The Sheikh's Hidden Heir: Secret Sheikh, Secret Baby / The Sheikh's Claim / The Return of the Sheikh
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Her hair, that had been tied back in all of the short time he had known her, was loose now. Soft and newly washed, it fell over her shoulders. Her long, slim legs were encased in stockings, her feet in dark grey stilettos.
Yes, he was glad of his choice of company for the night. But as he placed his hand on her elbow and guided her through the restaurant, and she shot forward at the slight contact, he knew it was going to be a long one! Unashamedly he had checked her CV. He knew that she was twenty-six and single, yet she was acting like a gauche teenager on her first date.
Oh, well, Karim decided glancing at his watch. If they weren’t in bed by eleven he could be at Mandy’s by twelve!
He’d give her three hours!
The menu was impossible. Oh, there was plenty that at first glance she liked, but sitting opposite Karim made the simplest decision impossible. He was wearing a different suit, had used his hour to shower and change too. Felicity could see that—and smell it. She was somewhat relieved and a little irritated too when his phone rang. He answered it, and after a brief apology spoke to whoever was on the line in rapid Arabic.
‘I am sorry about that.’ He put his phone down, and then picked it up again and turned it off. ‘That was an old friend and colleague of mine. He is working at the hospital the casualties were taken to—he always speaks in our own language.’
‘How are they?’ Felicity asked, glad now that he had taken the call, but worried as to what she might hear.
‘The mother has regained consciousness. She had another seizure on arrival, but she is doing well.’
‘And the baby?’
‘Is in Theatre now,’ Karim said. ‘It will take a while, but the surgeons are very hopeful.’
‘Did he regain consciousness?’
‘Yes!’ Karim nodded. ‘They resuscitated with fluids. There is one problem…’ He paused for just a moment and Felicity held her breath. ‘He’s a she!’
‘Oh!’ Felicity blinked, remembering the blue blanket. ‘Well, there’s a reminder never to assume!’ She smiled, and he did too. He had lovely white even teeth, with just a tiny irregularity. But even that made him more exquisite; this was no capped, manufactured smile, and he really was, as she had first realised, devastating.
With only brief consultation he took care of the wine and the ordering, and was such pleasant company that by the time she had struggled through the entrée and moved onto the main Felicity was almost able to relax.
But not fully—because always, always her mind was on the end of night, or the next night, or the next.
This was a date.
A real one.
And real ones—good ones—led to more dates…
‘You may find things different in Zaraqua,’ Karim warned her, after he had pressed her about her work and she had told him how she was a strong advocate for natural childbirth with minimum intervention. ‘We have top-class facilities and equipment, and we do tend to use them.’
‘I have thought about that,’ Felicity said, ‘and I’m not looking to change the world. I work in a low-risk birthing centre at the moment—hopefully I’ll come away from Zaraq more informed, which can only be good.’
‘You have an open mind.’ Karim smiled. ‘You would not make a good surgeon.’
‘I’m a good midwife, though,’ Felicity said, and smiled back.
‘Did you tell your mother you were staying here?’
‘No!’ Felicity said. ‘I just told her I had found somewhere.’ She saw his slight frown. ‘She’d only worry more if I told her about the crash.’
‘It must be hard, having a parent who worries so.’
‘It is,’ Felicity admitted, and thanked the waiter as her main course was taken away. ‘And I’m still not sure if I’m doing the right thing, going overseas. My sister hasn’t been well for a couple of years,’ she explained. ‘She’s doing fine now, but there have been a lot of expenses. This way I can really tackle them. Only…’ She hesitated. The practical solution she had come up with for her family had been a sensible one, but there was an emotional side to it too—one she had never shared and certainly not with a stranger.
‘Only…?’ Karim checked.
‘I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing—I’m not sure how they’ll manage. Georgie, my sister, has an eating disorder. She’s doing brilliantly now, though.’ She swallowed uncomfortably, nervous of voicing her innermost fears. ‘I’m just worried that my leaving will set her back. But I don’t really have a choice.’
‘Georgie has,’ Karim said as a white chocolate mousse drizzled in hot raspberry sauce was placed in front of her. ‘She can choose to stay well or not—you cannot do that for her.’
