Unknown Royal Baby

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

S HE WAS DUE to give Isam an answer on the biggest decision of her life.

Was it any wonder Avril couldn’t settle?

She’d slept a lot and swum in the clear waters of the courtyard’s private pool. She’d begun to feel refreshed in a way she hadn’t for ages. Yet she was on edge, and of course Maryam picked up on her agitation, growing more fidgety.

Bethany had practically pushed Avril out the door today, suggesting she go outside while she settled the baby. Avril had thought about exploring the city but decided against it. What she needed was to stretch her legs in solitude, not listening to the patter of a guide.

So she left their secluded part of the palace for the grand gardens within the palace compound. She wanted space. Walking always helped her sort out her thoughts.

A staff member ushered her through magnificent doors onto a broad, marble-lined portico. Avril’s breath caught at the beauty of the gardens before her, sloping down past a channel of water and fountains, into rambling parkland.

Someone had spent a lot of time and effort ensuring there was plentiful water for this beautiful green space.

Movement further along the pillared terrace drew her attention. She turned to see a group of people gathered there in the shade, heads turning her way. Hurriedly she plonked on her wide-brimmed hat and strode away.

She didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She didn’t know what the press was like in Zahdar, but at home the unmarried mother of a king’s child would be fodder for screaming headlines and gossip.

Would it be any different if you married him? There’d still be gossip and headlines because you’re so unsuited to be Queen. The whole idea is preposterous.

But if they didn’t marry, what was the alternative? Sharing Maryam, six months here and six in London? What was to stop the paparazzi making their lives hell in the UK?

Isam would give Maryam the stability and care Avril craved for her. And there’d be no tug-of-love separations as their daughter passed between London and Zahdar.

But it would mean putting yourself in the power of a man you barely know.

Except, she decided as she strode beyond the fountains and into the shrubbery, she felt she did know Isam. A man of his word. Strong, yes, but caring.

Even since coming to his palace Avril had seen enough to know he loved Maryam. There was a tenderness, an excitement and pride when he was with their baby, that made Avril’s heart squeeze and her insides turn to mush. And not merely because there was something intrinsically attractive about a big, powerful man gently cradling a tiny bub.

She walked for an hour, weighing her options. Yet still she wasn’t ready to make a decision. But it was getting hot and Maryam would be awake.

Avril followed the long mirror pools up the rise towards the palace. She’d almost reached it when voices caught her attention. She saw that group again, still clustered in the now scant shade.

She noticed a walking frame and a wheelchair and heads of grey and white hair.

Avril frowned. She’d grown up surrounded by Cilla’s elderly friends. She respected and liked them. She also understood the frailties of age. Surely these old ladies shouldn’t be out here as the heat intensified?

Caution warred with concern for about a second before she headed towards them.

They were dressed beautifully, as if for a special occasion. Many fanned themselves and several drooped. She couldn’t see so much as a cup or glass between them.

She paused, searching her scant knowledge of Arabic. ‘Hello. Are you thirsty? Would you like a drink?’

A chorus of greetings came her way, along with smiles and curious looks. One, tall and upright, nodded and spoke at some length.

‘I’m sorry. I only know a few words. Do you speak English?’

Murmurs greeted that, but the woman nodded. ‘I do. Thank you for your offer. Drinks would be very welcome.’ She tilted her head enquiringly. ‘Your Arabic may be limited but it’s very good. Do you work in the palace?’

The palace employees were perfectly groomed and attired, whereas Avril suspected her cotton dress was crumpled and less than pristine after unsuccessfully trying to settle Maryam. ‘No, I’m a visitor.’

Curiosity was bright in the other woman’s eyes. ‘We’re visitors too. We had an appointment to see His Majesty. But there’s been some delay.’

And they’d been left out here ? Something wasn’t right. Quite apart from the unsuitability of leaving them in the heat, the palace was full of comfortable rooms.

Avril covered her concern with a smile and inclined her head. ‘I’ll be back shortly.’

