There was a world of questions in Lucy’s eyes, any one of which he could pick and break her heart. ‘I have decided that this is the way forward,’ he said instead, planning his words carefully.
He had no reason to mistrust Lucy, not if he made himself remember her innocence at the chalet. So he was already considering the timing for acknowledging Lucy’s baby in public. He would sell the concept of an unmarried ruling Sheikh who already had a child to the older tribesman as proof of his fertility, turning disapproval into approval at a stroke. Yes, he was a cynic; business had made him that way. Before accepting the Phoenix throne he had founded an empire largely on his wits. For sure there had been no help from his father, the ruling Sheikh. Plus, he had vowed to revise the antiquated laws of Isla de Sinnebar, bringing them into line with the modern world—so this would be his first act and he would turn it into a positive act.
He would stop at nothing to make a better job of parenting than his own absentee parents, but he wanted the throne too—and not for selfish reasons, but because he knew he could bring progress and benefits to his people. With good management and careful husbandry of the land and indigenous species, Isla de Sinnebar would thrive. There would be justice for all, a first-class healthcare system and the best education his money could buy. This was both his goal and his passion. He existed for no other purpose than to serve Isla de Sinnebar. He had not bargained for the additional blessing of a child, but as he outlined his plans for Lucy he realised it wasn’t a question of wanting to take the child from her, but more a matter of security for both Lucy and their baby. He expected her to fight him when she heard his proposals. He expected her to feel disappointed that she couldn’t be anything more to him than the mother of his child, but he was confident she could only be reassured when he told her what he meant to do to secure her future.
Lucy listened as Razi spelled out her glittering new life. The biggest surprise of all was his intention to acknowledge their child. She was so stunned she didn’t hear everything he was saying and had to ask him to repeat things.
Her eyes widened with disbelief. She hadn’t come to Isla de Sinnebar for this. She was to have a wonderful home of her own choosing in England—a country estate with stables, if she liked. She would have an income appropriate for the mother of a royal child, and a private jet at her disposal so she could visit their child—within reason—whenever she wanted to. There was no mention of joint parenting—joint anything. It was a clean cut. It was a life according to the old saying—beyond the dreams of avarice—but greed she had none, just a longing for the family life she had always dreamed of, where children would thrive and grow in the full knowledge that they were loved. ‘You’re very generous,’ she said politely when Razi had finished laying out all the benefits that would accrue from being, not even a royal mistress, but a royal brood mare.
He made a casual gesture, as if paying a king’s ransom to keep her out of sight was more than worth it.
She couldn’t leave it here. She had to find a way to touch him. ‘And you, Razi—what part do you intend to play in our baby’s life?’
He looked at her as if she were mad. ‘A full part, of course.’
‘And you’ll have time for that? You’ll have time to be a full-time parent?’
He waved his hand dismissively. ‘You don’t understand the life I lead.’
‘Clearly.’
‘I have over a thousand staff working for me in Isla de Sinnebar alone.’
‘Staff,’ she said quietly. ‘Is that how you were brought up, Razi? By staff?’
She could not have predicted the look in his eyes. She could never have guessed they would fill with pain. She knew immediately the cause of Razi’s seething anger and her heart went out to him, but where her own child was concerned it did not soften her by one iota. Her baby was not going to suffer the same fate as its father—and if that meant there would have to be some big changes in her own life, so be it. ‘I’m going to stay,’ she said.
Razi could not have looked more shocked. ‘You can’t stay,’ he argued.
‘Of course I’ll stay,’ she insisted. ‘And I don’t need a big house—just somewhere safe where I can bring up my child happily. You can visit any time you like. I would never keep you from your baby, Razi, just as I would never expect you to deny me access to my child.’
He stared at her in silence. Was that because he couldn’t believe what she was offering? Lucy guessed she was very different from Razi’s mother. He might not have spelled out the details of his childhood—he didn’t have to: it was all there on his face. His mother had been compliant, she guessed, and most probably petted and pampered for falling into line. But then the old Sheikh had tired of her and she had been ignored.
Well, Lucy Tennant was prepared to do none of this. She would make her own way in life. ‘I’m offering to stay without condition or expectation,’ she explained when Razi remained silent. ‘With your permission, I imagine I’ll be allowed to open a restaurant.’
‘What?’ he cut across her.
‘A restaurant,’ she said patiently. ‘It seems the obvious thing.’
‘To you, maybe, but I cannot allow you to work.’
Lucy frowned. At a stroke Razi had forbidden her to have a career.
She must be reasonable, she warned herself. She could see that maybe she’d made a blunder—fronting a restaurant would be too high profile. ‘I could be a silent partner—I could run things from the kitchen without ever showing my face. We have to find a solution, Razi. We must. We have to make this work.’
As he stared at her he realised that before this moment he hadn’t believed a woman capable of a selfless act, but Lucy had proved him wrong. She had proved herself in so many ways even he didn’t think it was fair she had to continue doing so. It seemed some people were always fighting with their backs against the wall, while others had it handed to them on a plate. With Ra’id’s help he had fought his way up and there was nothing lacking in his life, while Lucy was completely at his mercy.
