Cinderella's Desert Baby Bombshell

by Lynne Graham

  Saif gazed down into her glowing face and the bright blue eyes lit up with enjoyment and he bent his head and crushed her mouth hungrily under his. That hunger speared through Tati like a flame striking touchpaper. Her knees wobbled and her hands closed into his sleeves to keep her upright. The urgent plunge of his tongue formed a pool of liquid heat in her pelvis and she gasped.

  Saif jerked his head up, momentarily disconcerted to discover that he was in a public place, his bodyguards all politely looking away and probably astonished by his behaviour. In the crush of tourists and cameras flashing, he clenched his jaw hard. A very faint darkening scored his high cheekbones as he closed a hand over his wife’s and walked her in the direction of the picnic lunch awaiting them on the Champ de Mars. He felt vaguely as though she had intoxicated him.

  ‘The Louvre was exhausting.’ Tati sighed as she sank down on the rugs already laid across the springy grass for their comfort. She imagined that going sightseeing with Saif was very different from the usual tourist trek. They didn’t queue, they didn’t wait anywhere for anything and everything that they required was instantly provided. Her elegant black sundress pooled around her feet and she tugged off her high heels to curl bare pink toes into the grass beyond the rug.

  ‘We did only do the highlights tour. I spent months working in Paris and I went to the Louvre several times,’ Saif imparted with amusement, watching the way the sunshine bathed her luxuriant mane of hair in gold. He wanted to touch her again and the temptation entertained him because it was a novelty.

  Usually, one taste of a woman was sufficient for him and he would move on. Sex, however, was a great leveller, Saif allowed cynically and, clearly, he hadn’t enjoyed enough of it for too long because around Tatiana he was on the constant edge of arousal and it was a challenge to resist her appeal. Yet, only a few yards away, young lovers were lying in the grass kissing passionately with their bodies entwined and their mouths mashed together. The Crown Prince of Alharia, however, had always known that he was not able to practise that kind of freedom and he told himself that he was too disciplined to give way to so juvenile a display. Yet he had kissed her in the street, utterly forgetting where he was, who he was.

  ‘I’m not really into art. Mum was,’ Tati confided. ‘She could look at a picture and make those highbrow comments the way people do, but then she went to art college and originally planned to train as an art historian.’

  Dainty little bites of food were set out on a low table in front of them along with china plates and wine glasses in an elaborate spread.

  In terms of an outside space, it was a picnic, but not quite the kind of picnic Tati had naïvely envisaged when Saif had first mentioned it. The Prince, she was starting to realise, didn’t truly know what informal or casual was. He was far too accustomed to top-flight silent service. Marcel had arrived laden down with hampers and his spry companion, who was an Alharian, had served them, moving forward on his knees with a bent head as though even to meet the eyes of the Emir’s heir would be a familiarity too far. A lot of people were watching the display but Saif seemed no more aware of that scrutiny than of the presence of the plain-clothes police hovering beyond the ring of their personal protection team, keeping a watchful eye over a foreign royal. But then why would he be aware? she asked herself ruefully. Presumably, this was Saif’s world as it always was, surrounded by security and hemmed in by tradition and formality.

  ‘Why didn’t you go to college?’ Saif asked softly.

  ‘Further education wasn’t an option for me after Granny died. Uncle Rupert was covering the cost of the nursing home and I was already living below their roof because, when Mum went into care, my uncle needed to rent out the cottage we had been using to set against the bills and I was too young to live alone,’ Tati explained wryly. ‘I felt obligated to help around the house because they couldn’t afford full-time staff and I was able to plug the gaps.’

  ‘Your relatives should not have allowed you to make such a sacrifice,’ Saif opined, impressed by the sacrifices she had made on her mother’s behalf. When he had been younger, he had been much more curious about his absent mother, particularly after her death. He might even have initially sought out his brother to find out more about the woman who had brought him into the world and then walked away. Angel had told him all he needed to know about his absent parent, had satisfied that empty space inside him.

