Sheikh's Pregnant Cinderella

by Maya Blake

  The hair he’d believed to be mousy was in fact a lustrous thick chestnut, highlighted with dark gold strands he was sure didn’t come out of a tube. Her eyelashes were unbelievably long, fanning almost hypnotically against her cheeks when she lowered them. Lips painted a deep peach drew his eyes consistently to the soft, plump curve of her mouth. Her eyes were wide and alluring pools edged in kohl that emphasised the amethyst depths.

  In her heels, she came up to his chin, bringing him that much closer to the lips he had tasted all too briefly on the balcony outside. Lips that his own thirsted to taste.

  The zing threatened to spark into something else, something more as his recollection deepened.

  She wasn’t experienced, that much he could tell by kissing her, but he had sensed an innocent eagerness in her that lit a fire in his belly. The temptation to kiss her, experience that thrill again, fanned his hunger. He curbed it ruthlessly.

  He wasn’t weak like his father, controlled by his obsessional urges to the ruin of all else around him. Zufar enjoyed sex, and the carefully selected women he’d indulged himself with over the years had more than satisfied his needs. But not a single time had he let his emotions overtake him.

  He didn’t intend to start now.

  Duty had dictated he take a wife and produce heirs. That would be his end goal. And with Amira out of the picture...

  He stared at his new Queen. His temporary Queen.

  His people’s reaction to her had been...extraordinary. Surprisingly so. They’d readily accepted her. So why upset the cart?

  Why indeed...?

  Zufar cautioned himself against revealing to Niesha that, far from thinking that this was only a temporary marriage, she was now bound to him for life. That conversation would need careful strategising.

  In the same instance that he accepted his decision, it occurred to him that the idea of binding himself to a near stranger neither disturbed nor displeased him. He’d never intended to marry for anything other than ensuring lasting stability for his people after the turbulence of his father’s reign.

  He wasn’t so weak as to give into ephemeral notions of marrying for love. That emotion was a fairy tale he’d never wasted his time seeking, and especially not once the reality of his position in life had been made clear.

  His father had fallen victim to lust and obsession to the detriment of his family and his kingdom. Zufar was well aware of the whispers that had followed his father, the veiled scorn shown towards the weakness that dogged the previous King. He had no intention of falling prey to that absurd sickness.

  ‘I’m in no hurry to locate my former fiancée.’

  Her breath caught. ‘And why not?’

  ‘Because if she went of her own free will, then she’s no longer of any consequence.’

  She gasped. ‘How can you say that? She was promised to you. You still need a bride! Your people need a queen.’

  Zufar continued to look down at her as they glided across the dance floor. Absent-mindedly, he noted the grace with which she swayed in his arms, the way she held herself with careful poise. She wasn’t as unpolished as he’d imagined, he mused again. In fact, with a little bit of help, she could become the diamond he sought. The diamond his people deserved.

  The more he thought about it, the more the idea settled deeper inside him.

  ‘Your Highness?’ Her prompt was tremulous, as if she knew of the monumental decision he’d taken.

  Her eyes were growing wide again, her lower lip set to tremble in that alluring quiver that made him want to devour her again.

  ‘I don’t need to find her, little one, because I’ve already found my bride. I’ve found my Queen. This wedding, and this marriage, will be my first and my last. There hasn’t been a divorce in my family in recorded history. In fact, I’m not sure the constitution has allowances for it. So, you see, you and I are bound together for life, Niesha. Accept it.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IF NIESHA HAD been informed only half an hour ago that there was a way for her whole world to be shoved even more off kilter, she wouldn’t have believed it. But she was fully installed on that wild, turbulent roller coaster now.

  She stared up at Zufar, knowing that this time there was no mistaking what he’d said. Nor was there any doubt that this was an accidental revelation. They were in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by over three hundred guests. She had nowhere to go, was unable to protest without causing the most horrendous scene.

  Zufar al Khalia’s diplomatic prowess and mental agility was renowned. He’d won almost every polo match since he was seventeen. The moment he’d entered public office, he’d gained a reputation as a master strategist.

  That he’d brought those abilities to bear on this situation was irrefutable. Panic and anger surged in her belly, lending her vocal cords the strength to dig herself out of this hole she was disappearing into.

  He shook his head. ‘Not here,’ he instructed tersely.

  ‘You lied to me,’ she whispered, the depth of his trap making her tone husky with shock.

  His eyes grew chilly but the smile didn’t fade from his face. ‘I said, not here,’ he emphasised with clear displeasure.

  But Niesha was a little too out of her head to heed the warning. ‘You planned this all along.’

  ‘If you mean did I plan to speak to you afterwards so we can discuss this like rational human beings, then yes, that was my intention.’

  Chilled through by his almost careless dismissal, she took a step back from him, but the arm banding her waist pulled her closer, the fingers curled around hers holding her prisoner. ‘You will not cause a scene.’

  Her King demanded obedience. But in that moment, Niesha couldn’t find the capacity to fall in line like everyone else at his command.

  ‘You keep telling me how to behave, to smile, to breathe. I’m not an object, Your Highness. I’m a human being. I chose to obey you because I thought I was doing the right thing. But you misled me. I will not stand for that.’

