Sheikh's Pregnant Cinderella Page 10

  As the thought struck she noticed his movements had slowed, his hands gliding fluidly over her flesh. Breath snagging, her gaze flew to his face. His lips were parted, his tongue resting on his lip as he glided a soapy palm over her breasts. Between his thighs, his manhood was stirring into life again. Niesha’s senses thrilled anew, the foolish notion that she’d got it wrong almost making her laugh with relief.

  In the next moment, Zufar turned away. With almost cruel movements, he turned off the shower and stepped out of the cubicle.

  No. She wasn’t wrong. She’d fooled herself into thinking she’d pleased him. That he would want her again. But as he’d told her in the living room, he needed heirs—and lots of them, quickly—if they were to be married for only five years.

  The need to consummate this marriage had been an essential part of that goal. It had had nothing to do with her. The future of the kingdom depended on it. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Zufar was a man who placed his duty above all else. He’d performed it and now the act was over.

  Despite the warmth of the shower, a chill settled over her. Growing stiffer by the minute, she concentrated on breathing in and out as he wrapped a towel around himself, then one around her, before carrying her back to the bedroom.

  Immediately she fled to the far side of the bed. Then, wondering if she was sleeping on his side, she started to reverse position. Then froze in the middle when it occurred to her that they hadn’t even discussed sleeping arrangements.

  Niesha knew that besides the previous Queen’s private suite in the east wing, there was an adjoining suite next to the King’s for the Queen’s use. Was she supposed to retire there now and await further summons or return to the east wing? Her hands curling in frustration, she started to move to the edge of the bed.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he drawled, his imposing figure looming beside her.

  A furtive gaze confirmed his demeanour hadn’t changed. In fact, he looked even more remote. ‘I don’t know which side you preferred or...even if I’m supposed to sleep here?’

  His brows gathered in a dark frown. ‘Where else are you supposed to sleep?’

  She licked her lips, her fingers tightening on the sheets bunched between her breasts. ‘In the suite next door? Or back in the Qu... Queen’s quarters?’ She stumbled over the word, was positive she would stumble over it for a long time to come.

  His face darkened further, his jaw jutting out as he stared down his patrician nose at her. ‘Is that what you would prefer?’ he asked with chilling terseness.

  Niesha suppressed a shiver. At this moment, she would prefer to be anywhere but here, withstanding his cold, haughty scrutiny, which he managed to pull off superbly despite being completely naked. ‘Isn’t that what is expected of me?’

  ‘What would make you draw that conclusion?’ he bit out.

  ‘It wasn’t a secret that your parents did not share the same bed...’ Her words withered to nothing when his whole body clenched into terrifying stillness.

  ‘In case the obvious needs pointing out, I’m not my father. And this is not the nineteenth century.’ If she’d thought him remote a minute ago, he was positively arctic now.

  For some reason, mentioning his parents had hit the wrong nerve. Niesha, like everyone else living within the palace walls, had heard whispers of the strained relationship between the previous King and his wife, despite the King’s utter devotion to her. But with no facts to back it up, she’d attributed it to palace gossip. As for the relationship between King Tariq and his children, it had appeared civil if not outwardly warm.

  But from Zufar’s reaction...could it all have been an act? A series of royal chess moves designed to fool the general public?

  Niesha had certainly witnessed how ruthlessly calculating her new husband could be when he desired a specific outcome. Her current position was the living embodiment of that ruthlessness.

  She strove to speak despite the unease flaring through her body. ‘I know that...but we both know this isn’t a real marriage.’

  Sensual lips that had kissed hers only a short while ago twisted in faint derision. ‘I’ve just taken your virginity, Niesha. We have agreed to have children. It doesn’t get more real than that,’ he pointed out, his voice deeply husky and painfully direct.

  Her chin dropped, every skin cell flaming. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Do I?’

