The Sheikh's Secret Babies

Chrissie refused to believe that was true. She must have forgiven him at some stage for something. She was not a hard, unforgiving person, was she? Her first impressions of Jaul returned to haunt her and, along with it, her long-held refusal to consider the fact that she might have misjudged him. Very faint colour warmed her cheeks.

She recalled that she had never forgiven her mother for what the older woman had put her through and frowned. Francesca had died before her younger daughter reached the age of confrontation and the older woman had taken her guilty secrets to the grave with her. Chrissie swallowed hard, struggling to shake off the dirty, shamed feeling that always engulfed her when she thought of Francesca. She was older now, wiser and less judgemental, she reasoned tautly. Her mother had not been a strong person and she had been very much abused in some of her relationships with men. Her second husband, the very last man in her life, had been the worst of all, taking advantage of Francesca’s weakness and dependency on him to propel her into an unsavoury lifestyle. Some day she might tell Lizzie the truth about their mother, but certainly she could never ever imagine sharing that sordid story with Jaul.

‘I think this is an incredibly weird and ugly house,’ Chrissie remarked curtly on the way down the massive staircase, which reminded her of something out of an ancient Hammer Horror movie. It only lacked zombies sidling out of the mummy cases in the hall to totally freak her out.

‘Blame my grandmother. She furnished this place.’

‘The Englishwoman who walked out on your grandfather?’ That was the bare bones of what Chrissie knew about her British predecessor in the Marwani royal family. ‘Tell me about her.’

‘Why?’

‘Fellow feeling...aren’t I sort of following in her footsteps?’ Chrissie quipped, eager to talk about something, anything other than the agreement she had just given and what had occurred in the tumbled sheets upstairs. That extraordinary passion had left her aching in intimate places and even walking wasn’t quite comfortable. Jaul had been so...wild and forceful...and she had revelled in that display of primal passion, but now she was being forced to pay the piper and put her whole life back in Jaul’s hands. She should never have let herself down like that, she thought painfully. He was running rings round her now.

‘I hope not. She deserted her son,’ Jaul proffered censoriously. ‘She met my grandfather Tarif on a safari in Africa. She was a socialite from an eccentric but aristocratic English family...Lady Sophie Gregory. Tarif fell deeply in love with her but he was simply a walk on the wild side for her...a novelty. A couple of months of life in backward Marwan where there were no ex-pats for company was too much for my grandmother. She stayed only long enough to give birth to my father and walked out only weeks afterwards.’

Chrissie knew when she was listening to a biased story. ‘This is what your father told you?’

‘Yes. I met her once though when I was a teenager. I was in Paris on an officer training course and she was at a party I was invited to,’ Jaul told her grudgingly. ‘She came right up to me and said, “I understand you’re my grandson. Are you as stiff-necked and stubborn as your father?”’

‘So, your grandmother did try to see her child again,’ Chrissie worked out wryly from that greeting. ‘In other words she wasn’t quite as indifferent a mother as she was painted to you. Most probably your grandfather wouldn’t allow your grandmother to see her son again because she walked out on their marriage. Have you ever thought of that angle?’

Jaul hadn’t and his jawline clenched like granite because that particular family story had long been an incontestable legend set in stone and he couldn’t credit that Chrissie had already come up with a likelihood that had never once occurred to him. ‘There were grounds for his bitterness.’

‘Such as?’ Chrissie was receiving a twist of satisfaction from needling Jaul even if it was only about old family history. Why? He was wrecking her life again. He owned her, just as he owned their son and daughter. There was no leeway for misunderstanding in that clause in the contract, no wriggle room for a screamingly naive girl who had been so in love she hadn’t foreseen a future where she might have children and end up alone and abandoned. She knew she would never forgive herself for being that stupid and that short-sighted about so very important an issue as the right to keep and raise her own babies and live where she chose.