The Sultan's Bed (13 page)

T
he lights of Emand flickered on before his eyes.

He had hoped to feel a great sense of peace upon returning home, but instead he felt empty.

Mariah had refused him—rightly so after what he had done, but it was a bitter pill to swallow. And then there was Jane. His sister had said she wanted some time to think, to speak with her mother, then to think some more. There was a time when Zayad would have fought that, perhaps coaxed her into coming back with him. But he had not the will to fight her.

Either of them, in fact.

The city lights dimmed before him, and in the thick plastic of his window he saw Mariah's eyes. The image grabbed his gut and twisted. Her eyes were filled with betrayal and confusion and a hope that had gone so
hopelessly astray. Zayad turned away from the window. He could not blame Mariah's rejection on anything but his own bad deeds, and for that he hoped he suffered long and hard.

A servant crept in and cleared his untouched dinner tray, then placed a small dish of raspberries and cream in front of him. “Your dessert, Your Royal Highness.”

He stared at the red-and-white perfection and wanted to smash it with his fist. He had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him—a friend, a lover, a true companion for life. All in the name of fear.

If he had the power to turn this plane around right now, he would. But he knew that would be no smart move. She needed time to cool, a few weeks perhaps.

Weeks… Pure torture for a man who had fought love for so long, then found the right woman, the one person who filled him completely. His brother, Sakir, had seen Zayad's feelings for Mariah immediately on his short visit to Texas this morning and had tried to coax his brother into talking. But Zayad could only manage the bones of the matter and had left early.

His jaw went rigid, and he pushed the fruit aside. He would not lose her. When he went back for Jane, he would try again.

And again and again. Until Mariah forgave him, accepted him and let herself love him again.

 

“What's the verdict, Counselor?” Jane asked, simultaneously banging on the bathroom door.

In the two weeks since Zayad had gone, Mariah had experienced pure rage, total despair, unholy loneliness and deep regret, but never had she felt sublime happiness.

Until this moment.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her heart pounding and her hands shaking, she held up the pregnancy test again and spied the results. Nothing had changed. Still two blue lines.

Still pregnant.

“Dammit, M. Let me in.”

Mariah rose, felt the water in her legs as she wobbled to the door and opened it.

“So?” Jane said, her eyes bright with excitement.

“You're an auntie.”

Jane squealed and hugged Mariah, then squealed again. “I can't believe it.”

“I can't, either. We were so careful.”

“Things can happen. Providence can take a hand when mere mortals are being stubborn.”

Mariah prepared herself for another fight with Jane over her refusal of Zayad, then thought better of it and sat back down on the bathroom floor. “I'm not giving in.”

“Fine.”

“Seriously.”

“Fine.”

Mariah sighed. “The bottom line is, he lied to me.”

“There is no bottom line in life.”

“No fortune-cookie quotes right now, okay?” Mariah said on a heavy chuckle.

Jane sat on the toilet lid. “Okay, so yes. Yes, he lied to you. He made a mistake. But it isn't the end of the world.” When Mariah opened her mouth, Jane waved a hand. “He didn't cheat on you, M. He didn't take your dignity and your pride. He's not Alan.”

“I know he's not Alan.”

“No, I don't think you do.”

Mariah looked heavenward, sighed. “Okay. You're right. Maybe I am having a hard time separating them.”

Reaching down, Jane put her hand on Mariah's belly. “You've got to now.”

A shiver coursed through Mariah. Sitting here in the bathroom, pregnancy test in hand, it felt like one of those defining moments. One where you look back in ten years and say, “Damn, I made a mistake,” or “It was the best decision of my life.”

She fiddled with the edge of the bath mat. She knew she had some soul-searching to do and some forgiveness to find within her hardened heart. She owed it to herself and to her baby to get past a mistake. “By the way, Auntie Jane, you sound like you've already accepted this whole Al-Nayhal birthright-princess thing.”

Jane shrugged. “It's my mother. She's very supportive. I think Zayad made a killer impression on her.”

Get in line.

“Anyway,” Jane continued, “she told me everything, explained everything, made me see that I am who I am and there's no point in trying to deny it.”

“But a whole new family…” Mariah began warily.

“I know.” Jane's eyes shined. “Isn't it wonderful? I spoke with Sakir yesterday afternoon. He's amazing and so is his wife.”

After studying her friend for a moment, Mariah pointed a finger. “You're going to Emand, aren't you?”

Jane nodded.

“When?”

“Tara and I leave on Friday.”

Mariah wilted. “Tara?”

“She wants to see Emand, too. Well, she wants to see it in her way. And it's about time, don't you think?”

Mariah's stomach clenched. Life as she knew it was ending. “And Zayad is okay with Tara coming—”

“It was his idea.”

“You talked to him?” Her misery was like a steel weight.

“Last night.”

“Did he say anything…?” Mariah shook her head. She wasn't about to ask if he missed her, still loved her, wanted her to come to Emand, too.

But Jane offered the information anyway. “He loves you so much, Mariah.”

Mariah shook her head, as if that gesture would erase her friend's words.

Jane persisted, “But he doesn't want to push you.”

“Maybe I need the push.” Leaning back against the cool tub, Mariah sighed. “What am I going to do, Jane?”

“I can only speak from my own experience.”

“Okay, have at it.”

Tears welled in Jane's eyes as she knelt beside Mariah, took her hand. “Every child deserves to know their father.”

 

Mariah's jaw dropped and stayed that way as Fandal drove her through the iron gates and up to the sultan's palace. It was just as Zayad had described. Golden towers, a spectacular garden, miles of tawny sand in the distance.

A fairy-tale palace worthy of a magic carpet, a boisterous genie and, of course, Aladdin.

