Saved by the Sheikh!
Page 8
“Nor would I. This is not an attempt to evade responsibility.”
It appeared her accusation had irked him.
He leaned toward her. “Tiffany, understand this, as long as a child is mine, I will take care of it.”
“It?” His use of the derogatory term revealed the disparity between them. “No baby of mine could ever be an ‘it.’ She’s a person. Infinitely precious.”
“That’s why you have no choice but to take this test. So that I can give the child the best if it is mine.” But he was looking less certain than he had only minutes ago.
“You could take my word,” she snapped, but already Rafiq was shaking his head, his eyes beginning to glitter with what she recognized as annoyance. She held her ground. This was not an issue she was prepared to negotiate. “Then you have no choice but to wait until the baby is born.”
Rafiq got to his feet and started to pace. “Neither of those are options I’m prepared to accept. I want hard evidence that your child is not mine—so I can escort you out of the country.”
“I’m not risking a miscarriage. You can’t force me to undergo this procedure,” she stated, and hoped like hell she was right. Nor could he make her stay.
Or could he? This was his domain, after all. When she’d come to Dhahara she hadn’t known the extent of his power…that he was the king’s son, a royal sheikh. And when she’d discovered that, she’d convinced herself that he wouldn’t be interested in bringing up the child.
But now she was starting to get cold feet. His family made the laws in this country. Rafiq could do what he wanted to her—with her—and get away with it. Could he force her to have surgery against her will? Would he keep her in Dhahara if she wanted to leave?
Before her first flutterings of fear could develop into full-fledged panic, Rafiq had turned to face her. He stood still and erect.
Tiffany took in the magnificence of the man. The harsh hawk-like features. His dark suit that had to be handmade. The shine of his shoes. He could’ve stepped out of a magazine spread. Yet she didn’t like what he was trying to persuade her to do.
“Look,” she said, tempering her voice, “I told you my passport was stolen—you didn’t believe me. Yet it was true.”
“You blackmailed me.”
“That’s the interpretation you put on it.” She pushed the fringe of her bangs out her eyes. “I bet you never thought you’d see the cash again. But I’ve paid you back in full. Now I’m pregnant—and you think that’s a scam, too. Yet here we are in the doctor’s office and it’s true.”
“How convenient.”
She ignored his sarcasm and continued, “As much as you tell yourself I slept with the whole of Hong Kong, you must know that it’s possible that you’re the father of my child—”
Nothing she said appeared to be denting that shell. His eyes were still hard with suspicion. “We used a condom.”
“And, of course, you’d like to put your faith in the percentages that say overwhelmingly that they’re fail-safe?” She shook her head. “Because it suits you. Well, not this time. Something went wrong. Just like something could go wrong when the doctor takes the chorionic villi sample.”
A frisson of unease slithered through her. She moved from one foot to the other under his stare. The fact that he was selfish enough to be prepared to jeopardize their daughter, a living being, had made her realize that maybe he wasn’t the kind of father she wanted for her baby. How could she even contemplate occasionally leaving her daughter in his solo care?
The sooner she—and her unborn baby—left this country, the better for them both.
He didn’t believe the baby was his, so he had no reason to stop her. The decision made, the tension that had been building within her started to ease.
“I’ll leave Dhahara now. Today, on the first flight I can get. Once the baby is born, taking a sample from inside her cheek will be a breeze, compared to this invasive procedure. The solution is simple. Let’s defer this discussion until then.”
But instead of looking happy at the thought, he frowned. “Where would you go?”
His concern must stem for the prospect of the scandal he would face once it became known he’d fathered her unborn child. She knew all about gossip and scandal—it had been part of her world for too long. The best way to deal with it was to lie low.
“I can go to my parents’ home in New Zealand.” She hesitated, contemplating telling him more about her parents, then decided it wasn’t relevant, not now. She didn’t even know where her father was. Thinking about her parents made her realize that soon there would be no home in Auckland. Her mother needed the money that the sale of the house would bring. “Although my mother will probably need to sell up the house in Auckland.”
“Tiffany—”
She didn’t need his pity. She rushed on. “There’s a quiet seaside village I used to visit as a child.” Her vision blurred at the memory of those carefree days. Everything had been so simple then. So happy. That was what she wanted for her child. “I’ll go there.”
He didn’t look any happier. “I thought you wanted to meet my family. At least, that’s what you had my aunt believing.”
“I did. I mean, I do,” Tiffany hastily amended her reply. “They’re my daughter’s family, too. But you’ve made it clear you can’t wait to get rid of me. Why the sudden about-face?”
Tension quivered through him. “So why leave now? After coming all this way? What if it is my baby?”
Her daughter didn’t deserve a father who would risk her very existence to evade paternity. No father would be better than that. She’d make up for her baby’s lack of a father. She’d do everything in her power to be the best parent her daughter could have.
Rafiq was waiting for her response. She shrugged. “Do you care?”