She hurried to the double doors, the temperature dropping deliciously as she stepped inside. The man who’d shown her into the garden was hurrying away. He didn’t pause when she called him, as if not hearing.

She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t leave the women in the heat any longer. They needed drinks but they needed to be in the cool too. But where?

More footsteps sounded, coming down a long corridor from the opposite direction.

Avril rushed to intercept a man carrying a bulging file. He looked slightly familiar, as if she’d seen him in the distance during her tour of the palace. ‘Excuse me.’

‘Yes, madam?’

‘Can you help me? I need a room, large enough to seat a group of about fifteen guests in comfort. Not on hard seats but in comfortable chairs. Is there something like that in this part of the palace?’

‘Well, I’m sure if you put in a request—’

‘I’m afraid there’s no time for a request. The room is needed now .’

Avril read his surprise and feared that if she didn’t press her case he might leave, like the servant who’d pretended not to hear. One of the old ladies hadn’t looked well and Avril worried. She stood straighter, lifting her chin and sweeping off her sunhat.

‘There’s been an unfortunate mix-up. The Sheikh has guests who have been left waiting outside in the heat for more than an hour. Elderly guests. It’s not appropriate. We need a room for them, the more comfortable, the better. We need drinks immediately. A couple of them look particularly fatigued and I’m worried about dehydration.’

The man opened his mouth to speak but Avril pressed on. ‘And food too, please. We also need to inform His Majesty so he can see them as soon as possible. Can you do that?’

To her relief, instead of arguing, he gave a small bow. ‘You can rely on me. This way.’

He led her down the corridor, opening a door onto a spacious, opulent sitting room. The couches looked comfortable and there were small tables that would be perfect for drinks.

‘Will it do?’ He nodded to doors on the far side of the room. ‘Bathroom facilities through there.’

Avril grinned, relieved. ‘Thank you, it’s perfect.’

His rather stern features transformed as he smiled. ‘Excellent. You bring the guests and I’ll see to the rest. When I speak to the Sheikh, who shall I say arranged this?’

She hesitated, feeling she shouldn’t broadcast her name to a stranger since she didn’t want to stir gossip. But it was too late. ‘Ms Rodgers. Thank you so much, Mr—’

But he was already hurrying away, pulling out his phone.

Ten minutes later the women were all comfortably seated. Scant moments after that a parade of staff brought trays of cold drinks, delicate fruit ices and platters of finger food. They circulated among the women, offering refreshment and delicately embroidered napkins.

Soon after, hot drinks arrived including mint tea, cinnamon tea and coffee. Platters of hot food arrived after that, all provided by smiling, attentive maids.

Avril straightened from moving a small table closer to one of the guests, and looked around, satisfied.

‘Very nicely done, my dear.’ It was the tall woman who’d since introduced herself as Hana Bishara. ‘I couldn’t have done better myself.’

This was obviously high praise. ‘Thank you. Though the kitchen staff have done all the work.’

The food looked and smelled delicious, reminding her she’d skimped on breakfast and she was starving. As soon as Isam arrived, or someone from his office, she’d leave to get her own lunch. Her breasts felt tight too, a reminder that Maryam would need feeding soon.

‘You obviously have a talent for organisation, and the authority to make things happen here.’

Again Avril recognised curiosity in Hana’s expression.

‘Not authority. I just pointed out to the staff that there’d been some mistake, and requested refreshments.’

‘If you say so. Ah, here’s His Majesty.’

There was a ripple of movement as all the guests rose then bent their heads before the Sheikh, who paused in the doorway, flanked by a number of serious-faced staff.

Over their heads, Isam’s eyes met Avril’s and heat skimmed her flesh. In that second it felt as though something powerful passed between them. Understanding. Recognition. And something far more powerful.

Or maybe you’re imagining it because you want to believe he didn’t just propose out of duty. Because you’re tempted to accept.

But Avril wasn’t into self-deception. His proposal was pragmatic, nothing more.

