by Maggie Cox
The first time Zafir had met her he’d instantly thought her the most beguiling creature he’d ever seen, and had likened her to the stunning flaxen-haired princess from one of the old Arabian tales he’d heard from his nursemaid as a child. The legend went that whenever this princess caught a man in her gaze his heart and soul would be pledged to her for ever.
As if suddenly aware that the silence between them had stretched on too long, Darcy turned to the attractive older woman by her side and addressed her. Zafir had already assumed she must be her mother. Her tinted blonde hair must have once had the same golden hue as her daughter’s, he guessed.
In a determined tone, Darcy announced, ‘By the way, Mum, I didn’t introduce you. This is His Royal Highness Sheikh Zafir el-Kalil of Zachariah.’ She flicked him a glance that left him in no doubt that she was on her guard.
His abdomen clenched as though he’d been sucker-punched as Zafir chillingly recalled his instinctive urge to lash out when she’d accused his brother of being a liar. Whether blood was thicker than water or not, he’d broken his own strict code of conduct in reacting like that. As Allah was his judge, he would rather cut off his hand than hurt a single hair on her head...
‘And this is my mother, Patricia Carrick, Your Highness.’
‘I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Mrs Carrick.’ Having been raised always to respect his elders, in the midst of his turmoil he somehow found a smile.
‘And this is a privilege I never expected, Your Highness.’ Her mother couldn’t help giving an awkward little curtsey that made her daughter flush.
Her mother was transfixed by the man’s attention.
Then, what female wouldn’t be, no matter how old she was? Darcy mused.
‘I know that Darcy once worked for an Arabian bank whose owners had a royal bloodline, but that was quite some time ago now...in fact a few months before she had Sami.’
It was as if Patricia had just pulled the pin on a hand grenade, and the room fell preternaturally quiet. Reminding herself of the reason that Zafir had brought her home from the hospital in the first place, Darcy found herself staring at the neat white bandage taped round her ankle.
Had her mother not yet put two and two together? If not, then surely it was only a matter of time before she did.
Knowing that the last thing she felt like facing was confrontation, Darcy sought to steer her away from the subject. Lifting her hand to conceal a fake yawn, she made her voice apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I’m really feeling quite tired, and I’m sure His Highness has to get on. It’s been quite an ordeal. I think I’ll go and have a lie-down in a minute, if you could watch Sami?’
‘Of course, dear. Why don’t you let me take him upstairs while you say goodbye to His Highness? Then you can take a nap.’
‘Thanks.’
His glance temporarily alighting on the older woman, Zafir made a polite bow. ‘It has been an honour meeting you, Mrs Carrick.’
‘And you, Your Highness.’
Putting out his hand, he briefly laid it on the child’s small shoulder and bestowed upon him a warmly unguarded smile that made his mother’s heart stall.
‘It has been a delight and a pleasure to meet you too, Sami,’ he told him. ‘I hope we shall be able to see each other again soon.’
‘Cool!’ he replied, with the happy grin that he generally reserved for his best friend, Ben, at school.
Darcy mused that her son didn’t easily give his trust to anyone. Had some deep inner instinct already made him bond with the man who was his father?
Her teeth grazing at her lip, she watched him run out to the hall staircase, followed more slowly by his grandmother. In just a few short moments she heard his footsteps race excitedly into his room. No doubt he would be playing eagerly with his toys.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE AIR STIRRED behind her and Darcy realised that Zafir had moved to stare out at the postage-stamp-sized garden beyond the French doors. He must think it ridiculously small compared to his own generous acreage. If it weren’t for the injury she’d sustained, she would hardly believe that she’d dared to climb his garden wall. But ‘needs must as the Devil drives’, she thought. Facing the very worst of demons wouldn’t faze her if it helped ensure her son’s well-being and security.
‘You don’t have to stay any longer,’ she told him, her voice sounding strained even to her own ears.
‘Oh, but I do,’ he insisted, turning to look at her. There was a flash of steel in his eyes. ‘There are still a few things we need to discuss.’
‘I thought we’d covered most things.’
‘Don’t play games with me. I want a straight answer from you. Was I really your only lover at the time, Darcy?’
Her skin prickled with indignant heat. ‘You accused me once before of sleeping with other men because you listened to office gossip. It was a contemptible lie then and it’s still a lie now. Do you imagine I’d ever want to see you again if it wasn’t for a very good reason? You hurt me so badly, Zafir, that’s it’s a wonder I could ever hold my head up again. The only reason I wanted to make contact with you is because of Sami.’
‘You say you tried to reach me, but how hard did you try?’
Once again he rubbed salt into her wounds with the disbelief that sounded in his voice. Had the faith and trust he’d used to have in his ability to make good judgements been so diminished by his brother’s lies?
Disconsolately, she shook her head. ‘Only the person who took my calls and deals with your post can tell you that.’
‘Are you saying it was my personal secretary?’
She flinched, because that had used to be her role. ‘I can only presume that’s who it was—or maybe someone who obeyed her instructions?’
Darcy saw him swallow hard.
