Unknown Royal Baby

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

I SAM STRODE THROUGH the suite, his steps growing longer and faster. The straitjacket binding his shoulders and upper arms tightened and the talons ripping through his gut sharpened, threatening to shred his self-control.

Finally he reached the sanctuary of his room.

His head throbbed with a familiar ache that he’d learned to despise. It was the reminder of all he lacked. Of the weakness he hid from all but a trusted few.

But he didn’t reach for pain relief. Instead he sank into a tall wingchair, leaning his head back against the upholstery and squeezing his eyes shut.

Instead of darkness he saw grey, shot through with snatches of light. They were fragments, like a shattered window pane, separate and useless.

Like you.

He firmed his jaw. No, not useless. Just not as he was.

A bitter laugh rumbled up from his chest but he didn’t let it escape. He couldn’t allow self-pity.

Besides, what had he to feel sorry about? He was alive and almost whole. Whereas his father...

Isam breathed through the racking pain of loss that still, sometimes, seemed too great to bear.

Easier by far, and necessary, to concentrate on the problem that was Avril Rodgers.

The disjointed pattern in his mind’s eye transformed into a woman. Thick brown hair swept up behind her head in a businesslike bun. Businesslike, too, her court shoes and skirt suit.

But there’d been nothing businesslike in the way he noticed her. The tight fit of her rust-coloured jacket over her breasts. The purity of skin that he imagined to be as soft as the petal of a creamy rose. The restrained yet unmissably feminine sway of her body as she crossed the room.

Even the smudges of tiredness under her eyes made her controlled professionalism seemed gallant, as if weariness would never interfere with her ability to do her job or stand up for herself.

He swallowed hard, knowing she was different. Feeling it in every pore of his body. Despite a natural masculine tendency to notice an attractive woman, he didn’t usually react so viscerally.

The radiance of her brown eyes, warmed by glints of gold, made him think of welcoming firelight on a chill desert night. The way her lips pouted when she was annoyed and the flash of hauteur, when she thought her competence questioned, intrigued and invited.

He couldn’t prevent a snort of laughter. She’d looked daggers at him. There was no invitation there.

But that hadn’t stopped his reaction.

His pulse accelerated as broken images teased him.

The curve where her neck met her shoulder. His nostrils flared on the scent of aroused woman and wild honey and his lips tingled at the brush of velvet-soft skin.

The flare of shock in warm brown eyes, accompanied by a whispered gasp, before she relaxed against him, her eyelids dropping to half-mast in a sultry look of invitation as her body welcomed him.

A ruched, dark pink nipple cresting a breast so perfect the sight of it dried his mouth. The feel of her breast, just the right size for his hand that trembled as he cupped such beauty.

Isam’s eyes snapped open as blood surged into his groin. How long since any woman had made him so weak with desire, so quickly?

He’d come to London knowing he had issues to resolve. Things he had to deal with before he could continue to give his full focus to his country. It had been a challenging year. All Zahdar mourned his father and looked to Isam for reassurance, while he still struggled with his loss. This had been one of the most difficult times of his life.

Yet beyond all the urgent demands on his time there had been a niggling urge to set aside his duties and the worries of a nation, and come to London. Of course he’d put his people first and remained at home. He understood they’d feared he might die from his injuries too.

But now you’re here, what next?

One look at Avril Rodgers had told him this wouldn’t be easy. She’d been left to her own devices for over a year, a situation that needed to be rectified immediately.

But he couldn’t concentrate on office arrangements and communication protocols. Not when she bombarded his brain with sensual impressions that sent it into overload.

In the early days after the accident there’d been times when concentration was difficult. When he’d felt his mind fight for focus. When brain fog had been a constant barrier to progress. He’d been told not to worry, that he would improve. But to a man used to decisiveness, proud of his mental agility and focus, that had been far worse than the various breaks, bruises and lacerations.

Avril threatened that focus more than he’d imagined possible. Alarmingly so.

