by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
He sat in the chair opposite the sofa. "And why is that?"
Samira frowned. "My mother seems to have a sixth sense where her children are concerned. She always seems to know when something is wrong. By calling her, I think I awakened that sixth sense of hers."
"Then perhaps it's time to go back to Tamir and talk to your parents."
"I'm not ready to return yet," she said and touched her stomach reflectively. And with these words she also realized she was not yet ready to give up on her dreams of marrying for love.
The path she chose to walk suddenly became clear to her. "I need to stay here for a little longer. I need to get strong."
One of his dark eyebrows quirked upward. "Strong?"
She nodded and stood, unable to sit while her mind worked to become comfortable with the decision she'd made in the past few moments. "I'm not exactly the rebellious type," she said as she paced across the exquisite Oriental rug beneath her feet. "I've always been the daughter who gave my parents no grief, who always abided by their wishes and tried to please them."
For the second time in the past twenty-four hours she thought she saw a whisper of a smile curve the corners of his lips. "For as long as I have worked at the palace, from all the gossip and reports I've ever heard, you have been a good and dutiful daughter."
She tore her gaze from him, finding the hint of the smile that touched his full, sensual lips far too appealing. How would those sensual lips feel pressed against her own? She shook her head to dispel the image and focused on the conversation at hand.
"Yes," she agreed. "I've always been a dutiful daughter and I've never rocked the boat in any way. But now I must choose a path that is right for me and the child I carry. Somehow I have to become strong enough to resist my father. I know he'll try to get me to tell him the name of the father, but I won't." She looked at him once again. "And you must promise me that you won't tell him, either."
She could tell by the grim expression on his face that he didn't want to agree to what she'd asked. "If we marry, then there's no reason for your father to question who the father of your child is," he countered. "It will be implied that the child is mine."
"I'm not going to marry you, Farid," she exclaimed. "And I'm not going to let my father force me into marriage with any other man. I've decided not to marry anyone." She raised her chin another notch. "I'm perfectly capable of raising my baby alone."
Farid stood, his eyes darkened by deep disapproval. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life," he exclaimed, his voice radiating an anger she'd never heard there before, an anger that seemed to have sprung from thin air.
She stared at him in stunned surprise. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he replied curtly. He drew a deep breath as if to steady himself, and Samira sank back down on the sofa, shocked by his unexpected, impassioned reaction to her announcement.
"I thought this was all settled," he continued, "that we would agree to have a marriage in name only and that would solve everything."
"Then you thought wrong," Samira replied with a rising anger of her own.
What did he think? That she wasn't capable of raising a child by herself? Was he afraid that somehow she couldn't be a good mother? That she was incompetent? "Nothing was settled, and I told you last night that marriage to you wasn't a solution."
"I know what you said last night, but I thought you needed some time to get used to the idea." The lips she'd thought so sensual-looking before were now a slash of grimness, and his eyes were cold depths of darkness.
"I have agreed to be your husband so you can save face with your parents, with your countrymen. There will be a little gossip because I was your bodyguard, but certainly not to the extent that there will be if you don't marry at all and bear a child out of wedlock." His dark gaze bore into hers. "You have few alternatives."
"I don't care about gossip and I don't need you," she retorted.
"Yes, you do," he countered. He walked to stand directly over her, and she had the feeling he was subtly trying to intimidate her.
"You yourself said that there is no other man in your life, and few men would be willing to step in and raise a child who is not their own," he exclaimed.
"That doesn't mean that I'm positively desperate to accept your marriage proposition," she exclaimed. She raised her chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated either by his hulking nearness or the harsh glare of his eyes.
"You should be desperate to accept, if not for yourself, then for your baby. Children need fathers, and you are being selfish if you deny your child that."
Despite her wishes to the contrary, his last words struck home. She frowned and eyed him for a long moment. "What about love?" she asked in a small voice. "Isn't that important, too?"
He snorted in obvious disgust. "Giving your child a father is what's important. It's time to put away your foolish dreams of silly, romantic love and make the best possible decision for the child you carry. Besides, isn't it your silly notion about love that got you in this predicament?"
She gasped, appalled by his words and the hateful reminder of her own stupidity. She jumped up off the sofa and shoved past him, unsure if it was anger or hurt that tightened painfully in her chest.
She clung to the anger. "I am thinking about the child I carry," she said, even more angered when tears filled her eyes. "Why on earth would I subject my child to a father like you? A cold, arrogant man who believes love is nothing more than a foolish dream?"
She didn't wait for him to reply, but instead ran into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
Chapter 4
Farid stared at the closed bedroom door and realized he'd been out of line … way out of line. He had spoken to her not as a servant, but as an equal. He'd practically yelled at her, and that was unacceptable behavior.
He hadn't realized until this moment how much he had embraced the idea of stepping into Samira's life as helpmate and father to her unborn child. He'd been well aware of the fact that a marriage to Samira would in all likelihood be temporary, but the commitment he made to her child would last a lifetime.
