Hired to Wear the Sheikh's Ring Page 12

  Beyond the archway to her room, she heard the doors to their suite burst open and guilt rushed through her at the secret she’d just realised as she heard Jafar call out her name. He never did that. Panic rushed over her. Did he know? Was there some way he’d found out already? She leapt from the bed and grabbed the silk wrap just as he strode into the room, his handsome face as dark as thunderclouds.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘My sister has fallen.’

  ‘Fallen?’ She struggled to piece the information together, her mind still splintered after acknowledging that she was almost definitely carrying his child. She could barely process her own news, but this just scrambled her mind further.

  ‘Down the palace steps.’ He snapped the words at her as he flung off his white robes of office and put on darker ones, more suitable for an everyday man. Already he was preparing to go to her, worried about his heir.

  ‘What about the baby?’ Tiffany asked tentatively, resisting the urge to place her palm against her stomach. If the palace steps were anything like those here, it would have been a bad fall.

  ‘That is exactly what I intend to find out. The message didn’t go into detail before the signal failed.’ He looked directly at her and she sensed his fear, knowing it must be bringing back memories of losing his brother. ‘I must go now.’

  He strode across the room to look out at the small private garden and the pale cream walls of the palace, agitation in every step, but he couldn’t look at her. If he went to his sister it would give her the opportunity to find the answer to her own problems. ‘Of course, you must.’

  Tiffany’s heart thudded. She, of course, felt for Jafar’s sister, and for what she must be going through, but she also worried for what this might mean for her own situation. If his sister lost the baby, then what would become of her, of the three-month deal she’d made with Jafar? Worse than that, if she was pregnant would he allow her to leave? She had to keep her newfound secret from him. Certainly until they knew the fate of his sister and her baby.

  ‘I need to go.’ For a moment she thought she saw regret in his eyes as he looked at her. His shoulders loosened, as if he could no longer carry the weight of his kingdom, or the duties he’d inherited. A pang of sympathy rushed through her and she involuntarily moved towards him. It was that action, that hint of thought for him, that had the barriers rushing back up, until he stood tall before her, beautifully commanding and incredibly powerful. ‘I must see for myself that my sister and her child are well.’

  ‘Then go.’ Her new secret burned inside her as she spoke, as did the guilt of hatching a plan to find a way to know for certain if she was carrying his child. The unspoken meaning to his words burned in her mind.

  He must have an heir.

  He adjusted his robe and picked up his headdress. ‘I will return once I am satisfied my heir is safe.’

  Those words ploughed into her, confirming she was right to fear his reaction if he discovered she was pregnant. How could she have been so stupid, so foolish? This wasn’t an ordinary man, leading an ordinary life. This was a powerful desert sheikh who put duty to his kingdom above even his own needs—and his kingdom needed an heir.

  Attack was her instant defence against that fear. ‘Is that all you can think about? Satisfying yourself that your heir is safe? What about your sister? Do you not care for her?’

  Anger filled his eyes as he put on his headdress and moved towards her, his voice low and threatening. ‘The safety of my heir is something you should also be worried about, Tiffany. If my sister loses this baby, our marriage cannot be ended.’

  The harshness he’d used as he’d said her name chased away memories of the soft, seductive way he’d said it as they’d made love on their wedding night. Then it had been a caress—a seductive caress. Now it was full of undisguised threat.

  ‘Why?’ She stood her ground even though she was seriously underdressed in only the flimsy gold silk dressing gown.

  He looked at her, but his eyes didn’t soften as they slipped down her body and she folded her arms around her, needing a shield from his cold scrutiny. ‘You signed a contract to stay in Shamsumara for three months or until my heir was born.’

  ‘But that was because you knew your sister would give you the heir you needed.’ She tried to defend herself, tried to remember exactly what had been in the contract but the waves of nausea were becoming ever stronger.

  ‘The contract stated clearly that you would remain here, as my wife, my Queen, until my sister gave birth to my heir, but for a minimum of three months to validate the marriage in the eyes of my people.’

