The Sheikh’s Heir

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘Oh, the mistress of all understatement!’ he mocked, because somehow mockery was easier than having to acknowledge that what she said was true. And that even as she stood there in her blue silk dress, with her scarlet lips trembling, his child was growing deep inside her.

  ‘But I want you to know that I am planning to have this baby and to keep it and to … to love it.’ She saw his mouth twist with derision and she guessed what he thought was about to follow. ‘And I’m not asking you for anything.’

  He gave a cynical laugh. ‘That really would be a first. So why bother telling me?’

  ‘Because you’re the father and I felt it was my duty to let you know.’

  Hassan stilled as he plucked one word from her breathless sentence.

  Duty.

  It was a word which had made him the man he was. A word his own mother had rejected, causing irreparable damage to their royal house and wrecking three lives in the process. Wasn’t it now his duty to stand by and support this woman, no matter how much he abhorred the idea?

  ‘This is like some bad dream,’ he said suddenly.

  Ella nodded. Because hadn’t she thought exactly the same? ‘It came as a shock to me too,’ she admitted.

  He shook his head. ‘But I made sure that I was careful.’

  ‘I know you did.’

  He wondered how it could have happened and then remembered the way his hands had trembled as he had pulled on the protection…. ‘Just not careful enough,’ he said bitterly as he looked into her ice-blue eyes. ‘Call it weakness—yes, why don’t we call it weakness?—but having you writhing all over my bed made my attention to detail a little lacking! I’d been away fighting a war and it was a long time since I’d been with a woman. What’s your excuse?’

  ‘My excuse is that I had a momentary lapse of judgement,’ she said, not wanting to tell him that he had blown her away. Because wouldn’t that make him even more arrogant and unreasonable? ‘As it happens, I’m pretty much a novice when it comes to sex—’

  ‘You weren’t acting much like a novice that night.’

  ‘Maybe that has more to do with your breadth of experience rather than my lack of it,’ she answered. ‘There’s no point in us arguing about it. I just felt you had a right to know that you’d fathered a child. And now you do. I’ve discharged my duty. So if you wouldn’t mind leaving, I really do have work to get on with.’

  He read defiance in her eyes. It was not an emotion he encountered very often and, to his surprise, he realised that she meant it. That she was not posturing or making empty threats in order to impress him—that she actually wanted him to leave!

  The contrary side of his nature made him want to rebel against a woman trying to dictate what his behaviour should be. But so did something else. He felt the sudden twisting of his gut as a rush of unwanted emotion hit him. For a moment, the pain of it took him back to a time he had buried deeper than the most precious artifacts which surrounded his father’s tomb. The time when his mother had walked away to be with the man she ‘loved.’ Leaving behind a small and confused little boy who had vowed fiercely never to allow himself to be hurt as his father had been …

  And then the dark mist of memory cleared and he found himself staring into the ice-blue eyes of Ella Jackson.

  She was having his baby, he realised incredulously. And therefore this was not just any baby. The child she carried was the son or daughter of the sheikh. And it was his. His.

  He had once vowed never to marry. He had told his younger brother that one day the sheikhdom would be his—for no child would ever spring from the loins of Hassan Al Abbas. Blighted by the pain he had felt at his mother’s desertion, he had known that fatherhood would never be on his agenda, but now suddenly it was.

  His mouth hardened and the hands which had hung by the sides of his powerful thighs now clenched into fists, because he recognised in that instant that what Ella Jackson had told him had changed his life irrevocably. In that moment, all his plans and certainties underwent a dramatic transformation and he knew what he must do. More importantly, what he must not do. He would not do as his own mother had done. He would not turn his back on his own flesh and blood.

  He leaned towards her. ‘I’m not going anywhere. We need to talk,’ he said grimly.

  She eyed him warily, his disturbing proximity reminding her that he was dangerous in more ways than one. ‘I thought we’d said everything there was to say.’

  ‘Are you kidding? We haven’t even touched the surface, Ella. Or did you think you could get away with telling me that you’re having my child and I would just walk away and leave you to get on with it?’

