Crowned for the Sheikh's Baby

by Sharon Kendrick

  Hannah had thought about this. A lot. She hated the fact that economically, she and Kulal were poles apart, but there wasn’t a lot she could do about it. She thought longingly about money she’d saved. Money which had taken so long to accumulate and which was nearly enough for the deposit on a tiny apartment. It didn’t look as if that little dream of independence was going to happen now, but sometimes you had to let your dreams go. ‘I have savings I can live on.’

  ‘How long do you think they’re going to last?’

  She shrugged. ‘Long enough. And when they run out, I can find myself a job as a housekeeper—somewhere which will provide a roof over my head for me and my baby.’

  ‘A housekeeper?’ he exclaimed in horror. ‘You think I would ever allow you to bring up the future prince or princess of Zahristan as the child of a housekeeper?’

  ‘But you can’t...’ Her fingers moved to her neck, spreading wide as if to disguise the flickering pulse there. ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘You don’t think so?’ He gave a cynical laugh. ‘I can certainly try. I can assign bodyguards and have you watched twenty-four-seven. Every move you make will be reported back to me and analysed.’ His eyes were dark. Dark as the coal at the bottom of a bunker which had never seen daylight. ‘And before you protest that such a move would be invasive—let’s just say I am protecting what is mine.’

  ‘The courts will ask you to pay maintenance.’ There was raw appeal in her voice now. ‘And I’m not too stupid or too proud to turn it down. Surely that’s enough to reassure you that the baby and I won’t be living in poverty.’

  ‘Yes, I will pay maintenance,’ he affirmed coldly. ‘I don’t need a court of law to make me honour my obligations. But my child will not have the life it is owed by royal blood. By turning down my offer of marriage, you are condemning he or she to a life of illegitimacy. Is that really what you want, Hannah?’

  Hannah flinched as Kulal’s words pierced through her armour at last. Having worked his way through all other arguments, had he saved the most powerful for last? Oh, why had she told him about her sordid past? Had she really been naïve enough to think he wouldn’t store up that information and use it against her if needed? Because her illegitimacy—and Tamsyn’s—had always been the dull pain which had eaten away inside her. The shame which had provided the backdrop to their young lives. It had emphasised Hannah’s feelings of insecurity and although she’d pretended not to care about being born out of wedlock, she had cared. Things were different these days and nobody seemed to care very much whether a man and a woman went through a marriage ceremony before having a child, but it hadn’t always been that way.

  And she was not carrying any child.

  This was a royal child.

  The flat of her hand drifted down to touch her belly, like someone touching wood for luck—but somehow Hannah sensed that there was no luck to be found. ‘I could run away and you could never find me,’ she breathed.

  ‘I would find you,’ he said.

  He was beating down her arguments, one by one, and Hannah’s head was spinning as she tried to imagine what marriage to such a man would mean. A few minutes ago, he had taken her in his arms and kissed her and she had let him. She had done much more than let him—and he was experienced enough to realise how much she wanted him. She might have had the presence of mind to pull away, but what if he approached her during one of those vulnerable moments which seemed to be on the increase? What then?

  Did she really imagine that a man like Kulal would be content to live a celibate life with his new bride?

  Lifting her gaze to his, she tried to keep her voice matter-of-fact, but she could feel colour creeping into her cheeks as she asked the all-important question. ‘If I were to agree to this...marriage.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘Do you mean a marriage in...in every sense of the word?’

  He seemed to find her discomfiture amusing. ‘There’s no need to look so terrified, Hannah—I won’t be chaining you to the bed and demanding my conjugal rights. Unless that’s your secret fantasy, of course.’ He gave the ghost of a smile. ‘The purpose of marriage is procreation and since we’ve achieved that without really trying, that just leaves sex. And we’re both adults. We both need that release. In fact, I think the sex could work very well between us, since neither of us are blinded by emotion.’

  ‘I can’t...’ She shook her head, shocked by the matter-of-fact way he had just come out and spoken about release. As if they were nothing but a pair of rutting animals. ‘I can’t think about that right now. It’s all such a lot to take in.’

  ‘Indeed it is. For both of us.’ His gaze grew thoughtful. ‘And you still haven’t given me your answer.’

  Hannah stared at him, knowing there was only one answer she could give him. Because she didn’t have the energy or the inclination to spend her life fighting all that royal power and might, not when she suspected that, ultimately, Kulal would win. ‘I will marry you, yes—to make our baby legitimate.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And if we find living together intolerable—what then?’

  ‘If we agree from the outset not to make unrealistic demands on each other, then I see no reason why we should find it intolerable.’

  ‘What kind of...unrealistic demands are you talking about?’

  His face darkened, his hawk-like features tautening into a forbidding mask. ‘I’m talking about love,’ he said harshly. ‘I don’t ever want your love, Hannah. Do you understand?’

  He said the word as if he had just sworn. As if it were a curse. And Hannah couldn’t decide whether to commend him for his honesty or chastise him for his arrogance. Did he just assume that every woman would end up falling in love with him, no matter how badly he treated them? ‘I don’t think there’s any danger of that, Kulal,’ she said. ‘But if we can’t make it work...’ she met the gleam of his eyes and said what needed to be said ‘...then I want your word that you will grant me my freedom and let me return to England.’

