Sheikh's Accidental Baby

by Ella Brooke

  “You would?”

  Omara nodded. “I protect everyone in this palace from his wrath. He was not a well-loved ruler, but I know that Sirhan has Adira’s heart, her soul. He’s been a wise ruler so far, despite his youth, and I know he can lead Dubaya to true greatness. He only needs the right companion by his side.”

  “I don’t think I could compare to a real princess. God, I’m just me and I’m someone who made a spectacular mistake, got fired, and then flew half a world away to chase the confusion. I’m not even pretty.”

  “I think Sirhan disagrees on this point as well,” Omara said archly.

  “You know I’m not some legendary beauty of the Middle East.”

  “Perhaps, but there is much to be desired in you, and, if he’s the boy I helped raise, he also sees your heart. Azah is gorgeous but vain. You are enchanting, and I suspect you are kind, especially in your concern for your family. If that can be extended to your subjects then you, Miss Saunders, will be a formidable sheikha.”

  She blinked back at the older servant, sure she had to have heard Omara wrong.

  “Sheikha? I could never… That’s not who I am. It’s more than I could ever dream of!”

  Omara chuckled and dropped her hands from Tiffany’s shoulders. Then she gestured to the great expanse of the library around them. “Isn’t this more than you imagined too? Follow your heart, my dear. It steers us all and those who suffer are always the ones who deny it.”

  ***

  Tiffany had finished her chores for the morning. Compared to the workload she had at The Cambrian, and just about every other job she’d held, the workload at the palace was light. It could be because in addition to her and to Omara, Sirhan had a plethora of servants. It could also be that, while there were certain duties she agreed to fulfill in addition to the job and the coverage of her father’s health needs, Tiffany wasn’t that needed around the palace. It had more than enough staff already.

  Still, she was done with her tasks by noon, and as a treat to herself she decided to get some sun in one of the exquisite gardens that crept over the palace grounds. It was obvious that Sirhan, or someone in his family, loved flora. The dry, dusty temperatures of Dubaya wouldn’t have supported such lush surrounding without an army of gardeners and serious investment in irrigation. It felt like magic, to be in an oasis surrounded by wisteria and lilacs.

  She lie back on the grass and took in another deep breath, reveling in the soothing scent of the flowers around her.

  “Well, my Tiger, you seem rested.”

  She swallowed and looked up at Sirhan, not yet sure of what to say. On the one hand, Omara’s talk had helped her a little. After speaking with the older woman, Tiffany had been convinced to give the sheikh a chance; to try and get the full story from him about his engagements to Princess Azah. Now, though, staring at him with his chiseled jaw and god-like features, Tiffany suddenly felt very plain. After all, she was just a servant — and an American at that. If he was betrothed to a princess, she could never compete with that.

  “Hello, Sheikh Hakim,” she said, standing up and giving him a little bow.

  The cheeky smile fell from Sirhan’s lips immediately. “You don’t have to be formal with me. In fact, I think we’ve been quite informal already.”

  She shook her head but kept her eyes downcast. Sirhan wasn’t wrong about her temper, her tiger-like tendencies. Usually, she pounced on everything and gave back as good as she got it. However, his father’s words still burned. The last thing she wanted to be was some kind of homewrecker or some pawn in whatever power struggle Sirhan was having with his father.

  “Yeah, I know we had a hell of a start, and I’m so grateful for you helping with my father’s chemo treatments.”

  “Then why does it feel like you’re brushing me aside?” he asked, even as he reached over to trace his fingers underneath her chin.

  Once he tilted her head upward, Tiffany was forced to look into his eyes; to see those deep, pensive pools that threatened to draw her down forever. It was always far too easy to say yes to him.

  “I’m not, but are you really engaged? I know what Omara said, that it’s been some ancient tradition and it’s all a family and political alliance set up from when you were a kid, but still… That must mean something, right? I don’t want to ruin the relationship between Dubaya and Qutaria. If you care about Princess Azah, I don’t want to be some side piece either!”

  Sirhan drew her into an embrace, his breath warm on her cheek and his spicy, saffron-and-cinnamon scent more than she could bear. “I’ve met Azah about six times in my life, and the last time was four years ago at a state function. Our fathers have planned this for decades, and, while she seems polite enough when we’re forced to interact, neither of us love or even know each other. When I was a young man, I had to go along with it, but I haven’t even laid eyes on her since I took over from my father. Now that I make the rules, I promise you, the last thing I want is to be forced into some fake political marriage. I’ve seen the damage those do.” His expression darkened, and he stopped talking for a minute. Tiffany didn’t want to pry. However he knew that political marriages were painful, it was from personal and excruciating experience. That much she could tell.

  “And I’m just the maid, right? We had something for a few minutes at The Cambrian when I was… weak. Now I’m here for an honest day’s work, right?”

  He leaned in closer to her and kissed her cheek. Traitorous heat flared in Tiffany’s belly, and she was already having such a hard time sorting her thoughts and feelings. The flames of attraction licking over her would only make her thoughts more muddled.

