Unknown Royal Baby

Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

R ELIEF COURSED THROUGH Isam’s veins, making him light-headed for a second.

Her agreement secured Maryam’s future.

But this wasn’t just about his daughter. He wanted Avril with a visceral need he couldn’t explain. Not just as the mother of his child. But not just as a sexual partner either, despite the throb low in his body.

What then? This wasn’t a romance.

He shied from the thought. He had no time for sentiment, he had a nation to secure. Besides, all the people he’d ever loved had been taken from him. He wasn’t interested in opening his heart up to anyone and risking more grief.

Except for Maryam. How could he not love the tiny mite who was his own flesh and blood?

‘Excellent.’ He kept his tone measured, disguising a disturbing jostle of emotions. ‘Together we can build a solid marriage and a wonderful future for our daughter.’

‘I...hope so.’

Hardly an effusive agreement. Isam battled annoyance at her lack of excitement.

He knew Avril wanted the best for their baby, but surely he hadn’t been mistaken, believing he read attraction in her unguarded looks.

No, he couldn’t have been mistaken. She wanted him, and he’d been her first, her only lover. That gave him an advantage he could use.

But not now. She needed time.

He’d be taking another long, cold shower tonight.

The gravity of her expression quenched any feeling of celebration. She looked more doubtful than convinced, as if unsure she’d done the right thing.

And she doesn’t know the half of the problems facing you.

If she knew about Hafiz and his attempts to undermine Isam, would she still have agreed to marry him? Or would she have been frightened off?

Isam thrust away the thought. With the determination born of confidence in his own abilities, he refused to worry over something that wouldn’t happen. He’d overcome the plot against him.

Hafiz had acquired a taste for royal power and was doing his underhanded best to make people believe Isam’s head injury had permanently affected his judgement and character. Today’s problem with the timetable was part of that attempt. But he wouldn’t succeed.

‘It’s been a big day and you’re no doubt tired.’ While Isam had to fit in several hours of work before he retired for the night. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow in more detail, but I’ll announce our betrothal in the next few days.’

She jumped as if touched by a live wire. ‘Days!’

He held her gaze, watching the gold flecks in her soft brown eyes. She was intriguing. Alluring. And his...almost.

‘It’s better for us to announce our news than for you to become the object of speculation, which will happen now your presence is more widely known.’

She didn’t look convinced and it struck him that Avril Rodgers was the antithesis of a gold-digger. She seemed uninterested in his money and his authority, much less the idea of becoming Queen.

He smiled. Perhaps this was cosmic justice for his casual arrogance as a much younger man. He’d been so certain of his desirability, given the number of women who had chased him, eager for attention and to bask in the reflected glow of his wealth and power.

‘But once our engagement is announced, we can take our time planning the wedding. You’ll have plenty of time to prepare for that.’

The question was whether he could wait that long to claim her.

Two days later, Avril stood in the centre of her sitting room while two seamstresses inspected the fit of her new gown. She couldn’t think of it as simply a dress. This made-to-measure, one-of-a-kind garment was made from rich crimson satin that, when she moved, revealed a sheen of deepest amethyst. She looked from Bethany’s approving grin from where she sat with Maryam on her lap, to the vast, gilt-edged mirror that had been brought into the room.

The woman reflected there bore only a passing resemblance to Avril Rodgers. Her hair had been professionally styled up in a way that looked stunningly elegant. Her equally professional make-up was discreet except for the crimson of her lips that matched the colour of her dress. The make-up artist had done something that emphasised her eyes, making them look...beautiful.

Avril had never felt beautiful before. She had favourite clothes that made her feel good and gave her extra confidence. But this was a transformation.

The red dress had tight three-quarter sleeves and a V neckline. It was demure yet the neckline sat wider than usual on her shoulders, presumably to mirror her fitted bodice that tapered to her surprisingly narrow waist. She hadn’t realised until today that she’d lost the rest of her pregnancy weight. Below her waist the rich satin skimmed her hips then fell in gleaming folds. The skirt was full and feminine and every time she moved the brush of the fabric felt like a caress.

You’re thinking about Isam again. Stop it.

That was difficult, when even the slide of warm water down her body in the shower made her remember his touch.