He was right—of course he was right—only it wasn’t so straightforward.
‘You don’t understand…’
‘I can assure you I do!’ Karim responded. ‘I know all there is to know about duty and family. And I know how it feels to be the strong one.’
Karim had declined dessert, and was working his way through a cheese platter. Now her dessert bowl was empty, it merited just a little look from her. He pushed the platter forward and, to her own surprise, instead of refusing and saying she was fine, Felicity took a cracker and helped herself.
‘What about your father?’ Karim asked, watching as the cracker paused midway to her mouth.
‘He died a few years ago.’
‘I’m sorry. That must have been hard for you all.’
She stared across the table at him, stared into black, assessing eyes that gave absolutely nothing away—eyes that judged but were somehow not judging. Instead of taking the easy option and accepting his condolences, after a brief hesitation she responded.
‘Don’t be sorry. He caused this mess. What about your family?’
He gave a brief shrug. ‘There is not much to tell.’
‘Oh?’
He stabbed a piece of cheese with his knife and smeared it on some bread, then took a sliver of quince jelly and topped it with that. He handed it to her and then did the same for himself.
Karim never usually shared—he was generous with gifts, he just never shared what was his.
But tonight he did.
‘I have two brothers. My mother lives here in London—my father is in Zaraq.’
‘Are they divorced?’ For a second she was sure his face tightened, and she thought she must have said the wrong thing. It was an entirely natural assumption—just the wrong one.
‘There is no divorce in Zaraq. My mother, even though she lives in England, gave my father four sons. She deserves his support and respect.’
This was a rather different way of looking at things than Felicity was used to hearing in the maternity wards! But he’d confused her now.
‘Four?’ She crinkled her nose. ‘I thought you said that you had two brothers?’
‘I do.’
She knew then she had definitely said the wrong thing, and immediately apologised. ‘I’m sorry…’
‘You weren’t to know.’ He didn’t elaborate straight away, and neither did Felicity push, but after the longest pause it was Karim who broke the silence. ‘I am the third son. Ahmed was the second. Zaraq is seventy percent desert. Ahmed was into desert racing. He was practising. His vehicle broke down and help did not get there in time.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She said it again and he held her gaze, even opened his mouth for a second to speak, then changed his mind.
Don’t be. He’d been about to repeat her very words. He caused this mess.
There was no bill to summon—just separate rooms to go to.
It was the part of the night she always dreaded.
They walked slowly to the lifts, where a few people were waiting, and Felicity’s heart was hammering in her chest as he stood and faced her.
‘Thank you,’ she attempted, ‘for a wonderful night.’
Karim was about to say that it didn’t have to end there, but he hesitated. She was jangling with nerves, so he decided to soothe her with his mouth; he would play with her hair, his skilled lips moving in…He would let this lift go, Karim decided as the doors pinged open. His lips would meet hers and then he’d take her to his room in the next one!
His mouth was moving in. She was his sweet dessert to linger over—he had waited twelve hours, and he was more than ready to be rewarded for his good behaviour now.
For Felicity, there was just a sliver of indecision. She felt the weight of his lips, the bliss of his mouth on hers, then relaxed and gave in. They were alone at the lifts now, his hands loosely on her hips as his mouth worked on. Fear was replaced by pleasure, and a tiny curl was unfurling in her stomach. An empty lift opened, and she pulled back her head and stared into his eyes—because if he asked to see her again, even though she lived miles from London, even though it would be difficult, maybe she would say yes…
His mouth was on hers again, pulling her closer in, and it felt sublime to kiss him back without thinking. It was tender, but with intent, his tongue sliding between her lips, the thick scent of arousal suddenly closing in as if suffocating her. She jerked away again, because even if it wasn’t tonight with Karim it would be soon. The inevitable day would come where she’d have to tell him she was frigid. She simply couldn’t face it.
She saw the whip of confusion in his eyes as she fled to the lift and he called her name.
‘Just leave me,’ she sobbed, tears blurring her vision as she tried to make out the floor numbers. She ended up pressing more than half the buttons, so that the lift stopped and started almost at every floor. She wasn’t scared that he’d chase her, just mortified by her own fear, choking down sobs as she swiped her card and stumbled into her room.
