‘No formality today, Zahir,' he murmured, resting his hand briefly on his son's shoulder before he turned his gaze to Erin. ‘And you must be Erin. I understand that you were married to my son Faisal and you are Kazim's adoptive mother?' He glanced down at Kazim-who had turned suddenly shy and was clinging tightly to her, with his face buried in her skirt-and added softly, ‘I can see that Kazim is very fond of you.'
‘As I am of him,' she replied fiercely. ‘I love him as if he were my own child, Your Highness.'
The King's dark eyes seemed to look into her soul, as if he could read her innermost thoughts. The silence stretched Erin's nerves to breaking point, but then he smiled warmly and ushered her over to the sofa. ‘Come and tell me all about him. You have cared for him since he was a few months old, I believe, so you must know him better than anyone … ' his voice faltered ‘ … now that my son is dead.'
Tears glistened in the elderly King's eyes and his voice was gruff when he spoke again. ‘I will regret to the end of my days that I was not reconciled with my son before his death. Faisal spent his last years estranged from his family and in a foreign land, but I am comforted by the knowledge that he was not alone. He had you,' he said simply, smiling gently at Erin. ‘Did you love my son, Erin?'
Taken aback by the question, Erin did not know how to answer. She could feel Zahir's dark eyes boring into her and knew what he was thinking-that she had callously married Faisal knowing that she would soon be a rich widow. It wasn't true, of course, and as she thought of the man she had married a year ago she suddenly relaxed and met the King's gaze.
‘Yes, I loved him,' she said honestly. She had not been in love with Faisal, but he had been like a big brother to her. He'd been the only person apart from her foster parents who had been prepared to give her a chance and accept her for the woman she had become, rather than the unhappy and rebellious teenager she had once been.
She had met him fresh from the humiliation of being sacked from her first job as nanny to the Fitzroy children, and Faisal had believed her when she'd explained that, far from flirting with Giles Fitzroy, she had hated his revolting sexual innuendoes, and his suggestion that she could improve her career prospects by sleeping with him. When she'd finally found the courage to accuse the balding, middle-aged barrister of sexual harassment she'd been fired on the spot, and the furious Giles Fitzroy had insisted to his wife that it had been Erin who had wanted an affair. The story had quickly circulated among the Fitzroys' social group, and her chances of finding another job had seemed non-existent until Faisal had chosen her over several other applicants to care for his baby son, explaining that he believed Erin would give Kazim the love and attention he would have received from his mother.
‘Faisal was a very special man,' she told the King softly.
King Kahlid nodded. ‘And now you have been left alone to bring up his son. Some would say that that is quite a burden on such young shoulders. You have your whole life ahead of you, and although you loved Faisal, I'm sure you will not wish to be alone for ever. One day you may fall in love and even wish to marry again.'
What had Zahir been saying? Erin wondered furiously, recalling how he had accused her of planning to satisfy her sensual nature by taking lovers. Had he suggested to the King that she was an unsuitable mother for Kazim? She glanced across to where he was sitting, with the toddler on his knee, but his shuttered expression gave no clue to his thoughts. ‘I have no plans to marry again, Your Highness,' she told the King steadily. ‘When I adopted Kazim I vowed to devote my life to him, and that is exactly what I intend to do.'
King Kahlid nodded. ‘I see that my son was very lucky to have found you,' he said gravely. ‘And at least we, his family, can help you in your task now that you have brought Kazim to live here at the palace.'
‘Oh, but I haven't-' Erin broke off, her heart plummeting. The King was beaming at Kazim, and he was clearly delighted when the little boy slid off Zahir's lap and trotted over to him.
‘He fills my heart with joy,' the elderly monarch murmured in a choked voice. ‘He is the image of his father, and God willing I will have a few years yet to watch him grow up.'
How could she break it to the King that she planned for Kazim to spend his childhood in England? Erin wondered frantically. It would break the old man's heart if she took the little boy away from the palace. She felt as though she had fallen into a trap from which there was no escape, and it was all Zahir's fault, she thought bitterly. He had tricked her into bringing Kazim to Qubbah, and now the King believed that his grandson was going to stay for ever.
Kazim had brought a toy fire engine from the nursery and, having grown bored with the conversation going on above his head, was now whizzing the vehicle across the marble floor and through the legs of the King's chair. His grandfather chuckled and turned to Zahir. ‘He's a fine boy, isn't he, Zahir? A boy any man would be proud to call his son.'
‘Indeed,' Zahir replied stiffly, forcing a smile that he hoped disguised his irritation from his father. Before he had left for England he'd spoken to the King of his intention to bring Kazim to Qubbah and raise him as his own child. He was more than willing to be a father to Faisal's son, and he already loved the little boy, but now there was an unexpected problem in the form of Faisal's second wife. It was customary under Qubbah's ancient traditions for a man to become the head of his dead brother's family and to marry his widow-but if his father believed there was any chance that was going to happen he had better think again!
‘If you will excuse me, I have some work to attend to,' he said, bowing his head to the King. ‘I believe Erin has brought some photographs to show you of Faisal, and of Kazim when he was a small baby. I've already seen them,' he added, in response to his father's querying gaze.
‘Then go now. But I would like to see you later. There is something I wish to discuss with you,' the King said, in a genial tone that did not fool Zahir for a minute. He could always tell when his father was up to something. With a curt nod he strode from the room.
On the flight from England he had flicked through the album he'd found in Faisal's study, and his throat had ached with suppressed emotion at the pictures of his brother, whom he had not seen for six years. The photos recording Kazim's development were delightful, but there were other shots of Erin and Faisal, pictures that were clear evidence of a shared warmth between them he had not expected.
Could he possibly have misjudged her? Or was she simply a talented actress who had been lying through her back teeth when she'd told his father she had loved Faisal? And why the hell did he feel as though he'd been kicked in the stomach at the idea that she really had married Faisal because she had been in love with him? Anger formed a tight knot in his chest-anger, and incomprehension of the violent jealousy that made him want to hit something.
He must look at it rationally, he told himself impatiently. Erin was a beautiful woman and he desired her. End of story. He had desired many women in his time, and without fail had persuaded them into his bed with an ease that had become almost boring. If Erin had been any other woman he would have wasted no time in bedding her-but, whatever her reasons for marrying Faisal, she was his widow and he could not seduce her.