Avril firmed her lips. Though he’d begun to remember her, he hadn’t remembered intimacy between them, only work. He recalled her as his PA, nothing more.

What did that say about his priorities and her importance in his life?

She knew what it said. She’d never been more than a temporary lover, soon forgotten. She’d known that at the time, he’d been upfront about it. And she’d told herself it didn’t matter. Yet now it mattered.

Avril remembered every word he’d said to her when he’d come for her answer the other day. He’d praised her quick thinking and pragmatism, qualities he’d wanted in a PA, and now apparently in a wife. There’d been nothing about him wanting her. Nothing personal.

When will you get it through your head? There’s nothing personal between you any more. He’s marrying you out of duty. Because of Maryam.

It had to be enough.

The seamstresses moved back and the designer, a sharp-eyed woman with silvery hair, finally nodded. ‘It is done. I hope you like it, madam.’

‘I do. I never thought I could look so—’ Avril shook her head.

For the first time in their acquaintance, the older woman smiled. ‘I rarely heed fashion advice from men. But I believe His Majesty chose well, insisting you’d be more comfortable in Western dress for the occasion.’

Isam had insisted? It was a small thing but it warmed Avril. She’d left everything to the designer, trusting she’d know best what would be suitable.

As if on cue a knock sounded at the door, a footman opened it and Isam swept in, resplendent in white, a heavy ring of old gold, symbol of royal authority, on his hand.

He stopped midstride, his robes swirling about his legs. Dimly Avril was aware of the women curtseying then following Bethany out through another door. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the man who today would pledge himself to her. A royal betrothal was almost as binding as marriage.

Her heart pattered faster and her chest swelled on a deep breath. She watched his eyes widen then narrow as he surveyed her from top to toe then slowly, devastatingly slowly, back up.

Avril’s flesh tingled. Her nape tightened and so did her nipples, thrusting against her new satin bra. Low inside, heat bloomed and muscles spasmed as if reliving memories of the night they’d been together.

He paced towards her, stopping only when he was so close she could smell the warm citrus scent of his skin and admire the close shave of his angled jaw. ‘You look magnificent.’

His voice was husky, catapulting her back in time, making her remember how he’d made love to her, not just with his body, his mouth and hands, but with words of praise and enticement that had made her feel—

‘Thank you, Isam. So do you. Every inch the Sheikh.’

She had to wrest back some control of herself. It was daunting enough to face an official photoshoot, knowing the photos would be pored over not only in Zahdar, but across the world. Isam was young to be Sheikh, handsome, talented and with a recent tragedy in his past. The world would be agog to see the woman he’d chosen as his bride.

A dreadful, plummeting sensation hollowed her belly. Was she foolish to think she could do this?

‘What is it, Avril?’

She swallowed hard, tasting trepidation. ‘I just...’ She shook her head. ‘How can you believe this will work? I’m not—’

Isam curled his fingers around hers and drew her against him. It was the first time they’d been so close since the night Maryam was conceived. The night he’d introduced her to a world of delight she’d never guessed at. A wonderful, golden world where anything was possible.

‘It will work because we’ll make it work. And you are everything you need to be.’ Her gaze lifted to his, those grey eyes mesmerising and bright as liquid mercury. ‘You’re the mother Maryam needs and loves. You’re talented, capable and caring. That’s more than enough.’

The intensity of his stare made it hard to remember he wanted her for purely pragmatic reasons. Because when he looked at her like that she could almost believe...

Heat surged in her veins, bringing her skin to tingling life, flushing her throat and face. The way he looked at her, a huskiness in his voice she’d heard only once before, the words branding themselves in her brain... All those undermined her doubts and stripped bare her vulnerabilities. Made her hope.

Something cool touched her finger and she looked down to see him hold a ring to it. He paused, as if waiting for approval or objection, then as she watched, he slid it home.

Her breath seized. The ring was remarkable. A huge crimson stone that she guessed was a ruby glowed with a dazzling inner light. Its setting was of old gold filigree that extended right up to her first knuckle. She blinked, trying to take in the delicately wrought flowers and...were those birds? She’d never seen such a thing.