  ‘She’s my mother and she was a loving one. It was my duty to do what I could to pay my uncle back,’ Tati contradicted gently. ‘If I’d gone to college I would have built up thousands of pounds in student loans and it would have been years before I was in a position to make a decent financial contribution. I’m only twenty-one. I’ve still got loads of time to study and focus on a career.’

  ‘That was a mature decision,’ Saif acknowledged, wryly recalling the party girl he had assumed he was marrying while conceding that, undeniably, her cousin made a far more appropriate wife for a man in his position.

  Tati nibbled at the delicious finger food on the plates and quaffed her wine.

  ‘We have one personal topic which we haven’t yet but must touch on,’ Saif murmured in a low voice, and he topped up her wine glass, impervious to the shocked appraisal of the server hovering only yards away, keen to jump at the smallest sign of either of them having any need for attention.

  Smooth brow furrowing, Tati glanced at him, thinking how incredibly good-looking he was with sunshine gleaming off his black hair and olive skin, lighting his eyes to a sea-glass green shade. ‘And what is that?’ she prompted abstractedly.

  ‘Yesterday I was negligent in my care of you. As the experienced partner, all the blame on that score is mine. But that recklessness must not be repeated. In our position, the potential consequences would bring complications we would not want to deal with,’ Saif framed in a taut undertone of warning.

  It took a rather long moment for Tati to grasp what he was talking about. ‘Negligent in my care of you...consequences...complications...mustn’t be repeated...’ And then the penny of comprehension dropped with a resounding thump and her tummy curdled in dismay. He was referring to their lack of contraceptive common sense the day before. What else could he be talking about? He hadn’t used birth control and she had reassured him, it only occurring to her later that her contraception was scarcely reliable when she had already been off it for a couple of days because she had left her strip of pills behind in England. Losing the rosy colour in her cheeks, she paled and swallowed down her misgivings before sipping her wine while studiously not looking in his direction.

  There was no point worrying him ahead of time when really...what were the chances that she would conceive the very first time she had sex? She gritted her teeth, anxiety flashing through her as she reminded herself that she was not a naïve teenager, thinking that that should be sufficient to keep her safe. There was a chance, of course, there was when, even with precautions, no form of contraception was foolproof.

  ‘We need to be responsible,’ she said, proud of the steadiness of her voice until it occurred to her that, once again, she was throwing up a green light for further such intimacy.

  And she shouldn’t be doing that, of course, she shouldn’t be. Even though she had enjoyed the experience? Her cheeks hot, she argued with herself inside her head. If they were careful going forward, there was no reason why she shouldn’t be intimate with Saif again. She was an adult woman capable of making that choice on her own behalf. There was nothing morally wrong about having a sexual relationship, she reminded herself irritably, as long as the same consequences that had derailed her mother’s life did not assail her.

  Sadly, unplanned pregnancies sometimes extracted the highest price from the female partner, she reflected ruefully, because a man might have to contribute to his child’s maintenance, but that did not necessarily mean that he took on any share of the childcare or indeed had any further interest in the child involved.


  Her father had been of that ilk, indifferent from the day that her mother had informed him of her pregnancy. Even after his release from prison, he had pleaded poverty when pursued by the law for child support payments. She had never met her reluctant father in the flesh. As a teenager she had once written to him asking for a meeting but, even though the courts had verified her paternity, he had only responded with the denial that she was his child. That had hurt, that had blown a giant hole in her secret hope that he was curious about her as well.

  ‘Yes,’ Saif agreed, relieved, it seemed, by her attitude, which only made her feel even guiltier for not being fully honest with him from the outset and just admitting that there was a risk, admittedly, she hoped, a very slight risk that conception was a possibility.

  Only telling the truth would make her sound like such an idiot, she conceded ruefully. She had told him it was safe. She had told him she was on contraception, only to recognise when it was too late that the pill method only worked if taken on a consistent schedule.

