by Pippa Roscoe
Showered and dressed in the previous day’s slightly rumpled clothes, Star was looking out of the window when there was a gentle knock on the door.
The doctor. Star’s pulse raced as she realised that she hadn’t asked him what kind of examination or questions she was expected to submit to. Expecting a grim-faced old man, she was surprised when a pretty woman a little older than herself came through the door.
‘Hello, Star, my name is Maya Mourad,’ she said, introducing herself in English lightly flecked with an Arabic accent. Her headscarf was a pretty green and Star was a little distracted by it, which was why it took a moment to connect the name.
‘Mourad, like the Prime Minister?’
‘Yes, he is my husband,’ Maya confirmed, her smile deep and full of the love of a happy wife. ‘Khalif has explained that I would be seeing you?’
The gentle way about her was soothing to Star’s edgy nerves. ‘Perhaps “explained” might be a bit of an exaggeration.’
Maya nodded knowingly. ‘I see. So, I am a family doctor,’ she explained. ‘A little like your GPs, but I specialise in women’s health.’
‘I didn’t think that you could tell if I was pregnant so soon after...’ Star’s words were replaced by a fierce blush and suddenly she wanted her sisters. She didn’t want to be here, no matter how nice Maya was. She should be talking to Skye and Summer about her first time, about how wonderful it was, not how she might be pregnant and how that meant she couldn’t come home.
She could almost hear them now. Skye would immediately be making plans about prams and cradles, nappies and booties, Summer would turn to books and have all kinds of information on birthing styles, baby names and vitamins. Both of them would be completely supportive, with all the kind words of encouragement and soothing she could possibly need.
But there would be that silent I told you so in Skye and Summer’s shared looks. They had expected her to get into trouble and, while they might not have forecasted just how big that trouble was...they’d clearly been right to worry.
‘We can’t tell whether you are pregnant yet,’ Maya said, answering Star’s half formed question from moments before. ‘But first I want to see if you’re okay. Then we’ll talk about the options.’
‘I won’t have a termination.’ The words were immediate and determined, natural and instinctive. They came from a place deep within her, and Star almost heard the growl of the dragon that Kal had called forth within her. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘No. It’s good for you to know how you feel about this, even at this early stage,’ Maya said, her gentle smile soothing a bit of the shock Star was beginning to feel. ‘I meant options in terms of the kinds of tests we can do now, the tests you’re happy to do now, and any medical information you feel comfortable giving me.’
‘You mean giving Khalif?’ Star asked, more curious than resentful.
‘You are my patient. If there is anything you wish for me not to say, then you have my confidentiality.’
Star thought about it for a moment. ‘No,’ she said finally and resolutely. ‘I have nothing to hide.’
Maya smiled and gestured for her to sit. ‘So let’s start with the easiest question and then work back a little. When was your last period?’
CHAPTER FIVE
THE MOMENT MAYA emerged from his bedroom, Khalif demanded to know how Star was.
‘She is fine,’ Maya replied. ‘Taking a moment, but she is—’
His assistant stood, snaring Maya’s attention. ‘Any medical conditions we should know about? Family history of—’
‘That’s enough, Amin,’ Khalif said.
‘Your Highness, we need to know if there is any—’
‘If Star is pregnant, we will get to those kinds of questions. Until then I will not invade her privacy in such a way,’ he warned.
Amin stared at Khalif until Star opened the door to the bedroom and came out, with a smile only he might be able to tell was nervous.
‘As I told Star,’ Maya said to the room, ‘we will need about eleven days before we can be sure a pregnancy test will be completely accurate.’
‘That’s the day after the memorial event,’ Amin said angrily as if somehow that was Star’s fault too.
‘Yes,’ Maya confirmed as Khalif’s head began to spin. Everything seemed to be converging on that one event.
‘You can’t miss it,’ Amin said to Khalif.
‘Why would you miss it?’ Star asked Khalif in confusion and started a little at the glare his assistant sent her way. Khalif was about to say something when she turned to Amin. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, peering at him. ‘Do you need some water?’
Amin turned an indelicate shade of puce. Khalif couldn’t tell whether Star had been purposely oblivious to Amin’s obvious anger or simply unseeing of it.
‘You cannot leave, Your Highness. There is still too much work to do—’
‘Amin...’ he warned.
‘She can go,’ Amin said, waving an arm in her direction as if she were a baggage to be passed around, ‘but you are needed here.’
‘Enough!’ Khalif barked, his hand slicing through the air and any further objection his infuriating assistant might have. He was done. ‘Out. Everyone. Now.’
Amin looked as shocked as if he’d just been told categorically that Santa Claus was real and moved only when the security guard in front of the door opened it and gestured to him to leave. Maya ducked her head—quite possibly concealing the ghost of a smile—but left and was followed by the security guard closing the door behind him.
‘Did you want me to...?’ Star’s question fell short, probably at the look on his face which—if it was anywhere close to his feelings right now—would be a sight to behold. He resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair, aware of how much that would give away.
‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘If I am pregnant, probably not, no.’
‘Right. Of course. Really? Already?’
Star shrugged her shoulders and stared at him as if he were an unexploded bomb. He certainly felt like one.
‘Herbal tea would be lovely, if you have one.’
That he could do. He went to the kitchenette and retrieved one of the herbal teas he’d always kept for Samira.
His brain stumbled over her name as if, even mentally, he couldn’t face it. He glared at the leafy infusion as if it were responsible for creating a link between Star and her at this specific moment.
Pulling himself together, he passed the cup under the heated water tap.
‘I know you’re a prince and everything, but if you don’t know how to boil a kettle...’
He felt a smile soften the grim line of his lips and shifted to the side so that Star could see the steam coming from the boiling water.
‘Ah... Fancy.’
‘Very,’ he confirmed. He turned and passed her the tea. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Not pregnant, if that’s what you’re wondering,’ she said, gently blowing the steam from her tea across the rim of the cup. She looked up at him and shrugged. ‘Kal—Your—Oh, please just tell me what to call you?’ she pleaded lightly.
He smiled at her evident fluster. ‘Kal when it’s just you and me, Khalif in front of the people who just left the room, and Your Highness if there is ever anyone else present.’
* * *
If there is ever. Not when.
Star gripped the cup tighter to disguise the shaking of her hands caused by the realisation that he had no intention of introducing her to any more people than was strictly necessary. And while that hurt, could she blame him? She had only intended to share one magical night with him before returning to Norfolk. Something that now seemed impossible.
‘I get the feeling you’re not letting me on my flight,’ she said.
‘No.’
A dull thud hit her heart and blood rushe
d to her cheeks. Eleven days, Maya had said. She couldn’t stay here for eleven days! Panic flooded her body, adrenaline effervescent in her blood. What about her mother? Every single minute she stayed with Khalif the necklace remained lost to them, as did the chance to save her mother.
She put down the hot tea before she could spill it and burn herself. ‘I can’t... I can’t be here for eleven days, Kal,’ she said, her voice almost a whisper.
‘You won’t be. In half an hour we’ll head into the desert.’
‘The desert?’ Star asked before realising that he wouldn’t want her somewhere she could be found by some unsuspecting staff or family member.
‘We have a family residence in the desert.’
‘Really?’ Star frowned. She’d not heard or seen any reference to it in the exhibition. Maybe, just maybe... She couldn’t tell whether the thread of hope winding around her heart at the possibility that she might find the necklace there was fanciful or fated. And then she was horrified at herself for thinking such a thing, for being opportunistic at this time, and her stomach began to hurt as much as her heart.
‘I need to call my sisters.’ They would know what to do, she thought, rubbing absently at her stomach—a move that Khalif’s keen gaze homed in on.
‘You can’t tell them.’
Her eyes flew to his face.
‘You can’t,’ he repeated. ‘If news gets out then...’
‘I trust my sisters.’
‘I’m glad. But I don’t.’
‘You are cutting me off from a support that I need right now,’ she warned.
‘Then allow me to be that support.’ His words were at odds with the grim determination on his features.
She turned away from him.
‘Star.’ She halted without looking back. ‘If you are pregnant—’
‘We’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it,’ she interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of his declaration. Because she knew it would erase all the good that they had shared up to that point, all the moments of connection and how she’d felt seen by him.
‘I need you to understand that while Duratra is a peaceful, inclusive and diverse country, even we balk at unmarried sheikhs with illegitimate heirs. Family is incredibly important to us. It comes first.’
‘I appreciate that,’ she said, still facing the door to the bedroom.
‘Star. I need you to understand that if you are carrying my child, we will marry.’
No.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to come to Duratra, find the necklace and return home to Norfolk, where they could find the jewels, sell the estate and get the treatment their mother needed.
Spinning to face him, ‘But I can’t be what you’d imagined as a wife?’ she said.
‘No. You’re not.’
She pressed her teeth into her lip to stop the hot ache in her throat from escaping.
‘But if you are carrying my child that won’t matter.’
‘So you’d marry me for the sake of our child?’ she demanded.
‘Yes.’
‘But not love. You’d not want to marry me.’ Star rubbed at her wrists, trying to soothe away the impression of shackles that her mother—that Catherine—had seen marriage as.
‘No royal marries for love, Star.’
‘That is very sad indeed.’
‘It’s just the way it is,’ he said as if it were a tenet to live by. ‘If you are pregnant, we will marry.’
* * *
Less than two hours later the Jeep jerked a little to the right as they skirted the base of another impossibly tall sand dune and he cursed. Usually Khalif was a much better driver than this. He loved this drive. Not that he’d taken it in the last three years. No one had been back here since Faizan and Samira’s accident—as if distance alone would help stave off their grief.
Khalif was hit by an overwhelming need to speak to his brother right now.
You’re a fool, Faizan would have said.
