The Sultan Demands His Heir Read online

  Anwar sat up straighter, keen black eyes probing Zaid. ‘Do you also accept that it needs to happen sooner rather than later?’

  ‘Yes. And I may already have a candidate,’ he supplied.

  The group exchanged glances. Anwar voiced the question blazing through their minds. ‘The English woman?’ he asked, a little deflated.

  Zaid’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have a problem with her?’

  ‘Of course not. Her suitability isn’t the issue. But we are concerned about her father, your potential father-in-law.’

  Zaid’s jaw tightened. ‘His fate lies with a jury of his peers, not with me. Whatever the verdict, we will deal with it.’

  The men fell silent, absorbing his resolute reply. Anwar cleared his throat. ‘There’s concern that our enemies might use her father’s situation to stir up trouble.’

  He stiffened, recalling his conversation with the chief of police. ‘Then they will be dealt with the same way we deal with criminals—using the letter of the law.’

  Anwar nodded. ‘Very well, Your Highness. We look forward to your instruction on when we can make a formal announcement.’

  Zaid remained in the room after the men had departed. Had he jumped the gun a little where Esmeralda was concerned?

  No.

  Whether she was pregnant or not, his argument for marriage was a sound one. They were compatible both in bed and out of it. She’d proved in a short time that she could be very good for his people, her ability to adapt to his country and it customs stunningly impressive.

  She was intelligent enough to know what was at stake. He was confident she would see that saying no to him wasn’t an option.

  * * *

  ‘No.’

  For the first time since she’d known him, Zaid looked lost for words. So was she, to be honest, since the last question she’d expected to hear from his lips were the ones he’d uttered a minute ago.

  ‘Marry me?’

  But the answer that powered from her soul stemmed from the knowledge that, even though her heart had leapt for a single moment, this was wrong. Perhaps it had also stemmed from the fact that the previous time she’d received a proposal, it had also been the under wrong circumstances. Plus she’d spent the last ten days in near isolation, Zaid’s terse words that she remain in the palace when they’d returned from Tujullah ringing in her ears. He’d offered very little explanation save to say she’d earned a break after throwing herself into her work for three weeks. But she’d known there was more to the command.

  Marry me.

  The words weren’t delivered with flowery sentiment or devotion, but with the gravity of a thousand drums behind them. Wherever he’d been these last few days, this conclusion had been well thought out and finalised. Without her input or approval.

  ‘What did you say?’ he finally demanded.

  ‘I said no. I won’t marry you. And before you narrow your eyes at me, we both know this proposal is based solely on the possibility that I might be pregnant.’

  His eyes did narrow. And his body tensed too as he strolled to where she’d been admiring the garden in one of the many private courtyards that peppered the palace. She’d had a lot of time on her hands to explore over the past ten days. Each new discovery had been more breath-taking than the last. Esme didn’t know whether she loved the Royal Palace more because she’d discovered that Zaid’s parents had chosen to live in a hotel for three years while they’d built this palace from the ground up after they’d donated their old palace to an orphanage in desperate need of housing, or because each stone contained a rich history that spoke of the love and devotion Ja’ahrians held for Zaid’s parents.

  The knowledge that she was falling in love with the culture and people of Ja’ahr had crept up on her. The knowledge that she’d roamed the palace secretly, looking out for its ruler and wishing they were still out on the road when he’d been more accessible was a more disturbing discovery.

  Her leaping senses absorbed his face, his voice, now even as she accepted that what he was asking of her was impossible.

  ‘Of course it is,’ he confirmed, his expression puzzled at her response. ‘It’s the right thing to do to legitimise my heir.’

  Esme almost laughed. Only the peculiar ache lodged in her chest kept the sound from escaping. ‘And how would waiting a few more days make a difference?’ she asked, even though she knew marriage would be an impossible choice for her then, too. ‘Or, better still, we can clear this up right now if you’ll allow me to take an early pregnancy test.’

  His frown deepened. ‘Why are you convinced you’re not carrying my child?’