  Yes, maybe she had. Maybe she had been that stupid and naive. Maybe she’d hoped that fate, or his reluctance to acknowledge his baby, would have taken him out of her life for good. But not any more. There was no mistaking the dark determination which had made his face look even more intimidating and something about his stance made her realise there was trouble ahead. The phone on her desk began to ring and automatically Ella reached out her hand to answer it.

  ‘Leave it,’ he bit out.

  ‘I can’t leave it. It’s my—’

  ‘I said, leave it. Let the other girl answer it.’

  Their eyes met in silent combat as the phone rang six times before Daisy picked it up in the outer office and Ella knew this was a fight she would not win. Because how could she possibly conduct a business conversation with one of her clients under the grim gaze of the sheikh? She wouldn’t trust him not to snatch the phone right out of her hand and slam it down. And what if Daisy heard them arguing through the thin walls? ‘Okay, I’ll talk to you,’ she conceded wearily. ‘But not now and not here. I’ll meet you later, when I’ve finished work.’

  ‘Good.’ He held her gaze for a moment. ‘Come and have dinner in my hotel suite.’

  She shook her head. ‘There’s no way I’m coming to your hotel.’

  ‘No?’ He saw the parting of her luscious scarlet lips and felt an unwilling kick of lust. But wouldn’t bedding her only be counter-productive to the idea which was slowly forming in his mind? An idea he would need to broach very carefully in order to get her to accept it …

  ‘Then where else do you suggest?’ he continued. ‘If we have what will inevitably be a difficult conversation in a crowded restaurant, we risk being overheard by waiters or other diners. And I don’t want to find our meeting making headlines in tomorrow’s newspapers.’

  Ella heard the undeniable command in his voice and part of her wanted to rebel against it. He was so unashamedly autocratic, she thought. So completely used to getting his own way. If she went to his hotel suite then wouldn’t that allow him to call the shots? She didn’t know what he was going to say but she knew she needed all her wits about her, and maybe the best way of ensuring that was to be on home territory.

  ‘You can come to my house instead,’ she said. ‘Get the address from Daisy on your way out. I’ll see you there at nine, but you’d better have eaten something first. I’m not planning on making you dinner.’

  He paused for a moment as he went to pass her, studying the dark spill of her silken hair and the scarlet tremble of her lips. The desire to kiss her was overwhelming. But he fought it as he had fought so much else in his life.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ he said softly, ignoring the dark dilatation of her eyes as he walked out of the office without another word.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WITH his bodyguards sitting grim-faced in two waiting cars, Hassan rang the doorbell, briefly wondering if he’d got the wrong address. He frowned. This neighbourhood was like no other he’d ever seen and Ella’s house was in a row of other small houses which looked directly onto a busy main road.

  He didn’t know anyone who lived in a place like this—the kind of place you lived in when you didn’t have a lot of money to splash around. And yet Ella Jackson had blended in perfectly at the royal engagement party in her sparkling silver dress, her sky-high heels and those glea
ming scarlet lips. He’d thought she’d be living somewhere trashy and flashy, displaying the complete lack of taste which had been on show in her office today. Not in this rather ordinary little house which was situated on the wrong side of town.

  The door opened and Ella stood there, confounding yet another of his preconceptions. Gone was the silk and the gloss. With her shiny hair tugged into a ponytail, she was wearing a plain white T-shirt and faded blue jeans which emphasised the blueness of her eyes. He frowned. Gone too was that shiny red lipstick which drew attention to the luscious mouth which made a man have sinful thoughts, no matter how hard he tried not to. She was scarcely recognisable from the slick party girl he’d met, and for a moment, he felt disorientated, as if she had suddenly produced some low-key twin sister.

  ‘This is where you live?’ he questioned slowly.

  ‘No, I thought I’d rent the place out in order to impress you, but I can see that I’ve failed.’ She pulled the door open and ushered him in, stupidly unprepared for the tingling response of her body as she looked up at him. ‘Yes, it’s where I live, Hassan. Why, did you think I’d be living in some over-the-top boudoir, all gilt and ceiling mirrors and shaggy fur rugs lying all over the place?’