  His nostrils flared, his whole being tightening against her as his gaze pinned her.

  ‘What is it you’re intending to do?’ he questioned with a deadly smile.

  ‘I won’t cause a scene, if that’s what you are worried about.’

  A single tic rippled through his jaw before he regained himself. ‘That’s good to hear. However, I hear a but in there.’

  ‘I will remain meekly by your side until this ceremony is over. And then you and I will talk.’

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile that promised to be lethal given its full scope. ‘My meek little bride seems to have a spine after all,’ he mocked.

  The bubble of anger in Niesha’s belly grew. ‘I get that way when I’m misled.’

  ‘Be careful. Don’t forget whom you’re addressing,’ he warned.

  A chill went through her body. ‘Is that a threat, Your Highness?’

  ‘I am reminding you that we have an audience, and our every move is being watched so if you are going to be disagreeable, I suggest you wait until we are behind closed doors.’

  ‘Disagreeable? You think I’m being—’

  Before she could further vent her anger, he leaned close and brushed his lips over hers.

  Like on the balcony, this was meant to shut her up. Niesha knew that. And yet it worked like magic. The high-wattage shiver that went down her spine was so strong she thought she would be lifted right off her feet.

  And that was with just a whisper of his lips over hers. She cursed her body’s reaction. Continued cursing it as the song ended and she was led off the ballroom floor with suave attentiveness.

  As if he knew and meant to capitalise on her reaction to his touch, Zufar didn’t release her. Long fingers meshed with hers as they moved from group to group holding brief court with their guests.

  For tw
o hours she was subjected to his electrifying touch and blasts from tawny eyes that held her fraying nerves on a tight leash.

  The evening culminated with spectacular fireworks on the great lawn of the palace. Across the capital city, individual households joined in, with bursts of fireworks lighting the sky across the city.

  Niesha barely acknowledged them. All she wanted to do was to retreat at the earliest opportunity and guarantee her fate wasn’t as final as she suspected.

  Relief drenched her as her attendants materialised beside her at the stroke of nine p.m. to whisk her off. Moments later, she realised Zufar was not following as she’d expected.

  She stopped. They needed to discuss what he’d said now. She couldn’t bear to wait another second. ‘Wait. I need to—’

  He intercepted her as she headed back to where he stood with one of his ministers. ‘Go on without me. We will be reunited soon enough, little one,’ he said smoothly as he took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

  Dear heaven, he was smooth.

  And calculating.

  She was struggling to find her breath when the women firmly led her away.

  Niesha was so caught up in the conversation she intended to have with him that she didn’t notice where they were headed until she realised that they weren’t returning to the Queen’s private quarters. ‘What... Where are you taking me?’ she blurted, although she had a fair idea.

  Halimah, walking a few steps in front of her, looked over her shoulder and smiled. This time her smile was more tactful, her whole demeanour remarkably altered from this morning.

  Of course, Niesha mused, she was now the Queen, and where there’d been whispered speculation and awkwardness before, there were now smiles and an abundance of courtesy and respect.

  Even as a tiny spurt of resentment erupted inside her for their about-face, she wanted to blurt out that there was no need for their change of attitude. She was still one of them. She certainly wasn’t going to be Queen for very long, not if she had any say in it.

  The thought that her wish might not come true sent a fresh bolt of alarm through her. Zufar hadn’t misspoken. Niesha didn’t know the ins and outs of constitutional law, but she knew the history of the royal family enough to know that there’d been no divorce for generations.

  To date, Zufar’s own father had been the only one to abdicate the throne and that had sent shock waves through the kingdom.

  ‘Your Highness?’

  Niesha whirled around, expecting Zufar to be behind her. When he wasn’t, she turned back around, frowning at Halimah.

  ‘Your Highness, which gown do you prefer?’ the attendant urged.

  She realised that she was the one being addressed, and her heart lurched. ‘Please, don’t call me that.’

  Halimah and the young attendants exchanged apprehensive looks. ‘Begging your pardon, but that is your official title. To address you as anything else would be disrespectful, Your Highness.’

  ‘I see,’ Niesha replied. Her resentment of moments before dissipated, replaced with the stark notion that, whether she liked it or not, they truly saw her differently now. She might not feel it inside but to them she was now a rarefied species, no longer one of them. Niesha didn’t know whether to be sad or to give into more hysteria. She settled for a solemn nod. ‘Okay.’ She knew how rigorously the rules of the palace were followed. The last thing she wanted to do was cause trouble for the staff. She would be one of them again soon enough.

  ‘I’ve prepared some tea for Your Highness. Jasmine tea, to calm the nerves before the wedding night,’ Halimah offered with a benign smile.

  Niesha stopped herself from blurting that it was a waste of time. She didn’t intend to sleep in Zufar’s private quarters tonight or on any other night.

  ‘Can you help me with my gown, please?’

  ‘Of course, Your Highness,’ Halimah sang out.

