The Sultan Demands His Heir Page 17

  The harsh laughter that escaped scraped her throat. ‘Is it?’ she asked, mostly self-mockingly.

  To her surprise, he nodded. ‘It’s best if we don’t travel together.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘It’s protocol when you’re carrying my future heir. We shouldn’t have travelled here together.’

  ‘Then why did we?’

  ‘I needed... I chose to bend the rules a little.’

  ‘And now you’re back to being Mr Responsible?’

  His jaw flexed. ‘Your crew is waiting, Esmeralda. And I need to do what I can to prevent this from ruining everything.’ He strode off and boarded the first aircraft.

  And when the pilot of the second jet summoned her, she walked with leaden legs, boarded the plane and flew to Ja’ahr alone.

  Only to find out on her arrival at the palace that Zaid wasn’t in residence. According to the staff left manning his office when she visited each morning, they had no clue when His Highness would be available.

  Esme discovered very quickly that she was being held prisoner in her own palace. Without Zaid she had no authorisation to leave the palace grounds, not even with an armed escort. But she discovered that whatever damage control he was exerting seemed to be working. At least on an international level. No news outlet carried the story.

  But within Ja’ahr, protests that had started to die down rose up again, with one in particular staged close to the palace gates.

  Three weeks after her return, she was standing at the viewing window that circled the palace’s giant dome when Nashwa approached her.

  ‘Am I imagining it or has the crowd grown since yesterday?’ Esme asked worriedly.

  ‘You’re not imagining it, Your Highness. Those are Ahmed Haruni’s people, protesting his arrest.’

  She winced at the title, her heart tearing as it did each time she heard the reminder of who she was now.

  She also knew that on some level Ahmed Haruni had spoken the truth. She would never be completely accepted here.

  After a minute of watching the group of angry youths waving their placards, she turned to Nashwa. ‘I’m sorry. Did you want something?’

  ‘No, Your Highness. But there’s someone here to see you.’

  Her heart leapt for a wild minute, then she mocked herself for her foolishness. If Zaid had returned the whole palace would have been abuzz by now. It wouldn’t be the soulless place it felt like now.

  That too was her fault.

  She swallowed her sigh and followed Nashwa down to the office she’d been designated but had never used as Sultana. The man waiting for her was vaguely familiar. He came forward and offered a shallow bow.

  ‘Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness. My name is Anwar Hanuf, a surrogate uncle to His Highness.’

  Esme nodded. ‘Yes, you’re one of his advisors. I remember you from the wedding.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s kind of you to recall our brief meeting.’

  Nodding again, she indicated a chair. ‘What can I do for you?’ she said after they’d sat down and he’d declined refreshments.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m going to be blunt.’

  Her stomach dipped but she kept her composure. ‘I can do blunt.’

  ‘You’ve seen the crowd gathered outside the palace gate, I’m sure.’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘In my experience situations like this only escalate unless they’re dealt with.’

  ‘I would gladly talk to them, but sadly I’ve been forbidden from leaving the palace.’

  He nodded. ‘For your safety and that of our future ruler, that is the right decision.’

  ‘Is it? Only I would’ve liked to have been consulted before those decisions were made regarding my safety. Sadly, my husband seems to have fallen off the face of the earth.’

  A look crossed his face and her breath caught. ‘You know where Zaid is, don’t you?’

  ‘That is not why I’m here—’

  ‘Is he planning on coming back here anytime soon?’ she blurted.

  He sighed. ‘It’s time to do the right thing, Miss Scott.’

  She wanted to tell him her name was Esme Al-Ameen, but the cold tingling at her nape pushed the words back down.

  ‘The people’s hearts and their trust have been broken. You need to cauterise the wounds so they can heal. Or we’ll only be going backwards.’

  ‘What exactly are you asking of me?’

  He stared fixedly at her. ‘I think you know.’ He rose and bowed. ‘Good day to you, Miss Scott.’

  Sorrow scraped at her insides as her heart dropped to her feet. Two emissaries, bearing the same message. She couldn’t bury her head in the sand any more. She placed the calls she needed to make, then dialled the number of the palace security team.

