SECRETS OF A PREGNANT PRINCESS

by Carla Cassidy

  Together the two of them walked down the long, grand hallway toward Sheik Ahmed Kamal's private office. Samira's heart thundered so loudly she felt as if it echoed off the walls surrounding them.

  Don't be so nervous, she told herself. After all, it was her parents she was about to confront – the mother and father who had loved and nurtured her for all of her life. It wasn't like she was about to face a couple of ogres.

  Still, despite the fact that she knew her parents loved her, she also knew how they – well, her father – had reacted to Leila's husband when scandal had forced Leila to marry the man she now loved deeply. Sheik Ahmed now approved of his new son-in-law, but in the beginning things had been a little tense. At least Nadia had just become engaged to a real hero, the man who had exposed her father's former trusted advisor, Butrus Daboir, as a leader of the terrorist group that had caused so much trouble between Tamir and Montebello. The guards on either side of the office door remained unmoving, at attention, as they approached.

  Farid released her hand and turned to her. "Samira, remember your promise to me," he murmured as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

  She knew the promise he spoke of and nodded, her heart in her throat as his knock was answered by the strong, vibrant voice of her father bidding them entry.

  Sheik Ahmed's office was an enormous room, lavishly decorated in rich purples and shining gold accents. Tapestries hung on the walls, depicting the history of Tamir in exquisite needlepoint. Leather chairs and Persian carpets completed the decor.

  The focal point of the room was the enormous mahogany desk behind which sat Samira's father. Samira's mother, Alima, sat in her favorite chair by an arched window that looked out on the ocean, her calendar open on her lap.

  Samira knew it was customary for her parents to begin their workday by discussing their individual schedules, and apparently that's just what they had been doing.

  As Samira and Farid approached the desk, Alima closed her calendar, set it on the desk and stood, her expression radiating a pleased surprise. "Samira, I didn't realize you had returned from Montebello."

  Samira gave her short, slightly plump mother a hug. "We got in very late last night."

  Alima hugged her then held her at arm's length. "You look well. Your vacation has agreed with you."

  "And things were well in Montebello?" Sheik Ahmed asked.

  Samira released her hold on her mother and faced her father.

  Sheik Ahmed Kamal was a handsome man with strong features. His hair and beard had, over the years, gone snowy white, merely serving to emphasize the piercing darkness of his intelligent eyes.

  "Both King Marcus and Queen Gwendolyn send their regards to you and Mother," she replied. "I enjoyed a nice meal with them and Prince Lucas while I was there."

  Sheik Ahmed nodded, his sharp gaze going to Farid, then back to his daughter. "And you needed to bring your bodyguard to bring me their regards? Farid, you enjoyed your time in Montebello?"

  "Yes, sir." Farid stepped up to stand next to Samira. Samira wondered if he was as nervous as she was. Certainly he showed no outward sign of nerves.

  "Father … we have news to share with you and Mother." Samira's heart banged and her stomach flip-flopped nervously. She drew a deep breath and reached for Farid's hand.

  She saw the flare of something in her father's eyes and the surprise that lit her mother's pretty features. "While we were in Montebello, Farid and I were married. We're married and I'm pregnant."

  The silence that greeted her announcement was deafening. Samira tightened her grip on Farid's hand as her father stood, his olive skin suddenly flushed an overbright color that portended something bad.

  "Ahmed," Alima said softly, as if aware of her husband's thoughts and emotions.

  Sickness swooped through Samira as her father walked around his desk and came to stand directly before her and Farid.

  There was no mistaking the emotion that had taken over her father's features. It was anger … an anger the likes of which Samira had never seen before.

  Samira released her hold on Farid's hand. She wanted to step back, to run from the flames of ire that flashed from her father's eyes. "You are pregnant?" he said.

  She nodded, but her father's gaze had already left her and now scorched Farid.

  "You, Farid Nasir, have worked for the palace and my family for many years and now I find that you have betrayed my trust, made a mockery of your duty and dishonored not only my daughter, but me as well."

  "Father…"

  "Be silent!" Sheik Ahmed's voice thundered at Samira, then turned back to look at Farid once again. Farid remained unmoving beneath the sheik's angry glare. Not a muscle on his face twitched.

  "Ahmed," Alima said softly, but the sheik ignored her. He reached up and took hold of the royal patch on Farid's breast pocket and with one vicious yank, ripped the patch completely off.

  Samira gasped, tears half-blinding her. Farid remained unmoving, unblinking, not even attempting to defend himself or his honor.

  "You have abused your position in the worst possible way. I have lost all trust, all respect for you and for that I banish you from the palace grounds."

  "No!" Samira cried out. She shot a pleading look at her mother, who looked as heartbroken, as helpless as Samira felt. "We are married."

  "I recognize no such thing. Guards," Sheik Ahmed bellowed as he stepped back from Farid. Instantly two guards appeared in the doorway. "Escort Farid Nasir from the palace grounds immediately."

  As Farid left the room with the two guards, Samira turned to her parents. "Father … no … please," she begged. Finding no succor in her father, she turned her attention to her mother. "Mother, please – do something. You have to do something!"

