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“I’m your patient; perhaps you could call me Chloe.”
He nodded. “If you’d
prefer. I can make an appointment for you tomorrow –,”
“No. It has to be today.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I have official engagements to attend to and to stay longer risks arousing suspicion.”
He expelled a sigh. “Well,” he looked around his office. “I’m not equipped to screen you here. But if you can think of a way to dispatch your staff, there’s an examination suite two doors down.”
Chloe pulled a face. “That’s easier said than done.” She stood. “But I’ll manage.”
She pulled the door inwards and addressed Aysha. “Doctor Schultz has one more thing he’d like to show me – a piece of equipment that was purchased with the latest round of fundraising. But it’s proprietary technology and I’ve had to sign a confidentiality agreement. Only I may see it.”
Aysha’s look was one of obvious disapproval. “Your highness,” she spoke in lowered tones and her natural tongue, to exclude Doctor Schultz. “It’s most improper for you to be alone with this man. It’s not safe.”
“I trust him,” Chloe said. “And it won’t take long.”
Her voice was ice-cold, and as firm as steel. “Please wait here.” She nodded at Doctor Schultz and once he’d stepped out of his office, she walked beside him. It was, as he’d said, only a few doors to the examination room. Bright white with a bed, curtain, computers, and all the peripherals a hospital might need.
“Hop up,” he said, closing the door and locking it for good measure. He pulled the curtain closed so there was an added layer of privacy.
His examination lasted only ten minutes, and then he drew blood from Chloe’s arm, writing his own names on the vials.
“When will you have the results?”
His eyes held hers. “Some of them within a day, but nothing concrete for at least a week. I’m very thorough, your highness, and test for many factors that might be affecting your ability to conceive.”
Chloe’s heart dropped. “Do you think I have a problem?”
His eyes were sympathetic. “It’s impossible to say with the information you’ve provided. I understand why you’re concerned and I think you’re wise to be investigating at this stage. Particularly given the political importance of your pregnancy.”
Chloe felt ill. Just speaking her fears aloud made them so much more real, so much more likely to be true. “Please let me know as soon as you have anything.” She reached into her handbag and removed a small, gold card. Her name was written in looping calligraphy and on the back was her private phone number.
“Don’t speak to anyone but me, and if you call and a servant answers, please leave a message that you wanted to pass on additional donor information.”
“Of course,” he nodded, and she believed him. She trusted him. She just hoped he would be the bearer of very good news when he called.
Aysha was not happy with Chloe; that much as obvious. But for once, Chloe reveled in the fact she was royalty, that she need not care what her servant thought, even though she liked Aysha very much. Chloe was doing the best possible thing for her husband, her country and her marriage.
As the plane took off from Bern a short time later, Chloe stared out of the window, looking at the tiny houses below, the proud river sparkling through the city, the verdant parklands that merged with the city so artistically. Thousands of people were down below, living their lives, each of them with their own worries, their own joys. How many women around the world, living and past, had felt what she was? How many had grappled with this worry, had been plagued by doubts, only to be rewarded with a new little life growing in their belly?
And if she wasn’t one of them?
Chloe turned away from the view, focusing her gaze on her hands, clasped neatly in her lap. Her wedding ring sparkled at her, and she swallowed.
If she couldn’t have children?
He had an heir. She reminded herself of this forcefully. Amit was a perfect candidate. They needn’t have a baby after all. She’d simply help Raffa see that they could legitimize Amit. Surely once people saw them as a family, once Amit was brought onto the public stage, shown to be a King in the making, the public would embrace him?
And Chloe?
Where did that leave her?
A redundancy, that’s where. Why would Raffa need her? Oh, he wouldn’t divorce her. She’d known, when she’d married him, that come what may, this was for keeps. And she’d been happy with that – happy to pick up the reins of this new life and make of it whatever she could.
She’d been happy to forsake love and sex and true happiness for the freedom and privilege, the independence, that came of marrying the Sheikh of Ras el Kida.
Only now she’d tasted life as his wife and she couldn’t imagine things going back to how they were. She couldn’t imagine being simply Her Highness, living in the city, living as a princess with all of the trappings and none of the responsibility.
