The Sheikh's Baby Omnibus (7 page)

The feel of him pressing against her. Hot and hard, aroused, his movement against her urgently explicit, was more than she could withstand.

Eagerly she coiled herself around him, opening herself to him, crying out as she felt him enter her, each movement powerful and sure, strong and urgent.

Already her own body was responding to his movement, her muscles clinging to him. Sensually stroking him and savouring each thrust, she could feel him strengthening inside her, filling her to completion, picking up the rhythm of her body and carrying...driving them both with it.

‘Never mind the child he has given you, has my cousin given you this? Has he made you feel like this when he holds you? When he possesses you? When he loves you? Was
this
how it was between you when you made Fleur together?’

Mariella’s whole body stiffened.

‘Did you give yourself to him as easily as you did to me? And how many others have there been?’

With a fierce cry, she pulled away from him, her brain barely able to take in what he was saying, her body and emotions in such deep shock that removing herself from him made her feel as though she were physically dying.

The shock of her rejection tore at Xavier’s guts. He wanted to drag her back into his arms, where surely she belonged, to roll her into the bed beneath him and to fill her with himself, to make her admit that no other man had ever or could ever give her or share with her what he could. But most of all he wanted to fill her with the life force that would ultimately be his child. A part of him recognised that there was no more elemental drive than this, to fill a woman’s body with one’s child in order to drive out her commitment to another man and the child he had already given her. The barbaric intensity of his own emotions shocked him. He had done what he had done for Khalid’s sake, to protect him, he reminded himself, and to reinforce that fact he told her, ‘It’s a little too late for that now! You have already proved to me just what you are, and once Khalid learns how willing you were to give yourself to me he will quickly realise how right I was to counsel him against you.’

He had taken her to bed for that? Because of that? So that he could denounce her to another man?

In the outer room Fleur suddenly started to cry. Dragging on her clothes, Mariella hurried in to her, picking her up and holding her tightly as though just holding her could somehow staunch the huge wound inside her that was haemorrhaging her life force. She was shaking from head to foot with reaction, both from what had happened and from what she had just learned.

Fleur was not Xavier’s child! Xavier’s cousin was Fleur’s father! But Xavier believed that she was Fleur’s mother. And because of that he had taken her to bed, out of a cold-hearted, despicable, damnable desire to prove to his cousin that she was a...a wanton who would give herself to any man!

Fate had been doubly kind to her, she told herself staunchly: firstly in ensuring that she had not betrayed her sister, and secondly in giving her incontrovertible proof of just what manner of man Xavier was!

CHAPTER SIX

A
S
SHE
stepped inside the welcome familiarity of her Beach Club bungalow, Mariella allowed herself to expel a shaky sigh of relief. Her first since she had left the oasis!

Now that she was safely here, perhaps she could allow herself to put the events of the last forty-eight hours firmly behind her. Lock them away in a very deep sealed drawer marked, ‘Forget for ever.’

But how could she forget, how could any human being forget an act as deliberately and cold-bloodedly cruel and damaging as the one Xavier had perpetrated against her?

If she herself had been a different kind of woman she might have taken a grim sense of distorted pleasure in knowing that, for all he might try to deny it, Xavier had physically wanted her. In knowing it and in throwing that knowledge back at him! Instinctively she knew that he would be humiliated by it, and if any man deserved to be humiliated it was Xavier!

Just thinking about him was enough to have Mariella’s hands curling into small, passionately angry fists. As her heart drove against her ribs in sledgehammer blows. How could he possibly not have recognised that she would never, ever, ever under any circumstances betray her love, and that if she had been another man’s lover nothing he could have done would have tempted her to want him? Hadn’t her body itself proclaimed to him the unlikeliness, the impossibility of her being Fleur’s mother and any man’s intimate lover?

But believing that he had been Tanya’s lover hadn’t stopped her, had it?

She would carry that shame and guilt with her to her deathbed, Mariella acknowledged.

The message light on the bungalow’s communications system was flashing, indicating that she had received several telephone calls, all from the prince’s personal assistant, she discovered when she went to check them. Before answering them, the first thing she intended to do now that she was safely back at the hotel was ring her sister and double check that she had not misunderstood Xavier—he was not Tanya’s lover or Fleur’s father!

And once she had that confirmation safely in her possession, then Xavier would be history!

* * *

I
T
TOOK
HER
several attempts to get through to Tanya, who eventually answered the phone sounding breathless and flustered.

‘I’m sorry, Ella,’ she apologised quickly. ‘But things are really hectic here and... Look, I can’t really talk right now. Is Fleur okay?’

‘Fleur is fine. She’s cut her first tooth, but, Tanya, there’s something I’ve got to know,’ Mariella told her, firmly overriding her attempts to end the call.

