you’re not passionate about staying with me?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. And it isn’t true. It’s just that some things are sacrosanct to me, and standing on my own feet is one of those things.’

  ‘Even now when you’ve seen all this?’ he said, spreading his arms wide to encompass everything he could offer. It wasn’t just a job. He wanted Lucy to stay with him. And, yes, as his mistress to begin with, but things could always change. Like any other country, Qalala needed time to adjust, and in the meantime Lucy would have every privilege he could provide.

  ‘Let me stop you there,’ she said when he began to explain. ‘I understand that a man like you can probably do anything he pleases, but that first you have to make sure your people are safe and Qalala’s boundaries are strong. I accept that those boundaries can be extended to Qalala’s advantage through marriage—which is exactly why I must plough my own furrow.’

  ‘I care for you more than you know,’ he said fiercely.

  ‘Then, let me go,’ Lucy said, her eyes welling with tears.

  ‘I can’t,’ he admitted grimly. ‘I want you and I want our child, here in Qalala.’

  ‘But when it comes to your duty, you can’t. Tadj, there is no easy way.’

  ‘No quick way, certainly,’ he agreed.

  He could offer Lucy nothing at this precise moment, and he would not raise her hopes with empty promises. ‘Whatever you decide,’ he rapped out.

  Now it came to losing her, reality had struck home forcibly, so that each word he uttered to ease her journey home was like a dagger in his heart.

  ‘You will both be well provided for,’ he added in a clipped tone to hide how that made him feel.

  Lucy actually flinched as if he’d hit her. ‘You’re buying me off,’ she said.

  ‘I will do my duty by you,’ he confirmed stiffly.

  ‘If you can’t see how that hurts me, I think we’re both right; I must go. There’s nothing left to say,’ she added. ‘But no money. I’ve never been interested in your material wealth. It’s you I care about,’ she admitted. ‘And you care about Qalala, which is how it should be. We’re both bound by promises we’ve made: you to your country, and me to myself. I don’t want half a life like my mother endured, always hoping things will be better. I want to seize life and work hard to provide for my baby. Qalala wouldn’t want half your attention, and neither do I. But I do worry about you.’

  ‘You worry about me?’ he queried sceptically.

  ‘Yes. If you can’t find a way to combine your personal hopes and dreams with what’s best for Qalala, I worry that you’ll never be happy. And I don’t want to make things worse for you, by pulling you this way and that. Nor do I want our baby to grow up with parents at war. It’s better that we live apart, and can be happy when we’re with our child, than we live together and make each other miserable.’

  He took a long time to answer, and then he said coolly, ‘That decision is up to you. I would never keep you here against your will.’

  ‘No,’ Lucy argued gently, ‘that’s up to both of us. Because I know you can’t change, I’m going to keep to my timetable, and go home as I said I would. I had imagined that when we’d toured the mine, we’d talk and plan for our baby, but you’re not ready to do that yet, and maybe you never will be.’

  ‘The sapphire mines bring prosperity to my people, and I won’t apologise for focusing on them, because you need to understand what a vital part they play in Qalala’s future. You could help with that. You say you want to understand this part of your child’s heritage, so stay, and try to accept that my duty to Qalala and its people will always come before my own selfish personal desires.’

  ‘But if you’re not happy, how can your people be happy?’ Lucy argued with her usual sound common sense. ‘And where does our child fit into your master plan? A child changes everything.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’

  ‘Changes everything for both of us, I mean,’ she said.

  He wasn’t used to being lectured and he turned away. ‘I suppose you expect me to take you home?’ he declared when he was calmer.

  ‘Back to King’s Dock?’ Lucy queried. ‘I’m pretty sure I can find my own way back. I’m equally sure that my going home will be better for both of us. I’ll send you my proposal for the exhibition as soon as I’ve got something to show you. And then, if you’re agreeable, I’ll take part in meetings online with the team. I don’t see a problem handling things that way going forward.’

  She was alone in that.

  ‘And when it comes to putting my plans into practice,’ she added, ‘I’ll happily travel anywhere necessary to make sure the team doesn’t encounter any snags along the way.’

  ‘With your baby strapped to your back?’ he queried tensely.

  ‘If I have to.’

  ‘This is our child you’re talking about. The child whose upbringing I will take full part in.’

  Apprehension flashed across Lucy’s face, but she rallied fast to add, ‘Then, we’d better make time to talk. As you said, the clock is ticking.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve got it all worked out,’ he commented bitterly.

  ‘Don’t be angry,’ she begged. ‘I want you to know how much I appreciate this opportunity—’

  ‘Stop! Stop right now,’ he insisted. He was done with the emotional battering. ‘Make this project part of your final assessment at college.’

  ‘I will,’ she said, latching onto his cool tone with what he thought might even be relief.

  They really wrung it out of each other, he thought as they stared unblinking into each other’s eyes. The bond between them was as tight as ever, and would remain so when their child was born, but when it came to the most basic human feelings they were both hopeless communicators.

