The world seemed to tilt alarmingly for a few seconds, and Erin actually gripped the edge of the wall for support. Zahir and Maryam! It couldn't possibly be true-could it? ‘Bisma told me that Zahir was in love with his fiancée,' she said faintly. ‘She doesn't know why the marriage didn't take place.'
Jahmela gave a careless shrug. ‘Bisma knows. Everyone at the palace knows that Zahir adored Maryam, and that she eloped with his brother on the eve of their wedding. They were to be married first, and Faisal and me a week later. But instead Faisal and Maryam left a note, saying that they were in love, and then fled abroad, leaving me humiliated and my father furious that our family had been so deeply insulted by the royal family. That is why the King promised that Zahir would marry me,' Jahmela said coldly. ‘But he suggested that we wait for a few years, until Zahir had come to terms with the fact that he had been betrayed by his brother and the woman he loved. My father allowed me to go to England to study, but now I have my degree and it is time for Zahir to honour the promise made six years ago and make me his Princess.'
Erin shook her head. ‘If Zahir had really wanted to marry you, surely he would have done so during the last six years?' she said slowly.
‘He was about to,' Jahmela said angrily, her face suddenly contorting into a spiteful mask. ‘But then he learned that Faisal had died and that Maryam had lost her life shortly after giving birth to their child. From the moment Zahir discovered Kazim's existence he was utterly determined to claim him-because Kazim is the only link with the woman he adored. Every time he looks at the boy he sees Maryam. He would have done anything to gain custody of her son-including marrying a nonentity like you,' she added scathingly, her eyes settling on Erin's white face.
She laughed unpleasantly, her sharp glance seeming to see inside Erin's head. ‘You're in love with him, aren't you? Oh, my dear, I almost feel sorry for you. Even if Zahir was not still in love with a ghost, he would never love you. How could he?' she asked, her brows arching in astonishment at the idea. ‘He is a prince, and you are … Well … ' Her mouth curved into a cruel smile. ‘Let's just say that I was curious to find out more about you, and now I know exactly what you are. If the King knew of your family background, I fear he would not approve of you as Royal Consort.'
Erin shoved her trembling hands in her lap as Jahmela's words fell on her like hammer-blows. She felt strangely light-headed, and was scared she was about to faint, but some last vestige of pride brought her head up. ‘Even if everything you say is true, and Zahir is planning to divorce me,' she whispered through numb lips, ‘why would you want to marry him, knowing that he is still in love with Maryam?'
‘I couldn't care less who he's in love with,' Jahmela said coolly. ‘Six years ago I was about to marry a prince and become a member of the royal family. I do not fill my head with stupid dreams of love,' she added contemptuously. ‘I want a position within the royal court, and the social standing that comes with being a princess. I am already Zahir's most trusted advisor, and very soon I will be his wife.'
The supreme confidence in Jahmela's voice was the final straw, and Erin staggered to her feet and looked wildly around her. She was going to be sick. There was nothing she could do to prevent it. With a gasp she ran to a nearby bush and retched. It was over in moments, leaving her feeling as though her stomach had been ripped out, and she was shaking, her brow beaded with sweat, when she stumbled back onto the path.
Jahmela was frowning in distaste. ‘What's the matter with you? Are you ill?'
Erin shook her head. No way was she going to give Jahmela the satisfaction of knowing how shattering her revelations had been. ‘It's nothing. I've been feeling nauseous for the last few days.'
‘Really?' Jahmela gave her a speculative look. ‘And you've developed a sudden dislike of coffee. You practically turned green when it was served at dinner last night.' Her eyes narrowed. ‘I do hope you're not pregnant. That could prove most awkward.'
‘I'm not,' Erin denied instantly, but as she made a quick mental calculation her heart missed a beat. ‘But I can see why you wouldn't like it if I was.' Erin was down, but Jahmela hadn't won the fight yet. ‘Zahir would never divorce me if I was carrying his child.'
‘No, he wouldn't,' Jahmela agreed. She waited a heartbeat before dropping her bombshell. ‘He would wait until after the child was born before he dismissed you from his life. And, as I have already explained, custody of any child you might have would be automatically awarded to him.'
In less than an hour she was expected to attend the lavish dinner organised in honour of King Kahlid's recovery and his return as supreme ruler of Qubbah. And somehow she was going to have to do so without revealing that she was breaking up inside, Erin acknowledged despairingly as she stared in the mirror at her paper-white face and red-rimmed eyes.
When she had first returned to the palace after her explosive confrontation with Jahmela she'd locked herself in her dressing room and recalled in stunned disbelief everything the young Arab woman had told her. Could it be true? Had Zahir always intended to divorce her once he'd gained custody of Kazim and marry his beautiful advisor?
She did not know how long she'd sat there, but eventually her maid had knocked on the door and reminded her that it was time to prepare for the banquet. She should have made the excuse that she was ill-no one who saw her pallor would fail to believe her. But the steely backbone of pride that had seen her through so many traumas in her life refused to bow to Jahmela's spite, and in fighting spirits she had selected a stunning black velvet floor-length gown which clung to her curves like a second skin. She'd left her hair loose, to tumble down her back in a mass of vibrant curls, but it was going to take a miracle and a lot of make-up to disguise the ravages of her utter misery, she conceded bleakly.
She needed to talk to Zahir, to ask him outright if he was planning to exchange his wife for a more sophisticated model, but she dared not contemplate his reply. Jahmela's taunts echoed in her head while she applied taupe eyeshadow to her lids and highlighted her cheekbones with blusher in a desperate attempt to give her face some colour.
She looked different, somehow, she thought as she stared at her reflection. And she felt different-not to mention permanently nauseous. She couldn't be pregnant. Her period was only a couple of days late. It was only when Jahmela had suggested that she might be carrying Zahir's child that she'd given any thought to contraception-or the fact that they hadn't used any.
The idea that she might have conceived Zahir's baby filled her with a mixture of joy and fear. She would love to have a child, a little brother or sister for Kazim, but the blissful daydream lasted mere seconds. She dared not tell Zahir.
On their honeymoon he had revealed a softer side to him, but she'd rarely seen it since. He had ruthlessly tricked her into bringing Kazim to Qubbah, and she knew with dreadful certainty that if he divorced her he would never allow her to keep any child she might have borne him.
She had no opportunity to confront him before the banquet. He arrived with Jahmela a few minutes late, and remained in deep conversation with her while they waited for the servants to seat them at the table.
To Erin's frustration she was ushered to a chair between two Arab dignitaries, while Zahir took his place between Jahmela and the King. Out of respect for King Kahlid she pinned a smile on her face and tried to join in the conversation, but she was out of her depth with politics and eventually lapsed into silence. Jahmela's confident exchange of views and Zahir's obvious respect for his advisor reinforced Erin's belief that he'd realised he had made a mistake in marrying her, and she picked at the food on her plate, unaware of his concerned glances.