‘I must know Fleur’s father’s name, Tanya. It’s desperately important!’

‘Why? What’s happened? Ella, I can’t tell you...’

Hearing the panic in her sister’s voice, Mariella took a deep breath. ‘All right! But if you won’t tell me who he is, Tanya, then please at least tell me that his first name isn’t Xavier...’

‘Who?’ Tanya’s outraged shriek almost hurt her eardrums. ‘Xavier? You mean that horrid cousin of Khalid’s? Of course he isn’t Fleur’s father. I hate him... He’s the one responsible for parting me and Khalid! He sent Khalid away! He doesn’t think that I’m good enough for him! Anyway...how do you know about Xavier, Ella? He’s an arrogant, overbearing, old-fashioned, moralistic beast, who lives in the Dark Ages! Look, Ella, I’ve got to go... Love to Fleur and lots of kisses.’

She ended the call before Mariella could stop her, leaving her gripping the receiver tensely.

But at least she had confirmed that Xavier was not Fleur’s father.

Determinedly Mariella made herself turn her attention to her messages.

The prince had now returned to Zuran and wanted her to get in touch with his personal assistant.

* * *

‘D
ON
’
T
WORRY
,’
THE
prince’s personal assistant reassured Mariella when she rang him a few minutes later to explain why she had not returned his calls.

‘It is just that the prince is hosting a charity breakfast tomorrow morning at the stables and he wanted to invite you as his guest. His Highness is very enthusiastic about his project of having the horses painted, but of course this is something you will be having formal discussions with him about at a later date. The breakfast is a prestigious dressy event, although we do ask all our guests not to wear strong perfumes, as this can affect the horses.’

‘It sounds wonderful,’ Mariella responded. ‘However, there is one small problem. I have brought my four-month-old niece to Zuran with me, as the prince knows. I am looking after her for my sister, and—’

‘That is no problem at all,’ the PA came back promptly. ‘Crèche facilities are being provided with fully trained nannies in attendance. A car will be sent to collect both you and the baby, of course.’

Mariella had previously attended several glitzy society events at the invitation of her clients, including one particularly elegant trip to France for their main race of the season at Longchamps—a gift from a client, which she had repaid with a ‘surprise’ sketch of his four-year-old daughter on her pony, and, recalling the sophistication and glamour of the outfits worn by the Middle Eastern contingent on that occasion, she suspected that she was going to have to go shopping.

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
LATER
,
sitting sipping coffee in the exclusive Zuran Designer Shopping Centre, Mariella smiled ruefully to herself as she contemplated her assorted collection of shiny shopping bags.

The largest one bore the name, not of some famous designer, but of an exclusive babywear store. Unable to choose between two equally delicious little outfits for Fleur, Mariella had ended up buying her niece both.

She had been rather less indulgent on her own account, opting only to buy a hat—an outrageously feminine and eye-catching model hat, mind you!—a pair of ridiculously spindly heeled but totally irresistible sandals, which just happened to be the exact shade of turquoise-blue of the silk dress she had decided to wear to the charity breakfast, and a handbag in the same colour, which quite incredibly had the design of a galloping horse picked out on it in sequins and beads.

And best of all she had managed not to think about Xavier at all...well, almost not at all! And when she had thought about him it had been to reiterate to herself just what a total pig he was, and how lucky she was that all she had done was give in to a now unthinkable and totally out of character, momentary madness, which would never, ever be repeated. After all, there was no danger of her ever allowing herself to become emotionally vulnerable to any man—not with her father’s behaviour to remind her of the danger of falling in love—never mind a man who had condemned himself in the way that Xavier had!

Having drunk her coffee, she gathered up her bags and checked that Fleur was strapped securely in her buggy before heading for the taxi rank.

It had been a long day. She had hardly slept the night before, lying awake in Xavier’s bed, her thoughts and her emotions churning. And then there had been the long drive back to Zuran this morning after her prayers had been answered and the storm had died away.

True, she had had a brief nap earlier, but now, even though it was barely eight in the evening, she was already yawning.

* * *

X
AVIER
PACED
THE
floor of the pavilion. He should, he knew, be rejoicing in his solitude and the fact that that woman had gone! And of course he would have no compunction whatsoever in telling Khalid just how easily and quickly she had betrayed the ‘love’ she had claimed to have for him!

That ache he could feel in his body right now meant nothing and would very quickly be banished!

But what if Khalid refused to listen to him? What if, despite everything he, Xavier, had said to him, he insisted on continuing his relationship with her?

If Fleur was Khalid’s child then it was only right that he should provide for her. Xavier tried to imagine how he would feel if Khalid were to set his mistress and their child up in a home in Zuran. How he would feel knowing that Khalid was living with her, sharing that home...sharing her bed?