  ‘I’m not convinced. It’s just I don’t understand why you’re waiting to find out. And I don’t understand why you’re proposing marriage. Like you said, your people are forward-thinking. Will they really question the legitimacy of your baby, if there is one, based on when exactly he or she is born?’

  His jaw clenched. ‘The general advice is to wait until two weeks have passed or better still once the date of your next cycle is exceeded to be definite. As for the timing of the marriage, I don’t care what other people think. I would prefer that we move as quickly as possible. A wedding, especially one to a sovereign, takes time to plan and execute.’

  She shook her head. ‘But that’s not everything, is it? What aren’t you telling me, Zaid?’

  He kept silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t respond. He paced to the edge of the bubbling fountain, looking at it for a long moment.

  ‘There’s been a push for me to marry for a while now. A push I’ve resisted even though it’s my destiny and duty to marry and produce heirs. But the time has come and I don’t wish to wait any longer.’

  Esme conjured up an image of a future Zaid, married to a faceless woman, one who would happily wear his ring and bear his children. The certainty it wouldn’t be her sent a large dose of disquiet ringing through her, escalating her fear that her growing attachment to all things Ja’ahr extended to its ruler too.

  Sternly, she pushed the suggestion away. She had too much baggage to ever contemplate such a thing.

  ‘All the better reason for you to rule out a pregnancy quickly. Then once we discover that I’m not pregnant, you can find someone more appropriate to marry.’

  He whirled to face her. ‘Appropriate?’

  The laughter that finally emerged scraped her throat. ‘Come on, Zaid. Would you have even considered me as a suitable bride had we not had a mishap with contraception?’

  He had the grace to hesitate, to not insult them both by rushing to deny what she’d said. His lids veiled his expression for a moment before he looked back up at her. ‘We are where we are. The only way is to be pragmatic about our situation.’

  ‘This is absurd. An early pregnancy test will clear all of this up. They’re very reliable now. Then we can both go back to living our lives.’

  For some reason that made his expression darker. ‘You say that as if it’s a separate thing. Have you forgotten that you’ve committed to living under my roof, under my protection, for as long as I require?’ he asked.

  ‘I haven’t forgotten. But neither have I forgotten that it won’t be for ever.’ Again that punch of disquiet unnerved her at the thought of her future departure from Ja’ahr. From Zaid.

  The observation displeased him even more. He stared at her for an age, before he reached out and caught her wrist in a firm hold, then began to lead her out of the courtyard. ‘Very well, let’s get this over and done with,’ he rasped.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Esme demanded as she hurried to keep up with his longer strides.

  ‘You’re not prepared to wait another few days for a more accurate confirmation so we’ll try things your way. But I’m agreeing on the basis that we will follow it up with more precise blood tests when the time comes.’

  She’d had time to grow more familiar with the intricate layout of the Royal Palace in the last week and a half, so within a minute she knew they were headed for
Zaid’s private chambers.

  ‘We’re going to do the pregnancy test now?’ she blurted, suddenly unsure whether she was prepared for it. Whether she was prepared for her future, her possible departure, to be made finite.

  He slanted her a narrow-eyed look. ‘Isn’t that what you’ve been angling for?’

  ‘But we... I don’t have any kits.’ She’d been unwilling to ask Nashwa to buy any for her because she hadn’t wanted the speculation she knew was brewing to overflow.

  She watched Zaid calmly extract his phone and hit dial. After a few terse words were exchanged he hung up. ‘Problem solved.’

  She’d got what she wanted. And yet apprehension clawed up her spine the closer they got to his private wing. In minutes she’d know if her fate would be sealed with Zaid’s for ever, or whether the clock would be starting a wind-down of her time in his life.

  Esme wasn’t surprised to see Fawzi waiting inside Zaid’s lush, private living room with a rectangular box that looked like it had been dug straight out of Aladdin’s treasure chest. With a deep bow and a cryptic look at her he handed the box over and left the room.