Yet as he crossed the room towards them, she couldn’t prevent the flutter of excitement in her chest. Those grey eyes seemed to flare as they met hers.

Maybe it was time for an eye test.

‘Your Majesty.’ Her quick curtsey felt ungainly. ‘May I present Ms Hana Bishara.’

He greeted the older woman in Arabic then continued in English. ‘My sincere apologies for the discomfort your group has suffered. My staff tell me there was a problem with the timetable. But that’s no excuse. I’m deeply interested in your delegation’s views.’

‘Your Majesty is very kind.’

‘Not at all. Perhaps you’d like to introduce me to the members of your group.’

As he turned towards her companions, Isam murmured to Avril, ‘Thank you for saving the day. We’ll speak later.’

His words and his smile warmed her to the core.

Was she really so needy, basking in his approval for something any sensible person would have done? Yet she found herself smiling as she exchanged farewells with the women.

It was late when Isam finally left his office. His already full schedule had been disrupted by the lunchtime fiasco, throwing the rest of his timetable out completely.

It had been a near disaster. If not for Avril...

His jaw clenched so hard pain circled the base of his skull. It wasn’t the first inexplicable problem. There’d been a series of difficult, potentially embarrassing situations. The common factor was that in every case the mistake led back to his office.

The women’s delegation today, there to advocate for better support for the elderly, had been told he’d specifically requested they attend today, whereas his official appointment diary showed them coming tomorrow.

He knocked on the door to Avril’s suite, and hearing nothing, knocked again.

A muffled voice called from inside. Opening the door, he heard Avril, in another room. ‘I’ll be out in a minute. Maryam and I are just finishing up.’

His daughter was still awake? Isam’s spirits lightened. She was the perfect antidote to the pressures and problems weighing down on him.

He closed the door and crossed the sitting room, only to halt in an open doorway at the sight before him.

He’d imagined Avril was changing a nappy. Instead he found her seated in a comfortable chair, her long hair curtaining her shoulders, head bent as she smiled down at the baby who’d clearly just finished feeding. Avril’s blouse was open, one perfect breast bared.

The air caught in his lungs.

She looked the archetypal mother, tender and life-giving.

And sexy. So sexy Isam felt his blood rush to his groin. Carnal hunger ripped through him, weighting his muscles and tightening his lungs. Hunger and something else that felt like possessiveness.

Given the fact each day brought more teasing memories of them making love, it shouldn’t surprise him. He remembered her exquisite softness, her delightful eagerness, her expression as he tipped her over the edge into bliss. She’d looked at him in wonder, as if he weren’t a mere man but some hero. As if he’d made the world stop for her alone.

Those memories, though fragmented, made him wish—

‘Isam! I thought you were Bethany.’

As she spoke she pulled her blouse closed, a delicate rose pink tinting her cheeks. She looked adorable. Though the word didn’t do her justice. It was too passive for such a vibrant woman.

‘I said we’d talk. I’m afraid this was the earliest I could get away.’

He walked forward, arms out. ‘Let me take her while you do up your buttons.’

Though it was a shame for Avril to cover up.

She nodded and he gently took their baby. Their baby. The wonder of it never ceased to amaze him. But his joy was undercut by the way Avril flinched at his inadvertent touch. So different from when they’d made love.

Isam was eager to renew that intimacy. But he couldn’t push. It was more important, for now, to convince her to marry him.

He gathered up little Maryam, smiling down into her long-lashed eyes, and turned away, giving Avril privacy. The little one waved a hand in the air and when he touched it, a tiny fist wrapped around his index finger.

Everything in Isam melted. All the barriers he’d built around himself in the last year. Essential barriers that had allowed him to deal with grief for his father and the loss of his own autonomy.

That was how it felt, as if he’d lost himself, or an essential part, along with his memory.

But feeling his daughter’s surprisingly powerful grip, experiencing his own rush of love, made his shattered self seem whole.

As did his longing for Avril. For the first time in a year, he wanted a woman. Not just wanted. Craved. It was a physical hunger yet a superstitious part of him almost believed she could make him complete again. Since meeting her, memories had started trickling into his brain.