  ‘This is Sultana Al-Ameen. I’m expecting guests at the palace gates within the hour. Make sure they’re admitted and shown every courtesy, then let me know when they’re ready.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness.’

  She put the phone down, feeling like a complete fraud. But she reassured herself that she’d never have to use her power and title again.

  The vans started to arrive after half an hour.

  When the call came, she rose and headed to the conference room. Lights mounted on powerful cameras and TV lenses erupted when she entered the room, and for the first time, she was glad of the bodyguards standing on alert nearby.

  Tears threatened again but she swallowed hard and unfolded her piece of paper.

  ‘Thank you for coming. And thank you to every single Ja’ahrian who has made me feel welcome since my arrival. I’ve fallen in love with this beautiful country and been proud to call it my home.’ She cleared her throat. ‘But I also realise that I’ve been very unfair to you. My father’s and my less than stellar pasts should not be the burden of the people. My mistakes should not be the cause of your unhappiness. So from this moment, I renounce my position as your Sultana. I should not have taken the position in the first place, not without baring my heart and showing you the whole truth. But I hope you will still accept your Sultan’s child when he or she is born. Our baby is innocent in all this. Please don’t let him or her pay for my mistakes. The same goes for your Sultan, Zaid Al-Ameen. He deserves better than me. But most of all he deserves your love, your respect and your understanding. I leave him in your tender care. Shukraan, Ja’ahr.’

  She stepped off the podium and let the bodyguards steer her away from the barrage of questions that exploded through the room. She managed to hold it together until she was safely behind closed doors. Then she hugged her arms around her body and sobbed. When there were no more tears left, she trudged to her dressing room. She was folding her black dress into the small pile on the centre island when a white-faced Nashwa rushed in.

  Esme smiled sadly. ‘Can you find a suitcase for me? I can’t seem to find one anywhere. An overnight bag will do.’ She’d never got round to giving up her flat in London. She could slot back into being Esme Scott as if she’d never left.

  ‘But...where are you going, Your Highness?’ Nashwa shrieked. ‘And what you said on the TV...’

  ‘I’m sorry you had to find out that way. But I really need the bag. Please?’

  Nashwa stared at her for long seconds before she plugged her fist in her mouth and fled the room. On automatic, Esme resumed gathering her things. Half an hour later, when it was clear Nashwa wasn’t going to return, Esme looked through her shelves and took down the biggest handbag she could find. She was stuffing the meagre belongings into it when the bedroom door slammed back on its hinges.

  A moment later, Zaid stood framed in the door of her dressing room.

  ‘What did you do, habiba?’ he breathed raggedly. ‘What the hell did you do?’

  The sight of him. Oh, God. He looked terrible, thick stubble bracing his jaw. He’d suffered. Because of her. And still she trembled from head to toe with the purely selfish need to rush into his arms, clasp herself to his wonderful strength. But she h
eld herself still. ‘It was the right thing to do,’ she murmured.

  Fists clenched tight, he crossed the room in five quick strides. ‘No, it wasn’t, you fool! Are you going to try and leave me every time my back is turned?’

  ‘Don’t shout at me. Not after pulling another disappearing act on me.’

  He took another step closer, bringing his bristling, glorious body within touching distance. ‘I’ll do whatever I want when you act like...like...’ He clawed a hand through his hair. ‘Like the noblest sacrificial lamb to an undeserving bastard.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘What?’

  ‘What you said on TV was—’

  ‘All true.’

  He cupped her jaw oh-so-gently. ‘No, jamila, not all true. What happened was unfortunate and wrong. But your father was the one who took his money. Not you. You were still a child, caught on the end of her father’s puppet strings. A father who, I’m guessing, liked to dangle the threat of leaving you very often?’

  Pain ripped through her as she nodded. ‘I only spent the school holidays with him but even then he threatened me with foster care if I didn’t toe his line.’