  Zaid released her, then lifted the lid of the box. Inside, on a bed of red velvet, lay two early pregnancy test kits still sealed in their containers. He picked them up and held them out to her.

  Her breath stalled in her lungs. The moment of truth.

  Her fingers trembled as she took the items from him. A look at his face showed he too was in the throes of a deep, earth-shattering emotion. He set the box down and silently walked her through a set of white double doors that led to a bathroom.

  The space was as jaw dropping as the rest of the palace, if not even more so. But all Esme could concentrate on was the fate that awaited her minutes from now.

  And fate rammed home, loud and terrifying, in two sets of thick blue lines.

  She had no recollection of walking back to the bathroom doors or opening them. Only of Zaid, tall and proud, breath held and immovable before her.

  Waiting for the words she couldn’t keep inside any more. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHE DIDN’T RECALL much of the moments following her announcement. It was as if those two words, once uttered, had expanded to fill every atom of her life. But, somehow, between one moment and the next, she was lying on a long velvet sofa with a grim, slightly pale Zaid crouched over her.

  ‘What...what happened?’ she ventured.

  Eyes turned a dark bronze pierced almost accusingly into her. ‘It seems I was wrong in thinking rationality would prevail once you had your answer. Instead, the knowledge that you’re pregnant with my child seems to have adversely overcome you. You delivered the news and then promptly collapsed,’ he stated sombrely.

  Esme felt the room sway as the reality of it kicked her hard. She was pregnant. With Zaid’s child.

  Oh, God.

  She shut her eyes. Took a shallow breath, then another when the first didn’t quite make it to her lungs. When that didn’t work, she gulped some more.

  ‘It would please me greatly if you would stop hyperventilating.’

  Because it wasn’t good for the baby? She forced herself to take the next breath more slowly.

  ‘Open your eyes, Esmeralda. We need to face this together,’ he instructed heavily.

  She obeyed only because he was right, no matter how much she wanted to slip into oblivion. He looked graver than before. ‘Zaid...’ Her voice was a choked noise that sounded worse lying down. She started to sit, only to find herself being pressed firmly back.

  ‘Don’t get up. The doctor is on his way.’

  She started. ‘What? I don’t need a doctor!’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion. Unfortunately for you, fainting into my arms takes the decision out of your hands.’

  She sagged against the plump cushions, unwilling to acknowledge the weakness dredging through her at the feel of his hand through the thin cotton of her yellow sundress. In the next moment she realised his hand was splayed directly over their baby. Her heart jumped as she watched the same thought occur to him.

  His eyelashes swept down to veil his gaze. Esme didn’t know whether to rejoice or mourn when he removed his hand a moment later.

  He crossed to a nearby drinks cabinet and returned with a glass of water and a conveniently placed straw. She took a few sips under his intense scrutiny before he set the glass down.

  Esme cleared her throat and tried again. ‘I think you were right. We need to wait for the proper time to do the test again. Maybe this was a false positive...’ She trailed off when a bleak, shuttered look entered his eyes.

  ‘Does it fill you with that much horror, the idea of carrying my child?’

  Shock froze the blood in her veins. ‘What?’

  ‘First you wanted to take the test immediately, but now we have the results, you want to deny the truth? A more paranoid man would think the idea of marrying me, of having my child, is abhorrent to you, habiba,’ he said chillingly.

  A single shake of her head was all she could manage in denial. ‘No. You misunderstand. It’s not you.’ She stopped and took a breath, struggling to calm her racing mind. ‘I just... I don’t want you to make a mistake you’ll regret,’ she finished weakly.

  Her explanation tugged a mirthless smile from him. ‘You seem bent on saving me from myself. Do you think I didn’t weigh all the options before arriving at my decision?’

  How could he have, when he didn’t have the whole truth?

  Tell him!

  ‘No, I don’t think you have.’

  ‘Then enlighten me.’