‘What are you singing?’

He turned to find her close, all buttoned up. ‘Just a lullaby. I used to sing it for my sister.’

‘You cared for her?’

Of course he’d cared for her. Then he realised what Avril meant. ‘My mother died, having her. I was eleven and my father explained that while a nanny would look after her, it was important Nur knew from the beginning that she was loved and part of the family.’

He stopped, hearing his voice turned to gravel. His sister had died years ago yet still, sometimes, the grief hit as if fresh.

Warmth circled his upper arm as Avril touched his sleeve. ‘I’m sorry you lost your sister. I can’t imagine what that would be like.’

When he nodded but didn’t say anything she continued. ‘I grew up as an only child. Though I’ve got half-siblings now.’ Her tone was flat.

‘You don’t get on with them?’

Avril’s mouth crimped into a crooked line. ‘I’ve never met them. When I was in my early teens my father migrated to marry a Canadian. I’ve never met his wife or their children.’

Fury scythed through him, and outrage on her behalf. ‘He didn’t invite you to go with him? He left you with your great-aunt?’

She shrugged but her shoulders looked tight. ‘He wasn’t around much by then anyway. He travelled a lot for work.’

In his arms the baby squirmed and he realised he held her too tight. He eased his grip, rocking her gently. ‘You didn’t want to go with him?’

What sort of man abandoned his daughter?

Avril lifted Maryam, now yawning, from his arms and put her in the cot. ‘By that stage we weren’t close.’

Isam bit down a scathing observation about her father. It might relieve his feelings but at what cost to hers? ‘And your mother?’

The brief report he’d received had been focused on Avril’s professional life, not her family history.

‘She died a long time ago.’ She cut him off before he could express sympathy. ‘It’s okay. I was so little I barely remember her. She left to be with someone else and then died in an accident a few years later.’

Isam had come here focused on the difficulties of his day. Talking to Avril put those in perspective.

He wanted to gather her to him and ease her pain, an instinctive response that by its very nature made him pause. That, and her expression, which almost dared him to feel sorry for her.

‘No wonder you’re such an independent, capable person,’ he said as he gestured for her to precede him into the sitting room.

When they were both seated she responded. ‘I’m glad you think so.’

‘I know so. The last few days I’ve been getting snippets of memory back.’ He saw her sit up, alert. ‘When I was in London that week, we had meetings in the conference room of my suite.’

She nodded, her voice eager. ‘You remember our time together?’

In truth what he remembered most clearly were the physical sensations and erotic highs of sexual intimacy. Recalling the tight embrace of her body turned him hard with wanting. Memories of caresses and whispered endearments were a siren song that grew in intensity each day.

Better to focus on what they’d done out of bed.

‘I remember some of it. A couple of interviews. A man named Drucker, wasn’t it?’

Avril sat forward, hands clasped together. ‘That’s right.’

‘You didn’t approve of him.’ Isam smiled. ‘I recall you were quite fluent about his flaws.’

She lifted her shoulders, this time the movement seemed easier. ‘You asked for my opinion.’

‘Which proves I trusted you.’

Isam was more than capable of making up his own mind, so the fact he’d asked for her input was telling.

‘Is that all you remember?’

‘Bits and pieces.’ He still didn’t recall how they’d ended up in bed together, just the delight when they did. Despite Avril’s assurances, he was still uncomfortable, wondering if she’d downplayed his actions and he had taken advantage. ‘But enough for today to make sense.’

‘Today? What do you mean?’

‘You remedied a potentially disastrous situation with speed and aplomb. I’m grateful for your intervention.’

The colour in her cheeks deepened and her eyes shone. Avril liked being appreciated. Who didn’t? But she looked as if he’d handed her a prize, complimenting her on her competence.

Isam thought of what she’d revealed about her family. Having been abandoned by those who should have loved her, did she find validation in achievement?

‘Anyone would have done the same.’