She stood facing him, expecting nothing, asking nothing. He touched her cheek almost reverently, growing increasingly aware of her sacred role. ‘I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.’
By whom? her steady gaze asked him.
‘Surely you can see the sense in my proposals?’ he demanded, tightening his grip on her arms.
He had not expected her eyes to fill with tears, but having all the strength and every advantage he let her go. ‘Don’t look so downcast. I’ll buy you two homes—one here and one in England, but you can’t work. It wouldn’t be—’
‘Appropriate?’ she supplied softly. ‘I haven’t come here looking for handouts, Razi. I don’t want anything from you in the material sense. All I ask is your promise never to part me from our child.’
‘And to change centuries of tradition?’
‘If women don’t work here, don’t you think you’re wasting a valuable resource? If traditions have been in place for centuries, maybe they’re due an update. Sorry,’ she said, seeing his face tense. ‘It’s really none of my business.’
As he stared at her he found himself wishing that it were her business.
Chapter Fourteen
RAZI shook his head in despair. At Lucy’s naivety at thinking he could change centuries of tradition? She only wished she could tell him everything in her heart: how she loved him, how she wanted him—and not for his power or for his wealth, or even his good looks, or for any of the other obvious advantages a man as deeply layered and endlessly fascinating as Razi possessed, but for the simple pleasure of being in his company. She couldn’t conceive of a palace grand enough or jewels big enough to compete with a glance from him when that glance was full of warmth and connection between them.
‘What if I promise never to part you from your child?’ he said. ‘Is that enough?’
‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
‘In that you are unique,’ he admitted, his lips tugging with just the faintes
t show of the old humour.
It might be all she’d ever wanted, but it wasn’t everything. She wanted Razi’s love too, but that was a fantasy too far. She settled for, ‘I promise I won’t embarrass you, Razi. I’ll live a quiet life out of the public eye. I’m not missing anything. I’ve always been a backroom girl with no idea about fashion or moving in society—’
He cut her off with a laugh that sounded achingly like Mac’s.
‘What’s so funny?’ She knew deep down inside. She would never be exposed to society, or have any need to learn about fashion; the life she had planned out—the future they had practically agreed on—included none of that. She would live somewhere in the country where he could visit discreetly.
She gasped as Razi cupped her chin and made her look at him. ‘I’m laughing because you’re funny,’ he said, his glance slipping from her eyes to her lips. ‘Your ideas are funny. Your notion of how I live and what’s important to me is so far off the mark, it’s funny.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’
A world of possibilities opened up as Razi’s thumb caressed her jaw. She could do this…She could do just about anything to be with him…
Razi’s smile was slow, and confident enough to make her believe anything was possible. Her breath sounded ragged in the silence as she waited, suspended somewhere between hoping things were changing and knowing deep down they could never change enough to make all of her dreams come true.
She was right. The tension between them subsided and he let her go. His next words proved that while she had been desperate to believe in a fantasy Razi’s quick mind had covered all the bases. Every conceivable facility would be made ready for the expectant mother of the royal child. Lucy and her baby would want for nothing. Name it, and she could have it. If she preferred a different consultant—a different nursing team—anything—everything—too much of everything—was hers for the asking, while the one thing she wanted and longed for so badly, which was a normal family life, could never be hers. But as her emotions welled, so did her longing for Razi—one more night of pretending they could be together and she could cope with anything. One night of love to last a lifetime didn’t seem so greedy. One more night of knowing how it felt to be loved…
With his senses so keenly tuned to Lucy he knew almost before she did when she surrendered her ideas to his. He was still coming to terms with the miracle of new life and the fact that Lucy was carrying his child and felt a great sense of wonder. There was also the urge to stake his claim again.
‘This is crazy,’ she murmured, shivering with desire as his lips brushed her mouth.
‘That’s the weakest protest I ever heard,’ he observed, slowly backing her towards the entrance to the pavilion.
‘I must be crazy,’ she protested, reaching up to rest her hands on his shoulders.
‘A little crazy goes a long way with me,’ he murmured, giving her waist a reassuring squeeze.
Razi lowered her onto cushions that supported her frame and yet moulded themselves to her body in the most comfortable way. The curtain over the entrance was still drawn back to allow streamers of moonlight to decorate their cushioned bed. The interior of the pavilion was shaded and lit by two brass oil lamps and an incense burner. She was surrounded in a haze of delicious scent and refreshing night-time breezes kept her cool, but even in Razi’s arms she was restless. There was so much to be decided yet and maybe this was a mistake. ‘This is wrong.’
‘Wrong?’ Razi murmured against her mouth. Removing her ugly robe, he tossed it aside. ‘There’s nothing wrong with this,’ he said, shooting a wicked glance down the length of her body.
