as her protector and the hands-on father of her child was a heady prospect, but then she accepted reality. He would never acknowledge a foreigner who was virtually a member of his kitchen staff as an equal and a royal child would never be allowed to leave the country. She had told him the truth and was damned. If she hadn’t told him she would have been equally damned, for then she would never have been able to look her child in the eyes and tell that child the truth about her father.
‘So that’s why you fell into a faint at my feet—and why you looked so pale when we arrived in the desert.’ Razi’s expression darkened. ‘Have you no sense of responsibility? No concern for anyone but yourself? Don’t you care about your child? Or—’
‘You?’ Lucy interrupted. She had paled beneath Razi’s onslaught, but rallied to defend the truth. ‘I care about you more than you know.’
Even as he exclaimed with disbelief she saw a look in his eyes she’d never seen before. It spoke of a fierce pain—a pain from the past that still had the power to hurt him. ‘I’m pregnant, Razi,’ she said quietly, ‘and that’s a fact as well as a cause for rejoicing. I’m afraid you’ll just have to get used to it—I have.’
Get used to it? He was already changing. A baby? He was ice. He was fire. He didn’t dare to hope. ‘A baby or our baby?’ he demanded, fuelled by unbearable suspicion.
‘My baby.’
‘That doesn’t answer my question, Lucy,’ he told her coldly. But he could tell it was a baby she had loved from the first moment she had realised she was pregnant. He didn’t question Lucy’s maternal instinct. She would defend her child to her last breath. He envied her that depth of feeling. But all Lucy’s thoughts were centred on the baby and on her duties as that baby’s mother and this passionate new love had blinded her to reality and to the world outside her own cosmos. She could have no idea of the repercussions inside a country like Isla de Sinnebar if the news leaked out. ‘How do you know it’s our child?’ he said, feeling calmer now his mind had cleared to make way for this most crucial of tests.
‘Because there hasn’t been anyone else,’ she said, appearing more vulnerable than ever as she made this innocent admission.
He closed his heart to her. ‘How do I know that? How do I know I can trust you?’
Her steady gaze shamed him, but still he drove on to seek the truth. ‘How do I know that I’m not one of many guests you … entertained?’
He stopped the flat of her hand before it reached his face, holding her wrist in a non-negotiable grip.
‘Let go of me!’ she insisted, struggling to break free.
His answer was to bring her closer so he could stare into her wounded eyes. ‘I’ll release you when you calm down and tell me the truth—and I mean all of it.’
This wasn’t the civilised man she had met in Val d’Isere, but a warrior king, who was burning up inside with pain and fury. ‘Let go of me. Of course it’s our baby. I’ve never been with anyone else. If you need proof we can have a DNA test once the baby is born.’
Razi held on to her, his gaze unwavering.
‘Do you really think I would fly halfway round the world,’ Lucy demanded, throwing Razi’s taunt back at him, ‘without knowing it was your baby? I don’t lie.’
She stared down at his hands on her arms and he released her. ‘I also have a bank statement, showing that I set up an account exclusively for the money you left at the chalet, and that I never touched a penny of it.’
‘So you put your plans for a restaurant first, your child second and telling me about our baby a very poor third?’ He threw up his hands in disbelief.
‘I’m not saying that.’ This was all going horribly wrong. She had never meant to lie to him.
‘When, Lucy? When did you intend to tell me?’
‘When I returned to England,’ she confessed steadily. ‘I came here thinking you were Mac—a businessman—only to discover you were the ruling Sheikh—’
And a man who clearly mistrusted women, believing them incapable of love. Lucy only had to look into Razi’s eyes to know that his inner scars went a lot deeper than she had previously supposed. Some long-held wound was festering inside him. She couldn’t know the details, but she could feel the effect, and while part of her was filled with compassion for his pain, the part of her that was a mother—and that part was swiftly becoming all of her—was terrified at the thought that the ruling Sheikh of Isla de Sinnebar’s only interest now was to secure custody of their child.
And what power did she have to stop him? Once Razi had done that she’d be his captive for life, for she would never abandon her child to the care of strangers. Razi lived on an island halfway across the world from where she lived. How would that work? When would she see her baby? How could she bear her child to live so far away from her? She couldn’t. And Razi wouldn’t want her here.
It was a problem to which there was no solution, and in this case the only form of attack was defence. ‘Why did you bring me to the desert? To show me a valuable ecological site? I don’t think so, Razi. You brought me here to get me away from the city and prying eyes. You brought me here because you’re ashamed of me.’
‘I’m not ashamed of you,’ he insisted. ‘Why did you come to the Isla de Sinnebar if not to trap me in some way?’
‘What? That’s absurd. How would I do that when you’re an all-powerful king?’
‘That’s what I want to find out.’ He raked his thick black hair with angry fingers. ‘Has it occurred to you that a scandal like this could rock my country? No—I didn’t think so. If I acknowledge this child it will be seen as my first act in power. How will that look to my people? And the mother of that child a foreigner in this, the most traditional of countries.’
He made her feel as if she had done something wrong—and there was no mention of a baby to love, just a country to be ruled with a rod of iron, heartlessly, like a company meeting targets to be approved by the ruling Sheikh. ‘It seems to me you support all the antiquated beliefs you have sworn to eradicate. And as for me—I don’t want anything from you.’
‘Well, that’s clearly untrue,’ Razi informed her coldly, ‘or you wouldn’t be here.’
‘I thought you should know, that’s all. I’m not trying to trap you into anything. I’m quite capable of standing on my own feet without your help.’
‘So you plan to have the child and I have no say in the matter?’
‘That’s not it at all—’
‘It must be one or the other,’ Razi insisted coldly. ‘Which is it, Lucy? Blackmail? Or sob story?’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LUCY drew on her inner strength. ‘The man I knew in Val d’Isere would never have said that. And let me tell you something else,’ she added without giving Razi chance to speak. ‘You say you care about a country. I don’t believe you. How can you care about anything if you’re incapable of love? And if you’re incapable of love, I don’t want you to have anything to do with my child—’
‘Our
