The Return of the Sheikh (12 page)

She had to laugh over that one. “Aren’t we just the king of bad euphemisms this morning?”

He lifted his head and grinned. “I have more descriptive ones, if you’d like to hear them.”

Before she could object, he had his lips to her ear and her body reeling with possibilities when he recited a litany of crude, albeit sexy, suggestions. When he looked at her again, she faked shock. “Oh, my. Did you minor in dirty words in college, or have you been watching too much cable TV?”

His cupped her breast in his palm. “You bring out the savage in me.”

She could say the same for him. He made her want to growl, especially at the moment when he set his hands in motion all over her bare body.

Right when he had her where he wanted her—hot, and bothered and almost begging—the bedside phone began to ring. He eased inside her at the same moment he picked up the receiver. Madison marveled over his ability to multitask, then became mortified when she recognized Rafiq’s voice on the other end of the line.

“I am currently occupied,” Zain said. “However, when I am able to pull myself away from this most pressing matter, I will be downstairs in the study.”

After he hung up, Madison laughed. “You are so bad.”

He frowned. “Last night you told me I was very good.”

“No. That’s what you told me.”

The teasing quickly ended as they concentrated on their lovemaking, on each other with a familiarity normally reserved for longtime lovers. But they were so attuned to one another now, it seemed as if they had been lovers forever. And in the aftermath, when Zain’s gentle, whispered words of praise floated into Madison’s ears, she started to cry. For some reason, she’d done a lot of that lately, but never in front of him.

As he folded her into his arms and stroked her hair, he didn’t question her about the tears. He only held her close to his heart until they finally subsided.

“I’m sorry,” she said after she recovered from the meltdown. “I guess my leaving is starting to sink in.”

“I am trying not to think about it,” he said. “Otherwise, I might not get through my duties today.”

She wanted so badly to tell him she loved him, but what would be the point? Nothing had changed. Nothing would. She was still the unsuitable American, and he was still the Arabian king steeped in tradition, destined to choose one of his kind.

So she raised her head and gave him her sunniest smile, even though she wanted to sob. “Speaking of your duties, the time has come for you to impress the masses, the way you’ve continually impressed me.”

His dark eyes were so intense, it stole her breath. “Madison, I…” His gaze drifted away with his words.

“You what?”

When he finally looked at her again, he seemed almost detached. “I want to thank you for all that you’ve done. I would not have gotten through this process had it not been for your support.”

That comment was as dry as the desert, and not at all what she wanted to hear. “And to think you almost sent me packing that first night.”

“I am glad you fought me on that, and I will never forget our time together.”

Funny, that sounded a lot like an early goodbye. Maybe he was just doing some advance preparation, and she should take his cue. “You’re welcome, Your Highness. Now that the party’s over, it’s time to take care of business.”

Nine

H
e had arrived at this first of two monumental moments with a certain confidence, and he had not managed that alone. Unbeknownst to Madison, he had every intention of taking her advice and speaking from the heart. If only he had been able to do that this morning. The one word he had not been able to say—had never said to any woman—had stalled on his lips. Committing to that emotion would only complicate matters more. She was bound to leave, and he was bound to duty as the leader of his country.

“They’re ready for you, Emir,” Deeb said as he opened the doors to the veranda.

“Good luck, Your Highness,” Madison said from behind him.

Since their last conversation that morning, a certain formality had formed between them. Yet he could not consider that now, nor did he dare look at her and meet the sadness in her eyes. “Thank you,” he said as he left her to deliver the most important speech of his life.

He moved onto the balcony containing enough guards to populate a military installation. After taking a few moments to gather his thoughts, he stepped behind the podium, and the cameras began to flash. Zain surveyed the masses spread out on the grounds as far as the eye could see. Among those in the immediate vicinity, he spotted a few familiar faces—Maysa, Malik and his family, as well as several childhood friends—and that served to further bolster his self-assurance. Many of the others looked both eager and somewhat suspicious, most likely because they were waiting for him to fail. He refused to fail.

He pulled the pages containing the prepared speech, then on afterthought, set them aside. He also ignored the teleprompter that Madison insisted he have so he wouldn’t falter. If his words did not come out perfectly, so be it. His country would then know he was not perfect, and that suited him fine. He had his flaws, but he had the best of intentions. Now he had to convince the country of that.

After adjusting the microphone, Zain began to speak, immediately silencing the restless crowd. He began with outlining his water conservation plan, which garnered minor applause. He continued by insisting that education was the key to prosperity, and he vowed to fund school improvements. He went on to talk about the importance of family, his love for their country and his commitment to its people. He spoke about his father in respectful terms, highlighting all that the former king had accomplished during his forty-year reign, and that he would proudly serve by his example. That earned him a roar from the crowd and shouts of approval. Perhaps he had finally arrived.

