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‘There is no mistake? Dr Smith is expecting a child?’ Zane asked Dr Ahmed, the palace’s physician, surprised he could keep his features controlled and his voice even, when all manner of thoughts and feelings were bursting in his chest.
Whatever happened now, Catherine was his responsibility. Catherine and his child.
‘Yes, Your Divine Majesty. I estimate she is four weeks’ gestation. The blood and urine tests both confirm this. And I can arrange for a sonogram tomorrow, at
the clinic in Zahari,’ he added, mentioning the nearest healthcare centre.
How ironic that one of his first actions as the acting Sheikh had been to invest in a network of state-of-the-art maternity clinics five years ago. He hadn’t expected to need one himself quite so soon.
‘Do it,’ he said. He didn’t want Catherine’s care compromised in any way. She was his woman now, no question.
‘If this is how you wish to proceed?’ the doctor said, his tone suggesting the remark was a question.
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ he asked, confused by the man’s reply.
‘Can I ask, Your Divine Majesty, is the child yours?’
Zane had expected the medic to be curious; still it surprised him that the man was bold enough to ask the question. No one questioned the Sheikh. ‘Yes, it is.’
The man’s forehead creased in a thoughtful frown. ‘This woman is not Narabian. Perhaps taking her to the Zahari clinic is not the best course of action—’ the man cleared his throat ‘—as this will alert the populace to her condition—which would force Your Majesty’s hand.’
Anger filled Zane, clutching at his stomach—what was this man suggesting? That he should not acknowledge the child as his? Or worse? But on the heels of it was the guilt that had crippled him as a boy.
This pregnancy was an accident. An accident they could have taken precautions to stop. But he’d wanted her to stay, so he’d been only too happy to let her take the risk. And now, if he acknowledged the child, she would be forced to marry him. Worse than that, she would effectively have no choice about continuing with the pregnancy.
But everything inside him rebelled against the idea of offering Catherine a choice. This was his child, his heir. He didn’t want her to terminate the pregnancy. And he still wanted Catherine, more than he’d ever wanted any woman. Although this all-consuming desire would no doubt fade in time, it had been torturing him for over a month.
And from the breathless blush that had lit up Catherine’s face when she’d mentioned her tender breasts, and his gaze had strayed to the provocative display of cleavage pressing against her robe, he knew it still tortured her too.
That the news of her pregnancy hadn’t caused the panic he would have expected was perhaps a shock in itself. He had never even contemplated fatherhood until that first night with Catherine. But much more shocking was the realisation that however wrong, however selfish he was being, he didn’t want to take the chance of losing her or his child.
Yet more proof that he wasn’t as unlike his father as he had once assumed.
Letting the disgust rush up his throat, he sent the doctor a scathing glare.
‘She will go to the Zahari clinic for her sonogram,’ he said.
Realising his mistake, the doctor bowed profusely and babbled a series of apologies. Zane raised a hand to silence him. ‘Arrange the appointment for tomorrow. I need to speak to Catherine in private.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ the doctor said. ‘She awaits you in my surgery.’
Opening the door into the doctor’s surgery, he saw Catherine’s head jerk up. She sat on an examination table, her robe replaced by a hospital gown. Unfortunately, the clinical outfit did nothing to disguise her voluptuous curves.
Arousal pounded back into his groin at the thought of his child nursing at those full breasts in eight months’ time.
He wanted to see that, with a passion that surprised him. Apparently pregnancy was only going to make Catherine more irresistible.
Thank goodness they would have eight months to enjoy it before they would have to deal with the reality of a child.
But first he had to persuade Catherine that her future, their child’s future, was here with him.
Maybe he couldn’t offer either one of them love. But love was a fickle, dangerously destructive emotion—his own parents had taught him that.
What he could and would offer the child was his name and his heritage. And what he would offer Catherine was his protection, his wealth and, for as long as it lasted, every ounce of the passion now pounding through his veins.
* * *
‘What did the doctor say?’ Cat asked as Zane returned to the room. But she had already guessed when the palace doctor had left her, telling her he would have to inform the Sheikh first of her condition.