Certainly it was duty that drove him – duty and the desire to honor a promise to a dead man, but it was also more than that.
He knew what it was like to grow up with an aching need inside, the need for a father. He didn't want Samira's child to grow up with that same sense of emptiness.
In his case, the emptiness could have been filled had his mother only told him the truth. But she hadn't. She hadn't told him the truth until it was far too late. He shoved the thought away, hating the anger that instantly pressed tight against his chest.
Swiping a hand through his hair, he walked over to the window and stared out at the manicured gardens in the distance. For a moment, as he'd faced off with her, he'd forgotten that she was a princess and he was merely her servant.
He'd forgotten everything except the fact that if she didn't marry him, she would be fodder for gossip and the child she bore would be branded a fatherless bastard. He'd forgotten everything except his own need to make sure that her child didn't suffer the same kind of empty childhood he had.
He owed her an apology, but apologies had never come easily to Farid. He moved away from the window and sat, deciding he'd wait until she came out of the bedroom to make an apology to her.
As he waited, he thought over the events of the day. She had been quiet throughout the afternoon of shopping. After lunch they had wandered the piazza, going in and out of the little shops along the way.
She had bought presents not only for her family members, but for friends and favorite servants as well, and he was reminded again that Samira was known for her generous nature. And it was the generosity of her nature and her spirit that made her a favorite among the royal family.
Farid knew there were many who sought out Samira's advice when it came to matters of the heart. Apparently there were some who appreciated her fanciful notion of love.
One thing was
clear to him. She was right when she'd said she'd always been the dutiful daughter who had never caused her parents any grief. Of the princesses of Tamir, Samira had always been the quietest, the most unassuming of the three.
She spent much of her time involved in a variety of charity work and was a major supporter, both financially and emotionally, of promoting literacy in Tamir.
He had a feeling she would never be strong enough to stand up to her father no matter how much time she spent here preparing to do so.
She remained in her room until dusk had fallen outside, then she swept out of the bedroom, her gaze not meeting his. "I'm going for a walk," she said coolly. "I need some fresh air to clear my head."
She didn't wait for him to acknowledge her words, but instead strode to the door and stepped out into the shadows of approaching night.
Farid hurried after her. "Princess Samira," he said softly, intentionally using her title to remind himself of his position. "I owe you an apology," he said.
She stopped walking and turned to face him, her expression more solemn than he'd ever seen it. "I think we owe each other an apology," she said with a graciousness he couldn't help but admire. "Please, let's just walk in the garden. I really do need some time to think." He nodded and fell in step beside her.
Landscaping lanterns softly illuminated the narrow path that wound through the formal gardens, and the air was heavily perfumed by the variety of lush flowers. The sound of a fountain bubbled from somewhere nearby, adding to the peaceful serenity of the garden.
The moon was full in the sky, spilling down a shining light that caught and reflected on the silvery threads in Samira's clothing. It made it appear as if she were covered with tiny stars.
They walked at a leisurely pace that should have been relaxing, but the thought of their heated exchange weighed heavy on Farid's shoulders.
"Do you really think I can't be a good mother?" she finally asked, breaking the silence that had lingered thickly between them as they walked.
Farid looked at her in surprise. "Of course not. In fact, I'm certain you will be a good mother."
She stopped walking and motioned to a nearby concrete bench. They sat side-by-side and she gazed at him, a little wrinkle of worry between her delicate brows. "But you don't think I'm capable of raising a child alone?"
He sighed, realizing she'd apparently misunderstood what he'd been trying to say to her during their exchange earlier. "Princess, there is no doubt in my mind that you are more than capable of raising a child by yourself, but no matter how good a mother is … a mother isn't a father. In any case, it was not my place to say those things to you. I was way out of line."
"Apology accepted," she replied, then smiled. "And I'm sorry for calling you cold and arrogant."
"I must confess, you aren't the first to use those kinds of terms when describing me."
She smiled again, but the smile was only fleeting. She raised her face toward the moon and sighed. Farid watched her, noting how the bewitching moonlight emphasized the delicacy of her facial features.
With her head tilted back, he could see the graceful column of her throat. Her skin looked unbelievably smooth, and his fingers tingled with the sudden desire to reach out and touch.
Her eyelashes were sinfully long and thick around her almond-shaped eyes and as he watched she closed them and once again released a tiny sigh.
The sigh moved something inside him. It sounded so forlorn, so lonely. Farid knew all about loneliness. He'd lived with it for most of his life. It felt comfortable to him, but apparently not to her.
She lowered her face, opened her eyes and gazed at the grounds around them. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?"
Farid followed her example and looked around. "The gardens are impressive, but no more so than the ones in Tamir," he replied.
She smiled at him, the gesture as always filling her features with a pleasing warmth. "You're a loyal countryman." Her smile disappeared and she continued to study him. "I know so little about you, Farid. Tell me about yourself."
"What do you want to know?"