‘Make no mistake. I will be making my own investigations into the matter’
‘I shouldn’t have let our association become more personal when I came to work for you, however strong my feelings were at the time. But I can’t regret it because it gave me my son. He’s the only good thing that’s come out of that whole sorry episode. Now all I want is for us to have some peace and for our lives to return to normal.’
‘Then let me tell you this.’
He moved across to her in a flash and, with a rustle of the luxuriant robes he wore over black jeans and cut-off leather boots, dropped down in front of her, one hand possessively trapping hers as it rested on the wheelchair arm. His touch was like being exquisitely burned, and Darcy gasped.
‘The first thing that’s going to happen tomorrow is that I’m going to take a paternity test with Sami. If it turns out that I am indeed his father, then wheels will very quickly be put into motion to do what is right by him.’
‘What do you mean?’
A muscle in the side of his sculpted cheek flinched. ‘I mean I will let my family know that I have sired a son and heir and, to that end, I will be returning home to Zachariah to present him.’
‘Now, wait just a minute. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave the country with him? Let me remind you that he’s my son too, Zafir. I’m the one who’s raised him all these years, not you.’
‘And whose fault is that, habibi?’ His hand firming more tightly round hers, he tugged her towards him. ‘You tell me that you tried to reach me—but until I find out if that’s true the fact is that I had no idea you’d had a child. If the paternity test turns out to prove without a doubt that he is my flesh and blood, you should understand that there are going to be some serious consequences.’
‘Are you threatening me?’ Shocked by his vehemence, Darcy turned cold. ‘There are laws in this country that—’
But she never got the chance to say anything else because suddenly his hands were firmly gripping her waist and he was impelling her towards him. In the next instant he possessively crushed her lips under his. It was a passionate, bruising kiss that was full of fury as well as blistering desire.
Back w
hen she’d first known him the combustible fusion that had driven them into bed that very first time had been white-hot and charged, but even then she’d only succumbed to being intimate with him because she’d been falling in love with him.
Their lovemaking had culminated in her falling pregnant. But never at any time had she considered aborting her baby because their relationship had ended so disastrously. Right from the start Darcy had had an incontrovertible sense that it was her destiny to have his child.
But she’d never experienced the taste of punishing anger on his lips until now. It was clear she had to suppress the need and desire that was feverishly charging through her and somehow find the strength to push him away. She should never forget that this man had betrayed her when he’d chosen to believe his brother’s lies about her, and that it had cost her much more than just the loss of her job. How could she ever trust him again?
With her eyes brimming with tears and her breath tight, Darcy stared back into the Arabian’s stunningly carved visage and for a moment was reassured in her decision to hold back. There wasn’t the least bit of remorse in his expression. In fact he seemed infuriated that she’d curtailed the embrace. His own breath was coming in short sharp gasps and he raised the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, as if to wipe away her taste. Then, with noticeably less care than he’d previously exhibited, Zafir pushed her back down into the wheelchair.
‘You are no longer going to have everything your way, Darcy. Now that I am back in your life things are very definitely going to change. I will pick you and the child up tomorrow morning, to go to the clinic. In the meantime you should rest as much as possible and get some of your strength back. Don’t lock the front door when I’m gone—I’m going to get your walking aids from the car.’
‘You’re behaving as if you already know the outcome of the test. You surely wouldn’t go to all this trouble if you suspected for even a second that you aren’t Sami’s father...that he’s someone else’s.’
‘When it comes to women I am as liable as the next man to being prey to feminine wiles, and in this particular case I want to be absolutely sure I am not being led astray. In my country, do you know how vital it is for its rulers to father sons? We are a rich but small kingdom, and if we don’t procreate we run the risk of being taken over by larger tribes in neighbouring kingdoms. I can’t emphasise more strongly than that how vital it is that I make certain that your claims are true.’
On that note he left the house, and she heard his deep bass tones carry on the air as he talked to his bodyguard, Rashid. The enormity of the situation washed over Darcy like encroaching floodwater and her body shivered convulsively.
If someone had predicted to her that one day Zafir would come back into her life and want to claim his son, she’d honestly have thought them deluded. Astonishingly, he’d proved her wrong. Her lips were still tingling where his had so passionately left their imprint and she knew they were likely to be contused.
Tentatively touching her fingertips to the softly swollen flesh, she sighed. Even though she knew his visit was no imagined fantasy—that it was electrifyingly real—it still felt as though she was in a dream when he appeared in the room again, her walking aids tucked carefully under his arm. He set them down by the sofa.
Every time she was confronted by the sight of him—in spite of his obvious mistrust and the grief he’d left her with—her hopes soared that even if he couldn’t bring himself to love her again, as he once had, perhaps he would genuinely want to be a proper father to his son? Right then, she refused to think about his engagement.
‘I will leave them here, at the end of the couch, so you can reach them when you need to get up.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You will not be able to manage to do things on your own for a while, until your injury heals. I’m thinking of hiring a nurse for you.’
A sense that events were taking on a distinct life of their own and running away with her gave Darcy the shivers. She needed to impress upon him the fact that she still had a mind of her own.
