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The sensation of sinking further into quicksand, despite the rope he was throwing her, escalated. ‘Please, Zaid. Hear me out.’
‘Your Highness?’ Fawzi prompted.
Zaid sighed. ‘You will marry me, Esmeralda. For the sake of our child you will marry me and we will make this work.’
A spurt of frustrated anger rose. ‘Just like that?’
The fierce eyes that raked her face held a banked hunger that turned her anger into something equally primal. ‘Trust me, jamila, nothing that happens between us will ever be just like that. But for now you’ll stay here. Fawzi will summon Nashwa and Aisha. They’ll bring you a late lunch. You’ll nourish yourself. Nourish our child. And when I return, if you still insist on talking, then we’ll talk.’
He left after that. As promised, her staff appeared, their barely suppressed chatter a marked indication that they were even more excited to be serving her in the Sultan’s private chamber. Their complete lack of judgement as they darted between the living room and the private kitchen, where Zaid’s personal chef was preparing what sounded like a feast fit for an army, forced Esme to examine Zaid’s words.
By assuming the throne after his uncle’s long tyrannical rule and giving so much of himself to his people without asking for anything in return, he’d laid down a path of trust and dependability and set up the cornerstone for change.
The protests, which had died down in the last few weeks, were a sign that Zaid was winning even those disgruntled citizens over. She knew through her own studies and experience with social work that marriage was almost always a better stability provider than single parenthood. And when that provider was the ruler of a kingdom...?
Esme believed in her heart she could make it work. But should the truth ever come out, would Zaid forgive what she’d done?
By the time she finished sampling a little bit of each dish set before her, she knew she needed to lay her cards on the table the moment Zaid returned.
Except, when he walked through the doors five hours later, a single look was all it took to realise something was badly wrong.
‘I need to leave for Paris immediately,’ he announced.
She struggled to her feet, and although he frowned when she stumbled slightly, he carried on walking towards his bedroom. Given no choice but to follow or shout the conversation, she trailed behind him.
Two butlers were already packing suitcases, and Zaid was shrugging off his outer robe.
She dragged her gaze from the ripple of muscle beneath his tunic. Already her chest was tightening at the thought of him being absent again much like he’d been for the past ten days. The possible reason for that feeling was a little terrifying but not enough to prevent her from asking, ‘Why?’
‘A deal I was supposed to finalise at the trade summit next week is in jeopardy. It’s been six months in the making. It can’t fall apart now.’
Esme wasn’t prepared to feel so bereft at the thought of his absence. ‘Oh...right. How long will you be away?’
His whole frame brimmed with majestic confidence as he shrugged. ‘For as long as it takes to salvage it. I don’t intend that to be long at all.’
‘Okay. I’ll...see you when you get back, then.’
He paused in the process of removing his keffiyeh. ‘No, you’ll see me every day while I’m away because you’re coming with me, Esmeralda.’
Her eyes widened. ‘I’m... Why?’
His air of determination intensified. ‘Because for one thing we haven’t finished our conversation. And I’m hoping that once we do agree that marriage is the only course of action, you’ll spend the rest of the time consulting with the Royal Palace’s designated designers to pick your wedding trousseau.’
A neat, efficiently presented argument. There was no way she could say no unless she was prepared to wait for days, maybe even longer, for Zaid to return from his trip. The thought of having that unfinished conversation hanging over her head, disturbing her sleep, didn’t fill her with joy.
‘Okay, I’ll go and get packed.’
He slanted a very masculine smile her way as he reefed his tunic over his head and headed for his vast dressing room. ‘No need. It’s being taken care of as we speak.’
It was the sight of his bare torso that robbed her of the heated response she’d planned. Esme was sure of it. Or perhaps the fact that she was still in his bedroom when he re-emerged five minutes later wearing a pair of grey chinos and a pristine white polo shirt.
The casual clothes should have made him less intimidating. Instead, the power of his magnetic attraction seemed to expand even further, encompassing everything in its way. Her included. She watched him glide his fingers hurriedly through his glossy hair and found herself wishing they were hers. Her breath caught when he stopped before her.
‘Did you have lunch?’ he asked, his face pinched in serious lines.
She nodded, a touch breathlessly, as her senses filled with his scent.
‘Good. We should be wheels up in an hour. If you wish to supervise your staff, I suggest you go and do so now.’