  ‘And the fear of losing what is right in front of you is even worse than missing what you no longer have, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. So much more.’ Her voice broke and a sob ripped free.

  His thumbs caressed her cheeks. ‘Shh, habiba. Don’t cry. It pains me to see your tears.’

  ‘Why? You walked away from me. You were furious with me.’

  ‘Yes, but I was never far away from you. I can never be. I started off being angry with you because a loss of life is personal to me. I also lost sight of the fact that I was a child once too. I know what the pain of losing a parent feels like. After losing your mother, you lived in constant threat of losing your remaining parent, even if you’d have been better off without him.’

  She nodded. ‘One time, when I was sixteen, I woke up one morning in our hotel, and Jeffrey was gone. No note, nothing. I’d refused to help him land a mark the night before. He was livid. I was in a strange country and terrified. He capitalised on that. I promised myself the moment I turned eighteen that I would walk away from him. I wish I’d stayed away from Bryan too.’

  He nodded, his face set. ‘I know. But there’s something you don’t know. I had Atkins investigated.’

  She frowned. ‘And?’

  ‘He suffered from severe depression and had attempted suicide more than once.’

  Her heart squeezed. ‘That doesn’t make it any better.’

  ‘No, but he went to Vegas with the aim of blowing all his inheritance and then ending his life that weekend.’

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘It’s cold comfort, I know, habiba, but his mind was made up. But you have people who need you, who love you. Do you know that since your press conference there’s been an online petition for you to stay?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If you renounce your title I’ll renounce mine too.’

  She gasped. ‘You can’t. Your people need you. Anwar said—’

  ‘To hell with what Anwar said. He thinks he was acting in my best interests. I’ll talk to him later. And anyone else who thinks they know my heart. The only thing they need to know is that it won’t beat without you. So where you go, I go.’

  ‘No, Zaid, you’re better off—’

  ‘Without my heart? Without my soul? Without the very air I need to live? No, jamila. I might as well be dead then.’

  ‘Oh, Zaid...’

  His fingers slid into her hair, and he leaned down to brush her lips with his. ‘I was going to tell you I loved you that afternoon on the deck. You know that?’

  Her gasp whispered over his lips. ‘You love me?’

  ‘Oh, yes, my love. So very much. Fawzi couldn’t have picked a worse time to deliver his news. I think it’s partly why I behaved like a wounded bear. I’m sorry, Esmeralda. Can you forgive me?’

  ‘I forgive you, because I love you too. I managed to tell you, though, remember?’

  He grimaced, although his face transformed at her confession. ‘I remember, and I’m ashamed to have rejected it then. I would be honoured if you would tell me again.’

  ‘I love you, Zaid Al-Ameen.’

  He sealed her lips in a kiss that lifted her heart and her soul. Her heart grew bigger when his hand dropped to caress her belly. ‘And you’ll remain the wife of my heart? The mother of this beautiful blessing bestowed on us and the many more to come?’

  ‘Yes, Zaid.’

  He exhaled shakily, kissed her one more time, before sweeping her off her feet.

  A long while later, they lay, blissful, content and gloriously naked on her bed.

  With a smile, she caressed his hard chest. ‘So did I cause a lot of trouble renouncing my title?’

  He chuckled richly. ‘It takes a hell of a lot more than a speech to give me up, habiba. But attempt it again and I will have you jump through a lifetime of hoops. Even then you won’t be free.’

  ‘And why not?’

  He rolled her over in one smooth move and braced her hands above her head. ‘Because Al-Ameens marry for life. I’m never letting you go. Not even in the afterlife,’ he growled.

  She leaned up and kissed his beautiful mouth, her heart brimming with happiness. ‘That’s good, because your Sultana is happy exactly where she is. By your side. For ever.’

  EPILOGUE

  One year later

  ‘ARE YOU GOING to re-create our honeymoon exactly the way it happened last year?’ Esme laughed as her husband rolled towards her and trailed a kiss over her shoulder.

  ‘Right up to the point where I ruined it, yes. And then I intend to make it all better from then on. I want the memory erased from your mind for ever.’

