Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child

Hastily she looked away.

If you’re pregnant I want you to tell me. Promise me.

Tahir’s voice was so real Annalisa shivered, her arms automatically wrapping around her torso.

‘Are you here to see someone?’

‘No!’ The word shot out instantly. Then she paused.

She’d have to tell him. Even though she was almost certain he’d expect her to terminate the pregnancy. A father had a right to know he had a child. That much she knew.

And the fact that she wanted this baby, come what may.

The certainty warmed her, strengthening her weary body. Of course she wanted this child! She’d barely absorbed the news of her pregnancy, but that one fact tugged her lips wide in a smile of pure joy.

‘That is…’ She looked again at the woman in the car, so patiently awaiting her response. Was she a diplomat, or a friend of the royal family?

Tahir was connected to the King. Perhaps she knew him?

Annalisa took a few diffident steps forward, feeling gauche, yet impelled to follow this opportunity. ‘I’m sorry, I’m a little…’ What? Confused? Upset? Pregnant? She stifled a bubble of hysterical laughter.

‘It’s kind of you to ask,’ she started again, pinning a polite smile on her face. ‘I was hoping to contact someone at the palace. He’s called Tahir. I don’t know his family name. Tall, lean, bright blue eyes? He was injured in a helicopter crash.’

The woman’s expression didn’t alter and Annalisa’s hope waned. It was foolish to expect he’d still be here. ‘But it doesn’t matter. He’s probably not—’

‘You met Tahir after his accident?’ The woman’s voice held a curious inflection.

‘I…Yes. In the desert. I did what I could to nurse him, but—’ Annalisa stiffened, alarm jolting through her at the woman’s arrested expression. She moved up to the car, would have gripped the door if a burly guard hadn’t stepped in front of her.

But she had to know.

She peered round him. ‘He did get better, didn’t he? He’s all right?’ Tahir hadn’t fully recovered. ‘His head wounds—they weren’t…?’

Fatal. She couldn’t say the word, could only stare mutely and hope for reassurance.

For all Tahir had revealed an unpleasant side to his character, she knew there was more to him. He’d been kind, funny, likeable through those days at the oasis. And he’d been an exquisitely tender lover. The idea of him—

‘No, no. Of course he’s not dead.’ A reassuring smile played on the other woman’s lips. ‘He’s recovered now. According to the doctors, he owes his life to you.’

Annalisa’s heart gave a great thump of relief and she lifted a hand to it, surprised at how shaky she felt.

The woman said something Annalisa didn’t hear over the pounding in her blood. The guard moved, taking her elbow and ushering her to the far side of the vehicle. A chauffeur stood to attention, holding open the rear door.

The interior smelt of leather and expensive perfume. Annalisa’s eyes widened as she took in the full impact of the elegant woman inside. She wore indigo silk exquisitely embroidered with silver. High-heeled silver sandals. Pearls at her wrist as well as her throat.

Annalisa froze, suddenly fully aware that this was someone very important indeed. The limo, the guard, her clothes, her air of understated refinement…

‘Don’t be shy,’ she said, gesturing for Annalisa to enter the vehicle. ‘You want to see Tahir, don’t you?’

Mutely Annalisa nodded. She told herself she needed to see him. She had more sense than to want to see him. That madness had passed.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘But if he’s here I’ll come back later, when I’m tidier.’ She gestured to her clothes. Shoes dusty from hours of wandering. Loose trousers and her favourite green shirt: comfortable, but hardly appropriate for calling at the palace.

‘Nonsense. Tahir will want to see you and thank you personally. I know he’s here at the moment.’ She beckoned, and this time Annalisa complied, gingerly settling herself on the wide seat.

The door clicked shut and she jumped, unable to stifle the notion she’d committed herself to more than she’d intended. The car slid forward and Annalisa turned to her companion, wondering if it was too late to back out. She could talk to Tahir by phone.

‘Your name, my dear?’ The woman forestalled her.

‘I’m Annalisa Hansen.’

‘How do you do, Annalisa? I’m Rihana Al’Ramiz, Tahir’s mother.’

Annalisa opened her mouth to reply, then snapped her jaw shut as she absorbed the name.