  It was as if Sirhan knew it and couldn’t stop smiling back at her. “You can have whatever you want. I brought you here to make amends for costing you job and to help you with your father. That’s never changed and never will, but if you don’t want to be a maid, you don’t have to be. The truth is I want you, Tiger, and I have since the moment you spoke back to me. There’s never been a woman who’s had such fire around me, such passion, and I can’t resist you.”

  She blushed, feeling the heat flush under her skin and all the way to the tips of her ears. Yes, she was outspoken and that had gotten her in trouble with supervisors before, even in other jobs before Switzerland, but to hear that was one of the main reasons Sirhan liked her was intriguing.

  “I thought you wanted to be catered to? Isn’t that what being a sheikh is about? You give the orders and everyone else responds automatically?”

  “I do, and they do, but it’s boring,” Sirhan said as he stroked the hair back from her face. “I’m not bragging or trying to make you feel poorly, but I do have to be honest. In my life, women fall at my feet, but it’s because they want something.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, and they say and do whatever they think I want when all I wish was that they’d have a damn spine once in a while and be honest with me. You do that, Tiger. You have a spirit that I don’t even think you fully realize about yourself yet. So, this is the truth as I see it: I want you and I’ve barely had a chance to taste you.”

  “I’d call what happened in the pool more than just a ‘taste,’” Tiffany objected.

  “It was nothing. I want to make you scream, Tiger, want to make you feel as you’ve never felt before.” He dipped his head lower so that she could feel the heat of his breath flush against her earlobe. “I need to feel myself inside you, too. But first...”

  “What?” she asked, her voice shaking and her knees wobbling underneath her.

  The thought of another night of passion with Sirhan had been on her mind since their first encounter, no matter how badly it had ended. His tongue was masterful; she couldn’t even imagine what the rest of him would feel like.

  He stepped back and she almost wanted to moan her frustration. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”

  Chapter Seven

  She changed from her lilac kaftan uniform into something she knew that Sirhan had to have left for h
er. It was still traditional garb, but something more revealing than Tiffany would have picked out for herself. As she entered the restaurant, Tiffany was decked out in free-flowing, rose-hued pants that looked a bit like something the genie from Aladdin or M.C. Hammer would have favored. Instead of a long top, however, Sirhan had picked out a jewel-encrusted bandolier, something that covered more than a bikini top would have but still left a wide expanse of her pale abdomen exposed. When she’d first tried it on, Tiffany had almost decided she wouldn’t come out of her room. There was no way a girl with her extra curves should wear something so revealing. Then Sirhan had walked in and that wide, hungry look in his eyes left her reeling.

  Who knew she could do that to anyone? Maybe she really could be that tigress he saw her as.

  The restaurant was one of the nicest in the capital city, which was immediately apparent from the fine crystal set out on the table, the ornate overhanging chandeliers and the staff wearing tuxes at only 2 p.m. The smells of Dubaya hit her as soon as they stepped into the restaurant — the sweet teases of dates, the sharper scent of turmeric, and even the spicy aroma of garlic and onion that made her eyes water slightly. They set the stage alongside the luxurious silks draped from the vaulted ceilings as well as the array of bright silk throw pillows set around private rugs and mats.

  She arched an eyebrow at Sirhan as they were led back to a private corner of the restaurant. “Is there something I don’t know about?”

  “Some of the best restaurants like to adapt an ode to some of our Bedouin roots. In this case, The Alhambra sets it up so that we’re on the floor.”

  “Wow. That’s new for me. I mean, it’s always so different. I thought I’d seen so much when I was bumming around Europe, but when we’re together, you keep surprising me.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I hope to continue to do that, Tiger.”

  The little man sat them down at their soft Persian rug and then talked animatedly with Sirhan for a few moments before hurrying away.

  She quirked her head back at her date, at her sheikh. “So, I have a feeling I’m not getting a menu.”

  “I asked for a special meal yesterday; some of the delicacies of Dubaya.”

  “There’s nothing like camel meat, is there?”

  “No, but there is the cheek and eyeball of well-cooked lamb, but I understand if the cheek is too much of a change of pace. I will say that it’s always the softest meat.”

  She gaped at him, unsure if he was serious or kidding. Then she blushed, realizing her “American” was showing. She’d tried tons of wild things in every country from Bulgaria to Italy. If she could do beet soup or calamari, she could be game and try any part of the lamb that Sirhan threw her way.

  “Wow, that’s direct.”

  “I promise that not every day will be filled with the ins and outs of Dubayan culture, but I thought that you might want to try. You’re new here, and you haven’t seen anything outside of the palace.”

  She chuckled even as another waiter set tea and sugar before her. Tiffany mixed her own cup with enough milk and sugar to downgrade the tea to milkshake territory. “The palace covers its own zip code — or it would in the States. I think I could be there for years and never see all of it.”

  “Oh, you could. I’ve lived there my whole life and I’m sure there are rooms I’ve never seen. Add in the fact my grandfather always swore there were ancient dungeons and secret passages, and I know I’ve been remiss in trying to find everything.” Sirhan nodded as another member of the staff set out hummus and pita as well as dates and honey. “Well, some of our meal has already started. Would you like some dates?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  Tiffany was about to lean over and collect a few for her plate when Sirhan gently pushed both of her hands aside. Instead, he picked up a date and lowered it to her lips. At first she froze, not believing that this was happening. It was so far out of the sphere of her normal life, but so had everything in the last few weeks. She’d never been pampered like this before.

