The Secret Kept From The King (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Clare Connelly

  ‘It’s late.’ The words were crisp and he saw her flinch in response. He was already ruining this. Just as he’d said in the tower, pain brought pleasure and pleasure brought pain. ‘Go to sleep.’

  He left before she could respond.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HE BARELY SLEPT. Just as the sun lifted above the desert, he pushed the sheet from his body and strode, naked except for a pair of boxer shorts, onto the balcony. Frustration gnawed at his gut. Dissatisfaction too.

  He shouldn’t have left her without an explanation.

  He’d panicked, but she’d deserved better.

  Without intending to, he moved along the balcony, towards the doors that led to her apartment. If she was asleep, which she surely would be at this hour, he would leave her. And if she was awake?

  He stood on the other side of the glass, looking in at his wife’s room, wondering at the thundering inside his chest. The morning was perfect. Clear and cool, none of the day’s stinging temperature apparent yet.

  Daisy slept. She was so peaceful like this, so beautiful. Memories flashed through his mind. New York. Her smile. Her laugh. The fascination he’d felt with her from the beginning.

  Her face when he’d propositioned her to become his mistress.

  The obvious shock. Despite the normality of such an arrangement, she’d been offended. Her fire when she’d thrown her pregnancy at him, with no idea what that revelation would mean.

  And finally, her words on the night they’d married.

  ‘I’m marrying you because I have to—not because I want to—and I will never forgive you for this. Tonight I’m going to become your wife and I may appear to accept that, I may appear to accept you, but I will always hate you for this. I love our child, and, for him or her, I will try to make our marriage amicable, at least on the surface, but don’t you ever doubt how I really feel.’

  She’d begged him to make love to her in the tower, the night before. Their physical connection was real and raw. There was no questioning that. But beyond it? She hated him. She despised him, as she had every reason to.

  Did she still though? Even after time had passed and they’d grown...what? Closer? Did he really think that? Did he really want that?

  His heart thumped.

  Yes.

  He wanted it, and yes, they had. He’d shared more of himself with Daisy in the short course of their marriage than he had any other soul in his entire life. He’d felt painfully lonely when they’d met and now?

  He didn’t want to examine it because the answer terrified him.

  He would never allow himself to love her. No woman, ever, but especially not Daisy. There was far too much risk there. If he ever really let himself care for her, he suspected he’d lose himself completely. When he’d confronted the prisoners in the catacombs the night before, he’d wanted to kill them with his bare hands. The impulse had assailed him from nowhere but it had been strong and desperate. The idea of anyone hurting Daisy had been anathema to him.

  He stood up straighter, his breathing forced.

  For Daisy, he would give up his kingdom, his crown. Anything she asked of him. Revulsion flooded him, and a heavy sense of guilt. Being Sheikh of Haleth was his purpose in life. He had been born and raised for this, and desire for a woman wasn’t anywhere close to a good enough reason to doubt his duty.

  Except it wasn’t just desire, a voice niggled inside him. There was a complexity of considerations here, but none of these could permit him to forget what he owed his country.

  He cursed under his breath and spun away, stalking back into his own room and dressing quickly. What he needed was to think.

  All his life, Sariq’s life had followed a path, a plan, and now he was stepping into the unknown. It wouldn’t work. He didn’t want it. He needed a new plan, one that would work for him, Daisy, and their child.

  He needed to think without the knowledge that Daisy was only a wall away.

  ‘Have a horse prepared. I’m going to the desert.’

  He would never love her.

  Daisy lay on her back, one hand on her stomach, patting the rounded shape there, her eyes chasing the detailing in the ceiling. Her body bore the marks of his lovemaking but it was all a lie. Sex and intimacy were not connected for Sariq.

  How many times and in how many ways had he said this? Even at the embassy, when she’d first arrived and he’d asked her to become his mistress.

  Why had that hurt so badly?

  Her stomach dropped, because an answer was beating through her, demanding her attention. In New York, she’d been drawn to him because she’d never known anyone like him. And at the embassy, she’d been furious with him, but also, she’d felt a thousand and one things—good things.

  And now?

  She closed her eyes and remembered all of their conversations, shared moments, desire, need, a tangle of wants, impulses that had been pushing her towards him even when she wanted to dislike him so, so badly.

  But for him?

  Just sex. And just tonight.

  Nothing had changed. It was the same parameters he’d established in New York, the same parameters he’d tried to enforce when he’d asked her to come to the RKH as his mistress. And every time he’d reminded her of those limitations, it had twisted inside her, like a snake’s writhing. Pain, discontent. Why?

  ‘Oh, crap.’ She sat up, her throat thick with emotion. ‘No.’ She’d thought she loved Max when she’d married him, but she hadn’t. She’d had no idea what love felt like—until now. It wasn’t something you decided to do. It was all-consuming, a firestorm that ravaged your body. It was lighting her up now, making her feel...feel everything.

  She’d fallen in love with her husband and that might ordinarily have been considered a good thing but, for Daisy, she couldn’t see any way to make this work. He didn’t love her. He never would. That was his one proviso.

  Her stomach looped fiercely. Her heart contracted.

