The Sheikh's Secret Babies

by Lynne Graham

  ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged, breasts swelling from the proximity of his hands and a very basic need to be touched as her breath feathered in her throat.

  Yet his allusion to the discomfiture of their first meeting surprised her, for nothing could have been more awkward than encountering him fresh from bedding her friend and flatmate the night before. Even though her friend had swiftly moved on to another man and indeed moved in with him, that unhappy connection had ensured Chrissie resisted Jaul’s advances.

  His lips caressed her throat as he drew her down on the bed and as a shiver of almost painful sexual awareness travelled through her she blinked as he lifted her hand, splayed her fingers and smoothly threaded a ring onto her wedding finger.

  ‘What’s this?’ she gasped, scanning the band of incredibly glittery gems now set next to her wedding ring. ‘Pink?’

  ‘Pink diamonds. A gift as flawless as you. My wedding gift.’

  ‘I never even thought of giving you a gift!’ she exclaimed with a groan of frustration.

  ‘But you gave me Tarif and Soraya, whose worth is beyond price,’ Jaul declared without hesitation. ‘I can never thank you enough for our children.’

  Her eyes shone luminous in the lamplight because she realised he was sincere. Her fingers shifted on the sheet beneath her hand and she frowned, glancing down to see that the bed had been sprinkled with silky pink rose petals. ‘Are these supposed to be a fertility aid or something?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Roses have always been revered in our climate. The Marwan press has already christened you “Our English Rose”.’

  Chrissie laughed and rolled her eyes.

  ‘It is true. You are very beautiful.’

  Encountering the lustrous glint of gold in Jaul’s dark deep-set eyes, Chrissie flushed because a tiny ball of heat was suddenly igniting deep down inside her. The wild potency of his compelling sexuality made her mouth run dry and her heart pound. It had always been like that: one look from Jaul ensnared her.

  Long fingers curving to her cheekbone, he melded his mouth with hot, fierce pleasure to the lush softness of hers. As he licked along the sealed seam of her lips, it was like a lightning strike with electricity snaking through every fibre of Chrissie’s body. Something clenched low in her pelvis, an ache stirring wanton warmth and dampness between her thighs.

  ‘Jaul...’ she whispered shakily between reddened lips.

  ‘Very beautiful...and finally mine,’ Jaul growled, peeling off his headdress and hauling her onto his lap to embark on the tiny pearl buttons running down the back of her top.

  ‘Very much married anyway,’ she mumbled, her body taking fire at the mere thought of his touch. ‘That’s married three times over now. There’ll be no denying that.’

  ‘I will never deny you again, habibti,’ Jaul muttered raggedly, closing his hands round the firm swell of her unbound breasts, his fingers tugging at the straining tips before he rolled her back onto the bed. With deft ease, he tugged off her skirt and underwear and knelt down to slip off her shoes.

  Chrissie watched him strip and leave everything in a messy heap. His untidiness, the result of never ever having to clear up after himself, had once infuriated her, but now it struck a familiar note that gave her lips a wry curve. His lithe, lean bronzed body was fully, unashamedly aroused. His eyes burned gold with potent hunger below languorously lowered black lashes. ‘I want you so much...’

  Chrissie lay across the bed feeling as wondrously seductive as Cleopatra, for the first time ever unconcerned by her nakedness. The intensity of Jaul’s desire had always enthralled her. She was not perfect, she knew she was not perfect but Jaul had always vehemently disagreed. There had never been anyone else for her purely because only Jaul made her burn with earthy longing and only Jaul could look at her as though she were a goddess come to earth in human flesh. He slid down beside her, his stunning eyes all hot intensity as he claimed her mouth again with devouring hunger. She shifted fluidly under him, her thighs sliding apart, her legs curving up round his hips to bring the most needy part of her into line with his arousal.

  ‘You’re trying to hurry me again,’ Jaul censured. ‘This is a special night.’

  ‘Every night with you is special,’ Chrissie broke in, tilting up to him, inviting him into her with every weapon in her feminine armoury.