"I don't know … let's start with where you grew up."
"My parents were simple farmers and we had a little place just outside of the palace gates. I still own it, but I'm not there often." It had been difficult, going back to that place after his mother's death a year ago. There had been too many memories, both good and bad.
Once again she looked up at the moon. "I used to dream of what it would be like to be raised on a farm by an ordinary family."
Farid wondered if it was the surrounding flowers that filled his senses with such a delicious fragrance or if it was the scent of the woman seated next to him. "I thought all little girls dreamed of being princesses."
She laughed and looked at him once again. "I guess they do … unless they are a princess." She stood. "Let's walk a little more."
They walked for a few minutes in silence. This time the silence was a companionable one rather than the tense quiet that had existed between them when they'd initially left the guest house.
"I always thought life as a farmer's daughter would be far easier than life as a sheik's daughter," she finally said. "As a princess, you learn very early that people will pretend to like you because of your title, that people will try to take advantage of you for power, or position, or political reasons."
Her features tightened and her hands clenched at her sides and Farid knew what she was probably thinking. "Do you think that's what happened with Caruso?" he asked softly. "That he used you?"
"Of course that's what happened," she said, her voice holding an angry edge. "I'm not sure what he hoped to gain by seducing me, but it certainly didn't have anything to do with love."
"But you loved him?"
She didn't answer for a long moment. "No, I didn't love him. Oh, I thought I did at the time, but I realize now I was in love with the idea that he loved me. I was in love with the future he painted with his smooth, lying words."
She paused a moment to lean over a bush that held bright orange blossoms as big as a dinner plate. She breathed deeply of one of the blossoms, then turned back to him, her gaze once again curious.
"Have you ever been in love, Farid?"
"No."
She straightened, still looking at him. "There's never been a special woman in your life? Have you really never felt a kind of fluttery, valentines-and-flowers kind of love?"
"Never. To be honest, there's been little time for women. I've worked hard to achieve my position as bodyguard and that has left little time for other pursuits. Besides, the only kind of love I really believe in is the love of my country. I don't believe in that valentine-and-flower sort of love you spoke of."
He could tell that his words disturbed her, but he couldn't pretend to be somebody he was not … not even for a princess.
Besides, if she did eventually agree to marry him, then she should know up-front that the romantic kind of love she apparently believed in would not be an option.
They continued walking. "What about your parents? Did you love them?"
"Of course," he replied automatically.
"Tell me about them."
"My mother was a simple woman. Her pleasures came from her family and from the farm. She loved planting and watching things grow and taking care of me and my father."
"And your father?"
He frowned thoughtfully. "My father was a good, patient man. He had a strong work ethic and a huge heart. He died when I was twelve." Grief welled up inside him as he thought of the man he had loved and lost. He quickly tamped it down, along with the anger that always accompanied it.
He was grateful that she didn't attempt to console or placate him with words or a touch. "So, you know what it's like to be without a father."
"I do."
"And that's why you said all the things that you did to me?"
He nodded. "Every child, whether a girl or a boy, deserves the love of two parents."
Her soft brown ey
es studied him for a long moment. "And you could love a child who wasn't of your blood?"
Although she asked the question with a lightness of tone, he knew his answer was vitally important. And the answer was easy. "Yes, I could easily love a child that wasn't mine, especially if I was in his or her life from the very beginning."
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Let's go back to the guest house. It's been a long day and I'm getting tired."
They changed direction and headed back the way they had come. She once again fell silent and the only sounds were of the insects chirping their night songs and the faint swish of her jalabiya against her thin pants.
"If I agreed to a marriage in name only to you, then you would be agreeing to a lifetime of celibacy." Even in the semidarkness he could see the pretty blush that accompanied her words.
"Would you not be agreeing to the same?" he countered pointedly.
"Of course…" Again that endearing little wrinkle appeared in the center of her brow and her cheeks deepened in hue with a new blush. "But I think that sort of thing is easier for women than men."
"I don't know about other men, but if we marry, then I'll abide by the conditions you wish. I'm the master of my emotions. My emotions never rule me."
She offered him a small, teasing smile. "I think I could have guessed that."
They reentered the guest house and she turned to face him. The wrinkle across her forehead was gone and from her eyes radiated a peace he hadn't seen since they had arrived in Montebello.
"Does your marriage proposal still stand?" she asked.
He nodded, his heart suddenly quickening its pace.
"Then I accept," she said. "We'll discuss the details tomorrow," she said, then turned and headed for her bedroom door. When she reached the door she turned back to look at him.
"Farid, the kind of love I once dreamed of, the valentines-and-flowers kind of love, is not a foolish or silly notion." Her eyes darkened. "It's just apparently not destined for me." She disappeared into her room.
* * *
Ursula Chambers watched Desmond Caruso from across the table in the Glass Swan Restaurant. God, the man was so hot. He was easily the best-looking man in the place with his raven-dark hair, piercing black eyes, chiseled features and charming cleft chin.