  Actually, this was so close to what he had been thinking that for a moment he didn’t answer. Instead he stepped into the small hallway, shutting the door behind him. From there he followed the blue-jeaned sway of her bottom into what should have been the sitting room.

  Except that this wasn’t what it seemed either. The surprisingly large space contained a sofa and a couple of chairs, but these were all bunched up at one end, as if they were nothing but an afterthought. Pride of place had been given instead to an easel, on which stood a half-finished painting of a naked man. It looked pretty good from where Hassan stood but his critical judgment was suspended as he made the inevitable comparison. He emerged from that with his ego satisfied but his morals outraged by the thought that she must have spent time studying another man’s genitals.

  ‘Who is this?’ he demanded furiously.

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘On the contrary.’ His eyes glittered. ‘You carry the child of the sheikh and that makes it my business! Who is he?’

  Ella heard the control-freak quality in his voice and it set off more warning bells in her head. She’d been wondering how this meeting was going to proceed and now she had her first indication. Was he going to play high-handed and possessive with all that ‘child of the sheikh’ stuff? Her first instinct was to tell him to go to hell but some deep-rooted protectiveness told her not to inflame him. That he was not a man to make an enemy of, especially in these circumstances.

  ‘He’s an architectural student who poses in my life-drawing class.’

  ‘You have had sex with him?’

  ‘Of course I haven’t had sex with him! I hardly know—’ Too late she stopped herself as she realised the irony of her words, but not before a look of bitter triumph had filled his empty eyes with a dark light.

  ‘You hardly know him?’ he finished acidly. ‘You hardly knew me either, but that didn’t stop you opening up your milky-pale thighs for me, did it, Ella?’

  Ella bit back the angry retort which hovered on her lips, telling herself that it didn’t matter. He was here to talk about the baby and that was the only thing which mattered.

  ‘We could waste a lot of time insulting each other, but I’m too tired to want to. And that’s not why you’re here, is it?’ She flashed him a polite smile. ‘So in the spirit of trying to conduct this conversation in a civilised way, perhaps you’d like to sit down?’

  ‘No, I’ll stand, thanks.’ For the first time in a long while, he realised that he had no game plan to follow, and no idea of how to get what he wanted from this woman. Although ironically, he still wasn’t quite sure what he wanted.

  Restlessly, he went to look out of the window, just as a large red bus lumbered to a halt and discharged a group of teenagers who stood in noisy conversation right outside. When he turned back to face her, his expression was as perplexed as the grim faces of his waiting bodyguards. ‘Why do you live in a place like this, Ella?’

  ‘Why do you think? Because I like the sound of the traffic?’ She met his grim expression and shrugged. ‘It’s what I can afford, Hassan, that’s why. Any available money I have goes straight back into the business, rather than being wasted on paying a high rent.’

  ‘Your father doesn’t give you an allowance?’

  Ella almost laughed out loud, wondering what kind of planet he was on. Or maybe it was a mark of her father’s chameleon-like qualities that he could still manage to convince the world that there was money in the family.

  ‘No. I don’t get anything from my father.’

  He heard the acid note which had tinged her voice and for the second time that day he noticed the faint blue shadows beneath her eyes. Didn’t pregnant women suffer excessively from fatigue? A sudden pang of guilt washed over him. ‘Perhaps we will sit after all,’ he said unexpectedly, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her towards one of the chairs. ‘You look a little tired.’

  Ella didn’t have the energy to object, but the small act of kindness left her feeling dangerously vulnerable. And she was tired. All the emotions which had accumulated over the past few weeks had left her so wrung out that it was as much as she could do not to put her head in her hands and weep.

  She thought about all the plans she’d made for the future. All her strategies for exploiting a gap in the market and making a success of herself. Her determination that she should earn a decent living for herself and never have to rely on a faithless man, the way her mother had done.

  Where were all those plans now?