  ‘We’re attending a party tonight,’ Saif murmured, disconcerting her with the ease with which he flipped the topic of conversation. ‘You should enjoy it. I believe it’s usually quite a spectacle.’

  ‘Fancy, then,’ Tati assumed, mentally flipping through her new wardrobe and realising with some embarrassment that she had bought so much that she couldn’t remember all of the outfits without the garments being physically in front of her. That was not a problem that she had ever thought she would live to have, she acknowledged ruefully.

  ‘Very,’ Saif confirmed lazily, watching her with eyes that were sea-glass bright green seduction in the sunlight, his gaze enhanced by dense black spiky lashes. He wasn’t touching her, he didn’t need to touch her, she acknowledged in wonderment, he just had to look at her a certain way and that certain way was, without a doubt, incredibly sexy and potent.

  Heat rose at the heart of her, butterflies fluttering in her tummy. Dragging her gaze from his, she sipped at her wine, reminding herself afresh that she was an adult woman, able to make her own choices...and right now, she thought, dizzy in the grip of that sensual intoxication, her choice was him.

  Ana had always told Tati that she was very naïve about men. Her cousin prided herself on being as ruthless as any male in taking what she wanted from a man and then moving on, regardless of how the man felt about it. Ana often left broken hearts in her wake. Tati not only didn’t want to leave broken hearts behind her, but also didn’t think she would ever possess the power her cousin seemed to have over the opposite sex.

  * * *

  No, she couldn’t compare herself to Ana, Tati acknowledged back at the magnificent house while she browsed through her wide selection of gowns. She was not and would never be a heartbreaker, but she rather suspected that Saif fell into that category. He emanated that cool, sophisticated air of unavailability that her cousin found so attractive in a man, so it was rather ironic that he had ended up married to Tati instead. Tati, unrefined, clumsy...and so angry from the moment he had met her.

  Tati had never argued and fought with anyone the way she had with Saif. And where had all that rage come from? She supposed it had built up over the years below her uncle and aunt’s roof where she had been consistently bullied and reminded of her lowly place in life on a daily basis. The smallest request for a wage that would at least fund her bus trips to visit her mother and little gifts for the older woman had been viewed as an offence of ingratitude. That she was a ‘charity’ child dependent on the goodwill of others for survival had been brought home to her hard and often and that label had ground her pride into the dust. Her mother’s troubled past, her care bills and even the family embarrassment caused by Tati’s illegitimate birth had often been used as a stick to beat Tati with and keep her down. Her uncle would not have dared be so offensive had her mother been around still possessed of her cutting tongue.

  At the same time, her grandmother had had no idea what went on in her own house and Tati had shielded the frail old lady from the ugly truth. Even so, her Granny Milly had once taken the trouble to assure Tati that her mother would always be looked after, and Tati had prayed that sufficient money would be laid aside in the old lady’s will to cover the nursing home costs. Unhappily, though, her late grandmother had forgotten that promise and had remembered neither her daughter Mariana nor Tati in her last will and testament.

  That oversight had hurt, Tati conceded ruefully, because she had been deeply attached to her grandmother. In addition, the soothing knowledge that her mother’s care was secure would not only have meant the world to Tati, but would also have released her from her virtual servitude in her uncle’s home. But she had long since forgiven the old lady, who had been quite ill and confused towards the end of her life.

  Shaking her head clear of those disturbing recollections of the past, Tati tugged a silvery-grey evening gown out of one of the closets. The delicate lace overlay was cobweb fine and it shimmered below the lights. She had fallen in love with the elegant dress at first sight, thinking comically that it was a princess dress for a grown-up, it not occurring to her that she was, technically speaking anyway, now a princess, thanks to her marriage to a prince. The modest neckline and long sleeves might not be eye-catching, but the gown had a quiet, stylish elegance that appealed to her.