But this was no fairy tale she was walking into with her heart in her throat. This was real life, and she was about to see for herself what kind of ending it would bring.

After thinking long and hard about her future and the future of her child, she knew there was no other home, no other life she wanted to share than Zayad's. If he'd still have her.

She'd decided to come before Jane and Tara, before their own family began. It was best to be rejected without too many witnesses, she thought, her nerves a wreck as Fandal guided her through several entrancing rooms in the palace.

Finally he held a door open and ushered her inside. “This way, madam.”

“Thank you, Fandal,” she said, her eyes widening as she stepped into the most beautiful of libraries.

The servant motioned for her to take a seat on a leather couch, and she did. Her gaze moved about the beautiful room, then stopped on a certain piece of artwork. She swallowed, her throat tight.

“Is that an original Hockney?” she asked Fandal.

“Yes, Miss Kennedy. The sultan purchased it when he returned from America. He looks at it often.”

“Does he?”

He grinned, nodded. “I am glad you have come,” he said. “It will make the sultan feel better.”

Her chest went tight with concern. “Feel better? Is he ill?”

Shaking his head, Fandal said, “I should not speak
of it, but I have never seen him so… He works with his swords far too much. And he has lost weight.”

She didn't want to hear any more, think any more. She just wanted Zayad. “Fandal, please go and get him.”

The man smiled, bowed and left. Mariah leaned back on the couch feeling as though she couldn't breathe. She'd imagined this moment for the entire flight, but for the life of her she hadn't had a clue how it would end.

She heard footsteps in the hall, then Zayad saying, “I told you I did not want to be disturbed, emergency or no. What could possibly be so important—”

She sat up, turned just in time to see him enter the library. She held her breath, waited for a sign of either his love or rejection.

He stared at her. “Mariah?”

She stood up. “I had to come. I had to tell you something.”

“What is it?” He looked as pensive as she felt.

She gave him a half smile. “Well, first of all, I won my case. Because of your help, a devoted mother now has her children.”

It took him a moment, then a soft smile tugged at his mouth and he walked over to her. “I am glad for this.”

With a grin of his own, Fandal left discreetly, shutting the door behind himself.

Zayad was before her, his gaze eating up her face, his eyes dark with unanswered questions and unfulfilled passion. “How did you get here?”

“I spoke with Fandal. He was wonderful. He arranged for me to come.”

“He is a good man and will be promoted this very day for what he has done.”

Mariah smiled, hope seeping into her pores with every word he uttered. “There's something else. Another reason for my being here.”

He reached out, brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Tell me.”

“I've brought the sword you left behind.”

His gaze was pinned to hers. “Thank you.”

“Fandal has it. I thought it was important. You bought it for your son, right?”

“I did.”

Confidence sparked her and she took his hands, put them around her waist. “Would you find another, Zayad?”

He sighed, pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “I would buy you anything you wish.”

Her pulse jumped. “The sword wouldn't be for me.”

“No?”

“No.” She took a deep breath, eased herself away from him. Her gaze found his and she found her bold soul. “Do you love me, Zayad?”

His eyes filled with desperation. “More than my life.”

Tears filled her eyes and she took his hand, placed it on her belly. “The sword is for our child.”

His mouth dropped, his eyes widened. “What?”

“I'm pregnant.”

She stared at him, then finally saw what she was so desperate to see, what she had felt for days. Pure joy.

Again he pulled her into his arms, rocked her back and forth, uttered words she didn't understand but could
feel in her bones—prayer, thankfulness. “My love, mi'nâr.”

“Please tell me what that means, Zayad.”

“It means my sweet, my beauty.”

She smiled and felt as light as air, felt happy and so in love.

“This is the way it should be,” he said. “We are together, you and me and our child.”

For several moments they just clung to each other. But Mariah knew there was so much more she needed to say before they could embrace a future together.

She pulled back, touched his face. “I want you to know that I understand why you did what you did.”

“Mariah…” He looked so pained, so full of shame.

“I love you, Zayad. I want my child to know both of its parents. I want it to see us as we are now, in love, happy, devoted, able to forgive each other.”

“Yes.”

“A lifetime of love.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “Can you trust me again?”

“Yes, my love. You made a mistake, and I got scared. But someday—probably soon—I'll screw up, too. And you know what?”

“What?” He ran his thumb over her lower lip.

“You'll forgive me, and we'll go on and we'll be a family and we'll love each other through it all.”

He kissed her with passion and thanksgiving. “I love you so dearly, Mariah.”

“And I love you.”

“Marry me?”

“Yes.”

“And you will be happy here?”

“I will be happy where you are and our child and Redet. Like you said, there's much work for me to do here, and I'm ready.”

“Redet. He is anxious to meet you.”

“And I him,” she said with real warmth.

“Shall we go and tell my son of our plans, then?”

“Redet is here?” Mariah asked, thoroughly excited to meet the boy.

In Zayad's eyes Mariah saw a man who loved his child deeply and a man who wondered what the future would hold for her and Redet. “My son has always wanted a mother,” he said tentatively.

She grinned, her heart so full, so happy. “Well, he's got one. I've always wanted a big family.”

Tears pricked his eyes, but for this man of power, tears were not customary. He inhaled deeply. “I love you, dear one. I am the luckiest man in the world.”

“I believe we both got lucky.”

He kissed her. “Yes.”

“I think someone knew that after what we've both been through, maybe we deserved a break. Maybe we deserved some real happiness.”

“I do not know if I will ever deserve you.” He kissed her again, tenderly this time, then took her hand. “But I will spend a lifetime trying.”

Smiles on their faces, hands clasped tightly, they left the library. And with a pleased Fandal at their heels, Zayad led the woman he loved upstairs, into her new home, into a loving family and a wonderful, brave new life.