Desert Prince, Blackmailed Bride

by Kim Lawrence

  She arched a brow and hugged the throw tighter around her body. ‘What could be wrong? I’m delighted if this little oversight might result in a solution to your heir problem. A sort of two birds with one stone scenario?’ She swung her legs off the opposite side of the divan and sat with her back to him. ‘My God, you’re discussing a child that doesn’t even exist—and thank God it doesn’t. I’ve always thought that people who have a baby to paper over the cracks in a marriage are selfish and misguided, but this isn’t just misguided—it’s terribly wrong. Babies should be born out of love!’

  ‘You’re being emotional.’

  The cold accusation drew a laugh from Gabby, who stood up still draped in the brightly coloured throw. ‘Is that a crime?’

  ‘Statistically, the majority of babies in your country are conceived by accident—does that mean they are any less loved by their parents?’

  She gave a growl of utter frustration. ‘I don’t even know why we’re discussing this.’

  ‘You can’t ignore the possibility you could be pregnant.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said flatly. ‘If you plan to go out and impregnate some willing incubator, fine! But personally I’d like the man I’m in bed with to be thinking of me, not of securing political stability for his country. Call me an old romantic, but there it is.’

  As she spoke, Rafiq’s face darkened. ‘Have you quite finished?’

  Gabby shrugged and began to walk away, but Rafiq bounded to his feet and spun her back to him.

  ‘You have so much experience with being in bed with men?’

  ‘I’ve had a shaky start,’ she admitted. ‘But I live in hope.’ Actually, hope was in pretty short supply.

  ‘You provoke me, Gabriella.’ His hands slid down her shoulders, effectively clamping her arms to her sides as he yanked her towards him. It was defiance alone that enabled Gabby to hold his gaze as his smouldering eyes moved across her upturned features. ‘If I could have thought of anything but you when we were making love…’ He paused, sucking in a deep breath. ‘If I could have thought of anything but burying myself in your body we would not be discussing the possibility of a child now.’

  The earthy admission sent a thrill through her receptive body.

  ‘As for me seeking a willing…what was your word?’ He arched a sardonic brow. ‘Ah, yes, incubator. That is not going to happen.’ He felt some of the tension slip from her shoulders. ‘I am angry with myself, not you.’

  ‘That makes two of us,’ Gabby said, feeling a little soothed but still very raw emotionally.

  With an arm around her shoulder he led her back to the divan. ‘Your first lover should not be someone like me who is not…who is not in it for the long haul,’ he finished, with a dry laugh that broke her heart. ‘And I could have left you with a child. What if something happens to me before you even know for sure?’

  She shook her head in fierce rejection. ‘It won’t.’ It can’t.

  ‘We have to consider the possibility.’

  Gabby shook her head mutely, unsure she could speak for long enough now to explain exactly why she couldn’t be pregnant without bursting into tears.

  ‘The only way I know to protect you is for us to get married. Even with no baby, you were an innocent.’

  She looked up, aghast, her brain working slowly to process the reality that he had just proposed marriage.

  ‘You asked me to be selfish and say what I wanted. I want this.’

  ‘Moral blackmail really is your forte, isn’t it, Rafiq? Just tell me—if there was no baby, if there never would be a baby, would you still want to marry me?’

  She was totally confident of his answer. Rafiq’s survival instincts had kicked in—not for himself, but for his country. He had been taught from birth that the wellbeing of an entire land and people were his responsibility, and now all his energies were focused on that end. This was about a baby, an heir.

  ‘Yes.’

  Her face fell. ‘Yes?’

  He held her eyes and said again firmly, ‘Yes.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘The only woman I wish to sleep with is you. I was hoping that this was an experience you would like to repeat.’ Finger under her chin, he tilted her face up to his. ‘If it helps, my motivation is not political—just sexual.’

  ‘You know I want to sleep with you again,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Damn!’ she muttered, brushing them a way with the back of her hand. ‘I never cry. But we can sleep together without getting married.’