  She frowned at him, her emotion-muddled mind not able to clearly follow. ‘But what if the worst happens? What if she loses her baby?’

  ‘You are my wife and, if the worst happens for my sister, you will be the only thing standing between Simdan and his challenge to my leadership of the kingdom. I cannot allow you to expose our deal by leaving—not until my sister is safely delivered of my heir.’

  ‘And if she doesn’t want more children?’ Tiffany’s mouth was almost too dry to speak. She needed to sit down but refused to show any kind of weakness to Jafar.

  ‘My sister will have more children. She is a queen in her own right and needs to produce heirs for her husband’s kingdom.’ The calm, matter-of-fact words only intensified the heavy ache in Tiffany’s heart.

  ‘But that could take a year—or more.’

  Jafar moved towards her, his voice becoming gentle, as if the panic of the news he’d just received had subsided into nothing, as if it was just the two of them once again. ‘Unless our wedding night has been blessed with a child.’

  Tiffany gasped. Did he know? Was this all pretence to force her to admit the truth? She hesitated a moment before speaking. ‘Thankfully I am not pregnant.’ She hurled the unwise words at him and stood glaring, hurt slashing into the tenderness she’d been carrying in her heart for him since he’d claimed her as his wife, become her first lover, then lowered his guard and showed her the true Jafar.

  Was it just the shadows cast by the morning sunlight or was there disappointment in his eyes? She closed her eyes against the fanciful notion as the dizziness threatened once more, making her mind sway like the dancers at their celebration feast. The reality of his words made her body weaken. She was trapped. If his sister lost her baby her fate was sealed; whether she admitted that she might be carrying his child or not, she could no longer leave. Her head spun with the seriousness of her situation and the knowledge she couldn’t keep her secret from him for ever.

  ‘Tiffany?’ Concern filled his voice and she looked at Jafar as his handsome face blurred, her ability to focus slipping away, then nothing but blissfully silent darkness.

  * * *

  Jafar called out for Aaleyah as Tiffany slipped to the floor in front of him. Her face was pale as he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the large bed they’d shared with much passion on their wedding night, three weeks ago. Just as then, desire and lust forged through him as he touched her. He held her close against his body, painfully aware of the flimsy silk doing very little to conceal the fullness of her breasts.

  Beside him Leah whimpered and nuzzled Tiffany’s hand as he laid Tiffany on the bed. What was the matter with her? He’d been guilty of neglecting her for the two weeks since they’d resumed normal life, but it had been the only way to stop himself from wanting her. Was she now so homesick she didn’t eat? Was that why she’d fainted so spectacularly?

  It was your threat to force her to stay.

  His conscience screamed the answer to his question and it seemed to echo around the velvety silence of the room. ‘I’m so sorry, Tiffany, for dragging you into my battles. I never wanted to hurt you.’

  He stroked her hair as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her, the need to care for and protect her overwhelmingly strong. If he had a normal life, if he was able to want normal things, then he would want Tiffany. He’d want her to remain in his life, to
care for her and maybe he might even be able to let go of his past and allow love into his heart.

  You don’t have a normal life.

  Aaleyah rushed to the bedside, thankfully cutting off his unthinkable train of thought, and he looked up at her, a sensation of total helplessness almost suffocating him. Tiffany and his sister. The two women he cared deeply about and they were both in need of his presence. He refused to analyse that thought right now. The fact that he considered Tiffany a woman he cared about was almost too much on top of the events of this morning.

  ‘What is the matter with her?’ Jafar demanded of his wife’s maid.

  A smile slipped to Aaleyah’s lips. Not at all the reaction he had anticipated. Not at all the sense of panic and loss of control that had him in its grip. ‘I have suspected for a few days, even perhaps before Her Majesty.’

  ‘Suspected what, damn it?’ Jafar snapped as he sat beside Tiffany’s limp body. He didn’t want guessing games. He wanted to make things right for Tiffany, make her smile and laugh as she had done during their week alone. Despite everything he’d promised himself, he cared for her—deeply. ‘Is she ill? Is it the heat?’