It was hopeless!
Soon her stunning grey dress lay in a puddle on the floor. Sheathed in lacy underwear, she lay under the sheets, curled into a shameful ball. She was ashamed of her own behaviour, knew she’d made a fool of herself and embarrassed him—he’d been kissing her goodnight, that was all.
It scared her how much she’d enjoyed it.
But she’d been stupid to try, Felicity was fast realising. Stupid to try and pretend that she was normal.
And very foolish to pretend with a man like Karim.
CHAPTER FOUR
STEPPING out onto the freezing grey street and heading for the underground, Felicity just wanted to get home.
Her clothes, as promised, had been laundered and delivered, and looked better than when she had put them on this time yesterday morning. She had set her alarm for six, determined to get out early and not to have to suffer the embarrassment of seeing him at breakfast.
She’d overreacted appallingly—she knew that.
A simple goodnight would have sufficed.
But it wasn’t his kiss that had terrified her, it was the thought of where it might lead—where, with a man like Karim, it would lead. She couldn’t stand the shame of a disappointing end. Better to just walk away now. Karim oozed sexuality—and she could hardly beat him down with a stick, hardly keep chatting her way through dinner only to dodge his caress at the end of the night.
‘Morning!’ She hadn’t noticed him jogging towards her, and she jumped when she did. He was dressed in grey sweats—a world away from the suited man she had dined with last night, but still impossibly gorgeous. Slightly breathless, he gave her a guarded smile. ‘Off to get your train?’
‘The line’s running, apparently—I just rang and checked.’
Karim couldn’t be bothered with small talk. He was annoyed, and glad that he’d caught her so that he could tell her so.
‘You really didn’t have to run off crying last night—saying no works very well for me.’
‘I just…’ She screwed her eyes closed in confusion and embarrassment—because she had kissed him back, for a moment had actually forgotten. He deserved some sort of an explanation—except it was impossible to come up with one. ‘I just felt things were moving along too fast.’
‘It was a kiss,’ Karim said. ‘And good kisses tend to move things along.’
He was still annoyed—but not just with her.
She was a nice girl. And nice girls wanted romance, kisses, flowers, phone calls—none of which Karim minded. But he wanted sex too. He stared down at her miserable face and it moved him—because if he’d had time on his side she might very well have been worth the effort.
Only he didn’t have time.
‘I’ve got to get going,’ Felicity said, and he had to get going as well—back to his last taste of freedom before he took on the full weight of the crown.
So why was he calling her back? ‘What if I want to take you for dinner tonight?’
‘You’d have an extremely long drive!’ Felicity attempted a smile, but it wavered when he shrugged.
‘I don’t mind travelling,’ Karim said.
‘Let’s just leave it.’ Tears stung her eyes as she stared at this beautiful man, who deserved so much better than her truckload of issues. ‘Look, it isn’t you, it’s me!’
The pedestrian crossing was bleeping, the little green man waving her over—she could see the underground and just wanted to dive into it, wanted to fade into oblivion in the crowd. She shook him off and ran—but she was wearing heels and he was wearing running shoes. The crowd swallowed her, and she hoped she had disappeared into a mass of dark suits as she took the escalator.
Karim was enraged—confused and enraged! Who was this woman who used his lines? Who was this woman who denied his kisses, his invitations? Did she know who he was? He plunged into the underground. Okay, she didn’t know just who he was, but that was part of the game—he won on charm alone.
Except with Felicity he wasn’t winning.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He was beside her, with people tutting as he stood where they wanted to walk. He pressed in beside her, taking the escalator with her.
‘Just leave it!’ Felicity hissed.
‘I don’t want to.’
‘And you always get what you want, do you?’ Felicity’s voice was curt—derisive, even—as she looked at him and saw him for the rich, spoilt playboy that he was. ‘Well, not this time.’
They were off the escalator now, and he took her wrist. ‘What are you running from?’
