by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
Farid sucked in a gasp of shock. Pregnant? How was that possible? He couldn't remember a time when she'd been out of his sight. When had she had the opportunity to meet privately with Desmond Caruso … privately enough to make love?
Had Farid been less than vigilant in his duties? Had there been a time when Princess Samira had been out of his sight? "How … when?"
"Don't look so worried," she said dryly, finally managing to get her tears under control. She swiped quickly at her eyes with the back of one hand, then looked at him. "It happened before my father assigned you to me. It was when Desmond came to Tamir for Hassan's wedding."
Although her words did nothing to alleviate the problem, a small wave of relief swept through Farid. At least he knew he hadn't fallen down in his duties. "Then we must return to Tamir immediately and speak to your father," he said. "He and your mother should know about this."
"No!" she said emphatically. She left the window and walked quickly to stand before him. She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Please, Farid, we can't tell my father. You know how old-fashioned he and my mother are. He'll force Desmond to marry me … or he'll arrange a marriage to the son of one of his friends and I'll just die if that happens."
She looked so small, so achingly vulnerable with her full lower lip quivering and her beautiful eyes luminous with new tears. A wave of protectiveness surged through him, and he wanted nothing more than to physically pound Desmond Caruso to the ground.
The man had obviously taken advantage of Samira's naïveté, manipulated her emotions and abused her innocence.
Farid knew she was right. Sheik Ahmed would not tolerate this kind of dishonor and would demand an instant remedy. And the remedy would, in all probability, be marriage to Desmond Caruso. If Caruso refused, new tensions would arise between the countries of Tamir and Montebello. At the moment the two countries were enjoying relatively good relations, but something like this could destroy the tenuous peace.
She released his hand and once again sank to the sofa. With one hand she traced the gold threads that accented the blue sofa material. "I will not marry that man. I hope … I pray I never, ever have to see him again."
He sat next to her, keeping a respectful distance and trying to ignore her spicy perfumed scent. He frowned, trying to find a solution to the mess Samira found herself in. "Perhaps there is a young man you are fond of, somebody you wouldn't mind being married to."
She shook her head. "There is nobody. You know I don't date often."
It was true, in the months since he'd been her bodyguard she hadn't had one date, although she had an active social life with friends.
He watched her trembling fingers tracing the golden threads of the armrest. She had long, delicate fingers, with nails painted a pale pearly pink. For some inexplicable reason, the sight of those feminine fingernails sent a new burst of protectiveness through him.
His princess was in trouble, and it was his duty to keep her safe. If she returned to Tamir pregnant and unmarried, there would be a scandal. The tabloids would have a field day with the news.
He stared at the wall opposite the sofa and thought of the vow he'd made both to himself and to Sheik Ahmed when he'd first come to work for the Kamal family twelve years earlier as a twenty-year-old man.
He had pledged his heart, his soul and his very life to protecting the Kamal family and that meant protecting them from scandal as well as from any physical harm.
And if that pledge hadn't been enough to make him do what he was about to do, then a promise he'd made seven months ago was enough … a promise made to a man now dead, a man he'd known for far too brief a time.
He looked back at Samira. It was his duty – perhaps his destiny – to take care of this situation. "If you refuse to tell your parents the truth, then there is only one other alternative that will make everything all right."
Her gaze was suddenly hopeful as she looked at him. "What?"
He didn't love her, didn't even believe in love. He didn't really know her well at all, but knew none of that mattered. He did know she was a good woman, a woman whom others came to for advice, a woman respected for having a soft heart and a listener's ear.
But none of that really mattered, either. He had to think about what was best not only for her, but for the child she carried.
"The answer is really quite simple," he said. "Marry me."
* * *
Samira stared at her handsome bodyguard, stunned by what he'd just offered. Impossible, she thought instantly, but, in the back of her mind she knew that marrying Farid would certainly alleviate some of the scandal that was certain to blossom when news of her pregnancy got out.
If she had the baby out of wedlock, not only would it be fodder for the gossipmongers and tabloids, it would also be a poor reflection on her parents.
Tears once again burned her eyes as she thought of her parents. They would be appalled by her lack of judgment, and she feared her father's legendary temper.
Marry Farid?
I wanted to marry for love , her heart cried out. All her life she'd embraced a fantasy of love that she'd believed one day would come true.
She knew nothing about Farid Nasir except that her father trusted him with her life.
Tears once again filled her eyes, and she swiped at them with two fingers. She'd always dreamed of a marriage proposal, but in her dreams it had been quite different.
Casting a surreptitious gaze at Farid, she wondered if it was possible that he cared about her just a little. Was it possible that during the past two and a half months, he'd secretly fallen a little bit in love with her?
Don't be stupid, she chided herself inwardly. It was impossible to read him by merely looking at him. His facial features were as stoic as ever.
"I … I don't know what to say," she finally managed.
"It's a good plan," Farid said. "I realize I am but a mere servant and not worthy of a princess's hand in marriage—"
Although he said the words, there was a touch of arrogance to his tone that made Samira think that he truly believed he was more than worthy of a princess' s hand.