There was no way Rashid and his staff could fix that. Isam had to do that for himself. Alone.

The doorbell rang after dusk and Avril rolled her eyes. Would this day ever end?

She’d gone to Isam’s hotel sure that at least she’d have the satisfaction of telling him what she thought of him. But the coward had walked away, leaving her to defend her work and her character to his minions.

Then, as soon as she’d walked in the door hours ago she’d been run off her feet. She hadn’t even had time to change out of her office clothes, simply stepping out of her shoes and promising herself a long soak in the bath later, if she could keep her eyes open.

Though, given her indignation at how today’s meeting had played out, she suspected sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight.

She stifled a yawn as she walked to the front door, then, realising who it must be, she smiled as she opened it. ‘Gus, it’s lovely—’

Her words died as she registered, not the comfortable round outline of her neighbour, Augusta, but a towering form, all hard, masculine angles. She’d know those shoulders anywhere and the proud angle of that head.

Without even thinking about it she swung the heavy door forward. Instinct was a skittering creature racing up her spine, whispering in her ear that having that man in her home would be disastrous.

The door juddered to a stop. She pushed but it wouldn’t budge. Looking down, she saw a large, glossy shoe wedged in the doorway. She hoped his foot was bruised.

‘I don’t want you in my home.’

From beyond the door a deep voice said, ‘You’d rather we had this conversation on the doorstep? For the entertainment of your neighbours?’

Avril opened her mouth to say her neighbours were lovely, unlike him, then snapped it shut.

‘Or shall we have this out in my suite? Perhaps over the conference table with Rashid taking notes?’

She yanked the door open so hard it almost bounced off the wall beside her.

‘Don’t you come here with your threats. You think you’re a big man, high-ranking and powerful. But there are more important things in life. Respect, for one.’ She jammed her hands on her hips and seared him with her scorn. ‘Common decency.’

She was so incensed at his nerve in coming to her house after effectively dismissing her earlier, she could barely catch her breath. That was why her breathing was so choppy, her breasts rising so vigorously they tested the buttons of her blouse.

Avril crossed her arms over her chest.

‘We need to talk.’ Something in his tone quelled her surge of anger. He didn’t sound smug, but strained. ‘We both know it.’

Finally she nodded. ‘We do. Tomorrow. I’ll meet you somewhere.’ Somewhere neutral like a coffee shop. ‘What time—?’

‘Not tomorrow. Now.’ When she didn’t respond, merely lifted her eyebrows in a show of disdain, he continued. ‘My time in London is limited. Most of it is accounted for. If we want a private discussion it needs to be now.’

‘Surely a king can set his own timetable.’

He merely shook his head slowly as if to say she had no idea of his schedule.

And he’d be right. What did she know of royal life? The few days she’d spent with him had been remarkable for their informality.

Informality! Hysterical laughter at the understatement threatened her composure.

Avril had sudden recall of how it had felt when he’d taken her to bliss with his body, then held her close, whispering words of affection. Even now the deep timbre of his voice made something loosen inside her.

She’d wanted to see him for so long. Been desperate to see him. Now here he was and it was like a nightmare. Nothing was as she’d once hoped. Even her determination to despise him was undercut by her body’s response to his nearness.

‘Avril?’ Her gaze lifted to his and was trapped. His eyes gleamed pewter-dark. Did she imagine they looked troubled? ‘Let me in.’

Reluctantly she stepped aside and he walked past, so close her skin prickled and she closed her eyes in momentary despair. She loathed this man. He’d treated her badly. Yet her yearning body hadn’t yet got the message. But after tonight she’d probably never see him. One way or another she wouldn’t work for Isam after this.

‘To the left.’

She followed him in to see him standing, surveying the old-fashioned furniture. The packed bookcases and clutter of photos. The thought of him snooping through her life, hers and Cilla’s, made her step forward to stand in front of the display.

‘Take a seat.’ Because she’d feel better if he weren’t dominating the room with his height.

