by Jane Porter
She loved him and he’d hurt her. Badly. So badly.
His chest burned with guilt, but more than that, with sorrow. As she cried in the corner of the car he thought she looked like a girl, not a scientist, and he wondered why he’d never seen the girl before.
He reached out to touch her and she jerked her shoulder away. “Don’t.”
He started to draw his hand away when he saw her tears slide through her fingers, and fall on her knees.
She was so alone. No family, few close friends. Who would comfort her if he didn’t?
Who would love her, if he didn’t?
And the realization was like fire in his chest, a fire ripping his heart wide.
She did need him. Not just anyone, but him. And why him, he didn’t know, but he remembered from her speech at the podium that love was strange and random and unpredictable, and rare.
Who knew why she loved him, but she did, and it mattered to him, mattered immensely.
Mattered more than anything else he could think of. And Zayed reached for her again and, ignoring her attempt to evade him, lifted her off the seat and onto his lap and held her against his chest as she cried.
“Do not cry, sweet girl,” he murmured, stroking her hair and kissing her temple. “Do not cry. I am here and I love you and I will not leave you. Not ever, not again. I promise.”
He ended up staying with her that night in her hotel room. She said it was because he didn’t trust her not to run away. He said it was because he didn’t want to leave her alone, not when she was so sick.
Rou hadn’t wanted him to stay, but she didn’t have the strength to make him leave. Instead she took a quick shower, pulled on her flannel pj’s and then climbed into bed.
In bed, Rou turned away from Zayed so he couldn’t see her face. She couldn’t bear to look at him, much less to have him look at her.
She was so mad at him. She was so mad and so hurt and so sick.
Heavens, she felt sick. She felt as though she had the flu, a flu that had lasted for weeks on end.
It’d been bad enough knowing she was pregnant, but now, pregnant with twins? Two babies? Two people she could hurt? Two people she’d damage…maybe destroy?
And now Zayed was here. He’d come back. Come back for her. This is what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?
This was to have been her moment of vindication. Her whole childhood she’d waited for her father or her mother to realize that they were wrong, and that they loved her and missed her and needed her. They never did, not in their lifetime, but now Zayed was here, and he said he wasn’t leaving again, that he’d always be there for her now.
So why wasn’t she happy? Why didn’t this feel like a victory?
Why was she so sad?
Because he was here out of duty. He was here to fulfill his responsibilities. He was here because he had to be, not because he wanted to.
And Sharif. They hadn’t even talked about Sharif yet, but somehow in the last couple of chaotic hours, Sharif’s return became less significant than the two little lives growing inside her.
Two lives. Impossible. Improbable. Why had birth control never been part of her mind-set? Why had she not stopped to consider something so basic, so practical, so essential?
But she hadn’t, and now everything would forever be different.
Zayed waited until Rou was asleep before joining her in bed. He lay awake long after he lay down. His thoughts turned, his mind working ceaselessly.
Sharif had returned, still injured, but at least alive. Jesslyn and the children were happy beyond measure. Khalid’s wife, Olivia, had delivered a healthy baby boy. And now he was going to be a father.
Peace and prosperity had been restored to the palace. Sarq was filled with one celebration after another.
Maybe the curse was weakened.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was close to being broken.
Or maybe, as Rou had once said, there had never been a curse, just Zayed’s own guilt that had tortured him for all these years.
Perhaps it was time to deal with the terrible guilt, and his own punitive conscience. Perhaps he could consider other ways to look at life and its challenges. Perhaps he could even consider the possibility of happiness.
He looked at Rou, who in her sleep had turned to him, her body finally relaxed and curled trustingly against his. Watching her sleep, he felt his heart burn, and as he lifted a strand of silver-gold hair from her cheek, his heart burned hotter and brighter, until his entire chest hurt.
Rou, his wife.
Rou, the scientist, the mother of his children.
Rou, his woman. His.
His.