He shook his head. ‘Not nearly so well. You made the ladies feel valued and appreciated. You anticipated their needs with genuine consideration. They were full of praise for you. I hear you even exchanged pleasantries in my language. When did you have time to learn that?’

‘I only know basic phrases. I tried to learn a little for Maryam. I wanted her to grow up knowing something of your culture and language.’

Isam was stunned. ‘Even though you thought I’d dumped you?’

Those warm, brown eyes looked away, over his shoulder. ‘Especially because of that. I thought if she couldn’t rely on her father, it would be up to me to help teach her.’

And she’d called their daughter a name that would work both in England and in Zahdar. For a moment he was silent, awed by her generosity, her determination to make their child’s life as rich and meaningful as she could.

‘I’ll help you learn. You can have a tutor, but I’ll help you myself too.’

‘While I’m here.’

He stiffened. Was she signalling she wanted to leave? He’d brought her here to marry her. That hadn’t changed.

Initially he’d been busy sorting through the difficulties of taking her as his bride so he could counter them. All the ways she wouldn’t fit in.

But there were positives. She was kind-hearted but sensible. She was good with people, his people. Today she’d held her own with as much assurance as any royal and in trying circumstances, thinking quickly and clearly. No wonder he’d hired her as his PA. She was determined to do her best for their child and he believed, once they were wed, she’d be loyal and supportive.

As for their sex life...he couldn’t imagine anyone more compatible.

He wanted Avril. She had the values and traits he desired in a partner.

And you’ve never felt so enthusiastic about the idea of marrying any other woman.

‘About that,’ he said. ‘I’m here for your answer. It’s the end of the week and I’d like to announce our engagement sooner rather than later. If you agree.’ He paused, watching her tense. Many women would leap at the chance to be his queen, but not Avril. ‘After today rumours will be flying about my uncommon guest.’

‘It’s one thing to make a baby. It’s quite another to become a royal—’

‘I know it’s daunting, but you can do it. Most of being royal is about working hard and putting the needs of other people first. You demonstrated that today and you did it without fuss or panic. You were a natural.’

Yet she looked unconvinced. ‘I’m used to being the gofer, the assistant, not the one in charge.’

Isam’s laughter escaped. ‘Oh, I think you’ll do very well. You had no hesitation ordering one of the most senior men in the kingdom to do your bidding.’

Her eyes rounded. ‘Sorry? You mean the man who organised the food?’

Isam’s smile widened. ‘I do. He’s head of one of the foremost families in the country and a senior government minister.’

For the first time Avril seemed lost for words.

‘He was most impressed with your take-charge attitude in a crisis. In fact he asked if you might be interested in joining our diplomatic team.’

To his delight, she chuckled, reminding him of times he’d now recalled when they’d shared a joke while working together. ‘I’m glad he didn’t take offence. After that other man turned away when I called him for help, I wasn’t sure if he’d listen.’

‘Other man? What did he look like?’

‘About my height, slim, with a beard. He was hanging around near the doors when I went outside and when I came back. I was sure he’d heard me call but he hurried away.’

Isam filed the information away for later. For now he had a more important issue to deal with.

‘You’ll make an excellent queen. And I’ll be there at your side.’

Her gaze caught his and a frisson of heat rippled through him. ‘But I don’t know the country or customs—’

‘Nor did my grandmother when she came from England. But she was happy here and much loved by the nation as well as the family.’ He paused, considering what arguments might sway Avril. ‘Here you’ll have purpose and a rewarding life, quite apart from the wealth I can offer. We can build a family, a secure world for our little girl. A place where she and you belong. A loving home. Isn’t that what you want for her?’

She licked her lips but didn’t answer and Isam, an expert at commercial and diplomatic negotiations, felt his stomach churn with nerves.

‘What do you say, Avril?’

His heart hammered as she took her time responding. Tension drew his skin tight. She couldn’t refuse him!

Finally, she nodded but she didn’t smile. ‘Very well. I’ll marry you, Isam.’