  ‘I have too much baggage, Zaid. My father—’

  One autocratic hand slashed through the air. ‘You’re nothing like your father,’ he dismissed. ‘If you were, I wouldn’t have given you the position you hold. My people are already beginning to embrace you. My council of advisors has approved you as my bride. And for those still swayed by that sort of thing, it’s already known that you were an innocent when I took you to my bed.’

  The sharp left turn in the conversation jumbled her thoughts. ‘What? How would they have...? Oh, the sheets?’

  He shrugged, not in the least bit embarrassed by referring to a subject that made her face flame. ‘The hard-core traditionalists will just have to be content with the wedding night coming after the deed.’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she murmured incredulously, her head still spinning. A swipe of her tongue over lips turned dry, and she attempted again. ‘Zaid, listen to me—’

  ‘My grandmother was a second wife, did you know that?’ he cut across her again. Was he doing it deliberately to stop her from telling him what she needed to?

  ‘Um...no, I didn’t know.’

  ‘My grandfather’s first wife was an American,’ he continued. ‘She was fully accepted, even loved by the people until her unfortunate, premature death. So, you see, Ja’ahrians aren’t complete traditionalists when it comes to the wives their rulers take.’

  ‘But there are other factions that won’t welcome this, aren’t there?’ she countered. ‘Like whoever was pushing the chief of police’s buttons?’

  His jaw flexed. ‘If he and they need reminding, I will merely reconfirm what I said to him the night I came for you.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘That you belong to me and I have taken you under my protection.’

  Despite the foolish weakness threatening to overcome common sense, she grimaced. ‘You make me sound like a chattel.’

  ‘He was the one who intended to use you as a pawn. I needed to communicate with him in a language that he understood. I believe the message got through to him. If that’s all you’re worried about, rest easy.’

  ‘It’s not—’ She was interrupted for the third time, but this time by a firm knock on the door. At Zaid’s command, Fawzi entered with a tall, lean man with rimless glasses, greying hair and a brisk air of confidence.

  After a hurried exchange of greetings, Fawzi departed,
and the man approached her. ‘I’m Dr Aziz. I understand you fainted?’ The question was posed in a distinct American accent.

  Surprised to hear it, she glanced at Zaid.

  ‘Dr Aziz has been my personal doctor since I was a boy. He left Ja’ahr with me and I brought him back from the States when I returned. I trust him implicitly.’ Simple words, but delivered with a thread of emotion that spoke of a bond between the two men.

  The doctor cracked a smile as he opened his case. ‘He means he trusts me not to tell you he’s not as invincible as he likes everyone to think.’

  His easy charm drew a smile from her. And a deep scowl from Zaid. ‘Perhaps you would like to get on with seeing to your patient?’

  ‘I’m fine, really—’

  ‘She’s pregnant.’ Zaid calmly dropped the bombshell.

  Dr Aziz hid his shock well as he looked from her to Zaid. ‘This is great news, son. Congratulations.’

  ‘Offer felicitations after examining her, Joseph,’ Zaid clipped out.

  The other man nodded. ‘How far along are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m...um...we just did the tests,’ Esme said.

  ‘The relevant date you require is ten days ago,’ Zaid added, naming the exact date.

  Joseph Aziz frowned. ‘It’s too soon to be feeling faint.’

  ‘Stop stating the obvious and fix her.’

  ‘Zaid!’

  The doctor smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it. He gets cranky when he’s worried.’

  Zaid swung away, muttering under his breath. Joseph carried on unperturbed, asking her questions and taking notes on his tablet. He frowned again as she guiltily confessed to her recent loss of appetite. Five minutes later, he snapped his case shut.

  ‘Well?’ Zaid had returned, looming over them like a dark cloud.

  ‘Nothing serious. Miss Scott is a little low on blood sugar. I’m guessing that, coupled with the momentous news that she’s carrying our next Sultan, would throw anyone. She just needs to avoid skipping meals, and she’ll be fine.’ He offered her a reassuring smile, while Zaid stared at her with narrowed eyes as she finally sat up.