  Gentle hands began undoing her clothing. She wasn’t sure why she paid closer attention this time. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she would never be close to such perfect creations again that made her look down at her gown properly for the first time, noticing the precious stones sewn into the skirts swirling around her legs as it was removed, the delicate sleeves and masterful design.

  An exquisite diamond and sapphire necklace gleamed against her skin, the gems in her ears and on her wrist adding to the magical quality of the wedding gown that didn’t belong to her and never would.

  But for one small infinitesimal moment, she allowed herself to believe that this was real.

  When she finally met her gaze in the mirror, she dared to dream that when this moment was far behind her, she would one day experience a wedding day of her own.

  Smaller and less spectacular, of course, but enchanted all the same.

  First, though, she had to get through to Zufar. Had to extricate herself from this web of impossible circumstances closing in on her. She raised her arms as the gown was lifted over her head and spirited away.

  Then Halimah was in front of her, gesturing to an array of gorgeous evening gowns hanging from a rail.

  Niesha stared at the dresses in surprise. ‘Are these new?’ They hadn’t been there this morning and she hadn’t spotted them with the bridal trousseau.

  Halimah nodded. ‘His Highness ordered these for you himself.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ she blurted.

  A smile curved Halimah’s lips. ‘The suddenness of the...new arrangements left you no choice but to wear the only wedding gown available. But I believe your new husband did not wish to see you in another woman’s clothes on the night of your wedding. He had the royal couturier provide these for you especially.’ There was wistfulness in Halimah’s voice that suggested that underneath the sometimes brusque exterior lurked a romantic.

  Nevertheless, Niesha was stunned Zufar had arranged all this. Should she really be surprised? If the bombshell he’d dropped on the dance floor was true, then within minutes of entering this room this afternoon he’d made a life-altering decision for her without so much as blinking in her direction.

  The formidable calculation behind that staggered her.

  ‘Which one is it to be, Your Highness?’ Halimah prompted.

  Half dazed, Niesha pointed to the emerald sequinned gown, made of material she was almost too afraid to touch. ‘That one,’ she murmured.

  ‘A wonderful choice, Your Highness,’ Halimah agreed.

  That bubble of hysteria threatened again. She swallowed it down, willing herself to remain quiet as the women bustled around her again.

  Her hair was rearranged, her make-up touched up, and heels presented to her.

  ‘We thought you would prefer your tea on the terrace, Your Highness. The fireworks are still going on, and you can get the best view from there.’

  Niesha trailed after them out onto a stone terrace where an elaborate tea service had been laid out. She’d barely eaten anything at the wedding banquet but Niesha knew she wouldn’t be able to eat now either. She contemplated the exquisite offering, wondering whether she shouldn’t try anyway to calm her nerves.

  But she didn’t want her nerves calmed. She’d been too dazed and confused earlier, had meekly stumbled her way through what should’ve been a firm refusal to succumb to his wishes. She’d gone along with the idea that she would be a stand-in, temporary bride. She intended to make her voice heard this time.

  She would scream if she needed to. With a brisk nod to herself, Niesha sat down and held her hands in her lap.

  ‘May I pour you a cup, Your Highness?’

  She stopped herself from gritting her teeth at the title. It didn’t belong to her and she would never get used to it.

  ‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘You may go now. I’ll pour it myself when I am ready.’

  ‘But... Your Highness, that is not protocol.’

  N
iesha swallowed her irritation. ‘I’m quite capable of pouring my own tea, Halimah.’

  The older woman gave a curt bow, and stepped back. ‘As you wish, Your Highness. Will there be anything else?’

  Niesha shook her head. But as the women started to retreat, she turned. ‘Do you know when Zu—His Highness will be here?’ She heard the nervousness in her own voice but Halimah’s gaze only softened.

  ‘You can expect him within the hour, Your Highness.’

  Another series of curtsies later, Niesha was alone.

  An hour.

  She snorted under her breath. The likelihood that she would’ve gone completely mad by then was very real. The moment she heard the door shut, she jumped to her feet.

  There had to be a way out of this, there simply had to be. She paced until her feet began to pinch, and then she kicked the shoes off. Hearing them thud against the wall brought a tiny bit of satisfaction, immediately followed by guilt at the treatment of what had to be thousands of dollars’ worth of accessories.

  That thought ramped up her agitation. As she turned from her pacing, another burst of fireworks lit through the sky. Niesha lifted her head to watch it, the enormity of why this celebration was happening settling on her. She raised a hand to her throbbing head and caught a spark of her wedding ring. It was unlike any ring she’d ever seen.

  From the history of the al Khalia kingdom she’d devoured back in her teens she knew exactly where the ring on her finger had originated. It had belonged to Zufar’s grandmother. She’d been married to his grandfather for over seventy years and had worn the ring every day of her married life. The heirloom’s historical significance threatened to overwhelm her. Perhaps it was fortunate then that the hard rap on the outer door dragged her from her thoughts.

  The bundle of nerves that jumped into her throat suggested perhaps not. On shaky feet, she rushed to where she’d thrown off her shoes and slipped back into the heels. Sucking in a deep breath, she walked through the living room to the doors. With one last slide of her clammy palms over her dress, Niesha opened the doors.