The Sheikh's Princess Bride

His hands closed convulsively around her and he pulled her close, rocking her against him.

‘That must have been devastating.’

‘It was,’ Samira whispered. ‘It happened just after the news broke about Jackson’s infidelities, when I returned to Jazeer to escape the paparazzi.’

Tariq felt her tremble and comforted her as best he could with long, slow sweeps of his hand at her back. All the time he felt a roiling burst of emotions deep in his gut. Frustration, anger and regret. Samira had gone through so much. Her lover’s betrayal, public humiliation as the scandal hit the press and the paparazzi hounded her and, on top of that, such personal heartbreak.

‘I had no idea. No wonder Asim kept you close in the palace.’ If he’d known he’d have offered his help. But what could he have done?

‘I sort of went into a meltdown.’ Samira burrowed deeper into his chest. ‘I didn’t trust myself in the public eye and I hid out in the palace, not wanting to see anyone. I stayed there for months.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Really?’ Over-bright eyes lifted to meet his.

It felt as if he’d swallowed splinters of shattered glass when he saw the hurt in those huge eyes.

‘Really.’ Had she thought herself weak for taking time to recover from such devastating blows? ‘I can’t imagine how you coped.’ The idea of losing Risay or Adil made him break out in a cold sweat.

‘I had no choice.’

Pain hammered him when he thought of her going through that alone. Tariq had known Samira for years and understood that, despite Asim’s willingness to support her, Samira would have drawn in on herself, closing out the world and suffering in silence. He’d seen it when she was a kid. She didn’t share her hurt. That was one of the reasons her proposal in Paris had blindsided him, because she’d opened up enough to let him glimpse her pain at not being able to conceive.

‘You’re not alone now,’ he found himself saying. ‘This is our baby and I’ll be here to take care of you.’

He must have said the right thing because Samira’s face lit up with a glow that rivalled the luminous desert sunset.

‘Thank you, Tariq. I needed to hear that.’

He took her hand in his, so small yet so capable, and raised it to his lips. She tasted of sweet, heady woman and despite the gravity of the moment Tariq registered his body’s eager response.

He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted Samira. The thought of her, sexy and ripe with his child, sent his hormones into overdrive.

Until his brain engaged again.

She’d had a miscarriage. She’d been told she’d never be able to conceive again, yet against the odds she had. It didn’t take a genius to realise the risks for Samira and the child had to be higher than average.

He mustn’t do anything to endanger them. She might be in her second trimester, when the risk of miscarriage was supposed to lessen, but Tariq knew how unpredictable, how downright dangerous, pregnancy could be.

The image of Jasmin’s still face rose again. She’d died giving birth to the babies he’d planted within her, the babies he’d married her to acquire.

Tariq shuddered, fear icing his spine. He wouldn’t let history repeat itself. He’d take every possible precaution.

And, he vowed, he’d do it without adding to Samira’s natural anxiety. After one miscarriage she must be nervous about the outcome of this pregnancy. She didn’t need his fears compounding her own.

‘Come on,’ he urged, gently brushing Samira’s shirt from her shoulders, valiantly ignoring the delicious bounty of full breasts in that made-for-seduction lace bra. ‘Let’s get you into that bath while it’s still warm.’

Samira complied with an alacrity that had him almost bursting out of his too-tight skin. She shimmied out of her trousers, wriggling her hips in a tantalising display that made him swallow hard. Tariq had to turn away, pretending to adjust the water temperature when she undid her bra and her ripe breasts swung free. His palms itched to reach for them and his groin tightened unbearably.

The final straw came as she shoved her panties off and swiped her hand over her waist and the slight swell of her belly. Her beatific smile stole his breath but the sight of her naked body, indescribably lush and feminine, almost broke him.

Quickly Tariq reached for her arm, ignoring the sultry invitation in her eyes.

‘Hold onto me as you step in. Don’t slip.’

‘Of course I won’t slip. You’ve got me.’ Her words were a breathy laugh of joy that curled around his heart, making it beat fast and hard.