Desert Prince's Stolen Bride

CHAPTER TEN

OLIVIA GAZED OUT at the mountain peaks dusted with snow, at the sun shining brilliantly, and let out a sigh that was half happy, half discontented. They’d been in Rubyhan for nearly two weeks now and it had been a surprisingly wonderful two weeks.

Olivia, as she was wont to do, had made herself useful helping out in the administrative office—as her knowledge of both French and Italian had proved useful—and also taking care of Lahela’s baby so the new mother could get an occasional rest. The atmosphere in the palace was a surprisingly cheerful one, with everyone determined to work towards the same important goal. Zayed had an incredibly loyal team, and they believed in him utterly.

Which made Olivia understand why he was so private with them. He didn’t share his headaches or his nightmares or any of his worries or concerns, as far as Olivia could see. He presented himself as a fortress, solid and impenetrable, because everyone was depending on him. It was, Olivia suspected, a heavy burden to bear. And it made her feel more honoured that he’d shared those things with her. As impossible as it seemed, they did have a connection, one that grew deeper on her side every day. One she could no longer deny, at least to herself.

Over the last few weeks Zayed had taken time out of his busy days and spent it with her, and they’d shared several meals as well as a few sunny afternoons simply whiling away the hours and getting to know each other.

Olivia had treasured those stolen hours, the easy conversation, the glimpses of humour, the attraction that always, always simmered between them. She’d started to feel comfortable with him, known by him, and that made her desire and care for him all the more. Which was foolhardy in the extreme, because she knew it was all likely to come to an end when she found out she wasn’t pregnant.

And if she was pregnant and Zayed kept her as his Queen? That was the possibility that brought her to both the heights of hope and the depths of fear. The more time she spent with him—the more time she saw his solicitude, his moments of humour, his care for his people and even for her—she feared she was falling in love with him. And that was something that she couldn’t allow to happen. Not when she knew a marriage to Zayed would only happen for expediency’s sake, not because of love. And she didn’t know if that was something she could accept, not in the long term. But in any case, she might not even have a choice. If she was pregnant, Zayed would not let her walk away. And Olivia had no idea how she felt about that.

A knock sounded at the door of her bedroom, and Olivia turned from the stunning view. ‘Hello?’ she called in Arabic. ‘Come in.’

‘It’s me.’ Zayed appeared around the door, looking crisply attractive in a western-style business suit. When not among the tribes of the desert, he tended to wear western clothes, a preference he’d said was from his Cambridge days. Olivia had enjoyed getting to know this little detail about him, as well as countless others. He preferred coffee rather than tea, and he listened to jazz. He had glasses for reading, and a partiality for Agatha Christie, something that had made her smile.

‘Hi,’ she said now, trying to ignore the tumble of her heart simply at the sight of him. ‘How are you?’

‘Oh, fine.’ He braced one shoulder against the doorway, surveying her bedroom with a distracted yet strangely purposeful air. Olivia wondered what he wanted. Although he’d made a point of seeing her every day, he’d never come to her bedroom first thing in the morning. She felt a little frisson of fear. Was this odd sort of honeymoon period over already?

‘It’s been two weeks,’ Zayed said, and there was an intractable note in his voice. Olivia stilled, one hand resting on the stone windowsill.

‘Yes,’ she agreed cautiously. ‘Thirteen days, to be exact.’

His agate gaze searched hers. ‘You should take a pregnancy test tomorrow, then.’

‘Is there one available?’ Olivia asked as lightly as she could. Her heart had started to hammer just at the thought of taking such a test. And, as luxurious as their accommodation was, they were in the middle of nowhere. How would Zayed procure a pregnancy test?

‘I’m having it flown in.’

She swallowed. ‘Oh.’

‘Better to know than not.’

Which sounded rather awful, and she couldn’t tell anything from his expression. ‘Yes, I suppose.’

So as soon as tomorrow this could all be over. He’d send her away and reopen negotiations with Sultan Hassan for Halina. Why, oh, why, did that thought have to hurt so much?

‘I’m having dinner with a government official from France tonight,’ Zayed said abruptly. Olivia looked at him in surprise.

‘Here?’

‘He’s flying in.’

‘Along with the pregnancy test?’ she couldn’t help but quip, and Zayed gave her a tight smile. ‘On the same helicopter, as it happens, although obviously two very separate requests. I thought you could join us for dinner.’

‘You—what?’ Now she was really flummoxed. Although she’d enjoyed her time at Rubyhan, and had socialised and interacted with just about everyone there, she still felt as if she were being hidden away from the rest of the world, Zayed’s unfortunate mistake, his dirty little secret. She’d hardly expected to be introduced to someone important, someone who expected Zayed to be married to Princess Halina and not a governess nobody.

‘You speak French,’ Zayed pointed out. ‘You told me a few days ago.’

‘Yes, but...’

‘And having you there will make the dinner less formal, which is important at this stage.’

‘This stage of what?’

‘France might be willing to support me against Malouf,’ Zayed explained. ‘This is their initial approach.’