But it wasn’t just his height. He’d always had an energy about him, a charisma she’d never been able to ignore.

To her relief he sank into a large armchair, looking just as at home as he did at that dauntingly large conference table.

Or naked in bed. His musculature and that fine dusting of hair across his chest utterly fascinating.

Appalled at her thoughts, Avril took a chair opposite him. She didn’t offer refreshments. This wasn’t a social occasion. Just as well Cilla wasn’t here. She’d been a stickler for polite niceties.

‘Why are you here?’

‘I thought that would be obvious. To talk about us.’

‘There is no us! You made that clear when you refused to answer my calls and messages.’

A flicker of emotion crossed his face but she couldn’t pin it down. He looked down at his hands, triangled in front of him with fingertips touching.

‘You tried to contact me.’

It wasn’t a question but a statement. Yet there was something about his tone that made her hesitate for a second. But she wasn’t in the mood to play games. They both knew how he’d treated her.

‘Of course I tried to contact you. Even if I didn’t have work issues to discuss, I was worried.’ At least at first. ‘Your crash made world headlines. But no one seemed to know how badly injured you really were.’

Grey eyes lifted and met hers. ‘As you see, I’m fine.’

He didn’t look fine, she realised with a shock of clarity that made her insides twist. He looked...gaunt, as if a sculptor had chiselled his features but gone too far, accentuating deep chasms and angles and not leaving enough flesh on the bone. In the conference room she hadn’t noticed, too caught up in her own emotions.

‘I’m sorry about your father.’

She knew what grief was like. At least her great-aunt had reached a venerable age and her decline had given them both time to prepare. It must be terrible to lose a loved one so suddenly.

‘Thank you.’ He nodded. ‘He was a good man and I miss him.’

For a moment they regarded each other and Avril could have sworn she felt the ebb and flow of understanding between them.

No. No. No! Don’t start fantasising now. He’s not that man.

It was time to remind them both that she had his measure.

‘I emailed you, multiple times. I called but got no answer. When you didn’t contact me, even when you were out of hospital and taking up your duties again, I called both the Zahdari Embassy here and then your palace, leaving messages.’

The memory of those fraught months reinvigorated her indignation and hurt. She hadn’t expected long-term commitment as a result of the night they’d shared. She was no blind romantic. But he’d made it clear he wanted to see her again.

He’d acted as if he cared about her.

More fool you.

‘And I didn’t get in touch.’ He rested his forehead on his hand, his elbow on the arm of the chair. ‘I’m sorry, Avril. I—’ He looked up, frowning. ‘What’s that?’

The sound began low and soft, like the warning hint of thunder in the distance, making her sit up, dismay filling her. She knew from experience the storm would break all too soon.

She jumped to her feet. ‘Excuse me. There’s something I need to see to. I won’t be long.’ She hoped. ‘Wait here.’

It was only as she hurried from the room that she realised she was in stockinged feet and wisps of hair hung around her face. It would have been nice to meet him looking cool instead of frazzled. But her appearance was the least of her worries. Her heart hammered desperately.

She stumbled up the stairs, weariness vying with shock. For, after months knocking her head against a brick wall, trying to contact Isam, she’d learnt she was better off without him. Today had just consolidated that, convincing her he didn’t need to know about this.

This was her business, not his.

Given the way he’d discarded her without a second thought, without even the courtesy of a call, she’d never trust him with anything so valuable.

The decibels rose as she reached the landing at the top of the stairs and dived into the first room, closing the door behind her.

A couple of minutes later, arms full, she turned at the sound of the door opening, her heart leaping into her throat.

There was Isam, looking ridiculously splendid in his tailored suit and impeccable silk tie, his shoulders almost brushing the sides of the narrow doorway. He looked as out of place in her little home as she would in a palace.

His eyes rounded as he took her in. Swiftly he surveyed the room, taking in the recent changes she’d made, then returned to the weight in her arms.

‘You have a baby?’