  And suddenly, this marriage, this palace, the prospect of raising a child with him, felt like cement weighting her down. Living here with him had been scary enough, when he’d insisted on this marriage. She’d thought her fear came from the unknown, the pressure of being the mother to the royal heir. But it was so much more than that now.

  She’d fallen in love with him, and he could never know. She couldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t.

  But how could she keep it secret? Flashes of their night together came back to her. It might have been sex for him but every touch, every moment, had been a connection, a moment of love. She communicated her feelings in everything she did.

  How could he not know?

  And then what? If he realised how she felt?

  Mortification curled her toes. He would become the third man in her life she’d offered herself to, the third man she’d loved or purported to love, who’d found it easy to withhold those same feelings. After her father, she’d been wary with men, but Max had found a way under her defences. After Max, she’d been wary to the extreme, but Sariq... It wasn’t even that he’d charmed her. He hadn’t. He’d been himself but there was something in his manner that had made it impossible for Daisy to forget.

  But the idea of having this love rejected was anathema to her. It would hurt too much. She knew how he felt—she didn’t need him to spell it out to her. No good could come from having this conversation.

  Maybe she could make him love her? Her heart began to stammer. But she was being a fantasist. You couldn’t make anyone who wasn’t so inclined fall in love with you—as her first marriage had taught her.

  At no point had Sariq given her even the slightest reason to hope. This feeling was her fault. Her mistake.

  She had to conquer it.

  He rode for hours, until the heat of the day, so familiar against his back, was almost unbearable. He rode towards the caves, knowing he woul
d not make it there on this occasion. Knowing even as he set out from the palace that cowering from this wasn’t worthy of him. He was not a man to run from anything, and he wouldn’t run from this.

  Last night was a mistake.

  He couldn’t blur the lines of what he wanted from Daisy. She was right to insist on boundaries being in place. With every fast-moving step of the steed beneath him, his certainty grew that their marriage would only succeed if he insisted on structure. Formality. He’d been mistaken to let his interest in Daisy as a woman cloud what he needed from her.

  Before he met her, he’d been preparing to marry, and his wife, whomever he chose, would have simply been a ceremonial addition to his life. Someone with whom he would have perfunctory sex for the sake of continuing the family line and then leave to her own devices.

  He’d had no intention of having his bride installed in the apartment beside his own. That had been for Daisy, because to have her in his palace but any further from him felt wrong. His first instinct—and it had been a failure.

  She was beautiful and desirable but how he felt about her personal charms was irrelevant now she was pregnant with his child. He wouldn’t make the same mistake his father did. He wouldn’t let affection for a woman weaken him.

  He rode on, his face a mask of resolve. With every day that passed, he would conquer this.

  It was some time around three when Daisy began to feel the exhaustion from the early start. Zahrah had woken her for the rukbar before day’s break, so she could dress in a special ceremonial robe and be prepared for the procedures of the day.

  ‘You’ll sit beside Sariq. You won’t need to say anything, though people will no doubt be very excited to see you. Some might ask to touch your belly—it is considered extreme good fortune to do so to any pregnant woman here in Haleth. But you, carrying the royal heir, your stomach would be seen as very fortunate.’

  Daisy had found it hard to smile since the morning after she’d slept with Sariq. Having not seen him since then, she found that smile had felt even heavier, but she lifted it now, turning to see Zahrah. ‘You haven’t asked to touch my stomach.’

  ‘I presumed you wouldn’t want me to.’

  Daisy lifted her shoulders. ‘It’s just a tummy.’

  Zahrah extended a hand, her fingertips shaking a little, and it was in that moment Daisy understood the momentousness of this child she was carrying. Any child was special and important, but their baby meant so much to the entire country. Sariq had said as much at the embassy in Manhattan but she could see that for herself now. For Zahrah and she had become friends, yet the enormity of touching Daisy’s pregnant belly was obviously overwhelming for Zahrah.

  The sky was still dark when Zahrah led her towards the ancient rooms that bordered the courtyard where they’d had the ball a few nights earlier. Her eyes found the spot where they’d danced and ghosts of his touch lifted goose bumps over her skin.

  ‘Here,’ Zahrah murmured. It was only as Daisy approached she saw Sariq locked in serious conversation with Malik. He turned towards her, so she had only a moment to still her heart and calm her features. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d carried her back to her bed. Since she’d asked him to stay and he’d left.

  Just sex. Just tonight.

  He’d been true to his word.

  ‘Your Highness.’ Malik bowed low.

  Sariq said nothing.

  Uncertainty squeezed her gut. ‘Good morning.’

  At that, Sariq nodded, his eyes holding hers for a moment too long before he turned back to Malik and finished his conversation. Daisy felt as though she were on a roller coaster, hurtling over the highest point at great speed.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured Zahrah. ‘You should go back to bed.’

  Zahrah’s smile was so normal. Daisy wished it could tether her back to her real self, to the woman she’d been before she realised how she felt. ‘I’ll be to the side of the room,’ Zahrah murmured. ‘If there’s anything you need, just turn to me and I will come.’

