The Sheikh's Prize(19)

'Why were you not taking precautions to protect yourself against this development?' he demanded.

'I had no reason to. I wasn't having sex with anyone, so you don't need   to wonder whose child it is,' she told him tightly, colour mantling her   cheekbones.

'Naturally I will wonder. I have no wish to offend you but I was   certainly under the impression that you had other lovers,' Zahir   countered flatly.

'Don't believe all that you read in the papers,' Saffy advised, lifting her head high, her blue eyes guarded.

'I don't but, even allowing for a fair amount of exaggeration and   invented stories, there is room for me to doubt the likelihood that in   one brief encounter I have fathered your child,' Zahir fielded very   quietly.

'I didn't think it was very likely either, but we're both young and   healthy, it was the wrong time of the month for me to have an accident   and clearly you have killer sperm,' Saffy told him drily.

'Don't make a joke of it,' Zahir growled.

'I can't prove it's your baby until after it's born,' Saffy murmured   ruefully. 'DNA testing is too risky during pregnancy. On the other hand   you could think back sensibly to that day in the tent and appreciate   that ironically you are the only lover I've ever had.'

Zahir frowned, winged ebony brows pleating above questioning dark as night eyes flaring with disbelief. 'That is not possible.'

'Forget the newspaper stories and your prejudices and think about it   rationally,' Saffy urged with quiet dignity, determined not to allow him   to continue to cherish doubts about who had fathered her child.  'You're  not stupid-I know you're not. I was a virgin.'

All colour bled from below his olive-toned complexion as he stared back   at her with smouldering golden force and she recognised the exact  moment  when he recalled the blood stains on the bed because he suddenly  swore  in Arabic, tore his stunned gaze from hers and half swung away  from her,  his lean brown hands clenching into fists. 'If that is true, I  have  greatly wronged you,' he bit out rawly.

'We wronged each other a long time ago,' Saffy cut in. 'I chose to share   that bed with you. It was my decision and this is my...er, problem.'                       
       
           



       

'If it's my child, it's mine too and I don't see our child as a   problem,' Zahir retorted with a harsh edge to his dark deep voice.   'We'll remarry just as soon as I can arrange it.'

'Remarry?' Saffy gasped in wonderment. 'You have to be joking!'

'Our child's future is too serious to joke about and it can only be secured through marriage.'

'And we all know how that turned out the last time,' Saffy returned   doggedly, fighting to think logically because his proposal had shaken   her to her very depths. Was he serious? Was he really serious?

'When my father died and I took the throne, everything changed in   Maraban,' Zahir declared levelly. 'We would be able to lead normal lives   now. You're pregnant. Of course, I want to marry you.'

Saffy was reeling from a dozen different reactions: disbelief, scorn,   anger, frustration among them. Zahir was set on taking charge as usual.   He wasn't reacting on a personal level, he was reacting as a public   figure, keen to hide an embarrassing mistake within the respectability   of marriage.

'I don't want to marry you just because I'm pregnant.'

'And what do you think your child would want?' Zahir shot that icily   controlled demand back at her. 'If you don't marry me, you will deprive   that child of a father and of the status in life he or she has a right   to enjoy. Without marriage, the child will have to remain secret and it   will be almost impossible for me to establish a normal relationship  with  him or her.'

In one cool statement, Zahir had given Saffy a lot to think about, but   then faster than the speed of light her child had gone from being a line   on a test wand to a living, breathing being, who might well question   her decisions at a later date. For the first time she appreciated that   she could not continue to put her own wants and needs first because,   whatever she chose to do, she would, one day, have to take   responsibility for the choices she had made on her child's behalf.

'We could get married just to ensure that the baby was legitimate...and then get another divorce,' she suggested tautly.

Brilliant dark eyes flamed golden as flames. 'Is that really the very   best you can offer? Is the prospect of being my wife again such a   sacrifice?'

Saffy studied the floor. She thought of the wicked forbidden delight of   his passion, recognising that on that level everything between them had   radically changed. She looked up, feeling the instant mesmeric pull of   him the moment she saw his lean dark face. Her heart hammered inside   her, her mouth running dry.

'Couldn't you give our marriage a second chance?' Zahir asked huskily.

'It's too soon to consider that,' Saffy argued. 'The first thing I need   to do now is see my doctor and confirm that I am pregnant. Then we'll   decide what to do. Look at this from my point of view. When you arrived   here, you asked me to be your mistress...now suddenly you're talking   marriage, but I don't want to get married purely because you   accidentally got me pregnant.'

Zahir surveyed her with stormy intensity and the atmosphere thickened as   though laced with cracked ice. 'I believe in fate, not accidents. What   is meant to be will be.'

Saffy rolled her eyes, compressed her lips and stood up. 'You shipped me   out to the desert for seduction, not fatherhood. You brought this roof   down over our ears-you sort it out!'

'Marriage will sort it out,' he contended stubbornly.

'Oh, if only it were that simple.'

'But it is.' Before she could even guess his intention, he had closed a   hand over hers. His brilliant gaze sought and held hers by sheer force   of will. 'Right now, it's the best choice you can make. Let go of the   past. Trust me to look after you and my child. I will not let you down.'

'And would you agree to a divorce at a later date?' Saffy prompted   shakily, more impressed than she wanted to be by his promise of good   intentions.

'If that's what you wanted, if you were unhappy as you were before,   yes,' Zahir agreed grittily, not choosing to add the unpleasant   realities that would accompany any such decision on her part. Complete   honesty was not possible. What really mattered was getting that ring   back on her finger and securing their child's future. 'This is not about   us, this is about our child, what he or she needs most.'

'If you really mean that...' Saffy drew in a ragged breath, terrified of   the confusing thoughts teeming through her head. She was trying very   hard to put the welfare of her child first and not muddy the waters with   the bitterness of the past and the insecurity of the present. He would   keep his promise: she knew that. On that level she trusted him and she   quite understood that he wanted their child to have the very best  start  in life possible. They owed their child that chance.                       
       
           



       

'I do,' Zahir confirmed levelly.

'Then on that basis, I agree.' So great was the stress of making that   announcement that Saffy felt light-headed again as all the little devils   in her memory banks began queuing up to remind her of how vulnerable   she would be if she put herself in Zahir's power again.

Zahir released her hand. 'I'll organise it.'

He got as far as the door before Saffy called him back to say tautly, 'I want a proper wedding.'

'Meaning?' Zahir sought to clarify.

'No hole-in-the-corner do in the embassy for me this time,' Saffy   spelled out with scorn. 'I want a bridal gown and a family occasion with   my sisters as bridesmaids and all the rest of the wedding hoopla.'

Taken aback by the admission, Zahir literally paled.

'Those are my terms and I won't budge on them,' Saffy completed doggedly.





CHAPTER SEVEN



'ARE YOU REALLY sure about doing this?' Kat looked tense and anxious and Saffy immediately felt guilty.

What had she been thinking of when she dragged her family into all of   this? A shotgun wedding, no less. Her sister, Kat, didn't need the   stress but she had insisted on organising the wedding within the space   of one incredibly short week and had proven that if sufficient money was   thrown at a challenge, it could be done. Saffy studied her reflection   in the mirror. Her gorgeous designer wedding dress was a classic,  nipped  in at the waist for shape and falling in fluid folds to her  satin-clad  feet. She wasn't wearing a veil: the hairdresser had piled  her hair up  and topped it with the magnificent sapphire and diamond  tiara Zahir had  sent to her. Matching drop earrings sparkled with every  movement she  made.