Anger ignited in the back of his dark eyes, giving them a feral depth. “Yes. I care.”
Sensing she’d miscalculated, she said quickly, “Well, after the baby is born, and once the tests have been done and your paternity confirmed, then you can decide whether you want a part in her life.”
“You can bet your life on it I will.”
Her instinct to flee wavered. Just as she’d decided he didn’t want this baby, he ruined it by getting all passionate and showing her a glimpse of caring.
“My child will not be born illegitimate,” he whispered. “There’s never been an illegitimate heir born in my family.” His carved features revealed no emotion. “That’s why I need to know if the child is mine.”
The unease deepened to panic. He didn’t care about the baby at all. Only about legalities.
“It doesn’t matter that the baby will be illegitimate. She will be loved.” Tiffany gave she a not-so-subtle emphasis. “I’d never subject her to a marriage between parents who care nothing for each other.” Her own parents had been wildly in love when they’d gotten married. Yet their marriage had become a battleground. Her father had been unable to resist other women, had helped himself to them like a child to candy.
When she married she would choose carefully. A nice, ordinary family man.
“It matters.” His fist closed around her wrist.
Tiffany shuddered under the pressure of his fingers. “Well, this appointment is over. I’m not having this test done now, so this whole discussion is irrelevant until the baby is born.”
In the meantime she was going to get her baby out of this country, out from under his control. She pulled her hand free of his and rose to her feet.
“Then I’m going to have to take your word that it’s my baby.” His features were stern as gazed up at her from where he sat, master of all he surveyed, in the doctor’s office. “If you are lying to me, you will regret it.”
“I’m not lying—”
He cut across her heated denial. “There’s no option but for us to get married in the meantime.”
“Get married?”
Tiffany was staring at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.
“I’m not marrying you.”
She made it sound as if he were a particularly offensive variety of the male sex. As she pushed past him, he snagged her fingers between his, and growled, “Think of it as your lucky day. Lots of women want to marry me.”
Tiffany opened her mouth, shut it and made a peculiar sound.
Rafiq leaned closer until her tantalizing fragrance enveloped him. “You wouldn’t be thinking of claiming that you’re so different from all those women, would you, Tiffany?”
The brief flash of awareness in her eyes turned quickly to something darker. He could see she remembered quite clearly what had happened the last time she’d vowed she was so different from the women who considered him charming. In fact, his determination to prove conclusively that she did find him charming was what had led to this present blackmail attempt of hers.
That realization alone should’ve leashed the reckless impulse to provoke her. But it didn’t. Instead he remembered what she’d tasted like…the softness of her skin beneath his fingers…and every detail of what had followed on that hot, balmy night.
She was irresistible.
With a silent curse he realized he wanted to kiss her again. “Tiffany…”
He got to his feet and placed his hands on her shoulders, felt the shudder that quaked through her.
She didn’t pull away. So he drew her closer. Breathed in the soft seductive scent of her. Filled his senses with her sweetness until he could wait no more.
Kissing Tiffany was like rediscovering a secret, shaded oasis filled with fragrant gardenias and leafy green trees. He hadn’t even known that he’d missed her as intensely. Yet now he found himself drowning in her.
His eyes closed, he took his time to rediscover the softness of her mouth. When the kiss ended, the strength of the yearning to claim her mouth once again blindsided him. As he acted on the impulse, she shoved him away.
“Hey.” He steadied her as the force of her shove caused her to stumble. “Steady.”
She touched a mouth that, to his immense satisfaction, looked ripe and very well kissed.
“I don’t want this!”
Rafiq quelled the impulse to prove her passionately wrong. Instead, he arranged his features into an expression of concern. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying kissing one’s future spouse.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s just it. We’re not getting married.”
He smiled to mask the impatience that surged. He wanted her. He would have her—once they were married. He’d sate himself then cut her loose. But she need not know that yet.
“Let’s not play games, Tiffany. Marriage was the ultimate prize you hoped to secure by coming here. You say it wasn’t about blackmail or money. So that leaves only marriage.” His lip curled. “Well, you’ve gotten all you could ever have wanted.”
“I don’t want to marry you!”
“You came here because you wanted to marry someone else?” Rafiq’s mocking retort was met with silence. His gaze narrowed. A lightning-fast glance took in the slender fingers clenched into fists, her wary, defiant eyes.
There was someone else.
A blaze of possessiveness roared through him, the need to stake his claim, to mark her as his, now and forever. He yanked her up against him, tangled his hands in the tumbled waves of hair and captured her mouth roughly with his.
He was aware of the fine tremors that shimmered through her, of the way his thigh fitted between hers and how the cradle of her hips rocked against him. The intoxicating scent and taste of her filled his senses, and her tongue danced with his.
He was aware of everything about her. Only her. The rest of the world receded.
He was so far gone, that he didn’t care about control, about leashing it, about the fact that Dr. Farouk might walk back into her office and discover him alone with her, kissing her. There was just Tiffany…and him.