  Daisy nodded, but having this kind of attention bestowed on her still felt unusual. ‘You’re so kind to me.’

  Zahrah smiled. ‘You’re easy to be kind to.’ And she reached down and squeezed Daisy’s hand. ‘You’ll be good at this. Have courage.’

  It was a relief that Daisy’s nervousness could be attributed to the rukbar she was about to take part in and not the first sighting of her husband in days.

  Sariq spoke in his native tongue, which she was getting very proficient at understanding, if not speaking. ‘Leave us now.’

  Zahrah and Malik both moved further along, towards the doors that would lead to the room.

  Now, Sariq offered a tight smile that was more like a grimace. ‘You remembered.’

  It was a strange thing to say. She lifted her eyes to his and felt as though she’d been scorched. ‘You’re still happy for me to be a part of this?’

  Something flashed in his eyes and her stomach dropped. He wasn’t happy. She didn’t know how she knew it but she did. Waves of uncertainty lashed at her sides. ‘The people will be gratified by your attendance.’ It was so insufficient. The people. Not him.

  A noise sounded, like banging against a door. ‘That’s our signal. Ready?’

  And so it began. Once they were seated at two enormous, elaborate thrones made of gold and black metal, she’d heard the din from the external doors of the palace. A sense of fear and awe filled her when the doors were thrown open, but there was no stampede. An orderly queue had formed, and she learned, when they’d taken a small break to eat lunch, that security screening had been implemented, for the first time in the rukbar’s history, on the other side of the doors. Because of her?

  Undoubtedly.

  She’d seen his determination to keep her safe. For a moment that lifted her spirits until she remembered that her value, at this point, had more to do with her child than it did her.

  She couldn’t dwell on her own fracturing heart though. Not when the room was filling with people who were, so obviously, doing it tough.

  Sariq listened patiently to each who came before him, offering a brief summary of each situation to Daisy in English once they’d finished speaking. Each story was hard—some were almost impossible to bear. Parents who’d lost children touched her the deepest of all. There were no medical bills here, the state provided, but there were other concerns. The cost of the funeral, the legacy of caring for other children while too grief-stricken to return to work.

  Daisy felt tears filling her eyes on a number of occasions but worked hard not to show how deeply affected she was by these tragedies.

  As the afternoon progressed though, she grew tired, her heart heavy, her mind exploding. And through it all, Sariq continued, looking as fresh as he had that morning, his concentration unwavering. She turned towards Zahrah, who immediately appeared at her side.

  ‘Do you need something, Your Highness?’

  ‘Just a little water.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Sariq turned to her, from the other side, and Malik paused proceedings. ‘Are you okay?’

  It was such a ludicrous question that she almost laughed. Okay? Would she ever be okay again? Did she even deserve to lament such a question in the face of so much suffering? ‘I’m fine.’ A bright smile and then a nod. ‘Just thirsty.’

  His eyes roamed her face, his expression unconvinced. ‘You’re pale.’

  ‘I’m American.’

  His impatience was obvious. ‘Paler than usual.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She couldn’t say why she sounded angry at him, because she wasn’t. Her anger was all directed at herself and her own stupidity for falling in love with a man who was so completely determined to be unavailable. ‘Let’s keep going. It sounds like there are still a tonne of people to see.’

  And there were. The line c
ontinued until the sun set. ‘Traditionally, this is when the rukbar concludes. Food is served in the adjoining room. I usually join the guests for a short time. You do not have to.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ she insisted, despite the fact she was bone-weary. Pride wouldn’t let her show it. ‘But do you have to stop now? There are people out there who’ve waited all day.’

  His eyes clung to hers and then he nodded. ‘Ten more.’

  As Malik turned to the crowd to announce what the Sheikh had decided, Sariq leaned closer. ‘Those that were not seen today will be given tickets for the next rukbar, so they’re seen first. And any that feel they cannot wait have an email address to use to have their matter dealt with more speedily.’

  That appeased her. The whole day had been eye-opening and fascinating. She felt, sitting beside Sariq, as though she was truly getting to know the fabric of this country. There was no hostility towards her—a divorced American. In fact, it was quite the opposite. People had been unstintingly kind, curious, polite.

  Another hour stretched and then the rukbar was declared closed. Daisy was a little woozy when she stood, swaying slightly so that those in the room gasped and Sariq shot out a hand to steady her.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said through a tight smile. ‘Just not used to sitting down for so long.’ He didn’t relinquish his touch though, and her skin burned at the contact, her body throbbed, that same fire ignited, stealing through her soul. He guided her down the steps, away from the thrones, towards doors that led to another room.

  ‘You should go to your room.’

  Her gaze shifted. ‘Is that an order?’

  She saw the way his jaw tightened, and felt the battle raging within him. ‘It’s a suggestion.’

  ‘Then I politely decline.’

  He didn’t like that, it was obvious. It wasn’t fair to be angry with him. He’d done nothing wrong, nothing whatsoever. All along he’d been honest with her. Loving him was her fault, her problem. And yet she did feel anger towards him, because it simply wasn’t fair. How could her heart be full to bursting and his determinedly empty?