  Samira didn't wait to see what her mother might or might not do. Instead, she whirled around and ran after her husband, who was flanked by the two guards and heading out of the palace.

  * * *

  Ahmed sank back down into his chair behind his desk and buried his face in his hands. Alima walked over to stand beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Theirs had been an arranged marriage, one based on politics, but it had become a marriage of respect and desire and love.

  She knew her husband was a man of intense emotions. It was what made him a good ruler but, at times, it could also be his undoing.

  "Ahmed … he's her husband," she said softly.

  He removed his hands from his face and turned to look at her, his eyes reflecting pain. "I will not recognize their marriage. To do so is to condone what has happened, and it is unforgivable that Farid took advantage of his position with our daughter."

  Alima sighed and rubbed a hand across his tense shoulders. "Our daughters have had minds of their own from the moment they were born … because they are princesses, and because they are women. Look at how well Leila and Nadia have chosen."

  "That's neither here nor there," he replied tersely, a frown etching deeply into his broad forehead. "Royal bodyguards are held to greater standards than ordinary men and Farid has acted like a man, not a bodyguard. I cannot forgive him for that."

  Alima knew her husband well, and she heard the steely strength in his voice as he spoke these words. She knew that, at least for this moment in time, there was nothing she could do or say that would change his mind.

  Perhaps later, after some time had passed and the shock had worn off, he would soften. But for now, emotions were too high to reason with him.

  "She's with child, Ahmed," she said softly, unable to stop herself from trying one last time to soften his heart. "Our second grandchild."

  "And we will do everything in our power to support Samira and the child she carries," he said. "Tell her that, Alima. Tell her that she and her child will want for nothing, but I will not allow that man back in the palace or on the grounds. He will have no place in my family, in my life or in my heart."

  Alima's heart sank, but she kissed her husband on his forehead and hurried out of t
he room, intent on finding Samira.

  She had a feeling her husband hadn't yet realized that in banishing the man Samira loved, he'd banished his daughter as well.

  * * *

  "Farid, wait!"

  Farid stopped at the sound of Samira's frantic voice. He and his two guards had just reached the palace's front entrance when she caught up with them.

  She ran directly into his arms, burying her tearful face into the front of his jacket. "Oh, Farid. It was far worse than I expected," she cried. "I've never seen him so angry."

  She raised her face from his jacket and gazed up at him. "We have to tell him the truth. We have to tell him that you aren't—"

  "No." Farid said the word sharply, glancing at the two guards to see how much of the conversation they were taking in. "You made me a promise," he said in an urgent whisper. "And I will not release you from it right now. Perhaps later, when things calm down a bit."

  Farid had suspected that Sheik Ahmed's legendary temper would explode and he'd been right. He'd prefer that Sheik Ahmed vent his rage on him, and not on his daughter.

  If Sheik Ahmed learned the truth, Farid feared his rage would not only be directed at Desmond Caruso, but at Samira as well. The sheik would not be pleased that Samira had been seduced by a Montebellan right under the sheik's and the king and queen of Montebello's noses. Things were finally going well between the two countries. Peace was more important than Farid's own honor.

  Farid was certain that Sheik Ahmed would have preferred that his daughter marry somebody from Tamir – just not her bodyguard.

  "What are we going to do?"

  He stroked a hand down her shining hair then grabbed her shoulders and held her away from him. "I'm going to my farm, and you're going to stay here. We'll see what happens when things cool down a bit."

  She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. He released her, oddly disappointed and unsure why. Without saying another word, he turned and continued out the palace doors.

  It was better this way, he told himself as they stepped out into the bright morning sunshine. She belonged here, in the palace with her family. He shouldn't be surprised that she hadn't demanded she go with him to his farm. She would not go against her parents' wishes, and their wish was that she remain here.

  Funny, her gentle nature and her revulsion for confrontation of any kind were two of the reasons he loved her. Ultimately, these were the characteristics that would destroy their marriage.

  * * *

  Samira sat in the window seat of her bedroom, nearly lost amid the thick throw pillows beneath her. The view below was of one of the palace's formal gardens and from her vantage point the flowers looked like bursts of color thrown down to the ground by an artistic genius.

  She had often sat here as a young girl, wishing on stars in the night skies and dreaming of love. She'd wished for a handsome, strong man who would fill her days and nights with laughter and love, a man who was honorable and would make a wonderful father to the children they would eventually have.

  And wasn't that exactly what fate had sent her? Was Farid not handsome and strong, a man who'd brought her laughter, a man who would make a wonderful father? Had not all of her wishes been granted with him?

  And now it seemed that she would be forced to choose between her family and the man that fate had brought into her life.

  How she wished her sisters were here for her to talk to. Surely Leila or Nadia would know what she should do. But Leila was in Texas with her husband, Cade, and Nadia was with her husband in Penwyck meeting her in-laws. Samira had never felt so alone.

  A knock fell on her door and she was unsurprised when her mother walked in. She rose from the window seat and went directly to her mother's arms.

  Alima wrapped her in the kind of hug that only a mother could give, one infused with unconditional love. As the hug continued, tears burned at Samira's eyes. "Oh, mother, things are in such a mess," she said miserably as the hug ended.