Angrily he strode outside. Even the damned air inside the tent was poisoned by her perfume—that and the scent of baby powder! He would instruct his staff to dispose of the bedding and replace it with new, just in case her scent might somehow manage to linger and remind him of an incident he now wanted to totally forget!

But even outside he was still haunted by his mental images of her. Her ridiculous turquoise eyes, her creamy pale skin, her delicate bone structure, her extraordinarily passionate response to him that had driven him wild, driven him over the edge of his control to a place he had never been before. The sweet, hot, tight feel of her inside, as though she had never had another lover, never mind a child! No wonder poor, easygoing Khalid had become so ensnared by her!

* * *

F
LEUR
WAS
CERTAINLY
attracting a lot of attention, Mariella reflected tenderly as people turned to look at the baby she was carrying in her arms, oblivious to the fact that it was her own appearance that was attracting second looks from so many members of the fashionably dressed crowd already filling the stable yard.

Her slim silk dress had originally been bought for a friend’s wedding, its soft, swirling pattern in colours that ranged from palest aqua right through to turquoise. Over it, to cover her bare arms, Mariella was wearing a toning, velvet-edged, silk-knit cardigan, several shades paler than her hat and shoes.

A member of the prince’s staff had been on hand to greet her as she stepped out of the limousine that had been sent to collect her, and to pass her on to a charming young man, who was now taking her to introduce her to the prince.

The purpose-built stables were immaculate, the equine occupants of the stalls arching their long necks and doing a good deal of scene stealing, as though intent on making the point that they were the real stars of the event and not the humans who were invading their territory.

The breakfast was to be served in ornamental pavilioned areas, off which was the crèche, so Mariella had been informed.

Her stomach muscles tightened a little as she saw the group of people up ahead of her. People of consequence and standing, no matter how they were dressed, all possessed that same air of confidence, Mariella acknowledged as the crowd opened up and the man at the centre of it turned to look at her.

‘Miss Sutton, this is His Royal Highness,’ her young escort introduced her to the prince, her potential client.

‘Miss Sutton!’ His voice was warm, but Mariella was aware of the sharp, assessing look he gave her.

‘Your Highness,’ she responded, with a small inclination of her head.

‘I have been very impressed with your work, Miss Sutton, although I have to say that, especially in the case of my friend and rival Sir John Feinnes, you have erred on the side of generosity in the stature and muscle you have given his “Oracle”.’

A small smile dimpled Mariella’s mouth.

‘I simply reflect what I see as an artist, Highness,’ she told him demurely.

‘Indeed. Then wait until you have seen my animals. They are the result of a breeding programme that has taken many years’ hard work, and I want them to be painted in a way that pays full tribute to their magnificence.’

And to his own, Mariella decided, but tactfully did not say so.

‘My friend Sir John also tells me that you have some very innovative ideas... The finishing touches are currently being put to an exclusive enclosure at our racecourse, which will bear my family name, and it occurs to me that there could be an opportunity there for...’ He paused.

Mariella suggested, tongue in cheek, ‘Something innovative?’

‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘But this is not a time to discuss business. I have invited you here as my guest, so that you can meet some of your subjects informally, so to speak...’

Fleur, who had been staring around in wide-eyed silence, suddenly turned her head and smiled at him.

‘You have a beautiful child,’ he complimented her.

‘She is my niece,’ Mariella informed him. ‘I am looking after her for my sister. I think my agent did explain.’

‘Yes. I am sure she did! I seem to remember that my personal assistant did mention the little one.’

Some new guests were waiting to be presented to him, and Mariella stepped discreetly to one side. In the distance on the racecourse she could see a string of horses being exercised, whilst here in the yard there were grooms and stable hands all wearing khaki shorts or trousers, and tee shirts in one of the prince’s three racing colours denoting their status within the hierarchy of the stables.

‘If you would care to take the baby to the crèche,’ the prince’s assistant was asking politely.

Firmly Mariella shook her head. Such was her sense of responsibility towards her niece that she preferred to keep her with her for as long as she could, and, besides, the yard was far too busy for her to be able to do even the briefest of preliminary sketches of the animals. The event was providing her with a wonderful opportunity to do some people watching, though.

* * *

S
URVEYING
THE
CROWD
filling the prince’s racing yard, Xavier wondered what on earth he was doing here. This kind of social event was normally something he avoided like the plague! It was much more Khalid’s style than his, and if Khalid had not taken leave of absence without warning he would have been the one to attend the event! However, since Xavier was involved in shared business interests with the prince, he had felt that perhaps he should attend the breakfast—especially as it was in aid of a charity that he fully supported.

Several people had already stopped him to talk with him, including various members of the royal family, but he now felt that he had done his duty and was on the point of leaving when he suddenly frowned as he caught sight of a silky flash of turquoise-blue as the crowd in front of him momentarily parted.