  Up in the air, that’s where. Because every woman knew that a baby meant a major career juggle, whether you were single or not. And now she had to deal with a powerful and dauntingly sexy man who she suspected was going to try to outwit her. And she still didn’t know what it was he wanted.

  He waited until she was settled before he sat on the sofa opposite her, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his black eyes enigmatic and watchful.

  ‘So when is the baby due?’

  ‘Well, it’s been fourteen weeks since the party, which means the baby’s due in January.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘January 8, to be precise.’

  Hassan tensed, because having an actual date to focus on changed everything. It transformed her pregnancy from a dark and unknown spectre into something real. Something which was happening. To her and to him. For a moment there was silence while he tried to make sense of her words. That early in the new year, as the snows were falling onto the highest peaks of the Samaltyn Mountains, he would become a father.

  ‘This is momentous news,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who else have you told?’

  She hesitated. ‘Only my brother, Ben.’

  ‘He is discreet?’

  She heard the doubt in his voice and bristled. ‘Actually, there’s nobody as discreet as Ben, though you probably find that difficult to believe as he happens to be a dreaded Jackson.’

  ‘Actually, I happen to know that in the business world your brother has a formidable reputation,’ conceded Hassan drily. ‘But this is something very different.’

  The nod to Ben’s undoubted talent should have pleased her but Ella was too concerned with the implication behind Hassan’s question to do anything but stare at him in growing horror. ‘Why are you so concerned who knows about this? You think … you think …’ She sucked in a deep and unsteady breath and expelled it again on a horrified shudder. ‘Listen to me, Hassan Al Abbas. I am having this baby, no matter what. And nothing you can ever say will change my mind.’

  The fierce look on her face was unmistakable and for a moment he admired her passion and integrity before indignation reared its head and his face darkened. ‘You think that I am suggesting—’

  ‘Don
’t even say it!’ she warned.

  Hassan gave an impatient wave of his hand. ‘I am not used to being interrupted.’

  ‘Well, I’m not used to having insults hurled at me. So if you can manage to keep a civil tongue in your head, I promise I won’t interrupt you and then we should be fine, shouldn’t we?’

  His eyes narrowed as he remembered her determination to remove him from her office so that she could continue working and suddenly a solution came to him. Suddenly, he realised exactly how he should handle this. ‘We need to decide what we’re going to do,’ he said.

  The use of the word we made Ella faintly uneasy. ‘I told you, the decision has already been made. I’m having the baby, and I’m perfectly prepared to bring her or him up on my own.’

  ‘But you can’t make decisions like that because it isn’t just your baby,’ he said softly. ‘This child has royal blood in its veins. Do you have any idea what that means, Ella?’

  ‘How can I? The world of sheikhdom is a mystery to me. Actually, come to think of it, so are you.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ His voice dipped as he ran his eyes over her body. ‘I think there are plenty of things about me which are no mystery whatsoever.’

  The sensual allusion was obvious and, she suspected, intentional. To Ella’s fury, she felt her face grow hot, despite all her best intentions. She’d vowed not to react to him in any way other than a strictly business-like one, and now here she was, colouring up like a naive schoolgirl. ‘I don’t want to talk about that.’

  A mixture of emotions he didn’t even want to acknowledge made him want to hurt her. To make her pay for having trapped him, because wasn’t that easier than admitting that he had walked right into it? ‘What, the sex you couldn’t get enough of?’

  ‘But it was the same for you!’ she flashed back. ‘Wasn’t it?’

  He met the challenge in her eyes and had to fight down an urgent desire to kiss her. He had been wondering just what it was about her which had made him lose his head—and his body—so completely. Her own amazing body coupled with his own frustration had been obvious contenders, but he realised that her fearlessness was a turn-on too. He’d seen it in the way she’d turned on him in the darkened corridor of the palace at Santina and faced him down. And she was demonstrating it now—her clear blue eyes wide and unafraid, despite the enormity of her situation. ‘Yes,’ he admitted harshly. ‘It was the same for me.’