Кристи Голд – The Sheikh's Hidden Heir: Secret Sheikh, Secret Baby / The Sheikh's Claim / The Return of the Sheikh (страница 17)

The road signs were in Arabic, but there were pictures of planes to indicate the way. The driver seemed to have ignored them, turning off the main road and heading towards the glittering ocean.

Perhaps this was a quicker way? Felicity told herself. But, no, there was another sign for the airport indicating left. The driver was going straight ahead.

‘The airport,’ Felicity said, unsure if he could hear her through the glass partition. ‘How far is it to the airport?’

On he drove. Felicity caught him looking at her in the rearview mirror, and suddenly she was nervous. She banged on the glass, demanding his attention, but still he drove on, and somehow, even before the white building loomed into view, even before they swept into a vast drive with the blue ocean glittering in the distance, Felicity knew where he was taking her.

Zaraq Palace.

She had seen it in the brochures, on the tourist film, from her bedroom window, but nothing could have prepared her for the imposing grandeur of it as they neared.

What did Karim want?

Her hand moved to her stomach. The tiny life inside her was the answer.

How foolish to think she could tell him and just leave.

How foolish to think it might be that easy.

As a midwife, Felicity chose to expect things to go smoothly, but she prided herself on being prepared for when things might not go well. It was important to smile and stay unruffled even when you were concerned.

She could see the driver’s eyes on her in his rearview mirror, and knew he was waiting for her to react—she refused to.

She had nowhere to go—all her things had been packed and loaded and were in the car, and her documents were in her bag. Her passport was in there too, and apart from the life inside her it was the most precious thing she possessed right now. No one knew she had it. Everyone assumed that she only had the copies, not the originals, and instinct told her it must stay that way.

It was the one thing she clung to quietly as the gates slid open. The limousine glided past armed guards at checkpoints, and Felicity sat, her forehead beading with sweat, trying to wonder what Karim would have to say. Maybe he wanted to say goodbye, she told herself as the door opened and the driver came round to let her out.

A woman who introduced herself as Jamal greeted her, smiling warmly, but Felicity was unable to return it.

‘Come.’ Jamal led a shaking Felicity into the palace. The cool marble, the height of the ceilings—everything was daunting. ‘We will have some refreshments…’

Tea was poured, mint tea that was refreshing, and Felicity didn’t waste her breath asking about the purpose of the detour, knowing it would be in vain.

A man in a suit came then, and spoke for a minute in Arabic to Jamal who briefly translated.

‘Karim will see you now—Khan will take you.’

She was guided through corridors with pictures of ancient ancestors hanging on the walls.

He rose from a low sofa as she entered a room, and he was wearing traditional black robes and a black and white chequered kiffaya. Tall, imposing and grim, he looked nothing like the man who had once held her—nothing like the man she had seen laughing and chatting—and Felicity knew she was meeting Sheikh Prince Karim Zaraq of Zaraq and it unnerved her.

His black eyes loathed her, as they had yesterday, and his brief smile was a fake one, of that Felicity was sure.

‘Have a seat.’

He dismissed the man in a suit, then halted him. ‘Would you like tea? I can ask Khan…’

‘I’ve had tea,’ Felicity said quickly. She just wanted to know was going on.

As Khan left, Karim turned and faced her.

‘You say this is my baby?’

‘It is,’ Felicity said, glad of the chance to talk, to end things on more even terms. ‘Look, I understand it’s difficult and I don’t expect—’

‘Then we will marry,’ Karim interrupted, and her eyes widened. ‘Today, in an hour, we will be married.’

‘We don’t have to marry!’ Felicity was flustered. It was the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake, they had been together for one night. He didn’t have to do this. ‘I just need help to get home. Maybe we can work out—’

‘If this is my son, then you are pregnant with a royal prince. Of course we must marry.’

‘No…’ Felicity shook her head, ruing her own stupidity. She had frowned at Liam for not doing his research, for not knowing Zaraq’s rules, and now she had in turn gone and done the same. She should have told Karim from England, Felicity realised, her panic growing. The palace was huge, but it seemed to shrink then, as she recognised the prison she had just walked into.

