Pregnant by the Desert King

She was full of angry frustration. No one could frustrate her like Tadj. She never knew if he was being serious or teasing her. The only certainty was that sensible Lucy was nowhere to be found when Tadj was in the frame.

Picking up the phone, Tadj spoke to the housekeeper, asking that she delay taking Lucy to her room for another half an hour. ‘Sit down,’ he said quietly when he’d cut the line. ‘I have something to tell you—to explain to you.’

‘Oh?’ She took a couple of steadying breaths, which gave her enough time to accept that it might be to her advantage to listen.

‘You think I’m being autocratic, but what you need to understand is that Qalala is different, and, though you’re expecting my child, the position of mistress is the only way I can have that child recognised in some way.’

‘In some way?’ Lucy exclaimed with affront. ‘That’s not enough. Either you recognise your child or you don’t. There can be no half measures where children are concerned.’

‘Please hear me out.’

She agreed with a curt nod.

‘Thank you.’ Coming to sit on a chair facing her, Tadj explained, ‘The constitution of Qalala only allows the Emir to make a constitutional marriage, which is always arranged by committee.’

‘You’re joking!’ Lucy cut in with disbelief.

‘Actually, I’m not,’ Tadj said in the same measured tone. ‘There were many things I wanted to change when I inherited the throne, but the first thing I had to do was to set Qalala back on its feet in order to stop my people starving. My uncle ruined the country, so I hope you can understand that those vital actions were much higher up my agenda than dealing with the country’s antiquated laws. These laws also allow for the Emir to take concubines, as you call them, and further allows for their children to be recognised and accepted into society. I imagine the thinking was that these state-arranged marriages might not always succeed, and so a provision was put in place to allow future rulers to find some happiness with their mistresses and children.’

‘Wow,’ Lucy murmured, utterly lost for words.

They were both silent for quite a while; now Tadj had been so frank with her, she felt she owed the same to him. ‘Seems we both have something to confess,’ she admitted.

As they stared at each other, she could see that Tadj was wondering what new bombshell was about to hit. Better to speak frankly, and hold nothing back. ‘I need to get out of the country fast,’ she admitted.

Tadj’s expression didn’t change, so, inhaling shakily, she told him the rest. ‘My stepfather is a criminal and has just been released from jail.’

She expected a reaction, but Tadj’s face told her nothing. ‘He’s a criminal boss with a very long reach, who made my mother’s life a misery, and now he’s threatening my mother through me. If she doesn’t take him back, he’ll come after me. That’s why my mother begged me to get out of the country. I received the call from her quite literally minutes before I saw you in the restaurant. You gave me the perfect way out,’ she admitted. ‘So, there you are,’ she said when Tadj remained silent. ‘I need you to help me, and you want me to be your mistress, so your child will be recognised and not hidden away. If a compromise is possible, I have to consider it...’ she waited. ‘Please say something.’

Tadj picked up the phone ‘I’m calling my housekeeper to show you to your room. Be ready to leave for Qalala first thing in the morning.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

LUCY GOT HER chance to call both her employers while Tadj was speaking to his housekeeper about the latest arrangements. Her second and most important call was to Miss Francine, a woman she had really come to care for. As she stood in the baronial hallway, she frowned as she waited for her elderly friend to pick up, thinking how to frame her news. She didn’t want to cause any alarm, so it was crucial to find the right words. Tadj’s suggestion that Lucy should become his official mistress was enough to send anyone into a tailspin, let alone a kindly octogenarian. As the log fire crackled, and the phone trilled in her ear, Lucy’s thoughts returned to Tadj. Could a man insensitive enough to ask her to become his mistress in this day and age be expected to make a good father?

She didn’t get the chance to progress the thought, and had to swiftly rejig her thoughts when Miss Francine answered. Having explained where she was and who she was with, Lucy explained that the Emir of Qalala had invited her to visit his country with a view to putting on an exhibition of the famous sapphires. It was almost the truth, and it was a relief when an excited Miss Francine took over from there. She’d read about the Sapphire Sheikhs, and believed the trip to Qalala to see the sapphire mines with an opportunity to display would make a wonderful addition to Lucy’s CV. She chatted about Lucy’s college course, and remembered that Lucy had always excelled at displaying various exhibits to their best advantage.

‘Take all the time you need,’ Miss Francine enthused. ‘This is too good an opportunity for you to miss.’

That was one way of putting it, but then Lucy hadn’t mentioned the complications. ‘See you soon,’ she said fondly as they ended the call.

‘Maybe not so soon.’

She spun around to find Tadj standing behind her. ‘Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?’

‘No more than you’re abusing your position as guest in my home.’

‘I’m sorry—by doing what?’ Lucy enquired.

‘By talking about me as if I weren’t here.’

‘Well, you weren’t here,’ she said. ‘And that’s rich coming from the man who just invited me to become his mistress.’

Within moments, the battle lines were drawn. Emotions were running high between them, which was no surprise, Lucy conceded, when so much had happened in so short a time. If only there could be more than this, she thought as they stared at each other unblinking. The trip to Qalala was more than she could have wished for, but even that was tainted by the way it had been achieved. She hated this devious game-playing, when all she wanted was an honest relationship.

Between the Emir of Qalala and Lucy Gillingham? Dream on!

It was a relief to see the smiling housekeeper, ready to escort Lucy to her room.

‘Mrs Brown will take good care of you,’ Tadj said in a neutral tone that suggested Lucy was just another guest in his house. When did he plan the big reveal? she wondered.

‘You’ll find clothes in the dressing room in your suite,’ he added in the same emotion-free tone. ‘We’ll meet later when you’ve had a chance to freshen up.’

For a trial run? Lucy’s expression suggested coolly.

The housekeeper hadn’t noticed, and was already heading across the hall. Tadj’s mention of clothes in Lucy’s dressing room made her think that he’d had this all planned out; whatever she’d said about becoming his mistress, his decision had been made. A chill ran through her at the thought that, once again, Tadj was in charge. He always had been in charge from the moment they’d met again in the restaurant, she accepted tensely.

‘I expect to see you back in the library in one hour’s time,’ he called after her as he jogged up the stairs. She took his harsh tone of voice as more proof that the fun, uncomplicated man she’d met in a café had disappeared completely.

‘You wouldn’t be the first to stand and gaze around in wonder at all the treasures here,’ the housekeeper said, misreading Lucy’s expression. ‘And I doubt you’ll be the last,’ she added with an encouraging smile.

‘It’s so beautiful here,’ Lucy admitted, glad of the change of subject, taking in the stained-glass windows as they mounted the stairs, and intricate carvings on the bannisters and over the doors. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this, except in stately homes that are open to the public.’

‘The Emir is a very particular man,’ Mrs Brown told her as she led the way.

So, where do I fit in? Lucy wondered. Furnishings, paintings, and more space

than one man could ever use, even with a full team of staff, made her feel increasingly superfluous as Mrs Brown led her deeper into the wolf of Qalala’s lair. Even the air smelled of money, though it was impossible to fault the restrained and classy décor. Deep-piled carpet soaked up their footsteps, while framed photographs made her pause and finally accept that this fabulous place was actually a home. Home to a very rich man, Lucy concluded, spotting a particularly striking image of Tadj, coated in mud after a polo match. Even in that shot, he looked amazing.