He continued "—but I'll do whatever it takes to save you from disgrace, to protect the good name of your father and the crown. It is my job … my duty."
A new wave of despair swept through her. Of course, she should have known his offer of marriage had nothing to do with his heart and everything to do with duty.
She was fairly certain Farid Nasir had no heart. And as far as she was concerned, marrying him simply wasn't a viable option.
"Thank you, Farid." She looked down at her hands in her lap. "I'm sure my father would be pleased by your obvious devotion to him and the crown, but I cannot accept your proposal."
His dark brows rose up in obvious surprise. "What I am suggesting is a marriage in name only," he said. "Of course there would be no … no intimacy between us. The marriage would be for the benefit of the child you carry, and for the sake of your honor."
She wondered if Farid had ever made love with a woman. Didn't lovemaking require some sort of feelings, some sort of emotions? She couldn't imagine Farid experiencing any sort of heightened emotions or passion that might lead to a bout of lovemaking.
"A marriage between us just isn't the solution," she said.
"Then what is the solution?"
She looked up and met his dark, brooding eyes. If she'd seen any hint of softness there, any sign of even the smallest affection or emotion of any kind, she might have relented.
But there was nothing there, and she once again looked down at her hands as she rolled his question around in her head. "I don't know," she replied softly. "I think what I need is to go to bed and sleep on it."
She was suddenly exhausted. What had begun as a trip of joy and expectation had suddenly become a study in heartache, the like of which she'd never suffered before.
She stood, and Farid did the same. "Before you go into the bedroom, I need to replace the screen in the window frame." She nod
ded and sat back down on the sofa as he disappeared into the bedroom.
He returned a few minutes later and stood rigidly at one side of the sofa. "Can I be assured that you won't slip out the window again?" he asked, his voice laced with the heavy displeasure her previous escape had apparently provoked in him.
"Trust me, you don't have to worry about me sneaking away from you ever again. Good night, Farid." She had almost reached the bedroom door when he called to her. She turned back to face him.
"The marriage proposal still stands," he said. "You will need somebody to take care of you and the child."
She wanted to protest, to say that she would be fine all by herself, but instead she just nodded, then escaped into the bedroom before tears could once again fall from her overburdened heart.
It took her only a few minutes to unpack and change into her long, silky nightgown. Then she stood in the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Pregnant. She was pregnant, and the man who was the father of the baby, the man she'd thought loved her above all others, was nothing but a snake in the grass.
He'd held her in his arms and lied to her. He'd stroked her naked body and lied to her. Every kiss, every caress and every promise had been a lie.
The promises he had made … she sighed miserably as she thought of the future Desmond had painted with his lies. He'd spoken of a house and a family, of children's laughter and passion-filled nights.
It had been the kind of future she'd dreamed of since she'd been a young child, the kind of future she'd longed for as a young woman. Lies. All lies.
She placed her hand on her tummy, where there wasn't as yet any telltale pouch, no indication whatsoever of the little soul growing within.
The obvious solution was a quiet, discreet abortion, but as far as Samira was concerned, that wasn't an option at all. She'd been raised to revere life, and no matter what she now thought of Desmond Caruso, she already loved the baby inside her with a fierceness that surprised even herself.
She left the bathroom, turned out all the lights and climbed beneath the soft, luxurious sheets of the king-size bed. Lying on her side facing the window, she could see the moon in the sky.
Where before the fat silvery orb had appeared to her to be a lover's moon, now it mocked her with its beauty. How could she tell her parents what she had done? How foolish she had been?
She could never tell them the name of the man who had impregnated her. She knew without a doubt her father would either see her married to Desmond, or have his head on a platter.
She wanted neither. She just wanted to forget Desmond Caruso. She sighed and forced her eyes to close. Nor did she want to marry Farid. She couldn't imagine being married even in name only to such a cold, emotionless man.
She didn't know what she wanted. In the best of worlds she would have arrived here in Montebello and delivered the news of her pregnancy to Desmond, who would have taken her in his arms and eagerly, joyously demanded they marry immediately.
She thought again of Farid and his impromptu proposal. A marriage in name only, undertaken to alleviate any scandal to the crown. She could never agree to such an arrangement. She'd always wanted more for herself than a loveless marriage.
Tears oozed from beneath her eyelids. She could not so easily give up her dreams of being loved by a special man, of creating the kind of family she'd been raised in … a family bred in love.
No, she would not accept Farid's offer of marriage, but she also had no idea what, exactly, she was going to do. At the moment, it seemed that all she could do was cry.
* * *
She awakened to morning light dancing in through the window and it took her several seconds to orient herself. She wasn't in her familiar bed in her room in the palace in Tamir. She was in a guest house in Montebello … pregnant and unwanted by the man she'd thought she'd loved, the man she'd thought loved her.
Amazing how quickly betrayal could transform feelings of love into something different, she thought. This morning, rather than heartache, she felt a growing edge of anger. How dare Desmond Caruso play games with her head … with her heart?