  He pulled back from her briefly to reach for a condom and returned to stroke the heated damp flesh between her thighs, teasing her in ways that made her writhe and jerk with a readiness she couldn’t conceal. When he finally thrust into her, she expelled her breath in a joyous hiss of sensual shock and pleasure and flung her head back. ‘Yes!’ she gasped.

  Jaul withdrew and glided into her again and her inner muscles clenched tight around him. With his every carnal thrust, excitement leapt higher, perspiration beading on her skin as her heart hammered. He pushed her back against the pillows, lifting her legs over his shoulders to gain better access to her willing body.

  ‘You’re a total minx, you scramble my wits,’ he told her raggedly, his control breaking as she lifted her hips to deepen his penetration and his pace quickening to a more forceful rhythm.

  And then there was nothing but the passion and the wild, crazy excitement he induced until she felt as though she were about to fly clean out of her skin. Molten heat consumed her as he pounded into her with fierce hunger and when the finish came it was spectacular for both of them and a blaze of ecstasy that was overwhelming.

  Chrissie lay with her cheek pressed up against Jaul’s shoulder. ‘I have to learn to trust you again,’ she mused, speaking her thoughts out loud because all barriers were down. ‘I know—intellectually speaking—that you didn’t choose to desert me but I’ve always had a hard time trusting men.’

  Jaul smoothed her tossed hair. ‘Why?’

  ‘Mum lived with a lot of loser men while I was growing up,’ she told him ruefully. ‘Either they were drunks or gamblers or they stole her money or beat her up.’

  Jaul was shocked, belatedly registering that Chrissie had always been cagey about her background and only now was he understanding why. ‘That does explain some things about you. You were always so suspicious of me, always expecting the worst.’

  ‘Mum married her last partner and he was the worst of all...’ she admitted heavily.

  ‘In what way?’ Jaul prompted.

  ‘It’s sordid,’ she mumbled, abruptly pulling away from him.

  Jaul hauled her back into his arms without hesitation. ‘There should be nothing you can’t tell me. Your mother’s mistakes are not your mistakes and I will not judge you by them.’

  Chrissie swivelled round in the circle of his arms. ‘Before Mum died, my stepfather was making her work as a prostitute,’ she framed sickly. ‘Men would come to the house during the day. Lizzie doesn’t know about it because she was at secondary and she had a job after school but I was only seven and home at lunchtime. Once I went upstairs to the bathroom and I saw Mum in bed with a man and there was a huge row.’

  Jaul tipped up her face, seeing the distance and defensiveness etched in her turquoise eyes. ‘What happened?’

  ‘My stepfather hit me. I was much older before I understood what was going on. After that I was locked in my room every day after school... I was very scared of my stepfather.’

  ‘I am so very sorry you had to go through that,’ Jaul breathed in a raw, driven undertone, wishing he could look up the stepfather and kill him for terrorising the sensitive, innocent child Chrissie had once been. ‘But it is not your disgrace to bear.’

  ‘It’s never felt like that, though,’ Chrissie confided, willing to meet his beautiful eyes again, anxiously in search of any sign of revulsion in his gaze and relieved to see only concern etched there. ‘Now tell me something you’re ashamed of...’ she invited to distract him from asking further questions.

  Not checking out his father’s story about her once he was fit to do so.

  But Jaul didn’t want to rake up that divisi
ve past and instead presented her with another less than stellar moment. ‘I lost my virginity with a very high-class hooker in Dubai,’ he told her grimly. ‘Believe me, I was of an age where it was past time I found out what sex was like.’

  ‘Why was that?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘The first real freedom I had ever had was when I went to university in the UK,’ Jaul confided with a grimace. ‘I had no experience whatsoever of normal life.’

  Chrissie rested her head down on his shoulder and studied him with drowsy turquoise eyes of sympathy while thinking of how badly she had misunderstood him when she’d first met him and assumed he was the quintessential Arab playboy. In truth he had spent his youthful years of supposed irresponsibility in boarding school and the army with even his free time mapped out by his controlling father. If he had gone a little wild when he’d first slipped that leash, she was sure only a saint could blame him for it.

