The Sheikh's Sextuplet Baby Surprise

by Holly Rayner

  They were soaked and happy by the end of it all, and Darian shook droplets of water from his hair.

  “Now on to dinner then, I suppose?”

  He shook his head.

  “Not this time. We’re going to have to blend things a little bit. This way.”

  He pulled her down the street, Rachelle happily catching up to him as they walked, until he stopped and pressed the hidden buzzer of the boutique again.

  “I would never be able to find this place,” Rachelle said.

  “Nonsense. I imagine we’ll get plenty of use out of this, especially now that I’ve had it stocked with baby clothing as well.”

  “Smart move.”

  “They don’t call me the master of planning at work for nothing,” Darian replied as the buzzer went off, and they stepped inside.

  When the door opened, Chantilly greeted them both with a warm hug.

  “It’s good to be home,” she declared. “Now, what can I get you this time?”

  She looked them over, her eyes looking over then snapping right back to Rachelle’s ring. She squealed in delight.

  “Congratulations, my dears! You are going to make the most beautiful couple. I have just the thing already; come right this way.”

  Rachelle cast a glance back at Darian, who shrugged as the door was closed behind her. Chantilly dressed her in an emerald halter-neck gown that glittered ever so slightly in the light. After doing her hair and makeup once more, Rachelle really didn’t recognize herself when she looked in the mirror, as she was so used to barely having time to hide the circles beneath her eyes before darting out the door.

  “It’s fantastic,” Rachelle breathed. “Thank you!”

  “Anything for my future Sheikha. Have fun tonight; you deserve it!”

  Rachelle gave Chantilly another hug before stepping out of the room. Darian was dressed already, looking more handsome than ever, if that were even possible. They stared warmly at one another, meeting in the middle of the foyer as Darian planted a delicate kiss along the base of her neck.

  “A new dress to make up for the ones that were lost.”

  “It’s lovely,” she whispered.

  “So are you.”

  They thanked Chantilly before heading back out, where the car was already waiting for them. As they stepped inside, the sun sank beyond the horizon, stars appearing in the sky as they reached their final destination.

  The rubble of the palace was a painful reminder of what was lost. Rachelle wondered at Darian bringing her there, but he grabbed a bottle of champagne, two flutes, and a blanket, saying nothing as he exited the car, waiting for her to join him.

  The mood was a little somber as they walked through rock piles that had once been beautiful hallways. Finally, they reached the back area, and Darian laid the blanket down and sat on it, looking up at the stars.

  “This should be about right,” he said.

  “The balcony?”

  He nodded, patting the ground next to him for her to join him. He popped open the bottle, pouring them each a glass.

  “We’re going to rebuild, Rachelle, and we will raise our family right here in this spot.”

  “Of course we will,” she agreed.

  They stared up at the night sky, once again enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. Darian chuckled.

  “What are you laughing at?” Rachelle asked.

  He pointed up at the sky.

  “Remember that star constellation I was telling you about?” he asked.

  “How could I forget? It was the most romantic story I’d ever heard.”

  Darian gazed down at her with a gleam in his eye.

  “I made the whole thing up to seduce you. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and all I could think about was making love to you, so I conjured up the best tale I could to try to get you to fall for me, since I had so quickly fallen for you.”

  Rachelle grinned as she stared up at the sky, his story echoing across the annals of her mind.

  “You really think I didn’t know that?” she asked, and he glanced down at her in surprise.

  Rachelle laughed.

  “Men. You really have no idea how clever we women really are, do you?”

  Before he could reply, she tugged on his shirt, pulling him down to her in a passionate, loving embrace. He kissed her deeply, their lips perfectly melding together, as though they had been made to link as one.

  Rachelle felt a rush of gratitude that she had found him and that their love had won out in the end. Now they had the promise of forever ahead, and she couldn’t wait to live out the rest of their lives, one adventure at a time.

  The End

  The Sheikh’s Twin Baby Surprise

  Time for a tease!

  Up next I’ve included the first few chapters of The Sheikh’s Twin Baby Surprise, the first in my series, More Than He Bargained For

  Happy reading!

  Copyright 2017 by Holly Rayner

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  2nd Edition.

  Chapter 1

  I let out a deep sigh and looked out the limo window. Evening was falling on the desert city like elegant drapery, lights flickering on in buildings and street shops, but the streets were no less bustling than usual.

  The culture of Al-Thakri was a lively, social one, and it showed in every inch of its capital city. Beautiful women clapped along the sidewalks in stiletto heels and smart skirts, while men in fine, tailored suits bid them good evening, phones plastered to their ears.

  Dotted in between the modern skyscrapers and high-rises, the buildings of old Al-Thakri remained, sand and limestone facades that had survived centuries of wear and war and desert heat to stand as testaments of a glorious past. The sphinx—the symbol of Al-Thakri—was everywhere, used as decoration on buildings new and old alike.

  The place was a wonderland; a fairy tale I never would have thought I’d be able to experience.

