The Sheikh's Secret Babies

Lizzie phoned while Chrissie was savouring peppermint tea served with tiny cakes. Smoothing the barely visible bump that thickened her figure, she thought how grateful she was that her morning sickness had not lasted into her second trimester. Indeed her second pregnancy was progressing much more smoothly than her first and she put that down to the lack of stress in her current life. She chatted at length to her sister, who was due to arrive with her family and their father for a visit at the end of the week. Her family were regular visitors and distance had not driven a wedge between the sisters.

When their nanny reclaimed the twins for an early evening meal, Chrissie wandered down to the stables to visit Hero. Two years earlier, her elderly pony had arrived to take up residence in the ritziest stall in the royal block. Their reunion     had been a wonderful surprise for Chrissie and she had been overwhelmed that Jaul, incredibly busy as he was, had taken the time and trouble to ensure that Hero could live out what remained of his days near his mistress in Marwan.

Having become heavily involved in the development of the nursery education programme, Chrissie had found her first year in Marwan had raced past her. Jaul’s people were friendly and supportive and although she sometimes attended formal occasions with Jaul, rubbing shoulders with diplomats, foreign dignitaries and businessmen, for much of the time she was simply Jaul’s wife. Family life and time to spend with the children were immensely important to both of them.

Having visited Hero, Chrissie headed back to their private wing to shower and change. Every year they celebrated that night the barriers between them had finally dropped and they spent the night in the harem. That was where they had rediscovered their love and happiness and it was a wonderful way of remembering how they had started out and keeping faith with the promises they had exchanged.

Dusk was falling when Jaul began lighting candles and a meal was being set out below the pillars. The murals were covered by discreet curtains, ensuring that no staff member could be shocked or offended by those depictions of earthly lust and love. Jaul liked to think that love must have featured in some of the relationships that had taken place in the harem but he could not begin to imagine how his grandfather Tarif had chosen shallow physical relationships over the far deeper and more lasting bonds he could have formed with the wife who had loved him.

Jaul frowned as he thought of his grandmother, regretting that their time together had been so short. Lady Sophie had died peacefully in her sleep the year before. Prior to that, Jaul had made frequent visits to the old lady’s home in London, keen to make up as best he could for the decades his late father had spent ignoring his mother’s very existence.

The iron ring on the huge outer door was smartly rapped and rapped a second time when he was only halfway down the room to answer it. Jaul grinned, well acquainted with his wife’s impatience.

‘I haven’t quite finished the candles,’ he warned her.

‘I’m here to help.’ Chrissie looked up into his stunning dark golden eyes and could have sworn that her knees wobbled.

‘No, you’re pregnant. You’re not allowed to do anything but put your feet up.’ Jaul ushered her over to an armchair furnished with a footstool.

‘Anything?’ Chrissie teased as she kicked off her shoes and sat down.

‘Conserve your energy for what’s really important.’ Glancing wickedly at the bed awaiting them with his eyes alight with amusement, Jaul knelt down beside her to reach for her hand and slide a platinum ring adorned with a glowing sapphire onto her middle finger. ‘Thank you for another wonderful year.’

Chrissie studied her latest gift in consternation. ‘We agreed that you weren’t going to buy me any more jewellery.’

‘I didn’t agree. I simply chose silence over argument.’

‘Sometimes you can be so devious.’ Chrissie lifted a hand to brush an errant lock of blue-black hair off his brow.

‘And you love it,’ Jaul told her with assurance, planting a kiss on the delicate skin of her inner wrist while tracing tender fingertips over the slight swell of her pregnant tummy. ‘You wear everything you feel on the surface but I hide it...except when I’m with you. I love you, habibti.’