  ‘You are to be a father, sire.’

  Jafar froze as the maid’s words sank in and he looked down at Tiffany as she groaned softly and stirred. His beautiful wife, the woman who’d made him think happiness could be possible, was pregnant? He was going to be a father? Elation poured through him but as he looked again at Aaleyah, who still seemed remarkably unconcerned for her mistress, all he could hear was Tiffany’s words before she’d collapsed ringing in his mind. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, sire. I have been watching for signs that your bride is with child. That is my job.’ The maid looked satisfied with the explanation for her mistress passing out. He, however, felt only concern. He’d never wanted Tiffany to suffer. That had never been part of his deal.

  Tiffany stirred once more, this time struggling to sit up. Cold hardness filled him, pushing away the gentle affection and concern of moments ago. Tiffany had lied. His pregnant wife had told him she wasn’t carrying his child—only a few moments ago. What could she possibly hope to gain from keeping such news from him? Her freedom?

  ‘Leave us.’ He snapped the command at the maid without taking his eyes from the beauty of Tiffany’s treacherous face, unable to deal with the revelations of the last few minutes and certainly not with the emotions that had surged through him for his Tiffany. He adopted the only stance he knew and sat rigid with anger on the bed beside her as Aaleyah called to the dog and left the room. For the first time in two weeks he and Tiffany were alone. Totally alone.

  Jafar’s breath was deep and hard as Tiffany looked up at him and he reeled in the shock of all that had just happened. Less than an hour ago, he’d learnt his sister’s child, his planned heir, was in danger. Now this. His child had been conceived with great passion during the hottest night of sex he’d ever had. His hired bride, the woman he’d brought to his country as a temporary measure, carried his child. His heir.

  ‘You lied.’ Guilt slashed at him as he inwardly cursed his position, the duty his brother had left him. Since their wedding night he’d wished for more, wished it hadn’t been part of a deal, but his duty meant that could never be possible.

  Sparks of angry fire leapt from her eyes as she looked directly into his, refusing to break eye contact. The vulnerability of moments ago, when she’d lain pale and asleep on the bed, had gone, chasing away those unfamiliar gentle feelings for her. This was a woman intent on fighting her corner.

  * * *

  Tiffany fought to keep her breathing calm, to keep looking into the wildness of her husband’s eyes. They had once held nothing but desire and passion for her; now they were hard, glittering with anger.

  ‘You lied to me.’ The glacial words cooled the air around them until she visibly shivered as Jafar spoke again.

  She knew what he was talking about. She had no idea how, but he knew she was almost certainly pregnant. From the foggy recesses of her mind she recalled Aaleyah’s voice, coming through the darkness that had claimed her, how she’d calmly told Jafar he was to be a father. How did her maid know before she did?

  Shame burned over her. She was so innocent, so unaware of sex she hadn’t even considered the need for protection on their wedding night. She’d just been swept away with the fantasy of the magical room, lit by lanterns. Transported on the warm desert wind that had come in through the archways, entwining with the soft music and totally seducing her. She’d been a victim of her own dreams, dreams of love and happiness she’d long ago thought buried. She’d been completely under his spell.

  Was that why Lilly had left such an obscure present? To remind her not to get carried away with things that could never be, as well as protect her from the consequences of the attraction she’d admitted she had for Jafar?

  ‘Why, Tiffany?’ Jafar glared at her, his eyes sparking with anger in a way that would put a priceless gem to shame.

  ‘I did not lie,’ she snapped at Jafar, her emotions running high, making her ever more vulnerable to this man, even in his current angry mood.

  ‘You clearly told me that you were not expecting my child. “Thankfully I am not pregnant.” Those were your exact words, yet just moments later you are on the floor at my feet. Aaleyah informed me she has suspected for several days. How long have you known?’

  The sharpness of the accusation in his voice cut deep into her. She hadn’t kept anything from him. ‘I don’t know for sure. It was only this morning I realised it was possible.’

