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Light filteredthrough the carved timber windows, projecting intricate light patterns against the marble floors. Millie held a hand out as if to catch a beam, her fingertips shimmering gold. Beyond the windows, the desert was like a vista from a postcard, or a scene from a movie, the seemingly never-ending landscape of white sand dunes calling to her just as much now as they ever had.
“Will you love this country, little one?” She pondered softly, curving a hand over her rounded stomach. “Will you love it as much as I do? Or more, because you are a part of its soul?”
In response, a determined little limb twisted and thrust, connecting with the palm of her hand in the surest sign yet that the body growing stronger each day inside of her own was listening and responding.
Millie squawked just as the door opened, so Zafar crossed the room with concern in his face. Things had been undeniably awkward between the two of them for the past week, but Millie forgot all about that for a moment and beckoned him closer with one hand, while reaching for him with her other.
“What is it?” He demanded, worry showing in the fine lines around his eyes.
“Wait.” She pressed his hand to her stomach.
He stood there, nostrils flaring and a look of uncertainty that lasted for only a few seconds, until their baby flipped once more, pressing against his hand. His eyes widened with shock. “My God,” he ground out. He pressed the other hand to her stomach, holding her steady as their little one proceeded to flip somersaults inside of Millie, perhaps rejoicing in this contact from the outside world. “We have a little athlete,” he said with a thickened voice and a husky half-laugh.
Millie had become used to the gentle kicks and shifts of their baby, but this was the strongest movement to date, and by some coincidence, Zafar had arrived just in time.
The movements eventually subsided and so too did Millie’s enthusiasm. She realised how close they were standing, his hands still on her stomach, and the familiar stirring of wants and need, of longing, had her pulling away abruptly, and the relaxed enthusiasm disappearing as she viewed him with a resumption of cool awkwardness.
“Bashir said you wanted to see me?” She prompted.
He looked – for a moment – irritated, but it cleared up almost immediately. “I have to go away tomorrow.”
“Oh.” She angled her face from his, hiding the emotions that were flooding her system, disappointment chief amongst them. Why? Why should she care? They were virtually strangers. She should be relishing a chance to be on her own.
“There’s a massive infrastructure upgrade taking place to the east, only it’s not going well.”
A small smile curved her lips. “And you want to go and see why?” Control freak, she added mentally.
“It’s imperative that I do.”
“I see.” She turned to face him, confident her features had been schooled into lines of non-concern. “Have a good trip, then.”
His brow knit together, frustration obvious. “I thought you might like to join me.”
Her lips parted in surprise. It was literally the last thing she’d expected. “Really?” A rush of excitement girded her into action. She was nodding even before she’d thought things through.
He lifted a hand to forestall her enthusiastic response. “It is not a luxurious trip. I will naturally have things made as comfortable for you as possible, but you should still be realistic about what to expect. Some of the areas we’re going to are regional, and without the mod cons you likely take for granted.”
Millie rolled her eyes. “That’s not a problem.”
“In your condition —,”
“I’m pregnant,” she shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I need to avoid the real world. I’d love to see more of your country, Zafar. It will be our baby’s country, too. I want to be a part of it.” A hint of warmth coloured her cheeks, the admission digging at something deeper, a kernel of need she felt not to be excluded by the man who ruled Abu Qara and their child who would grow to take up that mantle.
“Very well. We’ll leave in the morning.”
Millie smiled her first genuinely happy smile in what felt like a very long time. Zafar stared at her as though seeing a ghost, and the intense look in his eyes sobered Millie. “What will I need to pack?”
He waved a hand through the air. “Servants will arrange that.”
Her smile morphed into a cynical twist of her lips. “I can manage.”
“But they will better know what your requirements are. Have you spoken to your mother?”
Millie’s heart throbbed both at the question and the rapid-fire subject change. “No.”
Zafar’s gaze intensified. “You cannot hide our marriage from her indefinitely.”
“Can’t I?”