The need for possession was so strong, the need to claim her and not own her, but love her, love her freely, love her fully, love her as he hadn’t loved anyone since Nur surged through him.
Zayed had to close his eyes as his entire chest and body heated, alive, livid, hot. All the empty and hollow spaces were filled with the fire, and Zayed feared that maybe he couldn’t handle so much feeling.
He ground his teeth against the blistering pain. Closed his eyes to try to keep from making a sound.
He hadn’t felt so much in years, not since he’d gotten word of Nur’s death, and yet what he felt now wasn’t grief or death but something far different, something far more complex.
He felt…life.
He felt alive.
The fire was him coming back to life, battling back to life, battling the darkness and destroying it.
A cool hand pressed to his cheek. “Zayed. Zayed?” Rou’s voice whispered urgently in the dark. “What’s wrong?”
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer her.
She sat up, leaned over him, her long, cool hair spilling on his shoulder. “Zayed! Zayed, look at me!”
It took a great effort, but he did, and as he opened his eyes and focused on her, he wondered why her beautiful face seemed liquid, and then when she wiped beneath his eyes he realized she was liquid because he was crying.
“Zayed, what is it?” she choked, panicked.
He didn’t think he’d ever been in such pain, didn’t know if he could endure it much longer. Sweat beaded his brow, breaking in tiny blisters across his skin. “I love you,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “I love you and need you. Forgive me, laeela, my love, but I need you.”
And then abruptly the fire was gone, all the fire that had been burning him, in him. The pain was gone, too. Extinguished. Leaving him quiet but exhausted.
“Are you not well?” she asked, confusion coloring her voice.
“I am well,” he answered.
“Do you have a fever?”
He understood her bewilderment. “Because I told you I loved you?”
“Perhaps you caught a bug, or food poisoning—”
He didn’t want to laugh, but he couldn’t help the deep rumble in his chest. “No, love, there’s nothing wrong with me. For the first time in twenty years, there is nothing wrong with me.”
Rou leaned over, reached out to the lamp on the bedside table and turned it on. She stared at him, wordlessly.
“The curse,” he said. “I think it’s gone.” He hesitated, listened, waited, then nodded. “It is gone. It’s finally gone.”
“How?”
“I realized how much I loved you, and realized how love, even my love, is stronger than superstition and darkness. That love is stronger than anything else there is.”
Her lips curved uncertainly. “This all happened in the last hour?”
He felt that rumble of a laugh deep in his chest. “It’s been happening for a while. Sharif’s return. Jesslyn’s happiness. Khalid and Olivia’s new son. There was happiness everywhere, and life everywhere, and love everywhere and I couldn’t find any sign of a curse. Couldn’t find any sign of unhappiness but the unhappiness in me.”
“And your unhappiness…?”
“Brought me to you.”
“In Chicago.”
He heard her crisp scientist
voice and he couldn’t suppress a smile. “Yes, in Chicago. I came to find you.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I love you.”
She looked at him with suspicion. And then looked at him with horror. And then jumped up. “Oh no. Not again. I’m going to be sick!”
While Rou huddled in the bathroom next to the toilet, Zayed called room service and ordered a bucket of ice, a bottle of soda water, a bottle of ginger ale, a plate of dry toast, a plate of plain crackers, a platter of sliced melon and a bowl of chilled grapes. Immediately.
Rou was just climbing back into bed when room service arrived with the cart. Zayed took the trays from the cart, sent the attendant away with a tip and carried everything over to the bed himself.
“Oh, Zayed, I couldn’t eat if I tried,” she said, seeing the covered dishes and putting a reflexive hand to her middle. The very thought of food made her want to gag.
“It’s not just any food,” he answered, adjusting the covers and then the trays. “Think of it as magic food. Antinausea food. Olivia, my brother’s wife, was sick her entire pregnancy and swore by grapes, melon and ginger ale. Let’s see if any of it will help you.”