It was a ring for a queen. A statement piece that spoke of extraordinary wealth and, she suspected, generations of tradition.

Daunting, much?

‘I know in your country engagement rings are often chosen by the bride. But in mine they are usually an heirloom from the husband’s family. I hope you like it.’

Avril swallowed, shaky at the grandeur and beauty of what she wore. It struck her that her dress was a perfect match for the stone, which was the perfect size for her finger. Had he organised it that way?

Of course he had. Isam was a man who saw details as well as the bigger picture. It was one of the reasons she’d enjoyed working with him.

‘It’s gorgeous but very grand. I’m not sure—’

‘It was my grandmother’s. I thought you’d enjoy wearing something from another bride who was an incomer. She was very happy in Zahdar and I hope you will be too.’

Avril looked up into his face, seeking a clue to his thoughts. She read tenderness when he referred to his grandmother but apart from that he wore his inscrutable expression. The one that left her second-guessing his thoughts.

He’s probably wondering if you’re up to the ordeal waiting for you now. At least it’s better than him pretending you’re special to him.

Finally she nodded. ‘Thank you. That’s very thoughtful. I’ll wear it with pride.’

And terror at the responsibility. But then it was so big at least she’d know if she lost it.

There was a knock then the door opened and a voice said, ‘It’s time, Your Majesty.’

Isam’s eyes didn’t leave hers. His voice dropped to a low hum that resonated across her skin then settled deep in the place where need was a twisting, hungry ache. ‘It’s time. First the photos. Then to tell the world I want you as my queen.’

He led her to the door before she had time to get even more nervous.

The photo shoot wasn’t as daunting as she’d expected. Just one photographer and his assistant. The only difficulty was smiling on cue.

Isam’s words had thrown her into a tailspin. Avril welcomed his reassurance but when he’d spoken of wanting her as his queen in that tone of voice, and with so much heat in his eyes it should have made steam rise from her skin...

She’d almost believed he wanted her the way she wanted him, with a dark craving that defied every attempt to squash it.

He’d reawoken all that restless, useless longing inside her.

She knew he meant that he wanted to marry her for Maryam’s sake. Because marriage was the simplest of their options. So why look at her and speak to her that way?

He’d admitted he didn’t remember being intimate and she couldn’t believe he was overwhelmed with desire for a weary, stressed new mum.

Unless it was a ruse to persuade her past her doubts. So she’d go through with today’s announcement.

That had to be it. He’d wanted to spur her into compliance rather than have her cower in her room.

Avril lifted her chin, annoyed by such tactics.

‘Perfect,’ murmured the photographer. ‘Just perfect.’

There was movement beyond him. Avril was surprised to see Bethany enter, carrying Maryam, who wore an unfamiliar, delicate gown of cream and gold.

Isam moved from Avril’s side to scoop up their daughter. He turned and just like that Avril’s heart forgot to beat for a second. Maryam smiled up at her father with wide eyes and he, broad shoulders curved protectively as he cradled her, wore an expression so tender it made emotion well.

Avril blinked and found herself softening.

She had no illusions that their marriage would be easy but it was the right thing for Maryam. She’d grow up with two loving parents.

‘I thought we should include Maryam in some of the photos,’ Isam said as he approached. ‘Not for public consumption but for us.’

Avril nodded, throat tight at his thoughtfulness. In later years it would be something Maryam might treasure.

The man confounded her. One moment so caring, the next throwing her into utter turmoil.

It’s not him that’s the problem. It’s you. You’re an emotional mess. You want a man who can’t remember being intimate with you. How can you expect deep feelings from someone who doesn’t even know you?

Yet it was easier now to smile for the camera since the photographer didn’t need posed shots. In fact, she was barely aware of him as Isam placed their baby in her arms, then settled beside her, offering Maryam his finger. Instantly their little girl grasped it and chortled.

Avril felt a rush of delight, aware of Isam’s body warm beside her, his focus on their daughter, and Maryam’s joyful response.

Yes. This.

They might have been brought together by circumstance but they could be a successful family unit, united in their love for Maryam.

They could do this.

Isam led her from the room towards the grand public reception spaces on the other side of the palace.