  It dismayed her to appreciate how little they had actually known about each other when they had first married, but it soothed her that she understood him better now and could accept that in possession of his faculties and the true facts he would never have abandoned her.

  * * *

  Bandar greeted Jaul over his morning coffee by the fire the following morning.

  His aide gave him a list of the day’s events and passed on urgent messages before pausing to extend an envelope. ‘This arrived in the diplomatic bag yesterday. It’s from Yusuf and apparently it’s personal and confidential.’ Bandar raised his brows at that surprising label being applied to any item sent by as aloof a personality as his former boss.

  Jaul stiffened and lost colour before grasping the envelope. As soon as he was alone, he tore it open. Somewhere in the depths of the tent he could hear Chrissie singing tunelessly in the shower but, for once, he failed to smile. He was reading what his father’s former adviser had to say and in the short note of fervent apology one sentence stood out clearer than any other.

  Bearing in mind my actions two years ago, it would have been an offence for me to enter the same room as your queen and offer my best wishes on the occasion of your wedding.

  And there it was in a handful of words: what Jaul had most feared. It was confirmation of everything Chrissie had told him because it was obvious that Yusuf had felt too ashamed of his treatment of Chrissie in the past to attend their wedding. That confirmation struck Jaul like a body blow. His stomach lurched and he sprang to his feet, too unsettled to sit still. Evidently, everything Chrissie had told him was the truth. She had been thrown out of his Oxford apartment and humiliated. She had gone to the Marwani Embassy in London to enquire about her missing husband, only for those visits to be mocked and hushed up. She had not accepted money from his father.

  Jaul had nourished a secret hope that Chrissie could be exaggerating her experiences after his disappearance, that perhaps what she had endured was not quite as traumatic as she had made it sound, but Yusuf’s reaction to Chrissie’s reappearance in Jaul’s life as his queen was uniquely revealing. Jaul still wanted to hear the details of Yusuf’s dealings with his wife on King Lut’s behalf but he would wait until the older man returned to Marwan to receive them. After all, he already knew the most crucial facts, he reminded himself heavily. His wife had told him how she had suffered and he had doubted her every word, had literally prayed that her lively imagination had encouraged her to embellish her story. And wasn’t this his due reward for his lack of faith in his wife and his all-consuming loyalty to his father’s memory? What had happened to his loyalty to the woman he had married?

  Self-evidently, his father had lied to him shamelessly over and over again. Lut clearly hadn’t cared what he’d had to say or do to destroy his son’s marriage. Jaul was appalled that the man he had respected and cared for could have gone to such brutally selfish lengths to deprive his son of the woman he loved.

  As the sun began to climb higher in the sky, driving off the early morning chill, Jaul paced the sand, oblivious to the anxious watch of his guards. He could not escape certain devastating conclusions: he had virtually wrecked Chrissie’s life and, worst of all, he had not just done it once, he had done it twice. The first time he had married her and left her pregnant and without support and the second time he had blackmailed her into moving to Marwan and giving their marriage a second chance. How did any man come back from such grievous mistakes? What right did he have to try and hold onto a woman he knew he didn’t deserve?

  While being angry and hostile at the outset, Chrissie had come round sufficiently to offer him a measure of forgiveness and understanding. But she didn’t owe him either, did she? He had done nothing to earn her forgiveness. An honourable man would let her go free, Jaul reckoned, perspiration dampening his lean dark features in the heat of the sun. An honourable man would instantly own up to his mistakes and give her the freedom to make a choice about whether she wanted to stay or go...

  It was the most humiliating moment to discover that he was evidently not an honourable man, for the prospect of facing life without Chrissie and the twins by his side was not one that Jaul could bring himself to even contemplate.