  Her head reared up. ‘Yes!’ She lifted her hand to her slightly throbbing head and pushed back the heavy curtain of hair. ‘Look, we both know I wasn’t your first choice. I wasn’t even in the running.’ If Amira hadn’t been seduced by another man she would be here right now. The thought lodged a hard knot in her stomach, but she pushed it away. ‘So it’s completely understandable if you want to maintain your private quarters.’

  He took a step closer, braced one knee on the bed. It took everything in her power not to drop her gaze to the impressive manhood between his legs. A part of her felt bitter jealousy for his ability to be so confident in his own skin, especially when she couldn’t even control her own stupid blushes.

  Her breath stilled as firm hands captured her chin.

  ‘I ask again, is that what you want?’ Piercing eyes probed hers.

  He seemed to be fishing for something specific. Something she had no clue about. She blinked, glanced at the tousled bed. Unbidden, the image of going to sleep in the same bed as Zufar, surrounded by his unique scent, his magnificent body, the sizzling mastery of his possession, and waking up with him, loomed in her mind.

  Did she want that?

  Not if each one ended with him staring at her with such remote, almost indifferent eyes. But then how else would she live up to her end of the bargain? Surely it was better to remain here, ensure the deed was done in the shortest possible time?

  ‘As you said, the quicker we ensure that I’m...pregnant, the better for everyone, I think—’ The words stuck in her throat, most likely because they were far too clinical, stripped of any emotion, and it wasn’t a true reflection of what was happening inside her.

  But he was nodding, as if in complete agreement with her.

  It drove home the fact that she couldn’t afford to let her emotions run free. Or give into foolish dreams of this union being anything but the stark bargain she’d struck. She was only here because another man had stolen the woman he’d chosen.

  As for hoping her child was conceived in contentment and warmth, it was really past time she put those fairy-tale notions behind her. Not when she was the epitome of what came after conception.

  Abandonment. Loneliness. Deprivation.

  All things she needed to ensure never happened to her child, no matter how it was conceived.

  He dropped her chin and slid into bed. ‘I’m glad to hear it. And for the record, this is what I prefer, too. Tomorrow the palace designer will contact your assistant with a view to setting up a meeting.’

  ‘What for?’ she asked.

  ‘To discuss what you intend to do with the suite next door. You can turn it into a giant dressing room. Or perhaps a nursery. Entirely up to you.’

  Niesha was grappling with that when he pulled the sheets from her with a firm tug and began to rearrange the covers over them.

  ‘You’ve had a challenging day. Tomorrow will not be any less so. I suggest you get some sleep now.’

  On that none-too-reassuring pronouncement, he turned away and doused the bedside lamps.

  * * *

  Niesha awoke to the breath-stealing sensation of a stubbled jaw grazing her cheek. Still lost in a jagged dream of smoke and fire and screams, it was a relief to awaken.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d had those dreams. Along with the soft voice that echoed reassurance in her mind in times of distress, the disturbing dreams had also been part of her life for as long as she could remember.

 
It wasn’t a stretch to conclude it was her psyche grappling with whatever dark shadows lurked in her past. That the thoughts and fears she pushed to the back of her mind during her waking hours transmitted to nightmares in her sleep.

  Despite knowing this, she still woke most mornings with a panicked, racing heart and a sinking sensation that her past would always remain a pitch-black, desolate landscape to her.

  Not this morning, though. Before her anxiety could take hold, firm masculine lips moved along her jawline to the corner of hers.

  She shuddered, then opened her eyes to meet dark gold ones that burned with single-minded purpose. For the longest moment, Zufar stared at her. He didn’t utter a word. Neither did she.

  Then one hand dipped between their bodies to settle firmly between her thighs. At her gasp, his nostrils flared, the only sign that he’d registered her response.

  The moment he established that she was wet, needy and more than ready for him, he angled the thick column of his erection and thrust, deeply and powerfully, inside her.

  Her husky moan was filled with need and awe, her senses ripping apart at the potency of his possession.