And Samira would have looked at him with her large, deep brown eyes, accepting, understanding and hopeful that he’d found happiness at last.
He braced himself against the wave of loss that hit as inevitably as the tide. That was why he didn’t like thinking of them. The pain that always followed was too much to bear.
He gripped the steering wheel and turned to check on Star. She had regained a little of the colour in her face. He resisted the urge to lift his sunglasses and rub his eyes, instead pushing forward with focused determination. As if the distance between them and the palace was something to be beaten into submission.
‘I’m sorry about your mother’s diagnosis,’ he said. It had been burning a hole in his conscience since Maya had told him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must feel like.
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.
‘Is there anything that can be done?’
‘We are working on it.’
* * *
Star stared at the rich yellow sand, rising and falling as if endless, silently praying for it to distract her. The ‘family residence’ in the desert was her last hope and she would turn it upside down if she had to.
Because if she didn’t find the necklace and they couldn’t save their mother then...then...she’d be alone. Her sisters loved her, but her mother understood her. And the awful shadow of loss she felt for the father she had never known would be nothing in comparison to what life would be like without her mother.
She cleared her throat against the aching burn and Khalif passed her a bottle of water. She refocused her gaze on the miles of golden sand and brilliant blue sky.
‘How do you feel?’
‘No more pregnant than I did an hour ago,’ she said, the concern in his voice a kindness that softened her reply.
If you are carrying my child, we will marry.
It was only now that she might be pregnant that Star realised just how much she’d wanted to marry before having a child. It was in the way her heart quivered at the thought of her baby growing up to experience the same stares and whispers that she and her sisters had. An experience that Khalif had shared in his own way.
‘But if I was,’ she said hesitantly, picking up the threads of her answer, ‘if I was pregnant, if we had a child, can you ensure that they wouldn’t be judged, or excluded or...?’
‘Star, look at me,’ he said, removing his sunglasses. Only when she met his gaze did he continue. ‘With every ounce of my being I would protect you and our child. Our family has an agreement with the press, both in Duratra and internationally, that protects our children from scrutiny until they turn eighteen. They attend a central city school until they decide whether they want to attend university. We can’t protect them from everything, but we do our best.’
Star thought about that for a moment, not immune to the devotion and determination in Khalif’s tone. She had grown up sure of her parents’ love, even though her father had passed. Their love of her, love of each other, hadn’t needed a marriage certificate. But her grandparents’ behaviour had made her see through different eyes—ones that were hurt and had caused hurt. And she would never do that to her child.
‘If I were pregnant, I would do whatever it took to protect them,’ she said, finally turning back to him, knowing that he would understand what she meant.
‘As would I.’ His words felt like an oath and she felt the stirrings of the connection she’d been drawn to when they’d first met and something tight eased in her heart.
The sound of his phone ringing cut through the Jeep, but he put off answering it until Star returned to look out of the window.
Biting back a curse, he pressed the wireless earbud to his ear and pressed a button on the steering wheel to answer the call. ‘Yes?’ Khalif answered in Arabic.
‘Wow. Okay. Nice to speak to you too,�
�� came the sardonic response from Reza.
‘I don’t have much time. I’m on the way to Alhafa.’
‘Really? Is that...wise?’
Khalif glanced across at Star. Nothing about his decisions had been wise since she’d come crashing into his life.
‘There wasn’t much choice.’
‘The plans for the memorial are barely finalised, let alone—’
‘I know, Reza. But what do you want me to do? Abbad will never be happy with the choice of memorial for his youngest daughter. We could have renamed the mountains and it wouldn’t be compensation for his loss.’
‘If that’s what you’re trying to achieve, Khalif, then...’ Reza’s voice trailed off, genuine concern evident.
He cursed. ‘I don’t know any more, Reza.’
‘Well, at this rate, Amin might have a heart attack and be removed from your staff for medical reasons.’
‘He’s necessary.’
‘He was necessary for Faizan. I’m not sure he’s necessary for you.’
‘Is that what you called me for? To berate me for messing up this memorial and my choice of employee?’
‘Actually, I called to berate you for possibly impregnating a British tourist, but sure, while we’re at it, we might as well—’
‘I’m hanging up now.’
‘Khalif, it defeats the purpose if you tell me that you’re—’
Khalif pulled the earbud from his ear and tossed it into the well near the gearbox, smiling. The moment of relief was, however, quickly dulled by the realisation that Reza was right.
If that’s what you’re trying to achieve...
‘I am sorry,’ Star said in the wake of the terminated phone call. He risked a glance towards her. ‘For your loss,’ she clarified.
He clenched his jaw, only capable of uttering the same two words she had given to his concern about her mother. ‘Thank you.’
‘Memorials are hard to choose,’ she said, and he wondered if she had somehow understood the one-sided conversation. His anger escaped before his mind could catch up, his response a half growl, half scoff, questioning what she’d know about it, until he remembered the loss of her father.