Yet as he remained to acknowledge their support, he could not help but wish Madison was at his side. Wish that he had the means to change tradition and choose his bride by virtue of her attributes, not her dowry. But that would present the possibility of rejection not only by the council, but also the traditionalists who expected him to marry one of their own. And even if he could successfully lobby for that change, would he subject Madison to this life? Would he risk destroying her sense of independence in exchange for assuming the role of his queen? A role that had left some women emotionally broken, including his own mother. He then recalled when Madison had said she would never give up her life for any man, and he could not in good conscience ask that of her, even if the thought of letting her go sickened him.

When he felt the tap on his shoulder, he turned to find Deeb, not Madison, as he had hoped. “The press is waiting in the conference room, Emir.”

One hurdle jumped, yet another awaited him—answering intrusive questions. “I will be along shortly.” First, he planned to seek Madison’s approval, a move he would have never made before her, and not because he lacked respect for women. Because he had been that inflexible. She had changed him more than he realized. More than any woman had, even Genevieve. Madison had served as his touchstone for the past month and, in many ways, had given him the strength to survive the chaos. Her opinion mattered to him. She mattered to him, much more than she should.

With a final wave, Zain returned to the study to find Madison seated across the room in front of the corner television, watching the international analysis of his address. He approached the chair and laid a hand on her shoulder to garner her attention. “Did Deeb interpret for you?”

When her frame went rigid, he removed his hand. “Yes, Deeb translated, and you did a remarkable job. For the most part.”

When he moved between her and the TV to ask what she hadn’t liked, he noticed she did not look well. Her skin was pale and a light sheen of perspiration covered her forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said as she abruptly stood. “It’s a little warm in here.”

When she swayed, he clasped her arm to steady her. “You should sit down again.”

She tugged out of his grasp. “I said I am perfectly fine, Your Highness. I’m just going to…”

Her eyes suddenly closed, her lips parted slightly, and as she began to fall, Zain caught her in his arms and carried her to the sofa. He had never felt such concern, such fear and such anger over his staff’s failure to immediately act.

He turned his ire on Deeb. “Do not stand there like an imbecile. Summon Dr. Barad. Now!”

*

Madison came awake slowly, feeling somewhat confused and disoriented. She had no idea how she’d ended up on Zain’s office couch, although she did recall being dizzy and starting to free-fall. After that, nothing but a big, black void.

When she raised her head from the sofa’s arm, an unfamiliar female voice said, “Stay still for a few more moments, Ms. Foster.”

The owner of that voice finally came into focus—an exotic woman with dark almond-shaped eyes and long brown hair pulled back into a braid. “Who are you?” Madison asked in a sandpaper voice.

“Maysa Barad.” She lifted a stethoscope from a black bag set on the coffee table. “I’m a local physician and friend of the family.”

She was also the woman Zain had visited a few weeks ago, and darn if she wasn’t gorgeous. “Where’s Zain?” she asked, not caring if she hadn’t used the proper address.

“He left and took the goons with him after I told him I couldn’t do a proper examination with an audience.”

Why not? She’d done a swan dive in front of one. “Any idea what happened to me, Dr. Barad?”

“You fainted. And please, call me Maysa.” She pressed the metal cylinder against Madison’s chest, listened for a few minutes and then pulled the stems from her ears. “It’s definitely not your heart.”

She wouldn’t be surprised if it was, considering it was close to shattering. “That’s good to know.”

“Your blood pressure’s stable, as well. I took it when you were passed out.”

“Just wish I knew why I passed out.”

“Are you eating well and getting enough rest?”

She’d been eating like a pig at a trough. “Yes on the eating, not so much on the rest. It’s been fairly stressful around here.” She didn’t dare mention that Zain had been the primary cause of her lack of sleep.

Maysa dropped the stethoscope back in the bag and sent her a serious look. “When was your last menstrual cycle?”

An odd question since she’d never passed out from a period. “Honestly, I’m not sure, because they’re not regular. I was born with only one ovary, and my doctor isn’t convinced it functions all that well.”

“Then you’ve been diagnosed as infertile?”

This was the complicated part. “Not exactly. I have been told that my chances of getting pregnant without medical assistance are remote and, even then, not guaranteed.”

“How long ago was this?”

Madison had to think hard on that one, when all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. “I had an ultrasound ten years ago, but I always go for my annual checkups.”

“Then you have no way of knowing for certain if perhaps your ovary is in fact functioning.”

“I suppose that’s accurate.”

“Have your breasts been tender?”

Come to think of it, they had. Then again, they were Zain’s favorite toys of late. “Maybe a little, but they get that way right before my period.”

“That leads to my next question. Have you had sexual relations in the past month?”

She’d had sexual relations in the past few hours. “Why is that important?”

“Because your symptoms indicate you could be pregnant, provided you have been exposed.”