Were her nerves obvious? Isam glanced at her as the corridor widened and the furnishings graduated from luxurious to overtly opulent. Her heart was in her mouth at the idea of being presented to a bunch of VIPs as the country’s next queen. Even his steady calm couldn’t prevent the butterflies whirling in her stomach. Because of her confused feelings, or the ordeal ahead?

‘It’s a small reception. You’ll be fine,’ he murmured, his fingers tightening around hers. ‘Pretend it’s a business meeting, or a stray group of elderly petitioners come to tell me how to improve their lives.’

‘If only.’ She turned her head to see his encouraging smile. He was doing what he could to make this easier.

Even lie about wanting her?

Staff opened enormous carved doors and they stepped into a vast room with walls that looked like fields of beautiful flowers. Above soared a ceiling of gold from which hung rows of glittering chandeliers. And below that, a throng of people, all bowing low.

‘A small reception?’ she whispered as she faltered on the threshold.

‘A mere two hundred. Tiny by royal standards.’ Isam’s mouth crooked up at one corner. ‘Just be yourself, Avril, that’s all you need to do. I’ll be with you.’

He led her into the crowd that parted for them. Avril was aware of curious, assessing gazes and then bowed heads as their sheikh approached.

Except to one side where an older man walked swiftly towards a young woman dressed in silver, his expression thunderous. That look and the urgency of his gestures as he spoke to her struck a jarring note, especially as his narrowed gaze was fixed the whole time on Isam.

Beside Avril, Isam stiffened, but he kept his pace unhurried.

Someone stepped up to the podium. She recognised the minister whom she’d co-opted to provide refreshments for Isam’s elderly guests.

His speech was short and ended in a burst of enthusiastic applause from the crowd that now encircled them. Then the minister spoke again in English, presumably for Avril’s benefit. He announced the Sheikh’s betrothal to Ms Avril Rodgers. To her surprise he added that they had a baby daughter and that mother and child were now living in the palace prior to the wedding. Then he concluded by wishing them well.

Another round of applause erupted and people surged towards them. For a second she hovered on the brink of light-headedness, feeling overwhelmed. Until Isam squeezed her hand and murmured that they’d do this together.

Strange how easily that settled her nerves.

She saw a single movement away from them, the scowling man striding for the exit. Then all her attention was claimed by well-wishers. Many had an air of gravitas as if very aware of their importance and many wore obviously expensive clothes, but all seemed genuinely pleased about the engagement.

It surprised her, as had the fact Maryam had been mentioned in the speech. Avril had supposed a foreign bride, who’d borne a child out of marriage, would be frowned on. Perhaps the Zahdaris were too polite to show disapproval.

Then her doubts fled as a familiar figure appeared. The tall, upright form of Hana Bishara, the woman Avril had met several days earlier.

Hana bowed to Isam then to Avril. ‘I’m so delighted by the news of your betrothal. I can see our sheikh has chosen his bride well.’

‘Thank you so much. It’s lovely to see you again, Hana.’

The lady’s smile widened. ‘You remember my name?’

Avril grinned back at her. ‘You were the first person I tried to speak to in Arabic. You were very encouraging and didn’t even wince at my pronunciation.’

Hana laughed. ‘Your pronunciation was admirable. Perhaps we’ll meet again and you can practise with me.’

The friendly offer and the warmth of her manner cut through Avril’s anxiety. ‘Thank you. I’d like that very much.’

‘I’ll look forward to it too. But for now I must move on. There are others waiting to meet you.’

There were. To Avril it seemed like far more than two hundred but the short interlude with Hana had given her the boost she needed. Besides, everyone was friendly. She wouldn’t be surprised if their smiles hid surprise or doubt, but she was thankful nevertheless.

Until she turned to find a woman in silver bowing before Isam. She’d been with the older man who’d left so abruptly. The woman wasn’t precisely beautiful but had presence, an elegance and confidence Avril envied.

Did she imagine a lull in conversation around them as the woman spoke to Isam then turned and wished Avril well in English?

Who was she? Avril thanked her, wishing she’d caught her name, before turning to the next person in line.