  ‘You were an innocent and that changes matters. You could be carrying my child.’

  ‘You want me to be?’

  He didn’t deny it.

  ‘It would make you happy?’

  He stilled and scanned her face, sensing a change in her attitude but unable to pin it down. ‘Of course it would,’ he agreed.

  Suddenly it seemed simple.

  Wasn’t that what she wanted to do? Make the man she loved happy? If she wasted that opportunity she would never be able to forgive herself. All it would take was a tiny lie. He would never know and he would be happy—she could live with the guilt. She could live with him asking her to marry him out of a sense of duty because she knew that the only way Rafiq was going to do something for himself would be if he could justify it as being for the greater good!

  ‘Fine. If you still want me to, I will marry you.’

  Part of Gabby wished she could truly do what he wanted. But how could she? A child should be the result of love. And their child would have the crushing responsibility that had been Rafiq’s burden all his life. Their child would have no father to support him and guide him.

  He expelled a long sigh. ‘That is a sensible decision.’

  She laughed, and he looked at her oddly. ‘It doesn’t feel like that. I have one condition.’ That you love me, she wanted to say, but didn’t.

  He looked wary. ‘Condition?’

  ‘That nobody knows.’

  ‘Knows when you become pregnant?’

  Gabby felt a stab of guilt but did not lower her gaze.

  ‘That might not happen, Rafiq,’ she said quietly. It would not happen, because Gabby would not allow it to happen, but while Rafiq thought it might there was a chance of him actually snatching a little of the happiness he deserved.

  The alternative was Rafiq spending the precious time he had left striving to achieve the impossible—to groom his brother to replace him. The fact was some people really were indispensable—and Rafiq was one of them.

  ‘I know that, Gabriella.’

  He knew it, but she could see in his face he didn’t believe it. Was she doing the right thing?

  ‘What is your condition?’

  ‘That nobody knows that we are married.’

  That way, afterwards…She pushed past the protective mental block that slid into place every time she thought of losing Rafiq. She had to think ahead. Afterwards she could simply go back home. There would be no need for anyone to know they had been married. She didn’t want to gain anything from Rafiq’s death; she just wanted to creep away when the time came and lick her wounds.

  She refused to acknowledge the wave of crushing despair that washed over her. Time later for her to grieve. Now her priority had to be making Rafiq happy.

  Rafiq was shaking his head, his expression discontented. ‘But if we live as lovers here my people are going to think you are my mistress,’ he protested, visibly unhappy with the prospect.

  Her shoulders lifted. ‘So?’

  ‘But they would—’

  ‘You’ve had mistresses before.’ It wasn’t a subject she much liked to think about.

  ‘I’ve had lovers.’

  ‘And they stayed here sometimes?’

  ‘Yes,’ he conceded irritably, ‘in my private quarters. My father never met any of them. They never attended any official engagements.’

  ‘Well, I’m hopeless at official engagements, so where is the difference?’

  ‘A world of di
fference. You will be my wife.’

  ‘Are you saying that your mistress would not be treated with respect?’ Gabby knew that his people would not dare be anything else but respectful—at least to her face. But this was a society where women were still split into two distinct camps: wives and mistresses.

  ‘Of course not. But—’

  ‘There are no buts about it, Rafiq,’ she said quietly. ‘This is a deal-breaker. I want a secret quiet civil ceremony.’

  He looked unhappy but resigned as he admitted, ‘My wedding would be a full state occasion.’

  ‘And they can’t be thrown together in five minutes.’

  ‘True,’ he conceded.

  ‘And you need to conserve your strength.’

  ‘For making our baby.’

  Gabby agreed, guilt stabbing her, but a clear conscience was a luxury she could not afford. If a lie was what it took to make the time he had left happy, she would lie. To make Rafiq happy she would have done a lot worse.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE civil ceremony took place the next day in a neighbouring state. They flew straight back and were in the palace just as the sun was setting over the desert.

