The very fact that he could think that showed him how quickly and decisively he needed to act. Tomorrow he would send the message to Sultan Hassan and make sure Olivia wrote her letter. He would set the wheels in motion for all this to be repaired.
By the time Zayed fell asleep, the pale pink streaks of dawn were lighting the sky and he didn’t waken until after the noon hour. Thankfully his headache was gone, and after showering and dressing he went in search of Jahmal and then Olivia.
‘Has there been any news on the Sultan?’ he asked Jahmal as they sat in his office in the west wing of the palace, the arched windows open to the sky.
‘Only that he is displeased,’ Jahmal answered with a grimace. ‘Queen Aliya has taken Princess Halina to Italy,’ he added. ‘To keep her from being kidnapped.’
‘As if I would try the same thing twice.’ Zayed rubbed his temples. ‘It was a foolish plan in the first place, even if it felt necessary at the time.’
‘He still might be open to a communication from you,’ Jahmal offered.
‘He’d better be,’ Zayed returned grimly. ‘I’ll send a gift with the message—some of my finest Arabians.’
‘The Sultan is known for his love of horses.’
‘Yes.’ Briefly Zayed thought about how Olivia had said she couldn’t ride. Right then he should have known it wasn’t the Princess. Why had he been so unbelievably blind, seeing only what he’d wanted to see?
‘I need to find Miss Taylor,’ he said. ‘Do you know where she is?’
‘She has spent the morning with some of the women,’ Jahmal answered. ‘In the gardens.’
Some of his staff and soldiers had wives who lived in the palace. It was an isolated but safe existence, and he knew they all longed for the day when they could return to Arjah and their normal lives. They’d all been waiting a long time for that.
Outside the sun was shining brightly, the air still holding a hint of crispness from the cold night. Zayed strolled through the gardens, enjoying the sunlight on his face. He’d forgotten how pleasant it was out here, with the orange and lemon trees, the trailing flowers, the tinkle of the many fountains.
He wandered for several minutes through various landscaped gardens, each one surrounded by its own hedge, until he came onto a small, pretty courtyard with a fountain splashing in the middle and several ornate benches around. Lahela, one of his aides’ wives who had just had a baby, was laughing at something Olivia said.
And Olivia... She sat on a bench, wearing a casual sundress the exact shade of her eyes, her hair falling down her back in tumbling chestnut waves, Lahela’s baby on her lap gurgling up at her. She looked so happy and natural, almost as if...
Zayed’s mind suddenly screeched to a halt, freezing on one simple fact that he’d completely ignored since he’d first taken Olivia and married her. Had slept with her.
He hadn’t used birth control.
Of course he hadn’t. It had been his wedding night; if he’d got Halina pregnant it simply would have strengthened his cause. Since then he hadn’t thought for a moment, a single second, that Olivia could be pregnant...pregnant with his child. His heir.
Her laughter drifted across the courtyard, a deep, delighted sound, and she bounced the fat, smiling baby on her knee. Then she looked up and her gaze caught Zayed’s, clashing with it so he felt as if he’d come up against a brick wall.
Her eyes widened, pupils flaring, and colour touched her cheeks. She looked away, bending her head so her hair fell forward and hid her face. Zayed’s chest tightened. The pain he thought he’d banished crept back.
Keeping his voice as even as he could, he greeted the other women in the courtyard before turning his attention resolutely to Olivia. She still wasn’t looking at him.
‘Miss Taylor,’ he said. ‘May I have a word?’
* * *
Olivia handed the baby back to Lahela, trying not to let her trepidation show. Her heart was thumping in her chest as she followed Zayed out of the garden, both of them silent. He seemed angry, and she could only suppose it was about last night...and what had almost happened between them.
She’d spent most of the night practically writhing in shame—and unsated desire. When Zayed had started touching her, she’d been helpless to do anything but respond. Want. Beg. Just as he’d once said. Even now the memory made her face flood with colour and she closed her eyes briefly against it. How could she be so helpless when it came to her response to this man?
Zayed walked swiftly through several corridors and then finally opened the door to a small, ornate room that looked like a private study. Olivia stood in the centre of the room, knotting her hands together so they wouldn’t shake.
Zayed closed the door and then whirled around to face her. ‘Could you be pregnant?’ he demanded tersely.
Olivia blinked. That had not been what she was expecting at all. ‘Pregnant...?’
‘From our wedding night.’ He ground the words out, his mouth compressing. ‘I did not use birth control and, as you were a virgin, I question whether you were on it.’
‘I’m not,’ she confirmed quietly.