  Even when she realised that the only sounds filling the room were coming from her, his silent lovemaking was still electrifying, perhaps even more so than the night before since her body now knew what to expect.

  Minutes later, she found out that even in that she was wrong, that there was a new determination in his lovemaking that robbed her of the little breath she’d managed to sustain.

  He captured and pinned her arms above her head, and then, with caged intensity, he thrust relentlessly into her, the formidable power of it driving home one purpose—ensuring she took his seed and produced the heir he wanted.

  The small part of her that attempted to shrink back from such a complete but detached coupling was soon swept under the traitorous melting that radiated from her core and took control of her own being.

  The tiny cry she gave as she crested the pinnacle of pleasure was soon followed by his suppressed groan as he, too, achieved his release.

  Moments later, he left the bed. She heard the muted hiss of the shower and sagged onto the pillows, willing her heartbeat and the tumultuous emotions reeling through her to slow.

  She really couldn’t afford to lose her mind each time he touched her. Every instinct warned that would be reckless in the extreme. Already his brief absence was triggering a craving for another glimpse of him, and somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny clock was counting down the five years she’d agreed with him.

  What would happen afterwards?

  Banishment from the palace? Niesha jackknifed into sitting position, realising she should have hammered out more than just parting with her freedom for five years. Would she be allowed to take her children with her? Or would she be once again condemned to a life of loneliness and desolation?

  She firmed her lips. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. No matter what, the children she produced with Zufar would be part hers.

  But then he was the King, with endless resources to fight her if he so wished.

  She was grappling with the future threat when he emerged from the bathroom. And just like that every thought evaporated from her head.

  His thick black hair was slicked back from his face, glistening damply beneath the low-lit chandeliers. His arms and chest rippled with sleek muscles as he strode towards the bed. But it was the snowy white towel, knotted low on his hips and framing the divine V of his pelvis, that made her mouth water shamefully.

  She held her breath, unable to prise her gaze from him as he sauntered over to the bed.

  A moment passed, then two. At his continued silent scrutiny, she dragged her head up. ‘Good morning,’ she said after swallowing hard.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is it?’

  Her fingers bunched in the sheets, her heart lurching wildly. Had the new day triggered a change of mind? Did he wish to renege on the deal he’d struck? Was he going to chase after Amira after all?

  Why that thought left a pile of ash in her mouth when she’d all but demanded the very same thing last night floored her.

  She lifted a hand in a futile attempt to ease the sudden sharp ache hammering beneath her breastbone.

  ‘I ask because you were having a distressing dream. It was why I woke you up.’

  Her hand dropped to her lap, unsettling relief weaving through her. A moment later, her heart dropped too, slowing to a disturbingly dull thud. Was that why he’d made love to her too? To distract her from her nightmare?

  ‘Oh, I see. Thank you,’ she murmured, because, really, what did it matter why he’d woken her? She’d agreed, without force or coercion, to be his brood mare. So why was the reality dampening her mood?

  His eyes narrowed on her face. ‘Are you well?’ he asked abruptly.

  Did he mean the nightmare? Or what had happened last night and this morning. Or generally? Again, what did it matter? She nodded jerkily. ‘I...I’m fine.’

  He gave a brisk nod. ‘You will join me for breakfast. After that, your time is your own, save for the hour or so you need to select your staff. My chief aide will provide you with a shortlist.’

  The briskness with which he walked away towards his dressing room told her she didn’t have time to linger on yet another bombshell dropped so neatly at her feet. She would think about what on earth she would do with a staff later, when she was appropriately dressed.

  As she rose from the bed, she spotted the telltale signs of her lost virginity on the sheets and her face flamed all over again. Glad Zufar wasn’t around to spot her embarrassment, Niesha located her discarded dress and fled the room before he could return.