And she was going to marry him.
Only him.
He broke the kiss and set her away from him with shaking hands. “There,” he said, making his point. “You can’t possibly share what we have with any other man.”
“I don’t.”
Confused, he shook his head. Had he imagined the expression on her face? No, it had been there. A look of yearning—and it hadn’t been for him. He narrowed his gaze in a way that anyone who knew him well recognized. “Where is this fool who allows you to roam the bars of Hong Kong alone, untended? Who leaves you vulnerable to other men?”
“I haven’t met him yet.”
“What?” Rafiq felt like the world had tipped upside down. “We’re arguing over a man who does not even exist?”
“Oh, he does exist.” She wore a dreamy expression. “I know he does. Otherwise why was I put on earth? He’s out there somewhere. I couldn’t believe in love as much as I do, and have it not happen.” A shadow passed over her face. “But I can promise you one thing—he’s nothing like you. Suspicious. Distrustful. Emotionless.”
“So what’s he like then?” he scoffed.
Her eyes had gone soft and dewy. “He’s ordinary. He’s not famous. Or wealthy. He doesn’t live in an obscenely ornate home, nor does he have movie-star looks—”
He bowed his head, and said with irony, “Thank you.”
“I’m not referring to you,” she said crushingly. “I’m trying to explain how ordinary he is. A white picket fence and two-point-four children kind of guy.”
“Then what makes him so special?”
“He’ll love me,” she said simply. “And I’m the most important person in his whole world. In fact, I am his world. There’s none of the pomp and circumstance that fills your existence.”
The red tide that crashed over him couldn’t possibly be jealousy. By Allah, the man did not even exist. Incredulous, he glared at her. Rafiq gazed into her clear, desert-and-sunshine eyes. His chest tightened.
Tiffany was speaking the absolute truth. She didn’t want him. She wanted someone else…someone he could never be.
Seven
Tiffany might have won the skirmish about having a DNA test done, but the tension that filled the back of the chauffeur-driven limousine as they left the doctor’s office warned her that there were still plenty of battles to come.
Rafiq broke the silence that stretched between them by leaning forward to issue instructions in Arabic through the intercom to the chauffeur.
“Let’s walk,” Rafiq said abruptly, as the Mercedes-Benz came to a stop and the back doors opened.
Tiffany followed him out and caught her breath at the sight of the park that sprawled in front of them, tall trees shading open green lawns and a forest of roses beyond. “Where is this?”
“These are the botanical gardens that lie between the hospital and the university. They were laid out by one of my ancestors. She loved gardens and roses.”
“It’s beautiful. So green. So unlike anything I ever expected to find in a desert.”
“The unexpected surprise surpasses the expected.”
“Is that a proverb?” she asked, and for a moment there was absolute accord, a sense of intimacy between them, as their eyes met and he gave her a slight smile.
“No, it’s original. You can claim it if you wish.”
The awful tension that had started in the doctor’s rooms began to ease. She smiled back at him. “What a wonderfully romantic place.”
“Don’t hope to find your dream man here.” Rafiq’s face grew taut. “You may as well accept you’re going to marry me.”
Biting her lip, Tiffany walked swiftly away from him and considered her options. Marriage to Rafiq would make her parents’ marriage look like a picnic at Disneyland by comparison. Bu
t the set of his jaw warned Tiffany to tread carefully. He might not believe the child was his, but he feared the slur of illegitimacy. Rafiq had decided to keep the scandal—and her—within his control.
She’d reached the rose gardens. She halted beside a bed of pale pink flowers. Rafiq stopped beside her. “Rafiq, be reasonable—”
“I’m being perfectly reasonable.” He tipped his head back, and gave her a particularly arrogant look.
She gave a little laugh of disbelief. “You don’t even believe I’m carrying your child.” She touched her stomach. “Yet you’re prepared to marry me. That’s reasonable?”
“You didn’t want to do the tests necessary to establish the baby’s paternity, and I didn’t force you. I’m prepared to take your word that it’s my child and marry you, so that the real truth can be determined once the baby is born—as you suggested. How can you possibly accuse me of being unreasonable?”
He wore such a fake-patient expression that Tiffany ground her teeth. How had he managed to twist it all to make her the unreasonable party here?
To temper her rising agitation, Tiffany sucked in a steadying breath and tried to let the soft, warm wind that blew over the rose beds, releasing their sweet scent, soothe her frayed nerves. “All I wanted was to make sure that my daughter had a right to know who her father was. And to find out whether you would be prepared to acknowledge her—if she feels the need to seek you out one day. I had hoped we could visit. When she’s older,” she added hastily as his brows shot up, “she’ll want to know who her father is.”
He inclined his head. “Of course. I should’ve expected this. You came here to have me sign some sort of acknowledgment of paternity. A document that would enable you to claim maintenance, too.”
“Coming here was never about money!” Tiffany almost stamped her foot. This was not about his ego. Or hers. It was about their daughter.