Imbuing firmness into her tone, she replied, ‘That won’t be necessary. My mum is with me, remember?’
Zafir frowned, ‘Ah, yes, she lives with you.’
‘Yes. She looks after Sami for me when I’m at work, and she’ll take care of things until I’m up and about again.’
‘And where, may I ask, do you work these days?’
‘I work for a temping agency rather than a single employer. The jobs are quite varied and I like that. It also gives me the flexibility I need to be at home whenever Sami is ill.’
‘Resourceful as ever, I see.’ The coal-black eyes glimmered thoughtfully.
‘I’ve had to be. Obviously I need to earn money to keep us and pay my rent.’
‘You do not own this property?’
‘You’re joking! Mum and I rent it together. Have you any idea how much I’d need to put down as a deposit in order to get a mortgage?’ A warm flush swept across her cheeks and she knew she sounded defensive. ‘Anyway, I’m really tired now and I need to rest. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Zafir nodded. ‘I will be here for you at nine-fifteen, to ensure we get to the clinic on time. I advise you to rest that ankle and get to bed early. Where will you sleep tonight? Here on the couch?’
‘Yes, probably.’
‘Whatever you do, do not attempt the stairs. Have you a downstairs cloakroom?’
She shouldn’t be surprised that although he came from a world of privilege he was automatically considering the practicalities of her situation, but she was. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Good. Then I’ll see you and the child tomorrow.’
Making one last sweeping examination of her, as if to satisfy himself that she could be trusted to keep her word, he turned round and left.
* * *
Even though the situation was nowhere near to being conclusive yet, Zafir’s first thought when he got home was to ring Farrida and let her know that their marriage was off...that she should no longer consider herself engaged to him.
She wouldn’t take the news at all calmly, and would probably rant and rail at him, listing all the reasons why he was a fool to break his pledge—not least of all because their families had wanted their union since they were children and he would never find another woman more suitable than her.
However, he sensibly decided to postpone the call until he’d had the results of the test from the clinic. Farrida could wait...
That night, to while away the inevitably tense hours that ensued, Zafir played cards with Rashid. The man was a lousy card-player, but couldn’t be faulted for his enthusiasm. However, it was hard to concentrate on the game when his fertile mind kept taking him down paths he was wary of following.
There were too many as yet unresolved issues for his liking—too many for him to be confident of specific outcomes. But the following day might present the most important revelation of his life so far—that he was the father of the handsome boy whom he’d only discovered existed yesterday.
Although the mere idea of his having a son was unquestionably wonderful, the fact that he hadn’t even known of his existence for over four years grievously wounded him. Had the prospect of seeing him again been so unpalatable to her that Darcy had delayed letting him know she was pregnant? Or had she feared what he might do?
He had fired her because he’d found her in his brother’s arms at the office, for goodness’ sake! The evidence against her could hardly have been more damning.
Yet it still nagged at him that he’d made the most terrible mistake. Why? Because it had become increasingly clear that Xavier had a worrying predilection for indulging in indiscriminate liaisons, and a year after Darcy had gone he’d discovered that he was conducting an intimate relationship with one of the bank’s married secretaries—even after being warned that any more compromising behaviour would absolutely not be tolerated.
Zafir had ordered him straight back to Zachariah as punishment, telling him
not to return until he could prove he had changed for the better. He would not allow the family’s good name to be dragged through the mud. In his opinion Xavier had been far too indulged growing up and this was the result. Consequently he was going to have to demonstrate much more exemplary behaviour and become a man the family was truly proud of before he could even think about claiming the generous inheritance left to him by their father...
* * *
It was a quarter past nine on the dot the next morning when his chic and luxurious car arrived to collect Darcy and her son. She was clearly insistent on using her crutches, and Sami walked protectively beside her to the car.
Zafir owned to a warm burst of pride that the boy was behaving like a real gentleman at such a tender age. Some might say that royal blood will out, he thought, smiling. But although he was charmed by him, his gaze kept gravitating to Darcy.
Today she was wearing a simple navy blue skirt with a fitted matching jacket. The mid-length skirt displayed her shapely knees and calves to perfection, but it was her heart-stopping features and the pretty flaxen hair resting against her nape in a neat ponytail that inevitably drew his attention.
He could hardly look away, even though he immediately sensed that she wasn’t feeling remotely sociable. She was wearing make-up, but the light application couldn’t disguise the fact that she was porcelain-pale. Was she nervous about the outcome of the test this morning, in case it proved that he wasn’t Sami’s father?
He deliberately stopped the thought dead in its tracks. One step at a time, he told himself.
When they arrived, a trim uniformed nurse with chestnut hair met them at the entrance of the clinic and led them inside to the suite where the tests would be conducted. As the automatic glass doors swished open Zafir situated himself protectively between Darcy and the boy, as if he had already acknowledged that he was head of the family.
‘Do you think this will take very long?’ she asked him, stopping for a moment as if to take a breather from the effort of using the crutches.
There was a slight sheen of sweat on her brow. Concerned, he gently pressed her shoulder. ‘Why? Is it too much for you to stand? I can carry you into the examination room, if you like?’