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ Lucy said in a wry, offhand way, but her eyes were sad.

  ‘You don’t have to go home right away.’

  ‘I do,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve got your brief for the exhibition safe in my head, and we’ll keep in touch. We can talk online and make arrangements when my due date is closer.’

  To discuss the future of their child via a screen over the internet reminded him of a child sitting on a suitcase, split between countries and two sets of people, one with generous hearts, who had wanted him to join them out of love they weren’t afraid to show, while the others’ social lives were more important. His worst nightmare was to be that type of parent. ‘I’ll be in touch regularly,’ he said.

  ‘Better that we get on with our lives,’ Lucy told him.

  Raising barriers so neither of them could see the future was as much his fault as hers,
he supposed. His loathing for her stepfather and the damage that man had done to Lucy quadrupled as she turned away to hide her tears. Once hurt, never mended, he thought as they faced up to the long journey home.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LEAVING QALALA WAS AGONY. Leaving on a commercial flight, which Lucy had insisted on taking, only made things worse, because she had to hide her emotions and pretend her heart wasn’t breaking. That shouldn’t have been too hard for someone who had learned to guard her feelings growing up, but it was, because she might be as buttoned up as Tadj, but surely they should have been able to talk and make plans for their baby? Wasn’t that more important than visits to a mine, and schemes for an exhibition?

  They were both at fault, Lucy concluded. Tadj was duty-bound to Qalala, and refused to grant himself a private life, while she was equally inflexible when it came to remaining independent. Imagining Tadj marrying for the good of his country tore her up inside. It would destroy him, as well as his wife and any children they might have. Was that the reward of duty? If so, duty was a vindictive mistress, and it was up to Tadj to change things in Qalala. She couldn’t help with that, and must concentrate on moving forward to build a stable base for her child. If Tadj wanted to be involved in their baby’s upbringing, then so much the better, she would never stop him, but could she afford to put things on hold in the hope that he might?

  As the aircraft soared high above the cloud line, she was sad for the things he’d miss. She wanted to share the first precious flutters of life with him, so he could feel the joy she felt at that moment. Maybe he’d had enough of her, and was glad to see her go. He hadn’t exactly helped her to pack, but once they’d returned to the fort he’d done everything possible to smooth her journey home. On the one hand, she’d been relieved, because there’d been no ugly scenes between them, but right up to the last minute she’d hoped he’d ask her to stay, so they could somehow work this out.

  That was a fantasy too far, Lucy accepted with a sigh as she stared unseeing out of the small window at her side. Tadj’s position as the Emir of Qalala would always stop him following his heart. ‘I’ll get back to you,’ he’d said at the airport, where they’d both held in their feelings, parting with a dispassionate kiss on both cheeks.

  ‘About the job?’ she’d pressed.

  ‘About everything,’ he’d said, and then he’d turned and strode away with a phalanx of royal guards surrounding him, keeping everyone, including Lucy, at bay. That was Tadj’s life, his lonely life.

  They’d have contact through their joint involvement in the Qalalan sapphire project, if nothing else, Lucy tried to reassure herself, and meanwhile she must concentrate on completing her studies and holding down her jobs. If Tadj delegated his side of the arrangements for their child to a member of staff, it would really hurt, but she’d have to get over that too. In this mood of absolute determination, she pulled out her sketch pad and started work on her initial design for the inaugural exhibition of the world-famous Qalalan sapphires.

  * * *

  Ruling Qalala ran through his veins alongside a rich vein of duty. Those two things had always been enough for him in the past, because he was devoted to his country and its people, but without Lucy in his life Tadj couldn’t rest, he couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t function.

  After the longest span of loneliness in his life, action was called for. It was long overdue. If such a thing as a eureka moment existed, this was it, Tadj concluded as he slammed down the lid on the latest stack of royal papers. The most important document of all wasn’t there. Hardly surprising, when it didn’t exist yet. Now he knew what he’d lost, and what he stood to lose, he was ready to fight, not just for Qalala, but for Lucy and their unborn child.

  Having called an extraordinary meeting of the royal council, he read out the marriage act, and when his twenty-first-century advisors heard the pronouncements of a bygone age, they had to agree with him that changes must be made.

  ‘Do I take it that love is in the air?’ Abdullah, his childhood friend who sat on the council, and who had first shown Lucy around Wolf Fort, asked him with barely concealed excitement when the meeting had concluded.

  ‘It means I will marry a woman of my choice,’ he told Abdullah. ‘If she’ll have me,’ he added dryly, with a hint of humility that was wholly unaccustomed.

  ‘Lucy! I knew it!’ Abdullah exclaimed, practically dancing on the spot with excitement. ‘She’s a challenging one,’ he added as if that were the greatest praise, ‘and just what you need.’

  Tadj hummed as he strode away to put the change in the law into operation.