Her arms tightened around Maryam as she swayed and jiggled, trying to persuade her to go back to sleep.

‘Evidently.’

Now he looked more than surprised. He looked stunned. ‘It’s yours?’

Avril had thought of this moment for so long. She’d imagined so many different scenarios. But now it came to it, the words stuck in her mouth. Her emotions were still so up and down. Half the time she didn’t know if her daughter was a glorious blessing or a test she’d fail, despite her best efforts.

She nodded jerkily and lifted the baby higher in her arms, patting her back.

But Maryam refused to be soothed, her grizzles becoming a full-blown cry that made perspiration bead Avril’s nape and her stomach churn. She’d spent ages getting the little one settled to sleep. Was it going to be another bad night like last night?

She turned to pace the room. The warm bundle in her arms was familiar now after almost four months, and she loved her daughter dearly, but she was incredibly aware of her lack of experience as a mother.

She’d never been around young children. Never had younger siblings or cousins. She’d been brought up by an elderly woman whose friends were, in the main, old. Avril had never babysat before she came home from hospital with this precious, fascinating, demanding bundle.

Gus, next door, was a fountain of useful information and practical help. Occasionally she’d pop around in the evening with a hot meal she’d cooked, offering to keep an eye on Maryam while Avril ate. For Avril’s daughter had the unerring ability to wake, crying, just when her mother sat down to eat or take a bath. As for sleeping...

Avril turned to find Isam had moved into the room, making the nursery smaller than ever.

‘You should leave. I’ll meet you tomorrow. You’ll just have to find time for me in your schedule.’

Was he even listening? His whole attention was on the baby. Avril’s breathing snared. Was he noticing her mink-brown hair, so dark it looked almost black? Or her grey eyes?

Avril’s arms tightened reflexively and Maryam wailed.

‘Is she teething?’

Avril frowned. ‘You know about babies?’

He lifted one shoulder, his attention still on her daughter. ‘A bit.’

Once more Avril swung away, swaying Maryam and trying to soothe her. Without success. And when she turned there was Isam, frowning. Judging her for not being able to calm her child?

‘I don’t think she is. And it’s not hunger,’ Avril explained. ‘I just fed her and she doesn’t need changing.’

Grey eyes lifted to meet hers and fleetingly it felt as though understanding passed between them. ‘Sometimes I think they just want company.’

She felt like saying Maryam had her company all the time. Today had been the first time she’d left her daughter, which had only added to the stress of that formal meeting. Gus had assured her that Maryam had been ‘as good as gold’ in her absence, leaving Avril wishing she could be a bit more content with her own mother.

‘You look done in,’ he murmured. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll hold her for a bit?’

She couldn’t have been more astonished. But Isam’s expression was serious and his tone gentle.

Too gentle. It was easier to feel competent and in control without what looked and sounded like sympathy.

His mouth lifted at one corner in a crooked smile that made her insides squeeze. ‘It’s a long time since I held a baby.’

He wanted to hold her squalling daughter? Or was he just being kind?

Of course he’s being kind. But why?

‘How long has it been?’

His smile stiffened but he stepped closer. ‘My sister was eleven years younger than me.’

Was. Of course, she’d read when researching for her job that he’d had a sibling, but hadn’t paid much attention. Now she glimpsed something in Isam’s face that made her ashamed not to have registered how much losing his sister must have meant to him.

Spurred by emotions she didn’t stop to consider, Avril let him lift her daughter from her arms. As soon as she saw his confident hold and the way Maryam, surprised by the newcomer, stared up at him, something eased inside Avril. Her knees loosened and she sank abruptly into the cushioned rocking chair that she’d brought upstairs for feeding time.

Maryam frowned up at him and he bent his head, all his attention on her. It was strange, seeing them so close together.

Her tiny daughter and this big man who sheltered her so easily against his broad chest. The sight of his protective stance and his absorption made Avril feel strange.