  Kulal felt a wave of pity as she looked at him, but he didn’t comment. Did she really think he would ever allow her to take his child out of the country? That he would meekly grant her the divorce she would no doubt demand? Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, he clenched his fists. He had never imagined he could feel this way about something which didn’t even exist, but when he thought about his unborn baby, something fierce licked at the solid ice which had always surrounded his heart. Fatherhood had been thrust upon him without warning and his response to it had taken him by surprise. Because he wanted this child, he realised. Wanted it with a fervour he had never known before.

  And this woman would not stand in his way.

  ‘We don’t have to think about that right now,’ he said silkily. ‘Let’s just get through the wedding, shall we?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE IMAGE WHICH stared back at her was strange and Hannah had never seen anything quite like it before. A woman clad entirely in a golden gown, the soft gleam emphasising the four-month curve of her fecund belly. The metallic shimmer looked more like armour than satin and her floaty veil of golden thread was held in place by a coronet of bright diamonds, which were fashioned to look like flowers.

  This is me, thought Hannah—except it doesn’t look like me.

  This was the last time she would stand in front of a mirror as a single woman. A last glimpse of the old Hannah, before she was taken into the vast throne room where Kulal and the rest of the wedding party were waiting for her so the ceremony could begin. And what a wedding party. A nervous shiver ran down her spine because the size of the congregation was daunting—more than that, all the guests seemed to be billionaires or royalty.

  Hannah reminded herself that she’d worked for these kinds of people ever since she’d been a rookie sixteen-year-old starting at the Granchester, and they were only flesh and blood—just like her. Even so, s
he didn’t usually socialise with political leaders and sultans or academics and sports stars. The only person she’d met before was Salvatore Di Luca, who had arrived at the palace the previous evening and greeted her with a warmth which felt manufactured. She wondered if he remembered her as the last-minute guest Kulal had taken to his fancy party and whether he secretly disapproved of their unlikely union.

  At least Zac Constantinides and his wife, Emma, had been unable to attend, and Hannah had felt nothing but relief when they’d cited a prior engagement in Zac’s native Greece. Imagine how embarrassing that would have been—saying her vows in front of the ex-boss who’d been forced to fire her. It was just unfortunate that his cousin Xan was present and that he and Tamsyn seemed to have had some kind of run-in during the rehearsal last night.

  She pleated her lips together as she made a final unnecessary adjustment to her veil, terrified Tamsyn was going to cause some kind of scene today. Because her little sister was on the rampage and making no attempt to hide her displeasure. Had Tamsyn guessed she was being railroaded into this marriage, despite her repeated assurances to the contrary? And was she determined to fight Hannah’s corner for her, as her big sister had done for her so many times in the past?

  But in the end, the choice Hannah had been forced to make had been a no-brainer.

  Marriage which would confer legitimacy on her unborn child.

  Or life as a struggling singleton, with the ever-present fear that Kulal might use his power and his influence to snatch her offspring away from her.

  The soft voice of one of the servants interrupted Hannah’s reverie with a gentle question. ‘You are ready, mistress?’

  Hannah nodded as she picked up the heavy spray of white hyacinth interwoven with juniper berries—both national flowers of Zahristan. Briefly, she lifted the blooms to her nostrils, closing her eyes as she inhaled the heady scent—and then the ornate double doors were opened and she walked into the crowded throne room.

  Hannah was aware of all eyes turning in her direction, but her self-consciousness dissolved the moment Kulal stepped towards her. Was it the fact that his eyes gleamed with what looked like approval, or was it the touch of his warm flesh as he brushed his hand over her cold fingers? Because in that moment, everyone else in the high-ceilinged chamber seemed to fade away as she focused her gaze on the man who would soon be her husband.

  Beneath her wedding dress, she felt the tight squeeze of her heart—for this was Kulal as she’d never seen him before, wearing the richly embellished robes he’d told her were traditional for a marrying sheikh. He looked so tall and formidable, his raven hair covered by a shimmering headdress and his hawk-like features set and tense. Against the olive gleam of his skin, his eyes were like black diamonds, but as she studied him more closely, Hannah wondered if she had imagined the pain which had briefly shadowed their depths.

  Was this ceremony bringing back memories she suspected he kept locked away? He’d told her that all Zahristan kings married within the walls of this ornate room, which meant that his parents must have made their vows here. Was he thinking of them now? Wishing they’d been here to witness the occasion? She’d asked him about his family last night, but his answers had been spare and unwilling, imparting only the most basic of facts. His parents were both dead, and he hadn’t seen his twin brother for many years. She’d started to ask why, but he had shut down her queries, telling her that the rehearsal was about to begin.

  As she stepped towards the velvet-covered kneeling stool, Hannah was aware of how little she knew about her future husband, but perhaps it was better this way. If she knew the answers, mightn’t she get freaked out by the enormity of what she was about to do?

  ‘You are ready?’ he said softly.

