The Sheikh's Princess Bride

Given her militant look he refused to admit he’d cancelled the meeting solely to prevent her travelling late in pregnancy. He wanted Samira here, where the best medical care was available.

He thrust from his mind the fact that hadn’t saved Jasmin.

Samira’s delicate eyebrows arched high. ‘I’m careful. Besides, I have people fussing around me if I so much as lift a finger.’

Tariq nodded. He was taking no chances with her wellbeing.

‘Do you have any idea when it will be rescheduled?’ Her narrowed eyes told him she wasn’t convinced.

Tariq spread his hands. ‘I leave those details to my staff but I doubt it will be soon.’

For a full minute Samira didn’t say anything and it struck him how much he missed the easy camaraderie they’d once shared. Being with her had been pure pleasure, not just in bed, but out of it too. Until she’d announced her pregnancy. Until he’d seen love shining in her eyes and known he couldn’t give her what she wanted.

Tariq looked again. It wasn’t love he read in her face.

‘Very well.’ She drew a slow breath. ‘I’ll have my secretary organise a separate meeting with the women’s representatives. I have some business proposals that won’t wait.’ Before he could voice an objection she added, ‘I’ll invite them here to the capital.’

‘An excellent idea.’ He’d prefer it if Samira reduced the hours she spent working, but at least she’d given up her plan to travel. His breathing eased.

‘I’ll ask Nicolas to attend. His expertise is invaluable.’

Tariq stiffened. Was that provocation in her bright eyes as she turned and left the room? Had she guessed how he hated the sight of her with Roussel?

It didn’t matter how often he reminded himself the man was capable, trustworthy and honest. The sight of Samira smiling with the Frenchman, so obviously attuned to him, set Tariq’s teeth on edge.

Roussel had his wife’s ear and her smiles while Tariq was forced to kick his heels at a distance. It didn’t matter that he was the one who’d rebuffed Samira. Or that caution decreed he keep his distance. The strain of holding back from her drove him close to breaking point.

Roussel, of all people! Tariq hadn’t missed the fact that the Frenchman had the blond hair, slim build and charming smile of Samira’s first lover, Jackson Brent. Clearly she was drawn to the type.

A type that was altogether different from Tariq’s towering bulk. Of course it was. She’d made no bones about the fact she’d married him for his children, not himself. And if she’d enjoyed sex with him... Well, hadn’t he made sure she did? That meant nothing.

A crash reverberated as his fist slammed into the wall. Tariq looked down, vaguely surprised at the blood scoring his knuckles. Pain wrapped round his hand and flashed up his arm.

Could he have got it wrong?

Was it possible his wife wasn’t in love with him after all?

* * *

Samira gasped as pain wrapped around her and she clung to the shower screen. All day she’d felt out of sorts, unable to settle and her back aching. Now she knew why. Her baby was coming early. What had begun as ripples of discomfort had grown into full-blown contractions so fierce she had trouble remembering to breathe.

Was it supposed to be like this so quickly? She hadn’t had time even to get out of the bathroom after trying to ease her discomfort with a warm shower.

Panic rose. If she slipped she doubted she could get up. She’d imagined a slow onset of labour, nothing so intense and overwhelming. What if something was wrong? What if her baby was in danger?

Suddenly the distance to the door seemed never ending.

Belatedly she remembered to slow her breathing, concentrate on exhaling. When at last the pain abated, her gaze snagged on the phone by the bath. Slowly, her hand groping for support, she made her way to it.

‘Yes?’ The deep voice burred in her ear as another contraction began.

Samira opened her mouth but only managed a gasp.

‘Who is this?’

She clung to the receiver, her hand shaking. ‘Tariq,’ she finally managed. It was a hoarse whisper, the best she could manage, but he didn’t answer. Her phone clattered to the floor.

Fear notched high and she blinked back tears of frustration. She needed Tariq. Here. Now. To tell her everything was okay and that the baby would be fine.

Samira rode out another contraction, bracing herself against the cool tiled wall, trying to force down fear that, despite her uneventful pregnancy, she might lose this baby too.