  As she emerged fully clad from the bathroom, her make-up applied in a few subtle touches, Saif stilled halfway out of his shirt. Tati paused as well, reluctantly enthralled by the expanse of muscular bronzed chest on view. He was beautifully built from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and long, powerful thighs. For a split second she remembered the weight of him over her and she was suddenly so short of breath she almost choked, her cheeks flaming as she coughed and croaked, ‘Sorry, wasn’t expecting to see you!’

  ‘That dress is spectacular on you,’ Saif breathed appreciatively, because that particular shade of grey enhanced the deep blue of her eyes and lent a glow to her porcelain skin while the tailoring of the dress sleekly outlined the feminine curves of her lush figure.

  ‘Seriously?’ Tati queried, her head lifting high again.

  ‘Seriously,’ he confirmed, strolling across the room to indicate the gift boxes on the highly polished dressing table. ‘These are for you.’

  ‘Presents? It’s not my birthday yet,’ Tati told him, lifting a gift box with the certainty that such packaging could only contain jewellery and uncomfortable at the prospect.

  ‘As my wife, you need to wear jewels. It’s expected,’ Saif said smoothly.

  Tati dealt him a suspicious glance before opening the boxes to reveal a diamond necklace and earrings. ‘These are...spectacular,’ she whispered truthfully, a fingertip reverently stroking the rainbow fire of a single gleaming gem. ‘But I shouldn’t—’

  ‘No. These are family jewels that my father once gave to my mother. My mother left everything behind when she left Alharia and it would please my father very much to know that his gifts are being worn again.’

  ‘Is your mother still alive?’ Tati asked gently, detaching the necklace from the box, feeling the cool of the beautiful gems against her skin as her reluctance to wear the diamonds melted away.

  ‘No, she passed away about three years ago in a helicopter crash with her husband,’ Saif explained.

  ‘Did you ever meet her again after she left your father? Or even see her?’ she prompted, intrigued by his seemingly calm attitude to his abandonment as a child.

  ‘I was devastated when I heard of her death,’ Saif heard himself admit, disconcerting himself almost as much as he surprised Tati with that declaration. ‘While she was alive I could toy with the idea of looking her up and getting to know her—should she have been interested—but once she was gone, that possibility was gone for ever.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Tati murmured wryly. ‘I wrote to my father when I was a teenager asking him to meet me and, even
though it had been proven in court that I was his daughter, he wrote back telling me that he wasn’t my father and didn’t wish to hear from me again. It hurt a lot. My mother had tried to warn me that he wasn’t interested, but I was too stubborn to listen.’

  ‘My father told me that he didn’t think that my mother had many maternal genes. Some women don’t, I believe, and presumably fathers can suffer from the same flaw. Let me help,’ he murmured, crossing the room to remove the necklace from her fingers and settle it round her throat, his fingertips brushing the nape of her neck as he clasped it, sending a faint quiver of awareness through her.

  Awesomely conscious of his proximity and the familiar scent of his cologne, Tati struggled to behave normally as she donned the earrings and finally turned to let him see her.

  ‘Perfect,’ Saif pronounced.

  ‘I’ll wait downstairs for you,’ Tati told him breathlessly, not sure that she could withstand the desire to watch him while he undressed, and mortified by the temptation. It was as though Saif had cast some weird kind of sex spell over her, she conceded shamefacedly as Marcel offered her a drink in the grand main salon.

  It was normal, healthy lust, Tati supposed of her fixation and her growing obsession with Saif’s extraordinary eyes, Saif’s hands, what he could do with them, how it felt when he touched her...

  Enough of this nonsense, she mentally screamed at herself. She was behaving with all the maturity of a schoolgirl with a first crush. None of it was any big deal, she told herself bracingly, deciding that she was only so bemused and off balance because she was a decidedly late starter when it came to the opposite sex. All over again, she wished she had acquired some of her cousin’s glossy cool and confidence. But, marooned on a country estate without money and with few social outlets, Tati had not enjoyed her cousin’s opportunities to meet men and date. In reality, Tati thought with regret, she probably was as naïve as an adolescent.