  Gabby discovered that her things had been moved to Rafiq’s private apartment during their absence. A beautifully prepared supper was laid out on the terrace.

  ‘This is lovely,’ she said, picking up one of the rose petals that had been scattered artfully across the white linen cloth.

  To Rafiq her manner was not that of a wife but of a polite child, saying the right thing. As he pulled her chair back for her to take a seat he bent forward, his lips brushing her ear as he voiced the question that had been building inside him all day.

  ‘Are you regretting it?’

  At his question she turned her head, her startled eyes wide. ‘No!’

  The response was immediate enough to soothe his fears slightly. It did not alter the fact that she had barely said a word all day, and nothing at all during the flight back in his private jet. When he had caught her looking pensive she had smiled, but the smile had never touched her eyes.

  Rafiq was very conscious that theirs had not been the sort of wedding most girls dreamed of. Even he had found the civil ceremony painfully impersonal. It was hard to tell what Gabby had thought of it. She had made her responses like a sleep walker.

  ‘No, I don’t regret it,’ she said. ‘It does seem kind of surreal, though. We’re really married…Which reminds me…’ She pulled off the heavy antique gold ring that he had slid on her finger and produced a chain from her pocket. ‘We don’t want people to see this.’

  Rafiq watched, his expression closed and struggling hard with his pride, as she put the ring on the chain and fastened it round her neck.

  ‘No one will know it’s there,’ she said, dropping it down the softly gathered neckline of the simple sheath dress she wore.

  ‘I will know,’ he said, envying the ring its resting place against her breasts. ‘And I have no problem with others knowing. I really don’t understand why—’

  ‘I’m just happier this way. We’re legal—isn’t that what matters?’

  Rafiq looked half inclined to argue the point, but to Gabby’s relief after a moment he shrugged. ‘If that is the way you wish it. But whether you use the title or not, you are the Princess.’ He laughed at Gabby’s expression. ‘Had you not realised?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Princess Gabriella.’

  She shook her head. ‘Hush—someone might hear you.’

  ‘I have to tell you, Gabriella, that all this subterfuge is beginning to be wearing. Anyone would think you were ashamed to be my wife.’

  The emotion in Gabby’s throat thickened. ‘I’m not. It’s just all happening so quickly and—’

  ‘It’s not the way you imagined it would be when you got married?’ He cut in.

  ‘I never imagined getting married.’

  She hadn’t trusted herself to speak during the ceremony. The solemnity of the occasion had awed her, and brought her emotions so close to the surface that she had been scared she would say something she shouldn’t—that some of the private dialogue going on in her head would slip out.

  Rafiq had looked so incredible, standing next to her when they exchanged vows, and she loved him so totally that she had felt as though her heart was bleeding.

  Her feelings had see-sawed dramatically all day, covering the full emotional gamut from fear and sadness to joy and love. Every time she’d looked at Rafiq she had wanted to tell him she loved him. It had been a constant struggle to contain her emotions.

  ‘You haven’t eaten anything,’ he said as she pushed aside her plate.

  ‘I’m not really hungry.’

  ‘Neither am I—not for food.’

  Gabby shivered as the air thickened with a sudden eruption of sexual tension.

  He got to his feet and pulled out her chair. Her skin prickled even though he wasn’t touching her. She turned and lifted her face to his. The darkness in his eyes drew her in.

  ‘Our wedding night…’ she said.

  ‘A special night. But I will make all our nights special, Gabriella. I promise.’

  Tears filled her eyes as he took her hand and led her to the bedroom. She stopped on the threshold and caught her breath. She had never been in Rafiq’s bedroom before, and like most of the rooms in the palace its proportions were massive.