  Her walk of shame wasn’t any less cringe-inducing because she was the Sheikh’s new bride, because of course the palace was wide awake and the usual bustle of people that went into making the place run like a well-oiled machine were up and about. Her state wasn’t helped when her attendants, headed by Halimah, who looked as if they’d been lying in wait for her, descended on her the moment she entered the main wing of the palace.

  Within minutes everyone knew she’d spent the night in Zufar’s bed.

  Niesha managed to hold her head high as she was escorted back to her rooms.

  Again, a stunning array of clothes had been hung out for her, this time lighter linens and soft chiffons in pastel colours. Unsure how long she had before her breakfast with Zufar, she declined having her hair washed and didn’t linger in the bath.

  Twenty minutes later, dressed in a knee-length ivory and navy block dress with a delicate lace waistline fringe, capped sleeves, and navy platform heels, she retraced her steps back to Zufar’s private quarters. An aide led her into the dining room, where he sat at the head of a long antique dining table, reading a newspaper.

  Even performing the mundane task of reading while he ate, he was a spectacular sight, dressed in an impeccable suit she knew had been specially imported from Milan.

  When she neared him, he deftly folded the paper, inclined his head in a regal nod and watched as she was seated. She kept her hands folded in her lap and her spine straight, tinglingly aware of his direct gaze as her tea was poured and various dishes placed before her.

  ‘You left my bed before I could show you the less...public passage from my room,’ he said with a stiffness that spoke of his displeasure the moment the staff retreated.

  Niesha fought the blush that threatened. ‘Oh...I...didn’t know—’

  He waved her response away. ‘It is done. And since you won’t need to leave my bedroom again in the future, we will not speak about your precipitous exit. Eat your breakfast.’

  Niesha stared down at her plate, trying to summon an appetite, while curbing a bite of irritation. Slowly she reached for a piece of toast, buttered it and added a dollop of jam made from dates and honey. It melted on her tongue, but, wh
ere she would probably have groaned with the delicious taste, she chewed thoughtfully.

  ‘Something wrong?’ he queried after a minute.

  ‘You made it sound as if I needed your permission to leave.’

  His gaze scoured her face. ‘Or perhaps I wished to spare the blushes that come so readily to your cheeks,’ he retorted.

  It took great effort not to lift her hands to her hot face. ‘I’m sorry if my comportment is lacking.’

  Something flashed in his eyes before they regained that remoteness again. ‘On the contrary, you’re the epitome of a blushing bride. Legions of people across the world lap up that sort of thing, I’m told,’ he said lazily.

  She barely managed to stop herself from asking who’d told him. Did she really want to know who he’d been discussing her with? Or whether he had an opinion on blushes one way or the other?

  But even as she thought that, she felt his gaze tracking another rush of heat to her face. One day she would master her flaw. Today she had other matters on her mind.

  ‘What you said yesterday, about the honeymoon... Is it still happening?’

  Steady eyes rested on her. ‘Of course. Why should it not be?’

  Because he’d planned it for another woman. Under the circumstances, the idea shouldn’t have lodged a tiny stone beneath her breastbone but she couldn’t forestall the ache. She shook her head. ‘I was just double-checking.’

  ‘If you’re feeling a little...bruised because I’m taking you where I would’ve taken Amira, don’t be. Like you, she and I had an understanding. The continued prosperity and smooth running of the kingdom comes first. Which is why this trip was always going to be partly a business one.’

  She wasn’t sure whether knowing she was so interchangeable made her feel better or worse. Or that he wasn’t bothering to soften where his priorities truly lay. ‘When do we leave?’ she asked when she’d smothered the growing hurt in her chest.

  ‘In three days. We will stay at the Emerald Palace for two days, then leave for Europe.’

  He went on to name the other places they would be visiting, places Niesha had dreamed of exploring once upon a time. But the joy she’d felt then was severely lacking now. She finished sipping her tea, nodding when expected, all the while feeling the cloak of loneliness and abandonment encroaching once more.