  “You want to do everything yourself, Tiger?” he teased, his voice a low purr.

  That rumble from him made her belly flare with warmth all over again, and she blushed. “Sometimes, I think, that doing everything by yourself can be incredibly lonely.”

  “Well there are things I hated doing alone last night. I can tell you that for sure, Tiffany.”

  She swallowed hard at the way he said her name, almost as if it were a foul litany, a dirty prayer toward the wanton gods of passion. How could he almost leave her orgasming with just his words? She’d met sexy men before. Some of the richest and most elite in Europe came to The Cambrian, but no man had ever affected her the way that Sirhan did. To make it worse, he seemed to need no effort to come off as the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. Perhaps it was just a natural gift.

  “I just… Sure, you can feed me,” she agreed.

  The sweet taste of the date filled her mouth as soon as he slipped it in. She flicked at it with her tongue, more out of instinct than of any desire to flirt, yet the effect had to be the same because Sirhan’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he closed his eyes for a long moment. Then she moved things along and bit into the date properly. It was succulent and exquisite

  , and made her excited for whatever other delicacies Sirhan had arranged for the day.

  “Are you going to feed everything to me?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light and to strive for levity. “I dunno if we’ll ever get through lunch if we do it that way.”

  “But maybe I want to take everything slowly, build up your pleasure, my Tiger.”

  She chuckled. “That all sounds great until they turn the lights out on us.”

  He offered her another date and she bit into it, mewling a bit as the sweet honey it was dipped in slid down her throat. “See, that’s exactly how I wish to see you.”

  Tiffany blushed and licked her lips. Okay, so maybe she was also a bit — just a tiny bit — gratified to see Sirhan adjust the way he was sitting. “Is this why you reserved us a private corner?”

  “I like privacy, and it allows for my palace guard to be outside this side room. There’s always security to be aware of.”

  Her eyes widened. “I didn’t even hear them follow us.”

  “Of course not,” Sirhan said, gesturing at the flaps of fabric around them. “My men are good at being discreet, and I felt if we were in the main area with a flank of half a dozen security agents, it might kill the mood.”

  She chuckled. “I think it would. You might be used to having your every move watched, but I’m sort of the opposite. I mean, when you’re the maid, no one pays attention to you. You put on something grey or dark, keep your head down, and slip in and out. People only notice you if you screw up. So, the idea of having the eyes of a whole nation on me kind of blows my mind.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think all of Dubaya watches me. Obviously the entourage draws its own attention, but you get used to it.”

  She sighed and leaned back against her pillow. “Maybe, but you have such an extreme world. I don’t even know if you see it. Where I come from, you don’t get a whole restaurant to shut off a part of its dining rooms just for you. Ditto on I assume well-armed guards flanking you in case of assassination. All of it is more overwhelming than I could ever imagine.”

  “Well, I could ask the guards to maybe move back a few more meters from our flaps,” he said.

  Tiffany shook her head and then sipped her tea. “I think we’re really different, and that kind of scares me. You have betrothals that have literal political alliances linked to them, guards, and a palace the size of Connecticut. A month ago I was just trying to figure out how to make a go of it on minimum wage.”

  “Yet,” he said, grabbing her hand, and the warmth flowed further through her, down all her limbs and even to her feet. “We have what matters in common. We don’t take lies from others, we call things as we see them. You understand that fear and frustration of dealing with
something you can’t fight.”

  She smiled back at him and curled into his offered embrace. “I can fight it… My dad can fight it, or at least now he has a chance with your funding.”

  “But it doesn’t guarantee anything. Your father is better off than my mother, they found it earlier and there are always advancements over a decade or more of time. Still, it’s such a hard enemy to fight. You can’t just count on anything. That’s what I hated about my mother’s death. I’m supposed to have all this money and power. I have a whole army, but in the end that didn’t matter.” Sirhan looked back into her eyes. “And that’s what matters to me too, Tiger. If you strip the different countries and the wealth and the superficial things away, we understand each other. I think that means quite a lot.”

  She wanted to say something, to let him know she felt this magnetic pull too, but she still wasn’t sure what any of it meant. They’d been thrown together so fast over extreme emotions and situations and, yet, he was right. He understood her current pain and frustration better than almost anyone else on Earth could. Sirhan was someone she could confide in, someone who wouldn’t offer well-meaning platitudes but would just work to shoulder her fears as well.

  Still, Tiffany couldn’t be sure where this would all go, especially with Azah in the background. The former Sheikh Hakim seemed adamant that the marriage would take place. Yes, Sirhan was in charge now, but what if Duman had machinations? What if he had other plans? The truth was, she wanted to be just a girl who found a man who understood her and could help her through the greatest fear in her life, but there were so many other factors between them.

  This wasn’t like a normal relationship. Tiffany would have to guard her heart and remember that.

  Sirhan forced himself to stay smiling. “I won’t ask you to say or do anything you don’t want to.”