Had she ever, and often. But pregnant? No way. “I’m really not sure how to answer that.”

Maysa laid a gentle hand on her arm. “I promise you that anything you tell me will be held in the strictest of confidence. We also adhere to doctor-patient privilege in this country.”

As long as Madison didn’t have to reveal who she’d been having relations with, she might as well admit it. “Yes, I have been exposed, but I truly can’t imagine that I could be pregnant.”

“There is one way to find out,” she said. “I’ll have a pregnancy test sent over in the morning.”

Madison felt another faint coming on. “Can you make sure to be discreet?”

“I will.” Maysa rose from the sofa and smiled down on her. “In the meantime, I want you to rest here awhile longer, and then retire to your room for the remainder of the evening. If you have any more spells, don’t hesitate to have Zain call me.”

She mentally nixed that suggestion. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Also, even if the test is negative, you should stop by my office and I’ll draw some blood to be more certain. It could be you’ve eaten some tainted food.”

Lovely. She hated needles about as much as she hated being viewed as fragile. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know.”

Maysa reached the door, paused with her hand on the knob and then faced Madison again. “You might want to forewarn the father.”

She couldn’t even consider telling Zain now. “Believe me, he wouldn’t want to be bothered.”

Maysa sent her a knowing smile. “He might surprise you.”

With that, the doctor left, and Madison tipped her head back on the sofa and stared at the ornate chandelier on the ceiling. She never dreamed she would prefer food poisoning over pregnancy, but considering the poor timing, and the circumstance, a baby was the last thing she needed. Definitely the last thing Zain needed.

Of course, she was leaping to large conclusions without good cause. She’d had unprotected sex with Jay for five years, and that had never resulted in a bun in her oven. Of course, Jay hadn’t owned a magic fertility mountain, either.

Ridiculous. All of it. She didn’t know why she’d fainted, but she highly doubted pregnancy had anything to do with it.

*

The day had started off like any other day. Madison had awakened that morning after sleeping almost sixteen hours straight, taken a shower, picked out her clothes—and peed on a stick. Now it had suddenly become a day like no other.

She stared at the positive results for a good ten minutes before it finally began to sink in. She was going to have a baby. Zain’s baby. A baby she’d always secretly wanted but convinced herself she would never have.

Myriad thoughts swarmed in her head, followed by one important question. How was she going to tell Zain? More important, should she even tell Zain?

He did have a right to know, but he also had the upcoming coronation hanging over his head. He had an entire country counting on him, too. A country that had finally begun to accept him. A scandal—any scandal—could ruin everything.

Right then she wanted to crawl back under the covers and cry the day away, as well as weigh her options. But when someone knocked on the door, and if it happened to be Zain, she might be forced to make a snap decision.

She tightened the sash on her robe, secured her damp hair at her nape, convened her courage and opened the door.

“Good morning,
cara,
” Elena said as she breezed into the room, a tray in her hands and something white tucked beneath her arm.

After taking one whiff of the food, Madison began to feel queasy. “Thanks, but my appetite isn’t up to par.”

Elena faced her with concern. “Are you still not feeling well?”

She dropped down on the edge of the bed. “I’m still a little weak.”

“Then I will give strict orders you are not to be disturbed. But you need to eat something to regain your strength. Perhaps I should bring you some tea.”

“No,” she belted out. “I mean, schnapps probably wouldn’t be good for an upset stomach.” Definitely not good for a developing baby.

“I would bring you ginger tea to help with the nausea.” She removed the cloth from beneath her arm and held it up. “I have also brought you fresh towels should you decided to take a long bath later.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, before it suddenly dawned on her Elena was heading into the bathroom, and the blasted test was still on the counter.

She could try to distract her. She could tackle her. Or she could accept that it was already too late, because the minute Elena came back into the room, she could tell the secret was out by the look on the woman’s face.

“I see you have confirmed you are with child,” Elena said in a remarkable matter-of-fact tone.

“Looks to be that way, but it’s possible to have a false positive reading.” Her last hope, and a remote one at that.

Elena looked altogether skeptical. “It is possible, but not probable when a Mehdi and a mountain are involved.”

She’d drink to that, if she could drink. “You’re making a huge assumption. How do you know I didn’t have a torrid night with the chef?”
Dumb, Madison, really dumb.

“The chef is nearing seventy years of age, and he can barely stand. I also knew from the beginning you would not be able to resist Prince Zain, and he would not be able to resist you.”

Madison couldn’t prevent the waterworks from turning on again. “I swear I never meant for this to happen,” she said as she furiously swiped at the tears. “I have never crossed professional lines and I have never been so weak. I also never believed I’d be able to conceive a child.”

Elena perched on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “You have never met a man like Prince Zain.”

That wasn’t even up for debate. “He is one in a million. An enigma and complex and very persuasive.”