her ways. From behind his desk Emir rose to his impressive height and the whole room was still and silent. No one more so than Amy, for Emir was an imposing man and not just in title. He stood well over six foot and was broad shouldered, toned. There was the essence of a warrior to him—a man of the desert who would never be tamed. But Emir was more than a warrior, he was a ruler too—a fierce ruler—and she had dared to talk back at him, had dared to touch on a subject that was most definitely, most painfully, closed.
‘Leave!’
He roared the single word and this time Amy chose to obey his command, for his black eyes glittered with fury and the scar that ran through his left eyebrow was prominent, making his features more savage. Amy knew beyond doubt that she had crossed a line. There were so many lines that you did not cross here in Alzan, so many things that could not be said while working at the palace, but to speak of the late Queen Hannah, to talk of happier times, to bring up the past with King Emir wasn’t simply speaking out of turn, or merely crossing a line—it was a leap that only the foolish would take. Knowing she was beaten, Amy turned to go.
‘Not you!’ His voice halted her exit. ‘The rest of you are to leave.’
Amy turned around slowly, met the eyes of an angry sheikh king. She had upset him, and now she must face him alone.
‘The nanny is to stay.’
THE nanny.
As Amy stood there awaiting her fate those words replayed and burnt in her ears—she was quite sure that he had forgotten her name. She was raising his children and he knew nothing about her. Not that she would address it, for she would be lucky to keep her job now. Amy’s heart fluttered in wild panic because she could not bear to leave the twins, could not stand to be sent home without the chance to even say goodbye.
It was that thought that propelled her apology.
‘Please …’ she started. ‘I apologise.’ But he ignored her as the room slowly cleared.
‘Patel, that means you too,’ Emir said when his senior aide still hovered, despite the others having left.
When Patel reluctantly followed the rest and closed the door, for the first time in almost a year Amy was alone with him—only this time she was terrified.
‘You were saying?’ he challenged.
‘I should not have.’
‘It’s a bit late for reticence,’ Emir said. ‘You now have the privacy that you asked for. You have your chance to speak. So why have you suddenly lost your voice?’
‘I haven’t.’
‘Then speak.’
Amy could not look at him. Gone now was her boldness. She drew in a deep breath and, staring down, saw that her hands were pleated together. Very deliberately she separated them and placed her arms at her sides, forced her chin up to meet his stare. He was right—she had the audience she had requested. A very private, very intimidating audience, but at least now she had a chance to speak with the King. On behalf of Clemira and Nakia she would force herself to do so while she still had the chance. Amy was well aware that he would probably fire her, but she hoped that if he listened even to a little of what she had to say things might change.
They had to.
Which was why she forced herself to speak.
‘When I was hired it was on the understanding that I was to assist in the raising of the children.’ Her voice was calmer now, even if her heart was not. ‘Queen Hannah was very specific in her wishes for the girls and we had similar values …’ She faltered then, for she should not compare herself to the late Queen. ‘Rather, I admired Queen Hannah’s values—I understood what she wanted for her girls, and we spoke at length about their future. It was the reason why I signed such a long contract.’
‘Go on,’ Emir invited.
‘When I took the job I understood that her pregnancy had made the Queen unwell—that it might take some considerable time for her to recover and that she might not be able to do all she wanted to for the babies. However—’
‘I am sure Queen Hannah would have preferred that you were just assisting her in the raising of the twins,’ Emir interrupted. ‘I am sure that when she hired you, Queen Hannah had no intention of dying.’ His lip curled in disdain as he looked down at Amy and his words dripped sarcasm. ‘I apologise for the inconvenience.’
‘No!’ Amy refused to let him turn things around again—refused to let him miss her point. ‘If Queen Hannah were still alive I would happily get up to the twins ten times in the night if I had to. She was a wonderful woman, an amazing mother, and I would have done anything for her …’ Amy meant every word she said. She had admired the Queen so much, had adored her for her forward thinking and for the choices she had made to ensure the happiness of her girls. ‘I would have done anything for Queen Hannah, but I—’
‘You will have assistance,’ Emir said. ‘I will see that Fatima—’
She could not believe that he still didn’t get it. Bold again now, she interrupted the King. ‘It’s not another nanny that the twins need. It’s you! I am tired of getting up at night while their father sleeps.’
‘Their father is the King.’ His voice was both angry and incredulous. ‘Their father is busy running the country. I am trying to push through a modern maternity hospital with a cardiac ward to ensure no other woman suffers as my wife did. Today I have twenty workers trapped in the emerald mines. But instead of reaching out to my people I have to hear about your woes. The people I rule are nervous as to the future of their country and yet you expect me, the King, to get up at night to a crying child?’
‘You used to!’ Amy was instant in her response. ‘You used to get up to your babies.’
And there it was again—that flash of pain across his features. Only this time it did not dissipate. This time it remained. His eyes were screwed closed, he pressed his thumb and finger to the bridge of his nose and she could hear his hard breathing. Amy realised that somewhere inside was the Emir she had known and she was desperate to contact him again, to see the loving father he had once been returned to his daughters—it was for that reason she continued.
‘I would bring Queen Hannah one of the twins for feeding while you would take care of the other.’
He removed his hand from his face, and stood there as she spoke, his fists clenched, his face so rigid and taut that she could see a muscle flickering beneath his eye. And she knew that it was pain not rage that she was witnessing, Amy was quite sure of it, for as sad as those times had been still they had been precious.
‘And, no, I don’t honestly expect you to get up at night to your babies, but is it too much for you to come in and see them each day? Is it too much to ask that you take a more active role in their lives? They are starting to talk …’
He shook his head—a warning, perhaps, that she should not continue—but she had to let him know all that he was missing out on, even if it cost her her job.
‘Clemira is standing