He lifted the cover off a bowl, plucked a small green grape from the stem and handed it to her. Tentatively she put it in her mouth, rolled it around to test her gag reflex and then bit into it. It was cold and sweet, a little crunchy but good. She reached for another. And then ate half the cluster, a couple bites of melon, a half slice of toast and then lay back, content.
“Better,” she said, smiling for the first time in days.
“Yes?”
“Not cured, but definitely better,” she answered. She rested against the pillows, eyes closing, and just breathed in and out, content to just be content. It had been a long and difficult two months. “Two babies,” she said after a moment.
She heard him exhale and she opened her eyes. He was smiling. Hugely. “I’m sorry for you,” he said, not looking all that sorry, “but very happy for me. I’m going to be a father. We’re going to be parents.”
A heaviness settled in her chest. “I didn’t want to be a mom.”
“But you never brought up birth control.”
“I know.” She frowned, brows pulling. “Isn’t that strange? I’m so anal about everything, and I never once thought about it. I guess I didn’t think I could get pregnant. Guess I didn’t think sex would lead to babies.”
He looked at her as if he suddenly doubted her sanity. “You hold multiple doctorate degrees, Dr. Tornell.”
“Yes.” She rubbed at her head. “I know. Troubling.”
He leaned on his elbow, studied her. “Maybe you wanted to be pregnant. Secretly.”
“No.”
“Maybe.”
“No. Absolutely not. I wouldn’t be a good mom. I wouldn’t be a good parent—”
“Or maybe you knew deep down you would be. Maybe you knew that you’re nothing like your mother and you’d never abandon your child. It’s not who you are.”
Rou drew her knees up toward her chin, eyes gritty and burning. “I wish I could say you were right. I love the sound of it. But it’s the opposite that’s true. I’m exactly like my mom. That’s why I left, you know. I left because I’m foolish and weak, and ridiculous. Just like her.”
Zayed stared at her for a long moment before rolling onto his back in laughter. He laughed and laughed and then laughed some more. Rou grabbed one of the pillows and hit him with it. “Why are you laughing?” she demanded. “I just told you my deepest, darkest secret, and you start howling like a hyena!”
He rolled back up, and looked at her, a tender smile playing at his lips. “If you’re so weak, how did you find the strength to leave me? If you’re so foolish, how is it that you survive on your own without any of my financial or emotional support? If you’re so ridiculous, why am I so crazy about you?”
She stared at him, aware of so many different emotions rushing through her. Hope, fear, anxiety, excitement. “Are you crazy about me?” she whispered.
He leaned toward her, pushed long, pale hair back from her face. “Absolutely. One hundred percent.”
“How do I know?”
“Because I am here. I couldn’t stay away from you. I had to come see you, check on you, make sure you were okay.”
“And am I okay?”
“You’re okay, but you could be better.” His gold gaze rested on her face. “You could be with me. We could be together. We could have what we both want…what we both need.”
“And what is that, Dr. Fehr?”
His teeth flashed whitely at her joke. “Love, laeela. We could be together and have love.”
She stared at him for so long, searching for the man that would abandon her the first chance he got, for the man who was torn between duties, the man haunted by a ghost, but all she could see was Zayed and he was everything she wanted, and everything she needed. “Are you saying all this because you’ve lost your job?”
He looked confused and then he choked on a smothered laugh. “I didn’t lose my job.”
“But Sharif…?”
“Isn’t well enough to resume leadership anytime soon.” The laughter faded from his face and voice. “It’s not in the news—we’ve withheld the information from the media, but Sharif still doesn’t have all of his memory back. His head trauma was quite severe and doctors are adamant that he has all the time he needs to rest and recuperate.”
Rou sagged back against her pillows. “Does he have amnesia?”
“There is extensive memory loss.”
“Does he know Jesslyn? The children?”
“He knows Jesslyn. His memories are of the years he lived in London, before he was king.” One of his eyebrows lifted. “He remembers you, though.”
But not his own children. Wow. “So you remain king,” she said softly.