  She nodded, wondering how many more people were going to ask her that. Were they giving her a final opportunity to change her mind? To take her chances and go at it alone? But the time for that had passed. There was no point looking back and thinking about all the ‘might have beens’. Didn’t matter what had brought them to this moment—what mattered was how they dealt with it. She should be grateful that her child would never have to go hungry, as she had done. Or have to lie in bed at night, fearing eviction because the rent hadn’t been paid. Glad, too, that they would bear the name of their father.

  Hannah had always made the best of whatever situation she’d been in, so why not continue doing that now? Kulal had warned her not to love him, but there were plenty of workable alternatives to love. Couldn’t she learn to respect and to care for him, so that they could be decent parents to their child and something approaching friends to each other? Looking up into the glitter of the Sheikh’s eyes, she nodded.

  ‘I’m ready,’ she said and smiled.

  Kulal tensed as the look she slanted him made his heart kick. Today she seemed receptive, whereas last night at the rehearsal, she had seemed anxious. Glancing around and asking him questions he’d felt unable to deal with, when he was trying to organise one of the most spectacular weddings this desert region had seen in a decade. He could have opted for a more intimate service—some pared-down celebration which could be followed by a lavish party. But something inside him had baulked at that. He didn’t want something hushed up. Something which would carry echoes of the secrets and senselessness of the past.

  Was that the reason why he had evaded Hannah’s guileless queries about his late parents? Why he had mentioned his twin brother only in passing? Because what was the point in her knowing stuff—dark stuff—which might affect the way she viewed life here at the palace?

  But his heart still clenched as he acknowledged the empty space where his brother should have stood, on the opposite side of the gilded throne room. The runaway twin who had left his desert home at the earliest opportunity, never to return. His no-show today had come as no real surprise, though Kulal couldn’t deny the dull beat of disappointment. Had Haydar been shocked at his twin’s sudden decision to take a bride—a move which had been made clear when Kulal had confided that Hannah was pregnant? He had wondered whether the baby news would take some of the pressure off his brother, would make him forget about the unbearable reality of their own upbringing. Yet he had not succeeded and it seemed Haydar was determined to continue with his self-imposed exile from his homeland.

  But Kulal would not think of that today. He would think only of a duty which had been forced upon him and which he must now make the best of.

  He stared down at the top of Hannah’s head and the fine golden mesh which covered her shiny hair. In England, she had hinted that theirs might be a marriage in name only—but that was something he refused to countenance. Their union would be consummated, he decided grimly, because a satisfied woman was a compliant woman. He would keep her sweet until their child was born.

  And after that, she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

  He spoke his vows without emotion, hearing Hannah repeat hers through the English interpreter which had been provided by her embassy. He felt her hand tremble as he slid the gold and ruby ring on her finger and turned her huge aquamarine eyes to his.

  ‘You are now my wife,’ he said, and as the interpreter translated his words into English the entire international congregation broke into spontaneous applause. He saw the way her teeth slid into her bottom lip, in that way women sometimes had of expressing pleasure. Was she revelling in the fact that she now wore a priceless wedding band and people were bowing and curtseying to her? Was this marriage what she had wanted all along—and all that hesitation false? ‘Happy?’ he questioned, aware of people around them listening and feeling it his duty to echo the usual sentiments of the bridegroom.

  Looking up into Kulal’s black eyes, Hannah didn’t want to answer. She suspected he hadn’t forgotten the bright assertion she’d made that happiness was overrated—just as she suspected he had only asked the question because there were lots of people milling around them. But then he li
fted her fingers to his lips and kissed them, his gaze not leaving her face, and in that moment the truth became blurred. She felt a familiar warmth rush through her veins and, beneath the heavy gold dress, her nipples tightened. And suddenly it was easier to focus on the cravings of her body rather than the emptiness in her heart. If she concentrated on desire, which was starting to lick over her skin like a low-grade fever, rather than the fact that Kulal didn’t care for her, wasn’t it almost possible to feel the thing she didn’t really believe in?

  ‘Very happy,’ she said.

  His hawk-like features hardened and his eyes darkened. He moved his hand to her waist, his thumb softly stroking at the metallic indentation before propelling her towards a gilded anteroom, where silent servants were circulating with trays of drinks. ‘Then let’s do what we need to do,’ he said roughly. ‘Let’s play out this pantomime to the full until I can get you alone.’

  Hannah’s throat was dry with sudden nerves as she was introduced to guest after stellar guest, but it wasn’t social unease which was making her feel jittery. It was the unmistakable message of sexual intent which glittered from Kulal’s black eyes whenever he looked at her—which was a lot. Had she really been naïve enough to think that theirs might be a marriage in name only? She found herself wondering if it was obvious to everyone else that the desert King was looking on his new bride with unashamed lust.

  And that she was feeling exactly the same way about him.

  The wedding feast took place in an enormous dining gallery, with musicians playing a kind of dreamy music she’d never heard before. One elaborate course followed another—so many that Hannah lost count. But she only picked at the delicious fare, because her weighty golden gown didn’t exactly provide a lot of room for expansion. Nobody had actually mentioned her pregnancy—she supposed nobody would dare—but it must have been obvious to anyone, especially to the Zahristan dressmaker who had been dispatched to London to make her wedding gown.