The Sheikh's Princess Bride

Samira sat straighter, surprised at the nanny’s readiness to discuss her employer’s weight. None of the servants at home in Jazeer would have dreamed of making it obvious they’d noticed.

‘I didn’t mean to offend, madam.’ Sofia must have seen her surprise. ‘It’s only natural, though it does take some getting used to.’ She patted her own narrow waist and Samira stared, perplexed.

‘I’m sorry. You’ve lost me. What takes getting used to?’ Samira stood up, ready to lift Risay from his chair.

‘The way pregnancy changes your body. It can seem overwhelming the first time.’

For a heartbeat Samira stared, stunned, then her arms dropped to her sides, leaden weights. She’d expected this sort of speculation but still it was discomfiting.

‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken.’ Deliberately she shaped her lips into a casual smile. ‘I’m not pregnant.’ She would have to school herself to say it without sounding quite so hollow.

‘You’re not?’ Sofia looked taken aback. ‘I’m so sorry. I could have sworn... I’ve never been mistaken before. And you have the look.’

Despite herself Samira was curious. Her one experience of carrying a child had been over almost before she’d realised it. She’d never had regular periods and hadn’t had any obvious symptoms so she’d been blithely unaware of the baby she carried. There had barely been enough time to adjust to the wondrous news before the trauma of losing it.

‘There’s a look?’ She couldn’t help asking, though she knew she shouldn’t torment herself by prolonging this.

Sofia nodded emphatically. ‘You’ve got it. There’s a look in the eyes, and your skin glows, and...’ She stopped, her gaze sliding away.

‘And?’

Sofia shrugged. ‘You’ve gained a little weight. Not only in the waist but here too.’ Her hands plumped up her own breasts.

Suddenly Samira found herself sitting, her head spinning.

No. It was completely far-fetched. It was impossible.

And yet...

She bit her lip, admonishing herself for even that brief flight of fancy. There was a world of difference between wishful thinking and reality. She’d made it her business to live in the real world, not pine for what could never be.

She crossed her arms, then immediately dropped them at the graze of fabric over her nipples.

‘Sensitivity there too.’ Sofia added helpfully, as if reading her discomfort.

‘I—’ Samira shook her head. She would not go there. Her breasts had been sensitive for some time, but she couldn’t tell the other woman it was because of the attention Tariq devoted to them. If he wasn’t caressing her breasts with his hands, he had his mouth on them, knowing it drew exquisite pleasure from her. Her nipples tingled as she remembered the attention he’d lavished on them last night, and on every other part of her body.

Her breath sucked hard.

‘Thank you for your concern, Sofia, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken.’ She stood briskly and began to help the nanny clear the boys’ food away.

But, as she put the twins down for their nap, Samira couldn’t shake the memory of Sofia’s certainty. Samira’s grandmother had prided herself on her uncanny ability to spot a pregnancy. She’d claimed it was a gift and that in all her decades she’d never been wrong.

Was Sofia also gifted with such insight?

If she was, she was badly mistaken this time.

Samira looked down at the boys, already drowsing after their busy day, and found her hand had crept unbidden to her stomach. It wasn’t just her waist that thickened. Her belly curved out now too. Yet, though she’d always had a curvy figure, Samira had never had weight problems.

She bit her lip, trying to force down the tremulous hope that rose like a tiny green shoot in an arid desert.

The anguish of losing her tiny infant, and of hearing she’d never conceive again, was a raw wound in the darkness of her psyche. She couldn’t afford to reawaken that pain with false hope.

Yet as she left the bedroom she found herself wondering.

* * *

Samira slumped down onto the side of the marble bath, staring at the test result. Her fingers shook so much she told herself she wasn’t reading it right.

She pressed her palm against her abdomen as if she could feel anything new there. Or as if the touch of her hand could protect the new life sheltering within.

Panic slammed into her. She hadn’t been able to protect the baby she’d carried four years ago. How could she this time?