  The furniture was for the most part antique and dark. White drapes fluttered in the breeze that blew in through the open doors. A large bed with an elaborately carved wood headboard dominated the room, but it was not the furniture, the décor, or even the hundreds of lit candles that covered every surface and cast a golden glow that brought a fresh rush of tears to Gabby’s eyes. It was the scent.

  A trail of ankle-deep rose petals led to the bed, which was itself liberally strewn with the same sweet-smelling petals.

  ‘You always make me think of roses. Your skin smells of roses.’ He bent and, inhaling deeply, kissed the side of her neck.

  Gabby turned in his arms and linked her hands around his neck. Emotion clogged her throat. ‘Thank you,’ she said, her heart in her eyes.

  Rafiq must have seen it there, because he stiffened and pulled back from her. ‘Do not fall in love with me, Gabriella. The knowledge that we don’t have long makes things more…intense. It’s easy to mistake feelings.’

  Too late!

  His rejection hurt more than she would have thought possible. But then her self-preservation instincts kicked in, and from somewhere she dredged a mocking smile.

  ‘You’re irresistible, Rafiq, but I will do my best.’

  The smile stayed in place while his dark gaze swept her face, and then, unable to endure his scrutiny a second longer, she slipped off her shoes, took his hand and stepped onto the rose petal path.

  She threw a challenging look at her tall husband. ‘This is our wedding night—are we going to spend it talking?’

  Rafiq responded to the challenge, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed.

  The words she wanted to say stayed locked in her heart, but at least in their lovemaking Gabby was able to find a physical release for the emotions she was forbidden to express. Rafiq taught her many ways she hadn’t known existed to express them, and it wasn’t until he slept, just as dawn was breaking, that she allowed the dammed-up tears to fall.

  Two weeks passed, and Gabby slipped into some sort of routine. Her presence in the palace was accepted, and her relationship with Rafiq—so long as she didn’t use the forbidden L word—was perfect.

  Her main aim at the moment was to reconcile the two brothers. Rafiq had banned Hakim and his new wife from the palace, and Gabby felt responsible. She had said so to Hakim when they had spoken on the phone.

  ‘Why should I blame you? Between the pair of you, you pushed me to do the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wish Rafiq had someone like Carrie to help him. But I will be there when
he wants me. Knowing Rafiq, it’s better to let things settle before we talk.’

  Gabby had seen his point. Rafiq was quick to anger but slow to forgive.

  She watched covetously now, as he walked out of the bathroom, his hair still wet from the shower.

  ‘Would you like me to come with you?’ she asked.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed the towel that was looped around his neck over his hair. ‘Where to?’

  Gabby knelt on the bed behind him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her body close into his. She rubbed her cheek against his hair-roughened cheek and kissed his neck. ‘You know where. You have an appointment to see your doctor this morning—unless it’s slipped your mind that you had him flown in by private plane yesterday?’

  ‘It is a pointless exercise. What else can he tell me? I’m dying—I already know that.’

  Gabby closed her eyes and moved away from him. She sat back on her heels and pressed her hands to her face. He peeled her hands away, but Gabby turned her head when he tried to kiss her. ‘I hate it so much when you talk that way.’

  ‘I will see the doctor and undergo his battery of tests if that is what you wish.’

  Gabby gave a watery smile. ‘Thank you. If it’s any comfort, you don’t look like an ill man.’ Head tilted to one side, she studied his face. It was probably wishful thinking, but it seemed to her that his face was less gaunt than it had been two weeks previously, and his skin had a healthy glow.

  He reached out and, cupping the back of her head in one big hand, drew her to him. ‘I don’t feel like an ill man when I’m with you.’

  Gabby wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to the strong brown column of his throat. She reached his mouth and stopped, her lips a tantalising whisper away from his.

  ‘Do you think it’s possible…?’

  ‘Do I think what is possible?’ he husked, tangling his fingers in her hair and breathing in the sweet scent of her.

  She took a deep breath and asked the question that had been on her mind for days. ‘Do you think maybe you could be in remission?’