‘If this is my child then there is no question that we marry—and the sooner the better. We will just have to hope that the baby comes a little late.’ He flashed a very black smile. ‘My guess, however, is that this baby is going to come early. Still, we will know where we stand in a few weeks.’

‘A few weeks?’

‘You will have an amnio, of course, and a DNA match will be performed.’

‘No.’ She stood up. ‘Absolutely not.’ She said it again. ‘No.’

But Karim just shrugged. ‘Come—the papers have been drawn up. You will be prepared for marriage now. Hassan and his wife, Jamal, will be witnesses.’

‘Karim, no!’

‘Felicity!’ He snapped the word—an impatient snap that silenced her. Then the room fell silent and he spoke again. ‘You do not argue with me. I do not discuss things with you. But, given you are new to our ways, I will explain things to make you feel better. I will look after your family.’ Karim stared coolly at her. ‘There are merits to our ways, and looking after the extended family is one of them. Our marriage will bring peace to my father in his final days. In return, whatever the test results, I will secure your mother and sister’s finances—yours too.’

‘There won’t be a test.’ She wasn’t going to take a test simply to satisfy his curiosity. ‘This is your child, Karim.’

‘Then,’ he said patiently, ‘there is no question that you can leave.’

It was like talking to a stranger. The beautiful, rational, sensitive man who had held her, to whom she had entrusted her body, must surely be there beneath the surface. But all Felicity could see was a strange clone of him.

‘You come to this country, you live by our rules. We will marry today. When questions are asked, we will say this is a honeymoon baby. And if it is not mine…’ Karim did not continue. Now was not the best time, perhaps, to tell her of his intentions for her bastard infant!

‘Won’t your people expect a big wedding? How are you going to explain?’

‘My country is holding its breath for the King. It would be crass to hold a party now. For now we will be discreet, and in a few weeks we can arrange DNA testing.’

‘No.’ Her eyes shone with tears. On this she would not bend. ‘No—it could be dangerous to the baby.’

‘It is a routine procedure. We will then both know where we stand.’

‘No.’ She knew the more she resisted, the more Karim thought she was lying about him being the father—but there was no way Felicity would allow him to risk her child, their child, just so that he might believe her.

‘Felicity…’ He was bored with explaining now. ‘You say that you are having my child—you demand that I believe you—and then you resist my proposal of marriage.’ Karim truly didn’t understand. He accepted he had been less than enamoured with the news she had delivered, but now that he had proposed, now that he was offering a commoner marriage, he could not fathom her resistance.

He was right. Slowly it dawned on her—she was having his child, was pregnant by a prince. There wasn’t much she could dispute.

All her clothes and her belongings had been brought to a vast bedroom. Her life was contained in one suitcase and the handbag a maid had placed in a large wardrobe. A scented bath had been run, and in minutes she had been relieved of her clothing. The handmaidens now chatted excitedly as they prepared the bride for their Prince. They oiled her body, and her scalp too, and then tied her hair so it hung in a long coil over one shoulder. They rouged her lips and cheeks, and kholled her eyes, then dressed her in her wedding costume—a white beaded hand-embroidered gown that looked heavy but, when slipped over her head, Felicity found was actually light. Her head was wrapped in a veil, and her feet were placed in beaded slippers.

She was ready to meet her groom.

She stood and sat as instructed.

She knew that in this she had no say—but her mind was working overtime.

Karim was her baby’s father.

Despite his harsh words yesterday, despite his cool demeanour today, somewhere within was the man she had fallen in love with. Somehow she knew she must reach him, and this was her only way.

It felt surreal as she walked into a large study. Jamal was smiling, greeting her, and a man who must be Hassan nodded. Karim merely gave a nod of approval as she entered.

It did nothing to soothe her nerves.

‘Karim…’ Her eyes met his as she made a request she was quite sure he would refuse. ‘Can I ring my family first?’

‘Of course.’ Again she had read him wrong. He even helped her dial, and she stood dressed in her finery, in a study looking out over the desert, her groom by her side, and heard her mother’s anxious, excited voice at her daughter’s unexpected call. Felicity closed her eyes and knew she couldn’t tell her. Knew that until she had sorted things out with Karim she couldn’t burden her family with all this.