The Sheikh's Royal Announcement

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘No. Because during my search I discovered what you had failed to tell me.’ Briefly, Caitlin closed her eyes and when she opened them again she prayed that her face showed no traces of the terrible despair she had felt at the time. ‘You had no r-right to sleep with me that night,’ she continued, in a voice which wouldn’t seem to stop trembling. ‘Oh, I’m not just talking about the fact you didn’t mention you were a royal sheikh and made out you were a commoner, because maybe that was some game you liked to play and you used to get off on it. Maybe it turned you on to deceive women in such a way.’

  ‘You talk to me of deception?’ he demanded witheringly.

  ‘No. I’m talking about something else. Something much worse.’ She sucked in a breath and it scorched at her throat like a blowtorch, her words taking her back to a place she rarely allowed herself to visit because it was still painful. Too painful to bear. The discovery of his deception had carried an even greater significance for Caitlin, for it had been like a dark echo from her own past. A reminder of just how easily men could cheat on women. She remembered the sense of foolishness and regret which had washed through her veins in a putrid flow—along with the realisation that, for all the blame she used to fling at her own mother, maybe she really wasn’t that different after all. She had certainly been hoodwinked in exactly the same way.

  ‘Because you were a married man, weren’t you?’ she accused, and now her voice was shaking with shame and anger and guilt. ‘You had a wife back home at your palace in Xulhabi, but you didn’t bother mentioning that on the night you spent with me, did you, Kadir Al Marara? Tell me, how many times did you break your marriage vows by having sex with other women?’

  CHAPTER TWO

  KADIR STARED AT the woman whose bitter words had just come hurtling through the air towards him like a swarm of bees, but they did not sting his flesh or cause him to flinch. Because any remorse he might have felt was diluted by the nature of her accusation and his mouth tightened with anger. She might have fared better if she had stuck to the facts. Why hadn’t she just taken her share of the blame? Admitted that they had both been carried along on a wave of passion—their bodies taken over by a chemistry so powerful that it had been irresistible, even though he had done his damnedest and tried.

  But instead she had played the guilt card and turned him into a stereotype of a man. The dark and brooding sheikh, like a character from one of those flickering black-and-white films he had once seen. And being categorised in such a way had happened much too often in the past for it not to have touched a raw nerve. How many times? she had asked him—and the answer to that question was just once, with her. But he would not give her the pleasure of knowing that—because might that not lead her to believe she meant something special to him?

  ‘You begged me to have sex with you. Begged me,’ he reiterated cruelly, and so great was his fury that he actually found himself enjoying her embarrassed flush of recognition. ‘You know you did. Would you like me to remind you of the words you used, Caitlin?’

  ‘No! I don’t... I don’t want to talk about that night.’

  He stared her down. ‘Well, maybe I do. Maybe I want to relive it minute by minute.’

  Her face had drained of colour and quickly she stared down at her freckled fingers, which were knotted together as if she were praying for divine intervention, before slowly lifting her gaze to his. And for a second, Kadir found himself lost in the sky-washed hue of those pale, Scottish eyes. How had he forgotten their quiet blue beauty? The way they seemed able to look deep inside you, as if they could see into your troubled soul and offer it some kind of temporary solace. He had forgotten because he’d had no choice—because the possibility of how good she had made him feel had been incompatible with his life and his world. And he needed to forget it now.

  Which was why he continued to stare at her, without saying a word. Silence was a tactic which had always worked well for him in the past. If you allowed it to grow for long enough, the other person would always break it first. Because people didn’t like silence. They were frightened of it. They didn’t like listening to the noisy clatter of their own thoughts.

  ‘Just tell me,’ she burst out at last. ‘Tell me why you’re here.’

  Now it was Kadir’s turn to pause. What did he want? To rewind the clock, perhaps? To have carried on walking around the sweeping Scottish estate he’d been considering buying and not been distracted by her bright hair or the curve of her hips, or the darkening of her extraordinary eyes when she had turned around to look at him? Would he prefer not to have participated in the passionate night which had followed, even though his actions had afterwards appalled him? No. He did not want that, even if such a thing were possible—for how could he wish his son never to have been born?

