The Sheikh's Royal Announcement Page 8

  If she chose to tell him.

  She had never talked about it with anyone, mainly because she’d never got close enough to someone to want to confide in them. Or for the layers of her painful past to be peeled away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Except for this man, of course. She’d been closer to Kadir than to anyone, but it had only been a very fleeting intimacy and it had only ever been physical. It made her feel a little foolish now to realise just how spiky and unrounded she must be as a human being, that she should have considered the twelve hours she spent with Kadir as the most significant twelve hours of her life. How sad was that?

  But those hours had produced a beautiful child. His child. And didn’t that make his question not only understandable, but reasonable? Didn’t he have the right to know something about her, as she did him? And he had already obliged by confiding in her the bitter truth about his marriage.

  Nonetheless, it wasn’t easy to address a subject she’d spent much of her life trying to forget, and a moment or two passed before Caitlin was ready to speak. And wasn’t it funny how something could still hurt, even after all these years? It was like poking at a scar you thought had completely healed, only for it to surprise you by starting to bleed again.

  ‘There was no mention of my father on the birth certificate because my mother didn’t name him,’ she began.

  His eyes became shuttered so that all she could see was the ebony gleam which shone from between the thick lashes. ‘Why not?’

  She paused. Say it, she told herself. Just say it. It’s not a big deal in this modern world, not like in the old days. But it still felt like a big deal to her. ‘Because he already had a wife and other children and he begged her not to. In fact, he did his best to try to persuade her not to give birth to me in the first place. But fortunately, she chose to ignore his advice and incentives.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘It was the one sensible thing she did throughout the whole of my childhood.’

  ‘Caitlin.’

  The shock on his face was almost palpable as he said her name but Caitlin couldn’t resist a dig, even though the comment probably hurt her far more than it could ever hurt him. ‘Perhaps now you’ll understand my shock when I discovered you were married.’

  ‘I am only just beginning to realise the impact that discovery must have had on you,’ he said gravely, before giving a heavy sigh. ‘So your mother had a brief affair with a married man?’

  Just like you.

  He didn’t actually come out and say that, but the words hung in the air just as clearly as if he had. Caitlin could feel her cheeks begin to burn, knowing that she didn’t have to justify herself because this wasn’t about her—they were supposed to be talking about her mother. But she went ahead and did it anyway.

  ‘It was nothing like what happened with us. Because she knew he was married. At least she was given the choice about whether or not she wanted to get involved,’ she retorted, and saw him flinch—but strangely, his obvious discomfiture gave her no pleasure. ‘She used to work for him, until she got pregnant, and then she left, supposedly by mutual agreement, though basically she was told to go or she would get fired. But the affair continued for years, based on a promise my father made that he would divorce his wife and marry my mother. Which he never did, of course.’

  Kadir’s eyes narrowed. ‘And did you ever meet him?’

  ‘Only once, but I was too young to remember much about it, or maybe I just blocked it out. Apparently, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to have a child who had been born out of wedlock—a child with the potential to upset his pampered life as a city boss. And then it all turned sour. My mother started to get needy. She...’ Caitlin swallowed, because this bit she did remember. She wished she could have forgotten it, but the mind could prove remarkably stubborn when it came to selective memory. ‘She started to make demands. Started setting ultimatums, which were never met, so she’d set another one, and then another. Then she threatened to ring his wife and tell her about me...’

  ‘What happened?’ he questioned, as her words tailed off.

  ‘He met up with her one day and told her he had already confessed to his wife.’ She vividly remembered the use of the word confession. A word associated with sin. Had that association contributed to Caitlin’s failure to interact successfully with the opposite sex, once she’d come of age? She didn’t know and right now it wasn’t particularly relevant. All she knew was that Kadir was still looking at her with curiosity burning from those ebony eyes—and she was going to finish her story. She had to—because what good would it do if they continued to be strangers to one another? ‘He told her he never wanted to see her again, nor me.’

  Now why had her voice started wavering? Why did she care about the rejection of a man who had never wanted her born? She cleared her throat, drank some pomegranate juice and continued. ‘And he didn’t. See me, that is. We were living on Cronarty by then. My mother never really recovered from his rejection. She kind of went to pieces—and when we heard that he’d died very suddenly she insisted we go to the funeral to pay our respects.’ Caitlin shivered, wishing she’d brought one of her thick Scottish sweaters down to dinner with her after all.

  Her mother had been slightly drunk and very determined—and no words of Caitlin’s had been able to make her see sense. At eight years old she’d been powerless to prevent her mother from taking her along to the service, where she had made the discovery that her birth father had been a very rich and powerful man indeed. She remembered the sickly scent of the white lilies which had been massed outside the huge church and the startled faces of the black-clothed mourners when they had appeared. Sobbing, her head dramatically covered with an ebony mantilla, her mother had dragged Caitlin towards the door but someone must have worked out who they were.

  ‘And?’ Kadir prompted.

  Caitlin bit her lip. It had been the single most embarrassing event of her life. ‘We weren’t wanted there—obviously. Two women stepped forward. They were the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. They must have been a decade or so older than me. Their faces were icy and their eyes were filled with contempt. I remember they barely opened their lips as they spoke. They told us that if we didn’t leave immediately of our own accord, then they would call security. I discovered afterwards that they were his daughters, too. But legitimate, of course.’