  ‘It’s already better for me, Zaid. I promise,’ she murmured, gliding her fingers through his thick black hair when he levered himself over her.

  He placed a lingering kiss on her lips before he raised his head. ‘Shhh, don’t spoil my plans.’ He glanced at his phone nearby. ‘It’s almost three fifteen. One more minute,’ he murmured.

  Esme’s eyebrows rose. ‘You remember the exact time?’

  ‘It was supposed to be a momentous occasion, jamila. It’s imprinted in my memory.’

  The phone beeped softly. Zaid’s gaze shifted from it to her face, his features settling into the same mask of love and devotion she’d witnessed so many times in the past year.

  ‘I love you, Esmeralda. So much more than I ever thought I could love anyone. I thank Allah every day that he brought you to me. That you found space in your heart for me. Everything that I am is devoted to you. I will love you even after the breath leaves my body.’

  ‘Oh, Zaid... I love you, too. So much it hurts sometimes.’

  He lowered his head and they sealed their love with a kiss. Then he raised his head and elevated a brow. ‘So, are you happy you stayed?’

  She laughed. ‘Ecstatic. Not that I had a choice after my renunciation of my title was so thoroughly rejected.’

  They both laughed, then her joy dimmed a little.

  Zaid caressed a thumb down her cheek. ‘You’re thinking about your father again.’

  She nodded. ‘Being a mother myself now, feeling the way I do about Amir, it hurts to think that I was so unlovable that he couldn’t—’

  ‘No, habiba. It wasn’t you who was unlovable. It was your father. Not everyone is cut out to be a father. He failed in his duty to you and to your mother. You have nothing to blame yourself for.’

  Although she nodded, her heart shook with sadness as she thought of all the opportunities she would never have.

  Jeffrey Scott’s death in prison from a heart attack two months into his eight-year prison sentence had come as a shock. Despite everything, Esme mourned the fact that they would never have a normal loving relationship and that he’d never get to meet her beloved son, Amir. But that too was something she would eventually put behind her.

 
Especially when she had more love than she could ever dream of from the husband of her wildest dreams and the son who made her heart burst with gratitude and joy every day.

  As if summoned, Aisha mounted the steps to the deck with her precious bundle cradled in her arms.

  ‘Ah, a much better interruption this time round,’ Zaid observed with immense satisfaction. ‘Although I was hoping to follow that declaration of love with a very physical demonstration.’

  Esme smiled and dropped a kiss on his mouth. ‘You’ll get your chance later, I promise.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he drawled. Then sat up to hold out his arms for his son.

  She watched him cradle their son in his strong arms, his face a picture of utter bliss. And then, just because she couldn’t help herself, Esme rose too, and put her arms around both her men.

  The man of her heart glanced up and smiled, deep abiding love blazing in eyes. ‘I love you, Esmeralda.’

  The last of her sadness evaporated. ‘I love you, too, my Sultan.’

  In the brilliant sunlight, the son of her soul gurgled happily as he watched his parents seal their love with one more kiss.

  * * * * *

  EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT

  Reluctant Sheikh Salim Al-Noury would rather abdicate than taint the realm with his dark secrets.

  But could one exquisitely beautiful diplomat convince him otherwise?…

  Christmas means heartbreak to Charlotte, and this overseas assignment offers the perfect getaway. But Salim proves to be her most challenging client yet, and his rugged masculinity awakens untouched Charlotte to unimaginable pleasures!

  Read on for a sneak preview of Abby Green’s book

  A CHRISTMAS BRIDE FOR THE KING

  Rulers of the Desert

  She looked Salim straight in the eye. ‘Life is so easy for you, isn’t it? No wonder you don’t want to rule—it would put a serious cramp in your lifestyle and a dent in your empire. Have you ever had to think of anyone but yourself, Salim? Have you ever had to consider the consequences of your actions? People like you make me—’

  ‘Enough.’ Salim punctuated the harshly spoken word by taking her arms in his hands. He said it again. ‘Enough, Charlotte. You’ve made your point.’