“I remain king.” He leaned toward her, caressed her cheek. “But I can’t do it without you. Nor do I want to. I’m lonely. I miss you. You made the palaces happy places for me. They’re empty without you. Come home with me. Come be my wife, my queen.”
It was tempting, so tempting. She’d been so miserable without him, and being pregnant and alone had made her unhappiness unbearable. But life in Sarq was not necessarily good for her, or healthy. “I don’t know, Zayed. I get lost in your palaces. I get lost in your world—”
“You were never lost. Not once. I knew where you were, I knew everything you were doing. You weren’t lost. I just hid from you. I was at fault, and I know it. But it won’t happen again. I couldn’t let it happen. I love you too much to hurt you like that again. I swear, as a man, as a Fehr and as a king. I will not desert you, not emotionally, not physically.”
She wanted to believe him. She really did. And yet…and yet… “I want your direct numbers for both palaces,” she said, lifting her chin, hoping he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “A direct line. Even if it means you have to put in a separate line for just me. I don’t want to ever go through butlers and valets to reach you. I want to be able to call you when I need you—”
“Your own line. I promise.”
“And I want to travel with you. If you’re in Isi, I’ll go to Isi. If you’re in Cala, I’ll go to Cala, too.”
He smiled, creases fanning from his eyes. “And Monte Carlo? And London? And New York?”
“Yes, yes and yes.”
His smile stretched, and he looked more handsome than she’d ever seen him, all dark hair, glowing eyes and beautiful smile. “Anything else, my love?”
Rou thought. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to think if there was anything else, any other conditions, and she realized that the only thing she really needed was time to build trust. But with time, and trust, she knew her fears would fade, and the hurt would heal.
Because she wasn’t like her mom. She was strong, far stronger than she knew.
“I want our babies to grow up in a happy home,” she said after a moment. “I want u
s to be strong enough, and loving enough, to always put them first. To put their needs before ours. I couldn’t bear it if our children were caught between us. I couldn’t bear to have them hurt the way I was.”
He leaned toward her, kissed her on the lips. “I agree, completely, wholeheartedly.”
She closed her eyes at the brush of his lips. Her lower back tingled and her stomach quivered but with a good quiver for a change instead of bad. She reached to his face, let her fingers trace the magnificent cheekbone and jaw. “I love you.”
“I hope so. I need you, and your love. Our babies do, too.”
“It will work,” she said firmly, decisively. “We can make this work.”
“I know we can, too.”
Rou smiled and as she smiled at him, Zayed felt his heart trip and his breath catch in his throat.
“Love heals.” Rou’s voice had softened and she looked at him with bright blue eyes. “It makes everything new.” And then she leaned into him, and fitted her lips to his. She kissed him with such tenderness that his heart ached only a moment before feeling joy.
Joy.
He felt joy.
Lifting his hands, he drew them through Rou’s hair, letting the long, silken strands fall around them.
His wife, his bride, his joy.
He was a man with many great blessings, but no blessing was greater than this woman, his joy.
EPILOGUE
ROU wanted the babies baptized. It wasn’t something the Fehr family usually did, but Jesslyn and Olivia were supportive and Zayed believed that all babies could use blessings, so he agreed to fly in a priest from London.
The service was held in one of the smaller palace reception rooms and the ceremony itself was to be short and sweet—necessary, as the babies, now nearly six months old, wouldn’t have tolerated more than that.
Rou had chosen Zayed’s brothers as the infant boys’ godfathers. She watched now as quiet, serious Kamil was placed gently into his uncle Khalid’s arms; and fierce, stubborn infant Sharif, Kamil’s identical twin brother, went to Uncle Sharif.
King Sharif smiled as he took the six-month-old infant into his arms, looking down at his namesake and then at Rou. Rou’s chest squeezed tight with emotion, and she smiled back at the man who was both friend and brother-in-law, a man who’d worked so hard this past year to recover his memories and regain his physical strength.