  ‘By the desert storm!’ To her surprise, Kadir had brought his fist crashing down hard on the table so that all the golden cutlery rattled. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  ‘When was I going to do that, Kadir?’ she demanded. ‘We didn’t exactly do much talking at our first meeting, did we? Even if we’d had time, it’s not really the best conversational ice-breaker in the world. And when you found me again, you were too busy being angry and taking control of all our lives for me to want to bring it up. Anyway, what difference does it make?’

  Kadir shook his head and for a moment he stared straight ahead in silence, as the tall candles guttered on the table between them. He couldn’t put it into words, but it had made a difference. He felt the unexpected clench of his heart as he imagined her pain and humiliation at being ejected from the church. He could picture only too well the inebriated mother who had dragged her there. If he had been in full possession of those facts about her past, would he still have brought her out here, without her permission? He felt a stab of guilt. He didn’t know. He could never know. But surely he could show her a little consideration from here on in.

  ‘It is late and your eyelids are growing heavy,’ he said softly, rising to his feet. ‘I think we’ve said everything there is to be said for tonight. Come, Caitlin, I shall accompany you to your suite.’

  ‘Thank you.’ For a moment she looked a little taken aback by his kindness and then, in a flurry of ice blue silk, she got to her feet.

  They walked towards her suite mostly in silence, though occasionally he took the time to point out a part
icularly beautiful artefact and, once, to pause at the circular window which, at least twelve times a year, framed the full moon. She made all the appropriate responses to his remarks but he thought she seemed preoccupied. And when they finally reached her door, Kadir could see uncertainty clouding her freckled face, which somehow pierced his conscience far more than her defiance had done earlier.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ she said.

  Unexpectedly, the corners of his lips twitched. ‘You haven’t held back so far.’

  ‘Even though nothing I say ever achieves what I want it to achieve?’ she returned, before sucking in a deep breath. ‘But this is different.’

  ‘Oh?’

  She twisted her ringless fingers together before looking him straight in the eye. ‘It’s important for us to monitor how well Cameron settles in, because I’m sure that even you...’

  Her words tailed off and when she looked at him, there was something beseeching in her gaze.

  ‘Even I, what, Caitlin?’ he prompted sardonically.

  ‘If we discover he’s desperately unhappy and homesick. If, for example, he misses Hamish—’

  ‘Hamish?’ A sudden spear of jealousy shot through him. ‘Who the hell is Hamish?’

  ‘His hamster. Mrs McTavish is looking after him at the moment. They have another two hamsters so it’s no bother for her.’ She hesitated. ‘But if, for any reason, he really wants to go home after a few days, then you’ll let him?’

  Kadir knew what she was doing and thought how clever she was. For he could hardly lay claim to wanting to be a good father if he then did the very thing which would make his child unhappy, could he? Slowly, he nodded, picking his next words with care. ‘How can I refuse such a request?’ he questioned. ‘All I ask in return, is that you will do nothing to try to influence the child in his decision.’

  Their eyes met in a long moment. ‘Touché!’ she said softly, and then she smiled.

  It was a rueful smile but it was the first one he’d seen since re-entering her life and the effect of her soft curving lips momentarily captivated him. Her ice blue gaze pulled him in like a magnet and suddenly Kadir found he couldn’t look away. And neither, it seemed, could she, for she was staring at him as if she were in a trance.

  Clad in the traditional tunic of a high-born Xulhabian woman, she looked both strange and yet deeply familiar. Her long red hair tumbled all the way down her back and Kadir longed to feel those glossy tendrils trickling through his fingers once more.

  He sensed that if he kissed her now he would meet no opposition. And he wanted that. He wanted that very badly. But with desire came the certain knowledge that Caitlin Fraser had once possessed the power to make him lose control, and he couldn’t risk that happening again. Not right now. Not until he had achieved what he’d set out to achieve.

  And that was the bottom line. This was all about Cameron and Xulhabi, not him. His own foolish and transitory desires must be sublimated for the time being. He must determine his son’s claim on the land he would one day inherit and nothing could be allowed to divert him from that aim.

  Because while desire ebbed and flowed like the tide, he must be nothing but steadfast when it came to the continuity of his bloodline.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CAITLIN COULDN’T SLEEP.

  Despite lying between linen sheets as fine as gossamer on a spacious bed which could have slept a family of four, she was disturbed by images of Kadir’s searing black gaze as he had bade her goodnight after dinner last night. She couldn’t believe that she had confided in him so honestly and told him more than she’d ever confessed to another living soul, considering it to be nobody’s business but her own. Even Morag knew only the very barest facts about her background.

  But Kadir had lulled her into a frank disclosure about her mother and father, before walking her to her suite of rooms and then leaving her in a swirl of kingly finery. The atmosphere around them had felt loaded with tension and for a moment she’d thought he was going to kiss her again. And, when that had failed to materialise—hadn’t she convinced herself she was relieved? That had been total self-delusion, of course—because she would have liked nothing more than to have been cradled within the warm power of Kadir’s embrace.