  He had screwed up, he had screwed up so badly, he reasoned fiercely, that he could only do better in the future. But the shame of his misjudgement felt like a giant rock lodged in his chest. He watched Chrissie curl up on a seat in the shade while fruit and rolls were brought to her for breakfast. Her shining hair was loose round her lovely face and she wore not a scrap of make-up, her slender body fetchingly clad in khaki capris and a plain white tee. She was his wife...but for how much longer? Stress locked tight every muscle in his lithe, powerful body.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘WHAT HAPPENED TO that horse you idolised?’ Jaul asked lazily.

  ‘Hero’s in a sanctuary close to the farm where I used to live with Dad,’ Chrissie told him as they rode back to the oasis encampment with the sun slowly rising to chase the coolness from the sky. Her eyes were wide and bright, appreciative of the surprising and colourful beauty of the barren landscape at dawn. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t seen him in months. While I was working and looking after the twins, it was just impossible to get up there for a visit but maybe next time we’re in London I could make a special trip to see him.’

  ‘Why’s your horse in a sanctuary?’ Jaul pressed with obvious incomprehension.

  ‘Because, Mr Spoilt-Rotten-Rich, when my father had to vacate the farm tenancy I no longer had anywhere to house Hero and no money to pay for his upkeep either. Then, luckily for me, we sold the island to Cesare and I gave the sanctuary an endowment to give Hero a home for life,’ Chrissie explained without heat as she gently stroked the neck of the beautiful Arabian mare she was riding. ‘He’s safe, well-looked-after and happy. It was the best I could do for him.’

  Their time in the desert was almost over, Chrissie reflected, for they were travelling back to the palace as soon as they returned to the camp. The palace stables were packed with wonderful horse flesh and Jaul had had his stallion and her gorgeous high-stepping mare brought out for their use. Every day they had gone riding at dawn and at dusk when the desert heat was at its coolest. She had adored those quiet times with Jaul and the knowledge that their mutual love of horses and fresh-air activity was something they could share. But although Jaul had been endlessly attentive and reassuring she could not escape the suspicion that something was amiss with him.<3

  While Jaul had endured long meetings with the tribal sheikhs, who had arrived every morning to speak with him and stayed throughout the day, Chrissie had spent the time with their wives and families. She enjoyed meeting people and learning about their lives and with Zaliha to translate she had held story-telling sessions with the children and all formality had been abandoned while she entertained them. Jaul had called those sessions an ‘unqualified success’ and had complimented her on her easy manner with his people. He had even asked her to consider working with the professionals on a nursery education development programme for Marwan
, pointing out this was her area of expertise. His request had filled her with pride and pleasure, yet in spite of his praise and satisfaction she remained convinced that there was something wrong between them.

  There was a distance, a reserve in Jaul that had not been there before, and he had not made love to her since their wedding night. Of course, he had been forced to sit up late with his visitors, she acknowledged ruefully. He had come to bed in the early hours and had still risen at the crack of dawn as he always did. But since that first night, he hadn’t touched her at all, indeed had suddenly become very restrained in his behaviour in a way that was totally unfamiliar and confusing to Chrissie because Jaul was such a naturally physical person. Last night, for instance, she had shifted over to his side of the bed and he had lain there as rigid as an icicle being threatened by the heat of a fire. Chrissie had intended to make encouraging moves herself but the polite goodnight he had murmured had made her pull back from that idea.

  Maybe, she thought anxiously, now that she was available all the time, as it were, she didn’t have quite the same appeal. Or more probably, common sense suggested gently, he was simply exhausted by early starts, late nights and the need for constant courteous diplomacy while he worked with the different factions involved in the talks that were lasting, on average, eighteen hours a day. The very last thing she should be doing with Jaul, she told herself urgently, was allowing her imagination or her insecurities to conjure up seeming problems in what was probably perfectly ordinary behaviour. Their marriage was working, wasn’t it? She thought it was working but the renewed closeness she had fancied she saw during their second wedding night seemed to have evaporated again.

  When they arrived back at the palace, Bandar greeted them in the entrance porch to speak urgently to Jaul. Jaul pokered up and a flush mantled his exotic cheekbones, his response to his aide clipped and cool in tone.