  ‘It’s been possible since our wedding night, Tiffany.’

  Was he trying to make her look stupid? ‘I can hardly go to the local pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test, can I?’

  She swung her legs from the bed, needing to get away from him, away from the pain and hurt of his obvious disgust at the idea of being, not only a father, but the father of her child. As soon as she stood up she wished she hadn’t as the room spun once more.

  She put her hand to her head, pressing her fingers to her temple, wishing she didn’t feel so weak, so at this man’s mercy. She heard the bed move as she stood, her body sensing his behind her, and she closed her eyes as her body begged for his touch.

  ‘Hadn’t you better go?’ She was desperate to deflect the attention from herself. ‘Your sister needs you.’

  ‘As do you—and my child.’

  She turned to face him. ‘I am not sure, Jafar, that I am pregnant, despite what Aaleyah said.’

  ‘I would believe the wise ways of a woman such as Aaleyah over a doctor any day.’ His voice had become gentle, his eyes softening, and all that she’d been trying to hide from herself burst back into the open. She loved this man and had done from the day she’d become his wife—maybe sooner if she was really honest with herself.

  He touched the backs of his fingers over her cheeks and she began to melt, her promise to never let him touch her again slipping by the wayside. This was why it was dangerous to be alone with him. She couldn’t trust herself. ‘I will arrange for a doctor to visit to confirm if you are pregnant.’

  ‘And if I am?’ Even to her, the words were a tremulous whisper that gave away so much. Panic rushed through her like a tidal wave, sweeping away to softer emotions she’d foolishly allowed back into her heart. It changed everything—for both of them, putting them in a situation neither had ever wanted.

  He trailed the backs of his fingers down her face, her throat, over the exposed skin of her chest, down between her breasts and then placed his palm against her stomach. She didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Her breath became fast and shallow as his gaze pierced into her, seemingly reading every thought in her mind.

  ‘If you are pregnant, I will do everything in my power to convince you to remain in Shamsumara as my wife and Queen.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  JAFAR PACED THE room beyond the bedroom where the doctor he’d summoned was attending his wife. There it was again. He�
�d never wanted to think of Tiffany as his wife. She’d always only ever been his bride—his hired bride, but somehow in his thoughts she’d become his wife.

  Firm footsteps alerted him to the doctor and he turned expectantly to face him, realising with a jolt he wanted Aaleyah’s diagnosis of Tiffany’s fainting to be true. He wanted his wife to be expecting his child. The thought slammed into him like a sandstorm, taking his breath away. How had everything he’d ever wanted changed so much? He’d never wanted to father a child, never wanted to inflict that same censure he’d received on his child.

  ‘Her Highness is indeed expecting. Congratulations, Your Highness.’ The doctor’s words seemed to come from far away, reaching him as if on the wings of his falcon. If he never wanted a child, why did this news fill him with such elation?

  He thanked the older man and returned to his bedchamber to see that Tiffany was now up and dressed in a deep blue silk dress, adorned with diamonds. She looked stunning and his chest tightened.

  As if sensing her presence wouldn’t be needed, Aaleyah slipped discreetly away, but Leah remained lying on the cool marble floor close to her mistress. Tiffany turned and looked at him. He saw her throat move delicately as she swallowed, giving away her nerves.

  Did she fear the situation they were now in as parents-to-be? Was it possible she didn’t want his child? He moved towards her, her eyes watchful, mirroring all the doubt, all the questions that were racing through his mind.

  ‘It is confirmed.’ His voice was hard with controlled anger, the only way he knew how to deal with situations that evoked deep emotions within him that he didn’t want. ‘You carry the heir of Shamsumara.’

  ‘And what exactly do you propose to do about that?’ The starkness of that question was in sharp contrast to the soft image she created in a blue gown. Her long brown hair loose, framing her face, accentuating her freckles. He ignored the effect she had on him, pushed it savagely away. Instead he drew on the curtness of her words, the blame laced within them, blame that lay firmly at his feet.