After that everything went smoothly. Buoyed by the warmth of her welcome and Hana’s encouragement, Avril even began using her basic Arabic to welcome and thank the well-wishers. Which led to more smiles and nods of approval.

Beside her, Isam looked proud and regal but his manner was warm with his guests, even warmer when he caught her eye after it was all over.

‘Superbly done, Avril,’ he said as he led her back to the palace’s private wing. ‘Thank you.’

She shrugged. ‘You were right. I didn’t have to do much.’ Even so she felt she’d run a marathon, her body only now beginning to relax. Yet having Isam at her side, a bulwark against nervousness, had made such a difference.

What does that say about your feelings for him? You’re supposed to be marrying him for your child’s sake, not because of some romantic fantasy you know isn’t real.

Avril made herself concentrate on tonight’s reception. She didn’t delude herself that future events would be so easy. But it pleased her that she’d held her own. In fact she felt that buzz of excitement in her blood that she always got from a job well done. It left her wired and excited rather than tired.

Which had to explain her impulsive decision to invite Isam into her suite rather than say goodnight at the door. She wasn’t ready for sleep. She had too many questions.

It had absolutely nothing to do with not wanting him to walk away. Nothing at all.

Avril watched him pace the room with a coiled energy that made her wonder if he felt the same high of excitement and satisfaction she did. Of anticipation...

‘Why did you make the announcement about Maryam? Won’t it shock everyone that you have a child? I thought you were just going to announce the engagement.’

Isam swung around, a lamp in the corner slanting light and shadows across his harshly beautiful features.

‘You’d have me drip-feed the news? To what end? Our child is a cause for celebration.’

His delight stirred feelings she hadn’t known she carried.

Because she hadn’t been important enough for her mother or her father?

Was that the real reason she’d agreed to marry—because Isam clearly intended Maryam would be at the centre of his world? How could Avril resist that?

‘Even so, we weren’t married when she was born.’

His dark eyebrows drew together. ‘In Zahdar we don’t have such negative views about illegitimacy as in some places. Maryam will be welcomed here.’

He smiled. ‘Besides, her existence proves we’re compatible and fertile. One of the Sheikh’s key roles is to ensure the succession, for the future safety of the country.’

Avril folded her arms, refusing to be amused. ‘You mean they’ll like me because I’m good breeding stock?’

That made her feel like a prize-winning sheep!

Isam paced closer. ‘It doesn’t hurt that we’ve produced a child. My father’s early death was a shock, especially as I was badly injured. It made people wonder about the future and the stability of the monarchy.

‘But tonight you showed the grace and strength I need in a queen. People respect and admire that. They’ll admire you even more when they get to know you. They’ll approve my choice.’

He was doing it again, winning her over with flattery and that searing look, as if he wanted her as more than a convenient bride and mother to his child.

Avril took a step back, chin jutting. She couldn’t play those games. ‘I understand that. But I’d rather you didn’t pretend to things you don’t feel.’

She accepted theirs would be a real marriage. There’d be sex and maybe more children. In her secret heart of hearts, Avril looked forward to intimacy with Isam. But she didn’t want convenient lies to salve her ego.

‘Pretend?’

She looked down at her twisting hands. ‘I appreciate all you’re doing for Maryam, and to make our relationship appear solid. But I’d prefer you didn’t pretend this is your choice . We’re together because of circumstance, because of our baby, not because you want me.’

The silence following her words grew so long that finally she had to look up. Isam wore the strangest expression.

‘You’re right. Circumstance brought us together. Otherwise I’d probably marry a woman from Zahdar. Someone chosen for me in an arranged marriage. I—’

‘Wouldn’t that be hard to accept?’ She reminded herself traditions were different here, especially for royals. ‘You wouldn’t marry for...?’

‘Love?’ His eyebrows rose. ‘I believe my grandparents did but that was an exception. Here royal marriages are settled for dynastic reasons. That’s the way for my family.’

He looked so calm, so matter-of-fact. As if the idea of marrying a stranger didn’t bother him.

But then, that was essentially what he was doing with her. She wished she could be so sanguine. To her it felt wrong to marry for anything other than love.

Isam closed the gap between them, capturing her hands. ‘But that doesn’t stop me wanting you, Avril.’