  And yet, even so soon after arriving, I was considering leaving it all behind. It had only been six months since I had been scooped up by the royal family of this beautiful nation to serve as a private doctor to the eldest son, but it felt like much longer.

  The limo came to a smooth stop at a traffic light, and at the edge of my attention I heard a soft but insistent voice.

  “Dr. Green? What are you thinking?”

  It was Omar—or, more properly, the Sheikh of Al-Thakri, next in line to the throne, and my employer.

  I turned at the sound of his voice, and saw his dark, handsome face staring back at me with some anticipation. His deep brown eyes glittered. In front of him, he was holding up two velvet boxes, each of which contained a pair of cufflinks.

  “Diamond or ruby?” he asked me earnestly.

  I took a thoughtful glance at each of the options and let my eyes wander over Omar’s face, and his perfectly tailored tuxedo. Something bright was shining in his eyes tonight.

  “Ruby,” I said, pointing a freshly manicured finger at the velvet box on the right.

  Omar smiled, as if he had been hoping for that answer. He snapped the box holding the diamond cufflinks shut. “Good choice.”

  “I’m not really qualified to make decisions like that, you know,” I said back to him with just a hint of teasing in my voice. “My stylist at the palace would agree. She almost fainted when she saw the wardrobe I brought with me. So my apologies if you happen to get any comments about your cufflinks tonight.”

  Omar laughed richly, and a happy bloom spread
out in my chest as I laughed with him.

  I didn’t add that it was nice to be of some use around him lately. As a physician who had spent two years treating patients in war-torn countries with Doctors Without Borders, the current environment was giving me more than a touch of the doldrums. It wasn’t something I had admitted to the Sheikh—I was having a hard enough time admitting it to myself.

  The luxurious living that came with being included in the royal entourage was amazing. The fact that I had earned enough money in six months not only to deal with the angry letters regarding my overdue student loan payments, but also to put away a sizable nest egg for the next journey in my life, were benefits for which I was extremely grateful. But there wasn’t much use for a trauma physician in the entourage of a healthy, young, handsome Sheikh who never got more than the occasional scrape from playing tennis. He hadn’t even caught a cold once the entire six months I had been in his employment. Frankly, I was bored out of my mind, and more than a little upset at the implications my boredom made about me as a person.

  Maybe I was a terrible person, but the dullness of my employment here made me long for the dust and heat of the field hospitals where my hands actually felt like they were making a difference in the world. I saved countless lives in those two years—and lost a few, to be sure, ghosts that follow every doctor, nurse and midwife in the world. But there was no question that I was making a difference. There was no question that I was loved and appreciated by the people I helped.

  But here? In the air-conditioned, oil-rich cities of Al-Thakri, living alongside some of the richest rulers in the world, I wasn’t so sure I was making a difference at all, and it was starting to grate on me.

  At least I knew how to pick out a pair of cufflinks, I thought bitterly.

  “Almost arrived, sir,” the driver, Abdul, called from the front of the limo.

  “Wonderful,” said Omar. He finished putting on the cufflinks and gave me a big, beaming smile.

  It made my stomach flutter. I did my best to keep from blushing as I smiled back.

  The smile—and the butterflies—died quickly when Omar spoke. “I hope Jada is wearing something with a fiery tint to it. It will match the rubies.”

  I nodded quickly and turned back to look through the window. “Yes, it would,” I said quietly.

  I didn’t want to talk about his date—not this one, nor any of the others he’d had lately. In the past six months, an endless parade of heiresses and princesses had rotated in and out of the Sheikh’s life, all vying for his favor. He’d been set to take the throne ever since the death of his father, some months before I arrived, but he would need a queen alongside him to make it proper—a queen who would give him an heir to continue the royal bloodline.

  I couldn’t quite admit to myself just how much it was beginning to hurt to watch the courtships from afar.

  I’d long ago stopped resenting the girls personally, and I expected that Jada would be no different. Most of them were too vapid and shallow to hate properly; instead, they had become a faceless mass of competition for a man who didn’t even realize I felt anything for him.

  Somehow, that made it all worse.

  The car glided to a halt on the curb next to a glittering, high-rise building. Smartly-dressed shoppers glanced curiously at the tinted windows, but didn’t slow their pace down the landscaped sidewalk.

  We’d barely waited a moment before the doors of the high-rise were opened by a doorman in a maroon uniform, and out from behind him came the woman who must have been Jada.

  I felt a pit form in my stomach; she was a goddess with tanned skin, black hair, and a body like a supermodel. Her plump lips were stained a beautiful shade of red, and her black eyeliner was painted in a perfect cat’s eye that would have taken me weeks to apply on my own. I said a silent prayer for the stylists in the palace that I was able to access.

  Of course, she was wearing red.

  As she approached the car, I moved to sit next to Rafiq, Omar’s most trusted bodyguard who never left his side. Jada stepped into the car, moving carefully in her stiletto heels, and sat down next to Omar, smiling beautifully as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. She gushed over him until she noticed the rest of the entourage in the limo—myself and Rafiq—and her face squished like she smelled something rotten.