Her anger was not only directed at the man who had betrayed her, but at herself as well. How could she have been so stupid?
She sat up quickly and instantly flopped back down as a wave of nausea swept through her. It was not unfamiliar. The morning sickness had begun the week before, which had prompted her to take a pregnancy test … the test that had told her her time with Desmond had not been without consequence.
Knowing from experience that the nausea would pass in a few minutes, she simply remained still, letting her mind flow free over the events of the past twenty-four hours.
She'd always known that, as a Princess of Tamir, she might be sought out only for her position and wealth and not for herself as a woman. But she'd always believed she'd know the difference between a man who was coveting a closeness to the crown and a man who wanted to capture her heart.
Desmond had fooled her completely, and the thought of how easily she'd been fooled left a bad taste in her mouth.
Dismissing him from her mind, she focused on the room where she had slept. She'd paid little attention to it the night before, and now looked around with interest.
As with the living room, the dominant colors of the bedroom were blue and gold. Thick royal-blue curtains hung at the window, held open by braided gold tiebacks. The furniture was a light wood, graceful and unobtrusive, as if refusing to compete with the beauty of the intricately designed, sumptuous bedspread and the Oriental rug that looked far too beautiful to walk upon.
She sat up slowly, tired of the bed and of her own thoughts. She knew it was probably after ten by the cast of the sunshine from the window. The nausea was gone, so she got out of bed and padded into the bathroom.
She took a long, hot shower, luxuriating in the energizing hard spray of water, then dressed in a short-sleeved, long cotton dress. She had brought both Western and traditional Tamir clothing with her, but opted for the simplicity of the dress.
By the time she had dressed and left her bedroom, a bit of her normal optimism had returned. Somehow, someway, she'd come up with a solution to her dilemma. All she needed was a little time.
Farid was seated on the sofa as she walked into the living room. He sprang to his feet as she entered, and she waved him back down.
"Don't you ever relax?" she asked with a sudden edge of irritation. The man looked as tightly coiled as a cobra ready to spring. Clad in his usual attire of a crisp white shirt, navy dress slacks and a suit jacket with the Tamir family crest on the pocket, there was no way he could be mistaken for anything other than what he was … a bodyguard.
"Never when I'm on duty," he replied. "Coffee and a basket of bread and rolls were delivered a little while ago. Would you like me to pour you some coffee or perhaps order something more substantial for your breakfast?"
"No, thank you." She knew better than to try coffee first thing in the morning. She was better off keeping her stomach empty until after noon.
"I made some phone calls this morning and the jet can be readied at a moment's notice for the return trip to Tamir," he said.
"I'm not returning home today," she said and sat down on the sofa. She picked an apple from the fruit bowl in the center of the coffee table and ran her fingertips across the firm, shiny red skin.
"With all due respect, Princess, putting off the inevitable changes nothing."
She wasn't sure why, but the calm reason in his voice only served to spark another dose of irritation.
"I came to Montebello for a week of vacation. I intend to stay the week … perhaps even longer."
He gave her a curt bow, his handsome features reflecting nothing. "As you wish."
She put the apple back in the bowl and gazed up at him. "You know what I really wish? I wish that for just a little while I could be a simple tourist enjoying the sights of Montebello with nothing more on my mind than what presents to bring bac
k to my family."
She stood, far too restless to sit still. "You're right, Farid. Putting off telling my parents changes nothing, but it also doesn't hurt anything. I need some time, and I've decided we're staying."
"As you wish."
"And please stop saying that," she exclaimed fervently. "None of this is as I wish." She flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell."
She wasn't certain, but she thought she saw a ghost of a smile touch his lips. It was there only a moment, then gone. "With all due respect, Princess, that was a very low-key kind of yell."
The smile she thought she had seen gave her courage, and she reached out and grabbed his hands in hers. He had big, strong hands, and for a moment she wished they would close around hers, communicate to her a sense of security and well-being.
"Oh, Farid, what I want is a week of not being a princess, a week of not being a pregnant, unmarried princess who has no idea what's going to happen to her. I don't want to think of what is facing me upon my return to Tamir. I don't want a bodyguard, and I don't want attention. I just want some time to feel free, and think, and try to decide what my future will be."
He frowned and pulled his hands from hers, his dark eyes obviously troubled by her words. "I cannot permit you to wander Montebello alone. My duty is to protect you from harm and I won't shirk that duty."
Again she reached for his hands and grabbed them tightly. "I'm not asking you to let me wander alone. But don't you have other clothing, something more casual without the official Tamir royal crest? Can't you accompany me on my explorations looking like my friend and companion instead of my bodyguard?"
He looked down at the dark suit jacket he wore, the Tamir royal crest emblazoned on the breast pocket. "I only brought my official clothing with me."
She forced a bright smile. "Then we'll spend the day shopping." She felt her smile falter. "And we won't talk about what I'm going to do when I return to Tamir."