‘You!’ she said loudly. ‘You just assume that I’ll sleep with you because you bought me dinner—’
‘I just offered to drive for hours to take you to dinner again…’ Okay, he’d had no intention of driving—his pilot would have taken care of that side of things—but he had offered her way more than he intended and yet still she refused him. ‘What’s so scary about that?’
‘Nothing,’ Felicity snapped. ‘Can’t you accept that I’m just not attracted to you?’
It was a lie, an utter lie, and he dashed it with his mouth, kissing away her fibs. She could hear the tube train screeching into the station, feel the rush of wind around her legs, the thick flow of people walking past. But they all faded as he pressed hard into her. His tongue parted her lips and she felt flames lick around her stomach, felt a stroking deep inside that she’d never felt before, that none of Paul’s fruitless attempts had ever yielded. And still Karim kissed her, his mouth capturing hers so thoroughly she couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe, could only think about kissing him back.
‘I beg to differ.’ He pulled his head back.
She broke down then, in a way she never had before.
Karim stood for the longest time, then pulled out an immaculate handkerchief and flinched just a touch as she blew her nose on his royal coat of arms. He should walk away—because it wasn’t his problem, and clearly there was a problem. He was here for his final fling, his last taste of life before he took on full royal responsibility.
But he felt responsible now.
Tears rarely moved Karim. Hers did.
Walk away, a voice told him. He could not.
After a brief hesitation he took her in his arms, curiously relieved that she didn’t stiffen or shrug him off. Unfamiliar tenderness—compassion, even—was filling him as he led her away from the underground and further complicated his life.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘SHE didn’t suffer…’ Karim said to Felicity, but for the benefit of the curious onlookers as they took the lift to his suite. ‘We have to take solace in that.’
Her face was in his chest. Her tears were at the gulping stage now, and from the depths emerged the glimmer of a smile. It warmed her that he would do that for her—would soothe the sting of shame as her private misery was momentarily on public display.
She could only vaguely remember getting back to the hotel, with him holding her, leading her through the streets. She had baulked at his offer of a secluded table in the restaurant, and she might live to regret the folly of her ways, but at some very deep level she trusted him. After last night she knew that for Karim no meant no, and the fact he was a doctor helped too. But it wasn’t just that. Yesterday something had been triggered inside her, and Karim was the source—the source of a feeling that had always eluded her. And though she’d tried to walk away, now she willingly walked back.
Even in her highly emotive state there was a slight flash of wonder as they stepped into his suite—if hers was gorgeous, this was truly a palace—yet all she felt was safe. There was actually nothing sexy in it. She sat on his sofa and centred herself for a few moments as Karim rang down and ordered breakfast, then poured her a large brandy. She shook her head.
‘It’s seven a.m.!’
‘We don’t choose when these things happen!’ Karim said, and so she took a sip, and then another. She shivered as violently as she had yesterday, after the accident, despite the warmth of the room, but it was she who broke the gentle silence.
‘I shouldn’t have accepted your invitation for dinner.’
‘Are you involved with someone?’ Karim asked, because that would make sense. Their attraction had been so fierce it would have been hard to deny it—easier, perhaps, to lie a little, to give in to the forces that had propelled them from the moment he had walked into the conference room.
‘We broke up.’ Felicity took another sip of her drink, then put it down—because nothing could calm her till she admitted the truth. ‘I’m not very good at relationships.’
‘Neither am…’ Karim started, but then halted. Because even gentle humour was out of place at this time.
‘There’s no point starting something. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me…’ She wasn’t making much sense. ‘Paul and I were together for a year and we weren’t able to…I mean, I wasn’t able to…’
She actually couldn’t say it, but Karim got to the painful point. ‘You were unable to have sex?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know I am a doctor?’ He watched as his words were absorbed and she nodded. She understood that at this moment he was a doctor—which was maybe why she felt safe, maybe why she had let him lead her to his suite. He was a doctor—another one who would tell her it could be sorted. ‘And I am telling you—you are not frigid.’
She shook her head. She had heard it so many times before.
‘Felicity.’ His voice was firm and so assured—so absolutely assured that she wanted to believe him. ‘You are not frigid.’
Yet no matter how she might want to believe him, how assured he sounded, she knew better.