  ‘Why do you think I’m here?’ he demanded. ‘Because I want to see him. I want to see my son.’

  She flinched, as if he had asked her for something impossible. He could see the moment of indecision which froze her slender frame, like a deer in the forest which had just discovered itself in the presence of the hunter. And then gradually, life seemed to flow back into her body and she shook her head a little, like somebody who had just awoken from a bad nightmare.

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I suppose you do.’ She reached down towards a green leather satchel the colour of a wine bottle, which she lifted with trembling fingers from the chair on which she must have placed it. Silently, Kadir watched as she withdrew a rather battered wallet and flicked behind a bank card, before drawing out a photo, which she handed to him. ‘Here. Take this.’

  He didn’t look at it immediately. Just continued to fix his gaze on her. ‘You think I will be satisfied with a picture?’ he demanded witheringly.

  ‘Won’t it do for the time being, at least?’

  Unable to hold back for a second longer, he swiped it from her fingers, taking great care not to make contact with her skin—as if he could not trust himself to touch her. And then he willed himself to stay strong and not give in to the sudden sense of despair which washed over him as he steeled himself to examine the first picture of his son. The aide who had discovered his existence had offered to get photographic evidence, but Kadir had stopped him because he had a deep loathing of the paparazzi and was loath to replicate their predatory behaviour. Information about the child’s age and appearance had indicated that he was indeed the father, but it was instinct which made him certain and these days he trusted his instincts far more than he would looking at some snatched photo, taken from behind a tree.

  Yet no amount of mental preparation could make him immune to the feelings which bombarded him as he stared down at a pair of jet-dark eyes so like his own. He walked over to the window, so that he could study it properly in the autumnal light. Judging from the bland background it was a formal shot, though the little boy’s silky black hair flopped untidily over his forehead, as if no amount of careful brushing could tame it. Kadir narrowed his eyes as he noticed a tiny chip on one of the child’s front teeth and a rush of indignation heated his blood. Had he fallen and hurt himself? he wondered. And why had nobody been there to protect him?

  He turned away from the window to find Caitlin’s eyes on him, the uncertainty of that blue gaze clearly seeking some kind of reassurance. And didn’t it fill him with a vengeful amount of pleasure to discover that he wasn’t going to provide her with any?

  His lips flattened.

  None at all.

  ‘I want to see him in the flesh,’ he clipped out. ‘And as soon as possible.’

  Caitlin nodded, her heart sinking as she heard his words, even though she’d been expecting him to say that. Of course she had. What else could he possibly say in the circumstances? Her heart twisted with a complex mixture of emotions, though she was ashamed of the one which was dominant. Which bubbled to the surface in a dark and angry tide and had nothing to do with her little boy but everything to do with her.<
br />
  Jealousy.

  Hot and black and potent.

  ‘And what about your wife?’ The words rushed from her lips and she could feel her cheeks flush. ‘Will she want to see him, too?’

  There was the briefest of pauses as his face darkened but his voice was devoid of emotion as he delivered his response.

  ‘My wife is dead.’

  And wasn’t Caitlin appalled by the primitive rush of relief which flooded her body on receipt of these words? ‘I’m sorry,’ she said automatically.

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘I am sorry for every person’s loss,’ she defended truthfully. ‘But mostly I’m sorry I ever slept with you, without knowing you were a married man!’

  ‘That’s history, Caitlin,’ he ground out. ‘I’m not concerned about the past. The present is what occupies me. I am not leaving here—and neither are you, by the way—until you have agreed a date for me to meet my boy.’

  ‘Cameron,’ she corrected automatically.

  ‘Cameron,’ Kadir repeated and Caitlin thought how his rich voice made the traditional Scottish name sound somehow exotic and distinguished.