  Alima led her daughter to the bed and together they sat down, Samira's hands held by her mother's.

  "You must talk to Father," Samira said. "Farid is a good man, Mother. He doesn't deserve to be banished from his job, from his life here at the palace."

  "Samira, you must understand, you sprang this on us suddenly." Alima frowned and released Samira's hands. "In the months that Farid has been your bodyguard I've never seen a look pass between the two of you, a touch of any kind. This just seems to have happened so fast." Alima held Samira's gaze. "How far along is your pregnancy?"

  Samira broke the gaze with her mother. "A couple of months," she replied. She had to hedge a bit, or her mother would wonder how Farid had gotten her pregnant before the two had spent any time together at all.

  "Samira, your father is most angry with Farid right now. Your father personally chooses the men to serve as the family bodyguards, and Farid betrayed that trust."

  Samira desperately wanted to tell her mother that Farid hadn't betrayed the trust, that he had been so honorable he'd given his name to her to cover up her dishonor.

  But she'd given her promise to Farid, and in truth, she was afraid that at this moment, telling the truth to her father would only make things worse.

  "I think perhaps Farid's betrayal cuts deeper than anyone else's because you have always been the most gentle, the most naïve of our children."

  Samira stood and walked back over to the window. "I'm not feeling very gentle at the moment." She sighed tremulously. "I feel as if my heart is breaking."

  It was at that moment that Samira realized she truly did love Farid. Her love for him filled her up, momentarily making speech impossible.

  When had it happened? How was it possible that she had managed to fall in love with the man she had married? The man who had married her not because he loved her, but because he'd believed it was his duty?

  She turned back to her mother, her eyes once again awash with tears. "Oh, mother, I don't know what to do."

  Alima took her by the shoulders. "Have you seen a doctor since you realized you were pregnant?" Samira shook her head. "Then that's our first order of business. I'll ring Dr. Mallah and we'll go see him immediately."

  Once again Samira sank down on the bed. She watched as her mother picked up the phone and made the arrangements with the royal doctor.

  Nearly an hour later Samira and her mother left the office of Dr. Mallah. Samira had been given a clean bill of health and Dr. Mallah had assured her that everything seemed to be progressing quite normally with her pregnancy.

  The whole time the doctor had talked to her about diet and exercise and what to expect in the coming months, Samira's heart had ached in despair.

  "Samira, talk to me," Alima said once they were back in Samira's bedroom. The two women sat together in the window seat, Samira staring out at the gardens below.

  She remembered the first time she and Farid had kissed … really kissed. It had been in the gardens of Montebello, when she'd thought the man approaching in the darkness might be Desmond,

  Had that been the moment when she'd fallen in love with Farid? When his lips had been so warm against hers? Or had she fallen in love with him as he'd told her silly stories that made her laugh? Or when he'd bared his past to her, talking of the pain of his mother's secret?

  "I just don't know what to do. I'm so afraid of making Father more angry," she said softly and turned her gaze to her mother.

  "Do you love Farid?" Alima asked.

  "With all my heart," Samira answered without hesitation.

  "Then you must decide what frightens you more – your father's anger, or being without the man you love." Alima reached out and touched Samira's cheek, her fingers warm against her skin. "Follow your heart, Samira. It will never lead you astray."

  With a final pat to Samira's cheek, Alima stood and left the room.

  Samira returned her attention out the window. Follow her heart? Could she do that? It would be so easy to remain here in the bosom of her family where she
knew she would always be loved.

  Follow her heart? Should she do that? Even if her heart led to a man who had already told her he would never, could never love her in the valentines-and-flowers way she'd once dreamed of being loved?

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  «^»

  There was a sense of welcome in the small farmhouse that hadn't been present in the year since his mother's death. As Farid put away the groceries he'd bought on his way to the farm, he realized that without the anger he'd felt toward his mother, his heart was open to the warmth and love the house possessed.

  After putting away the groceries, he drifted from room to room, memories of family pressing thick against his chest. Each room held a special, cherished memory of each of his parents, and he allowed himself to bask in those memories for a little while.

  He'd mourned his father deeply at the time of his death so long ago, but the grief he'd felt at the time of his mother's passing had been complicated by anger.

  Now he touched one of the needlepoint pillows on the sofa, his mind filled with a vision of her head bent over the delicate work, a smile lighting her face each time she gazed at him.

  A day had not passed that his mother didn't tell him how strong he was, how smart he was, and her words of praise had developed in him a positive self-confidence and esteem that had been unshakable.

  He picked up one of the pillows and hugged it, emotion pressing suffocatingly tight in his chest. The house resonated with an emptiness that seemed to feed the sudden despair inside him.

  He was alone, and never had he felt his loneliness as deeply as he did at this moment. He'd suffered loneliness in the years following his father's death and eventually he'd become accustomed to the feeling.

  But this was different. He set the pillow down and drew a deep breath, fighting against the unsettling feeling that filled him.

  It was ridiculous that he should feel so bereft after all this time. His father had been dead for years, his mother for nearly a year. And the biological father that he'd known only briefly had been dead for almost six months. Why was he feeling so empty now?