  * * *

  He grunted with impatience as he disembarked his jet. Lucy would be seven months pregnant by now. That was how long it had taken to ‘speed along’ the change to the law in Qalala. What had she done to him? Was this love? The thought hit him like a thunderbolt.

  Thankfully, being the Emir of Qalala, as well as one of the richest men in the world, came with advantages, one of which was access to the royal fleet of aircraft as well as a royal yacht, added to which were the lack of formalities confronting him when he landed in a foreign country. His yacht was berthed at King’s Dock, and he was soon on his way to join it.

  He should never have let Lucy go, and he willed the limousine to travel even faster. Seven months pregnant. Only two months to go. Valuable time in a pregnancy. It wasn’t too late for him to share the birth of their child, but they still had to discuss the details of what would happen next, and Lucy had steered every conversation they’d had towards talk of the exhibition she was planning with his team. A child mattered more, to both of them, he was sure. She was still suffering from the damage her stepfather had inflicted, and it was up to him to make a difference, so she could face the future with the happiness she deserved.

  He had half expected to find Lucy still working at the laundry. He wasn’t disappointed. Ruffled and sleep-deprived, with his collar pulled up against the awful weather, as he peered through the steamed-up window his spirits rose. Serving behind the counter, Lucy was as cheerful as ever as she chatted to customers in her usual friendly way.

  Pulling back, he felt the loss of her keenly, as if he were a child with his nose pressed against the window, viewing a treat he couldn’t have, a gift he had forfeited for the sake of Mother Duty. He had to take a moment. Seeing Lucy again wrenched at his heart. There was no one like her, and there never would be. He’d never felt like this before. Laying his heart on the line was new to him. Raw sex and power, together with huge wealth and the mystique of royalty, had always been enough to open any door, but these things didn’t mean anything to Lucy. She trod her own path, couldn’t be wooed with promises of wealth or position. He would have to dig much deeper than that, or he’d lose her for ever.

  The doorbell chimed with irritating optimism as he walked into the shop.

  ‘Tadj!’ Paling, Lucy gripped the counter.

  Horror-struck that the sight of him might harm Lucy or the baby, he was holding her in a second. He should have warned her to expect him. Having plunged over the counter to grab her by the arms in case she fell, he held her in front of him to check she was okay. He could breathe again when the colour returned to her face. ‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ he murmured, drinking her in with all the fervour of a parched man in the desert.

  With a hum, she broke free. The customer had left by now, so they were alone. Lucy had snapped back into work mode, pinning tickets on garments, before handing them through the hatch opening onto the steamy heart of the laundry. She was so graceful, so vulnerable, and desirable. Images collided in his mind of her cool hands on his body, and her soft lips on his mouth. ‘Can you take a break any time soon?’

  ‘I break for lunch in half an hour,’ she said, glancing at the clock.

  His spirits lifted, though he was careful to keep his tone casual. ‘May I take you for cof
fee?’

  ‘In the café where we first met?’ she said, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.

  ‘I’ll meet you there,’ he confirmed.

  ‘It will be busy at lunchtime,’ she called after him as he left the shop. ‘Bag a table if you get there first.’

  Not the best offer he’d ever received from a woman, but, where Project Wooing was concerned, he thought it a reasonable start.

  * * *

  Lucy was late. Where the hell was she? Was she coming at all? He stared at the door, wondering if he’d been stood up, or if she’d run from him again, to some place where he’d never find her. The thought that he’d been stood up amused him, but if she’d gone—he couldn’t even contemplate that, so, ordering another coffee, he told himself to use the time to plan and think. Impatience made that impossible. What use was planning, when Lucy was unpredictable? He had to find a way to pin her down, but he needed her here first... He stared with unblinking attention at the door, as if that could make her appear. She was more precious than he’d realised, which was why he hadn’t come here with a better offer, but with the ultimate offer, and one he was confident she couldn’t refuse.

  If she turned up, that was.

  * * *

  Tadj’s arriving at the laundry unannounced had really thrown her. What did he want? Did he think she’d changed her mind about becoming his mistress? She racked her brains to think if there was a single problem where work was concerned, but she couldn’t think of one. As she’d thought all along, they could communicate perfectly well over the internet, and plans for the various exhibitions of the Qalalan sapphires were progressing well. Hopefully, he was here to talk about the baby. She longed for a compromise, her heart picking up pace just thinking about Tadj, and discussing with him the most important topic in their lives. The prospect of that was like all her Christmases and birthdays come together. But he mustn’t think he could rule them as he ruled Qalala.

  She hurried to take a shower, and, as she was seven months pregnant, getting dressed meant exchanging one shapeless sack for another. Staring at herself in the mirror brought an image of Tadj into her mind. How could he possibly find her attractive in this condition? And why should she care? Surely that meant he wouldn’t want her as his mistress, so that was one hurdle she’d jumped over.