  And wasn’t that one simple fact enough to make fear whisper through her body, as she acknowledged his power and might? Because not only did he look different from the man into whose arms she had fallen so willingly, he sounded different, too. Along with the flowing robes and headdress, he seemed to have acquired a steely patina, which made him seem distant and aloof. Influence radiated from every pore of his muscular body and instinct told her that he would take total control of the situation if she let him. So don’t. State your terms, she told herself fiercely. Show him you won’t be pushed around by anyone. She wasn’t one of his subjects. She was a free and independent woman and, moreover, they were in her country.

  ‘Of course you must meet, but I would like it to be on neutral territory,’ she said, as it occurred to her that maybe she was ashamed of her little croft cottage. Scared how tiny it would look in contrast to his soaring palaces. Or was it because she couldn’t bear the thought of Kadir’s powerful presence stamping itself on her humble surroundings like a dark smash of stone? So that when he left—as leave he inevitably would—the place would somehow seem empty and diminished without him? ‘How about here in Edinburgh? That would be as good a place as any.’

  ‘I’m sure it would, but I’m afraid that doesn’t fit in with my schedule. I have to be in London this week,’ he said coldly. ‘You can meet me there.’

  ‘London?’ repeated Caitlin.

  ‘There’s no need to make it sound like Mars,’ he purred. ‘It’s no great distance. Just over an hour by plane, in fact. My business interests are centred there and my time in your country is short.’

  ‘It is?’ she verified, unable to keep the hope from her voice.

  ‘Indeed it is.’ He inclined his head, almost courteously, as if he hadn’t noticed her telltale slip of the tongue, but the flashing of his black eyes indicated that maybe he had. ‘Bring Cameron to London. Is he familiar with the city?’

  ‘No,’ said Caitlin, acknowledging the humble limitations of Cameron’s upbringing. He’d never even been out of Scotland before, let alone flown to London. But that had been deliberate. She’d wanted to shelter him from the world and from people. She’d wanted to protect him from the harsher side of life.

  And hadn’t there been part of her which had thought that if she hid herself away successfully, then a scenario like this would never have arisen? ‘No, he’s never been there.’

  ‘Well, then, that’s decided. I’m sure it will be an exciting destination for one so young, and there will be much to entertain him.’ He flickered her a businesslike smile. ‘I will arrange for my plane to collect you.’

  Caitlin blinked. His plane? He had his own plane? Well, of course he did—could she really imagine the king of one of the wealthiest countries in the world standing in line with ordinary people at the airport? She licked lips which suddenly felt dry. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer,’ she said stiffly. ‘But I’m perfectly capable of getting to London under my own steam.’

  His black gaze slanted over her sweater and, briefly, travelled down her knee-length tweed skirt, his lips curving slightly as he registered her woolly grey tights. ‘But presumably not with any kind of style?’ he offered cruelly.

  His observation—actually it was more of a judgement—irritated her, even if it happened to be true. But Caitlin told herself it was better to be irritated than passive. He hadn’t objected to her no-nonsense clothes last time around, had he? He’d been more concerned with removing them than providing some kind of fashion critique. But she wasn’t going to start going down that road. It was going to be difficult enough negotiating the emotional minefield which lay ahead, without remembering how it had felt to lie in Kadir’s arms while he rained sensual kisses all over her mouth.

  ‘I believed I was coming here today for an interview about future photographic work,’ she returned briskly. ‘And as far as I was aware, holding a camera in often inclement weather requires practical rather than fancy clothing.’ She hesitated. ‘As for your proposed trip to London, I’d like to bring Morag along, if she can be persuaded to make the journey.’

  He frowned. ‘Who’s Morag?’

  ‘She’s an ex-nurse who has known me since I was a child. She’s retired now and helps look after Cameron when I’m working.’

  ‘And how often does that happen?’ he demanded. ‘How often do you have to leave our son in the hands of this woman?’