  “This is my physician, Dr. Carrie Green,” Omar said, with a hand extended my direction. “She and Rafiq are my constant companions.”

  “Constant?” repeated Jada suspiciously. “Why do you need a doctor everywhere you go? Are you ill?”

  “No, no,” laughed Omar, sliding an arm around the back of the seat and her thin shoulders. “But a man in my position can’t afford to take any risks with my health. If someone were to make an attempt on my life, Dr. Green here could be the one to save me.” He looked at me with a glint in his eye. I smiled back.

  “Someone is trying to assassinate you?” Jada’s voice sounded like she couldn’t decide if she was afraid or impressed—maybe a little of both.

  Omar shrugged. “One never knows where the streets of his journey will take him.”

  Jada said nothing in reply as the royal motorcade pulled back onto the streets, and I couldn’t help assuming that she was wondering if she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

  Chapter 2

  Omar had hired out the grand ballroom of the city’s most exquisite hotel to serve as the venue for the party. I’d been by Omar’s side for plenty of black tie affairs, but none of them compared to the opulence of this one—the birthday party for his mother, Mirah, Queen Regent of Al-Thakri.

  Paparazzi flash bulbs strobed against the tinted windows of the car as the limo circled the driveway and headed up toward the gilded front doors. Photographers crushed against each other to try and get as close as they could, while the black-suited security detail worked just as hard to form a chain and keep the vultures at a safe distance.

  My nerves lit up, as they always did when I had to step out in public as part of Omar’s entourage. I still hadn’t got used to all the glitz, all the noise, all the attention poured on the Sheikh and his family. It wasn’t something a girl like me was used to dealing with, and I wasn’t sure it ever would be.

  But Jada was clearly not a girl like me. Her thin, delicate hand, glittering with jewelry, reached over to clutch at Omar’s hand, and my stomach jumbled in a wave of nausea.

  “Sir, we’re ready when you are. Security is in position,” said the driver. He put the car in park but did not kill the ignition—in the blazing, Middle-Eastern sun, every heartbeat without the air-conditioning was unbearable.

  “Thank you, Abdul,” replied Omar. He leaned closely to Jada. “My dear, would you do me the honor of stepping out first so the crowd can see what a divine woman I’ve been graced with this evening?”

  I couldn’t look at them anymore. I opened up the sequined clutch purse that matched the hue of my midnight blue dress and dug out the lipstick and compact mirror I had stuffed in there. Rafiq was responsible for carrying my triage bag; all I had to do tonight was look like I belonged at this glamorous party and try to have a good time.

  Ignoring the canoodling happening on the seat beside me, I reapplied my lipstick with care, despite the fact that it looked as perfect as it had when we left. The stylists at the palace had done my light blond hair into a sophisticated up-do, and borrowed diamond earrings dangled from my ears—dripping waterfalls of sparkling gems that matched the necklace on my chest.

  I almost didn’t recognize myself, and couldn’t think of a single instance in my life where I’d been so gussied up before. I tried to enjoy it instead of focusing on the heartache—or comparing myself to Jada. Her tall, lithe form was goddess-like in comparison to mine. I was average height, with curves and a flat stomach, and while I had never had trouble attracting men, there also weren’t a lot of women of Jada’s caliber in the dusty towns of Ohio.

  Not comparing myself to her was easier said than done, particularly when Omar leaned
in to whisper something in her ear, making her giggle as she nuzzled against his clean-shaven face. My stomach tensed as my imagination went wild.

  After a few excruciating moments, the valet outside received the signal from the driver and opened the rear of the limo. A furnace of heat rolled into the car, despite the sun setting stubbornly behind the cityscape, and the sounds of the crowd and photographers became loud and unsettling.

  Like a practiced starlet, Jada stepped out of the limo and onto the soft red carpet with a beaming smile. Omar followed suit, and as I waited to follow them out, I could see one of his strong hands resting on the small of her back as he walked her into the building.

  Rafiq was staring at me when I looked over at him.

  “What?” I asked curiously.

  He nodded towards the hotel. “Tonight will be the night, yes?”

  “The night for what?”

  “The night you tell His Highness about the truth of what is in your heart.”

  Cheeks flushing, I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No need to lie to me, Doctor. I won’t be the one to share this secret.”

  “There is no secret,” I replied with a little hiss in my voice, and Rafiq only shrugged and didn’t press the point.

  Carefully, I made my way towards the limo door to step out and follow the Sheikh with Rafiq close behind. The paparazzi didn’t give a damn about the two of us, thankfully; we were just the help. We trailed a few steps behind Omar and Jada as they made a show of their approach to the hotel.

  Inside, the ballroom had been turned into an exquisite banquet hall, large enough to hold the hundreds of guests invited by the royal family. Debutantes, kings, ambassadors, and even a few journalists mingled in the huge and well-dressed crowd.