When Maryam waved a tiny hand in the air he offered his finger for her to clutch, and that strange feeling burst into something stronger. A fierce melting, a drawing sensation through Avril’s belly, while her heart stuttered before picking up a quickened beat.

She was so lost in her thoughts it took a while to register that her daughter was no longer crying. And that Isam was crooning something she couldn’t understand. The baritone rumble of it tunnelled through her body, making taut muscles loosen and easing her jittery tension.

Her brain told her to get up and take care of Maryam herself. But she was exhausted. Would it really hurt to sit quietly just for a few minutes?

How long she sat there, she didn’t know. His lullaby worked on her too. She felt her bones melt into the upholstery as she relaxed properly for the first time in what seemed ages. It was only as he moved towards the cot that her drowsy eyelids lifted.

She said nothing as he put the baby down. Maryam’s long dark lashes curled across perfect cheeks and her rosebud mouth made her look like an angel. A rush of maternal emotion sideswiped Avril, making her blink and get up to fuss with the blanket until Isam moved away.

Neither spoke until they were downstairs.

‘How did you do that?’ she asked as they entered the front room.

Avril had lost count of the number of times she’d sung lullabies and walked the floor with her daughter.

He shrugged. ‘Maybe I was just different enough to distract her until she dropped off.’

Avril had a feeling it wasn’t that simple. Again she wondered about her own competence. Maybe Maryam had picked up on her stress despite her best efforts at seeming calm.

Or maybe you’re beating yourself up over nothing.

‘What’s her name?’

Warily, Avril pursed her lips. But after what he’d just done she owed him this at least. ‘Maryam.’

He stiffened, his eyes narrowing. ‘That’s an Arabic name.’

‘Is it?’

You know it is. But you could mention it’s used in other languages too.

‘You didn’t know?’

He paused, waiting for her answer, his gaze searching.

Now the moment had come she wasn’t sure she could go through with it. For a year she’d been determined to share this, but today she’d convinced herself that discretion was better. For her daughter and herself.

Yet after seeing him upstairs...

Isam shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, the movement pulling open his jacket to reveal a wet spot on his pristine shirt. Drool from where he’d snuggled her daughter close.

‘Avril, you haven’t answered me.’

She wrapped her arms around her middle. ‘I knew. I looked it up. I like the name but I also wanted something that worked in both English and Arabic.’

He said nothing but his eyes silvered as he stared at her, and she saw his pulse thrum hard.

She drew a sustaining breath. ‘She’s your daughter.’

He stood utterly still. It was only the flare of his nostrils and that rapid pulse at his temple that proved he was alive, not some graven image.

‘My daughter? Our daughter?’

‘She was born thirty-nine weeks after you left London.’ His head jerked back as if in denial or belated shock. But surely he’d begun to guess upstairs. ‘She’s ours. Conceived the night before you flew to Zahdar.’

Isam might be good with babies but he wasn’t in any hurry to accept fatherhood. He shook his head then turned on his heel and crossed to look out onto the dark street.

Be fair. It took you long enough to get over the shock of being pregnant.

Minutes later he swung back. But instead of excitement or the tenderness she’d seen when he looked at the baby, his expression was set, sending a ripple of disquiet through her.

‘We’ll need a paternity test. I’ll arrange it. Someone will come tomorrow.’

Now it was Avril who rocked back in shock. When she found her voice it was strident but undercut by a telling wobble. ‘You don’t believe me? You think I’m lying about my daughter ?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I think, Avril. I’m a king. Others will need to be convinced. This needs irrefutable proof.’

This. As if her beloved daughter were a thing not a person.

She unwound her arms from around her middle. Barely she resisted the urge to walk across and slap him for his unfeeling arrogance. Instead she planted her palms on her hips, feeling the strength of righteous indignation and a rush of adrenaline flow in her bloodstream.

‘I don’t care that you’re a king. I don’t want anything from you. Ever.’ She moved close enough to make sure he read the fury in her eyes. ‘Now get out of my house. I never want to see you again.’