  It was a totally unfair accusation and the possessive note in his voice was more than a little worrying, but Caitlin told herself he was angry and people said all kinds of things when they were angry. Drawing in a deep breath, she met his hostile gaze with one of manufactured calm. ‘I never leave him unless it’s absolutely essential and I choose my work carefully. I don’t take on jobs just for the sake of it, because I’m trying to grow my reputation. I do a lot of photographic work for an agency which is, I suppose, how you were successfully able to lure me to this hotel with the promise of a job. Which I’m guessing doesn’t really exist.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘There is no job, is there, Kadir?’

  The brief shake of his head gave her his answer, but as their gazes locked she saw the smoky flash of fire in the depths of his eyes, which his thick lashes couldn’t quite conceal. Was she imagining the faint sigh which escaped his lips, which made her focus on them unwillingly, only to recall how it had felt to be kissed by him? And then a whole batch of memories came rushing back and there seemed to be nothing she could do to keep them at bay.

  She wondered if he ever thought about the circumstances in which they’d met, when she’d been trying to capture the image of a golden eagle and he’d told her afterwards that he’d never been so mesmerised by a woman’s neck. Or her bottom. Apparently, he’d been thinking of purchasing the vast Scottish estate she was in the process of photographing, though the sale had never happened. She’d often wondered if he might have gone ahead and bought it if he hadn’t met her, or whether his infidelity had nudged his conscience and made him change his mind. Surely she was the last person he would ever want to bump into. She gave a bitter smile. Unless she was flattering herself by thinking she was his only extra-marital dalliance...

  He gave a sudden click of his fingers, and that impatient gesture told her much more than words ever could. For the first time Caitlin caught a glimpse of the imperious sense of entitlement which marked him out from ordinary mortals and, again, she wondered how she could have ever believed he was a commoner.

  ‘Of course there is no job,’ he said coolly. ‘Have Cameron ready to leave first thing tomorrow morning. One of my aides will arrive on the island to escort you both to Edinburgh.’ There was a pause. ‘And what will you tell him, Caitlin? How are you going to explain me to my son?’

  ‘I haven’t deci
ded yet. I need to give it some thought.’

  ‘Does he know who his father is?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘He’s never asked.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes! I swear to you.’

  She heard a low hiss of air being expelled from his lungs.

  ‘How can I believe you?’ he demanded. ‘Despite the hand you lay so convincingly over your heart!’

  ‘Believe me or don’t,’ she bit back. ‘But it’s the truth!’

  He studied her from between narrowed eyes. ‘Come equipped for a stay of several nights.’

  ‘Is that really necessary?’

  His laugh was soft and low and taunting. ‘Oh, Caitlin, can you really be that short-sighted? Do you think I’m prepared to be briefly slotted in to your schedule, like an unwanted dental appointment? That a few hours would be adequate for me to meet the child whose existence I have only just discovered?’

  She hadn’t given it any thought at all—it had all happened so quickly that Caitlin felt as if she’d jumped onto a merry-go-round. Only now she was even more scared than before. Scared of Kadir’s power and his potential to completely wreck her life, but equally scared of the way he could make her feel. Because why, after all this time, did she find herself reacting to him in a way which shouldn’t be happening? Her body felt as if it were coming alive under that searing gaze, in a way it hadn’t done since the last time he’d looked at her. It was as if her senses had lain dormant all this time—like the bulbs which lay beneath the unforgiving earth of winter before being brought to life by the first warm flush of spring.

  He was staring at her with an arrogant air of propriety, yet righteous indignation was the last thing on her mind. She could feel the prickle of heat to her breasts and the low coil of hunger which was tightening deeply at her core. Flickers of awareness were twanging low in her belly and her throat felt desert-dry. She’d always had the artist’s way of looking at the world—of seeing her surroundings in terms of light and shade and variants of colour. But now it felt as if she’d been wearing blinkers which had just been removed and, suddenly, her vision had become crystal-clear. And she found herself looking at Kadir Al Marara as if she had never really seen him before.