Darker Side of Desire & the Sheikh's Pregnant Prisoner(23)

‘She is second cousin to the Lord Raoul,’ Zenaide told her, still looking anxious. ‘Shall I tell her that you are resting?’

For some reason her maid did not like the Princess Nadia, Claire observed, but that was no reason for her to deny herself. She had no wish to offend any members of Raoul’s family and so she smiled calmly and asked Zenaide to bring the Princess to the courtyard and to arrange for coffee and almond cakes to be served to them.

Not sure of the correct protocol, but guessing that the title ‘Princess’ meant that her visitor was of superior rank to herself, Claire stood up as she heard footsteps approaching the courtyard, frowning a little as she caught the impatient tap of very high heels. She had been expecting a woman of middle age, but the girl stalking arrogantly towards her, the abba which had been covering her from top to toe as she rounded the corner discarded, was only half a dozen years or so older than herself. With swift dismay, Claire registered the haughty, almost petulant expression, the clothes that shrieked Paris and clung seductively to her lusciously curved body. Eastern her visitor might be, but her hair and make-up quite definitely came from the most elegant Western salons. This was no shrinking flower of the desert, but a sophisticated woman of the world whose elegance did little to conceal a nature which Claire guessed to be both hard and avaricious.

Her deeply-glossed lips parted in the coolest of smiles as she approached, dismissing Zenaide with a few curt words.

‘So, you are the woman Raoul married instead of me?’ were her first devastating words, accompanied by a taunting smile and a narrowed assessing glance. ‘You have not deceived yourself that he cares for you, or ever will, I hope?’ she added insultingly, carrying on before Claire could draw breath to retaliate. ‘And this must be the child who is the cause of your hurried marriage. The Sheikh, my uncle, is well-known to disapprove of mixed marriages. Indeed it was he who advised my father to forbid my marriage to Raoul.’ She shrugged and added, ‘I must confess I was glad. As a lover Raoul is superb, but as a husband…’

A shrug of elegantly clad shoulders mocked all Claire’s previous conceptions of what Raoul’s intended bride had been like.

‘A husband is only to be tolerated when he remains in the background, and provided, of course, he is very rich. Raoul is far too possessive ever to make a complacent husband. The insecurity of his childhood, of course. I hear he was most reluctant to make an honest woman out of you, Miss… but, of course, Eastern men are renowned for the importance they place upon their eldest sons. How old is he?’

Desperately trying to hold on to her temper, Claire responded. So this was the woman Raoul was to have married, and who, if she was to interpret her remarks correctly, was still his lover. A wedding ring gleamed on her hand, so she must be married and, no doubt, used her marriage to protect her from any censure regarding her wanton behaviour. Muslims were very strict guardians of the morals of their women, but the Princess Nadia seemed to make her own rules.

Did Raoul love her? A quiver of jealousy burned through her at the thought, so tormenting her that she missed her unwelcome visitor’s next question, and had to have it impatiently repeated, feeling very much like an ignorant schoolgirl being chastised by her teacher.

‘Raoul, where did you meet him? It must have been when he was working at our Embassy in London. That was just after my marriage. My father asked the Sheikh to send him there. Poor Raoul, he took my marriage very badly. A hungry man will take whatever is available, is that not so, Claire? And a clever woman knows how to make the most of whatever opportunities come her way. A girl of your station in life cannot have had many. Raoul is very attractive as well as a very wealthy man, and you were clever enough to know exactly which bait to use to hook him. Is this his child? He does not look very much like him. I should have thought he would be much fairer skinned. Where was it you said you met?’

Saud had been pulling himself up on to his feet, and fell over, suddenly starting to cry. Claire went instinctively to pick him up, realising only as she straightened that Raoul had returned and was striding towards them. Nadia had her back to him, and Claire wondered if she had the courage to endure Raoul’s reaction to the other girl’s presence. But a little to her surprise, when Nadia did turn and see him, there was nothing but polite calmness in Raoul’s eyes.

‘Raoul…’ Her arms went round him, the glossed lips pouting for his kiss. Claire averted her eyes, hating the fierce pangs of jealousy storming through her, fighting to appear calm and controlled.