  After checking on a sleeping Cameron, she had gone to bed but the night provided no immunity against forbidden thoughts, and suddenly she found herself wide awake and at the mercy of her senses. She kept remembering how it had felt to have Kadir’s hands and lips on her body—brushing with devastating accuracy over her belly and breasts. At one point she awoke, her nipples aching and her skin bathed in sweat, aware of an aching deep inside her which wouldn’t seem to go away. In the end she gave up chasing that elusive slumber, shutting herself in the bathroom while it was still dark outside, and standing beneath the power shower as she blitzed her body and her hair. By the time dawn was glimmering on the horizon, she was already dressed and raring to go.

  Her nerves felt jangled as she waited for Cameron to wake up, forcing herself to lie back against the pillows on the huge bed and watch as the garden was gradually lit by soft shades of rose and gold. She had given Kadir her word she wouldn’t attempt to influence their son in any way, but she couldn’t believe her little boy would want to stay in this remote place, so far from everything he knew. She couldn’t let herself believe it—because that offered a glimpse of a future which terrified her. A future in which her own position was uncertain. What place would she have in a culture like this? Would she become the faceless Englishwoman unwillingly tolerated because she was the mother of the future King? She swallowed. She would give it a few days, as promised, and then quietly ask Cameron what he wanted to do. And when, as expected, he complained of being homesick, she would convey his sentiments to Kadir.

  The ticking of the Ottoman clock was hypnotic and she must have dozed off, because when her eyes snapped open it was fully light and she could hear the distant bustle of life in the corridors of the palace. Hastily, Caitlin barged into the adjoining suite of rooms to find Cameron’s bed...

  She blinked in dismay.

  Empty.

  Morag was in the next room and at first Caitlin didn’t recognise her because her ample frame was clothed in a flowing robe instead of her usual elasticated trousers and comfy top. She was sitting alongside a veiled female servant as the two of them companionably folded unfamiliar garments into a neat pile. They looked up in slight alarm as Caitlin came bursting in through the door.

  ‘Where’s Cameron?’ she demanded.

  Morag smiled. ‘Ach, he was awake ages ago! Running around as excited as I’ve ever seen him. The Sheikh has taken him down to the stables.’

  ‘Has he had breakfast?’

  ‘The Sheikh said they would eat upon their return.’

  ‘Oh, did he?’ questioned Caitlin, trying to keep her voice light. ‘You should have woken me.’

  ‘The Sheikh said that you must be tired after your long journey and we should let you sleep.’

  ‘I’ll bet he did.’

  She wanted to ask Morag if she realised that she sounded like a tame parrot with ‘the Sheikh’ this and ‘the Sheikh’ that, but Caitlin realised that would be taking her temper out on the wrong person. And besides, she needed Morag on her side. Turning to the servant who was seated alongside her, she tried to summon the semblance of a smile. ‘Do you think you could show me the way to the stables?’

  ‘Certainly, mistress. I will go and find Makim and ask him.’

  She returned minutes later with Kadir’s aide by her side and he chatted equably as he led Caitlin from the suite, even though his attempts at conversation were met only with politely monosyllabic responses because she didn’t trust herself to say what was really on her mind. At least—not to him.

  But she was unprepared for her emotional reaction when eventually they tracked Cameron down to the state-of-the-art stable
s on the eastern side of the palace and Caitlin felt as if she were looking at the scene through the wrong end of a telescope, because it was so...unexpected. And never before had she felt quite so redundant as a mother. Or so excluded.

  Her son was being held by his father and his little arms were locked tightly around his father’s neck as Kadir crooned softly to the most beautiful horse Caitlin had ever seen, its glossy dark coat gleaming like a polished nut. It made such a perfect tableau that she almost wished she had her camera with her so that she could have captured the image, but her hands were trembling so much she doubted she’d have been able to hold the camera. Because all she could think was, why had the Sheikh spirited away her son without telling her?

  Despite the heat she felt cold. An outsider. Someone who had no right to be there. A dark and nebulous fear began to creep over her as she took a step forward.

  Did they hear her enter? Was that why Kadir suddenly turned and saw her, a brief flare of something she didn’t recognise in his black eyes. Was it resolve?

  ‘Caitlin,’ he said softly.

  She hated how her skin shimmered in response to the way he said her name as he bent to put Cameron down so he could come running over to her, black hair flopping into his eyes.

  ‘Mummy! Mummy! Daddy’s going to get me a pony so I can learn to ride! He says we can go and choose one!’

  He looked up at her expectantly and Caitlin’s heart sank as she bent to kiss his soft little cheek. What could she say? You won’t be needing a horse, darling, because hopefully you won’t be here long enough to ride it.

  But even she acknowledged that as a mean and selfish thought. Just as she acknowledged that if she reacted in any way other than positive, it would be like announcing to a class of excited youngsters that there was no such thing as Father Christmas.

  ‘That’s lovely, darling. I hope you said thank you,’ she replied gamely.

  ‘Indeed he did,’ purred Kadir. ‘The child’s manners are faultless.’