Just one more night…
It was as if all the humour and worldliness that had once drawn her to him was back. There were no divisions between them now, just the gasping, pleading sounds she was making as Razi rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her slowly, deeply, until her anxiety subsided and all thoughts of tomorrow disappeared.
‘I’m almost frightened to touch you now you’re carrying my child,’ he murmured, kissing the tender place on her neck and then her collarbone, before travelling down to tug and tease her painfully engorged nipples, before moving on to lave her belly with his tongue. ‘Almost,’ he added in a wry murmur when she groaned in complaint. He proved this by working his magic on her swollen lips with delicate raids of his tongue. ‘You taste different—fuller, richer, sweeter…’
And she was almost frantic with desire. How she longed to be full of him, stretched by him…loved by him. Where she had hungered for sensation, Lucy realised, now what she hungered for was closeness, reassurance and love.
Springing to his feet, Razi kicked off his boots and unfastened his jeans and as he eased them over his lean hips she realised she had forgotten how beautiful he was—how magnificent. And when he tugged his top over his head, exposing his naked, hard-muscled torso with the rampant lion tattooed in black ink whorls on hard bronze flesh, she wondered if ever a man had been born who was quite so perfect…perfect for her.
She reached for him as he lay beside her, caressing his face, loving the sharp black stubble that could bring her so much pleasure and so much pain, and dropping kisses on his mouth as his erection, huge and hard, pulsed impatiently against her thighs.
‘Slowly, carefully,’ he murmured, moving on top of her.
How to tell him that pregnancy had made her hungrier for him than ever and that thanks to the riot of hormones in her body every nerve ending seemed to have received a super-charge of sensation and appetite? Or that some basic need—the need to claim her mate, perhaps—had made her leave her inhibitions at the door? That, together with her need for reassurance, meant there wasn’t a moment to lose—she didn’t want him carefully and slowly; she wanted him fiercely and now.
She should have remembered Razi’s self-control. She might want to remember Razi’s resolve and self-control in all future dealings with him, was her last thought before he made all rational thought impossible.
He claimed her slowly and carefully, resisting Lucy’s best efforts to urge him on. This was different—she was different, she felt different, just as she had tasted different. Her body was ripe, unique, welcoming, adding both to his desire and to his sense of privilege. He felt possessive too, and with so much sensation going on, his mind went into freefall. He reined back, wanting to please her. Pleasing Lucy was his only goal. She was carrying his child and this was his way of saying thank you.
She had never felt closer to another human being than she felt to Razi that night as they lay, limbs entwined, in the middle of the night. Would they ever get enough of each other? It seemed unlikely. So what was she saying? What was he saying? Would she stay on in Isla de Sinnebar as his mistress and the mother of his child? Could Razi accept her terms? Did she have any right to state them? Her wish to live simply and out of the public eye—was that even possible here? Knowing Razi’s intention to run his country like a business beyond blame, would the world’s media seize on the new ruler’s peccadillo and flaunt their child, leading to endless problems for her baby in the future?
Leaning on her elbow, Lucy fretted as she watched Razi sleeping. If only this were a fantasy she could make every part of it right. He was sprawled on his back with his long, muscular limbs taking up every inch of available space. He looked so beautiful and so peaceful…She traced the line of his lips with her fingertip, pulling her hand away when he turned his head slightly. Now she could see the sweep of jet-black eyelashes casting a blue-black shadow on his sculpted cheeks, and eyebrows that swept upwards like a fiery tartar, or a pirate king…
Razi was a stunning-looking man, but she could never forget he was a king. She traced the tattoo, the symbol of his country, which he had chosen to have indelibly inscribed over his heart. Was there room left in that heart for anyone, woman or child? A shiver gripped her as she thought about it and all her contentment flew away. Razi wasn’t just a man
she had fallen deeply in love with, he was the ruler of a country. And she was a cook—shortly to become the mother of his child, and, though she might fight with everything in her for her child’s right to live free from any taint of shame she could bring it, could any royal child be truly free? Privilege was a poor return for freedom, at least in Lucy’s value structure.
Now there was no hope of sleeping. Settling back on the cushions, she turned one last time to drink him in. ‘I love you.’ How she wished there were more meaningful words to express her feelings for Razi. ‘I adore you,’ she whispered, and even that didn’t come close.
He stirred in his sleep, and, realising her restlessness was disturbing him, Lucy gently disentangled herself and crept silently away.
He stirred and realised Lucy was gone. He was on his feet in an instant, instinct telling him she was swimming in the lagoon, and while swimming at dusk with him when there was light was one thing, swimming in the dead of night when a cloud might cover the moon and she could misjudge the depth—
The thought that anything could happen propelled him out of the pavilion with one thing on his mind: Lucy—to hold her safely in his arms; to make love to her.
The water was like iced silk on her burning skin, and it was sweet and clear. There was firm sand beneath her feet as she plunged deep, loving the sensation of cold against her heated body. She barely had chance to clear her head with a single, lazy lap before she realised she wasn’t alone and that Razi was swimming powerfully towards her. Slicing through the water, it took him no time to secure her in his grasp.
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