‘I’ve seen doctors, psychologists. I had a boyfriend for a year and we tried everything. All I ever feel is scared.’
‘Did they work out why?’ He didn’t flinch as she spat out a mirthless laugh. ‘Your sister is ill?’
‘She’s anorexic,’ Felicity said. ‘Well, she’s recovering.’
‘And your mother suffers with extreme anxiety?’
‘I know all that.’ Felicity clawed at her scalp—because she was sick of it—sick of going over and over it in the hope of a different outcome. Always the result was the same. ‘My father was a controlling drunk. There was no abuse as such…’ She hated all the questions, the assumptions—because they were all wrong.
‘Abuse does not have to be sexual or physical to be abuse.’
‘No…’ Felicity breathed, glad that at least he understood that—that her father’s controlling ways had been enough to damage her in a way that wasn’t as obvious as her mother’s or Georgie’s. She had been left with an intense private fear of giving trust, of losing control, that couldn’t be logically explained.
He didn’t make her try.
‘You have never once felt aroused?’
‘No. Never.’
‘Not once in your life?’
‘No…’ Her eyes darted to his, and then back down. This was the reason she was here—because yesterday she had! Yesterday Karim had flicked a switch. She didn’t know how, but she wanted to know why.
He stood torn with rare indecision. He was moved by this beautiful selfless woman who delivered babies, who had so bravely saved a life yesterday, who put her family first and was, for whatever reason, holding a part of herself back, too nervous to trust. The clock was ticking on his last days of freedom. He could be out there enjoying himself, but he actually wanted to be here. He wanted to spend his last days with this shy, deep stranger, to bring passion and joy into her life—and of course there would be a reward for him too!
‘I’m not being a doctor now,’ he said. ‘Because as a doctor I cannot speak like this. But as a man I can fix it.’
‘Paul said the same,’ Felicity sneered—because his was a typical response, such an arrogant thing to say, and it told her he didn’t really understand.
‘I’m not Paul, though.’
She pressed her fingers into her eyelids, because he had made a vital point.
‘And I am telling you that you are not frigid. I assure you, this can be fixed.’
‘How do you know?’ She was angry at his assumption. ‘How do you know that I’m not just going to feel worse if the world’s sexiest—?’ She stopped then, watched his beautiful mouth curve into a smile, and she cringed back on the sofa but sort of smiled too.
‘Compliment accepted,’ Karim said—and then he stopped smiling, serious now, and knowledgeable too. ‘I can fix it. Because to be frigid, or whatever you choose to call it, means you are unable or unwilling. You think you are unable, but you are willing. In the lecture theatre, when we stood in the dark near each other, were you aroused then?’
‘I don’t know—I don’t know…’ She was trying to stand up, like an animal trying to escape, mortified, confused. He held her wrists.
‘Suppose we took it slowly…’ Karim watched her through narrowed eyes. ‘Suppose you said yes to dinner tonight.’
Tears were spilling out of her eyes as he deliberately said the wrong things, and he knew he was right then—knew he was right to say what he said next.
‘So why don’t we get it out of the way—and then…’ He forced her chin up to see his smile. ‘You can actually enjoy dinner.’
‘I don’t know…’ she breathed. ‘I don’t even know how I felt yesterday.’
‘You were aroused,’ he said. ‘I could feel it, I could smell it, and I could taste it.’
‘How?’
‘Because I was aroused too.’
So she hadn’t been imagining it.
And as he watched his words settle in her mind, Karim knew he was right to do what he did next.
‘This,’ Karim said, guiding her hand to his thigh, ‘was how you were feeling.’
She could feel him beneath her hands, long and thick and hard, and so huge it really brought her no comfort. She went to pull her hand away—because if she hadn’t been able to accommodate Paul, then how the hell could she accommodate Karim—but he was speaking on, talking in low, sensual tones that held her hand there. ‘As I stood in that room I could feel it, and I could feel you. I wanted to go over to you…’ She could feel him stretch beneath her fingers, feel a stirring in him just as she had felt herself. She felt him harden as he spoke, yet still her hand stayed. ‘I could of course do nothing about it. I stood there like this and saved it for later.’