‘Princess Nadia was just asking if we met when you were working at your London Embassy, darling,’ she managed to enunciate gaily. She wasn’t sure where they were supposed to have met. Let Raoul do his own lying and his own explaining if Nadia should cross-question him afterwards. As they were lovers and apparently had been for many years, she would naturally expect to know about any other women in Raoul’s life, although it was patently obvious that she did not consider Claire to be any sort of competition.

Her eyes dropped to Saud. He didn’t look like Raoul, Nadia had said, and she had also commented on his olive skin. She started to worry at her lip, and was startled to hear Raoul saying curtly, ‘It was the Paris Embassy at which I worked for a term, not the London…’

‘Of course, Raoul,’ Nadia was quick to intervene. ‘That is what I said, Claire must have misunderstood me. It was just after I got married, wasn’t it? I remember we visited you there when we were on our honeymoon. So where did you meet? You still haven’t told me.’

‘At a party given by a friend,’ Raoul responded indifferently, surprising Claire by bending down to pick up Saud, who gurgled his pleasure, waving small fists excitedly in the air. Raoul must have been watching her, Claire thought dazedly, because there was nothing hesitant or awkward about the way he handled the child, and surely no one watching him would doubt that Saud was his. Claire had dressed him in cool cotton rompers, and the small chubby legs kicked enthusiastically. He had a small birthmark on his left thigh, and it caught Claire’s attention as he wriggled in Raoul’s arms. Nadia was looking at it too, and for a moment it seemed to Claire that the temperature in the warm, shaded courtyard suddenly dropped—enough to raise goose-bumps on her exposed arms, and to bring back the terrors of the night.

Raoul noticed immediately. ‘You are not well?’ he asked sharply.

‘I’m… I’m fine.’ How could she explain the frisson of terror which had just shivered through her? There was no logical explanation, but she was glad when Nadia eventually exclaimed that it was time she left, waving aside the coffee and almond cakes Claire offered.

‘Far too fattening,’ she pronounced, and Claire was sure it was no accident that her painted fingertips moved seductively down the curve of her body, drawing Raoul’s attention to every enticing curve. Compared with Nadia, she was a pale snowdrop put against the beauty of a deep red rose, and she suffered by the comparison.

When Nadia had gone, Raoul announced that he had brought some work back with him that he wanted to finish. Claire wanted to talk to him, to tell him that she suspected Nadia might have guessed that Saud wasn’t their child, but perhaps Raoul himself had told Nadia the truth. But surely in that case she would not have raised the subject? It was too taxing a problem for Claire to unravel. Her broken night was beginning to catch up with her, and when Zenaide came in to ask what she wanted to have for dinner, she told the little maid that she wasn’t hungry and that she had decided to have an early night.

Saud, fortunately, seemed to have recovered his normal good spirits, laughing and gurgling when Claire bathed him, splashing her with the warm water as he played with his ducks. She grew more and more attached to him with every day that passed and knew she would feel the wrench when she had to leave. If she felt like this about Saud, how would she feel if she had conceived Raoul’s child? Could she bear to leave him with his father?

She hadn’t conceived a child, she was sure she hadn’t, Claire told herself fiercely. She didn’t feel any different than she had before. But it was early days yet, an inner voice warned her, far too soon for her to know one way or the other. As she prepared for bed, she found herself praying again that there would be no child. Hadn’t she already endured enough heartbreak?

She was just walking through from her bathroom to her bedroom when the outer door opened. Thinking it would be Zenaide she paused, but it was Raoul who walked in, causing her nerves to quiver in mute reaction.

‘Zenaide tells me you are not eating.’

‘I ate some lunch,’ Claire corrected.

‘You are not feeling well?’

She flushed as she realised he was probably thinking along the lines she herself had been earlier, and probably with as much regret. If he wanted any woman to bear his child, it must be Nadia. ‘Just a reaction from last night, that is all…’

‘I wanted to talk to you anyway. It occurred to me this afternoon that we ought to have some sort of story prepared. Nadia will not be the only person to question you about the past.’ He frowned as though remembering something. ‘I cannot think why you should have thought she said I was posted to our London Embassy. Nadia of all people should…’