decorating the room, was magnificent. Life-sized murals on the walls picked out scenes from Sinnebar’s past, while giant gold vases at least twice her height stood like sentries at the doors. The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed honeyed light to flood in, and the air was scented and streaked with sunbeams. She felt it was a privilege to be here where time was measured in millennia rather than minutes.
Air-conditioning cooled her as she walked deeper into the room, and as she drew close the dozen or so men seated round the table stood and gave her the traditional greeting.
‘Gentlemen,’ she said, dipping her head politely before taking her seat. She had dressed for the occasion in a sober, beautifully tailored suit, in a subtle shade of dove grey that was both comfortable and modest, and she was wearing hardly any make-up. Her hair was neatly tied back, and though she had already given one presentation that morning her enthusiasm for the charity project had kept her fresh and alert.
She had left that last meeting with a positive feeling. Many of the men the sheikh had chosen to sit on his council were family men and they had quickly come to share her passion for the concept. This meeting was the final stage before Sheikh al Maktabi put his seal of approval on the scheme. She had been assured he would, as the ruler of Sinnebar always put the interests of his people first. She fully expected to start work on a centre for parents and children to enjoy in the next few weeks—providing the ruling sheikh would allow her to use some of his land for the project.
He had to—he must—Antonia determined. Ra’id al Maktabi famously cared about his people. How could he refuse such a simple request?
She was halfway through her summing up when the huge, arched golden doors at the far end of the room swung open. She felt a shiver of prescience and, following everyone else’s lead, she stood up.
The thought of finally meeting the formidable Sword of Vengeance was both a thrilling and terrifying moment for Antonia, but as she turned to catch her first glimpse of him the light streamed into her eyes. It made no difference. She could still sense his animal power as he strode towards her.
Tall and lithe, the ruler of Sinnebar was bearing down on her like a jungle cat, deep blue robes rustling rhythmically as he walked. At his waist a jewelled symbol flashed.
Fear rippled down Antonia’s spine. She had imagined the infamous Sword of Vengeance would be older. Sheikh Ra’id al Maktabi of Sinnebar’s reputation was built on the solid rock of dedicated service to his country, but she could see now that this was a man in the prime of life—and that for some reason he disapproved of her.
‘Signorina Ruggiero.’
‘Saif …’
The breath shot from Antonia’s lungs as His Imperial Majesty, Sheikh Ra’id al Maktabi, clasped her hand Western-style in greeting. She would have known that grip anywhere, and the name Saif had escaped her lips before she’d had chance to think.
But now …
Antonia began to shake as a debilitating fear swept over her.
‘Water,’ she heard a man’s voice command and then someone was drawing out a chair for her and she sank back. That same someone had stopped her falling, and now he settled her into the chair, and she found herself staring down the long stretch of table into the face of a man who was both a stranger and her lover.
And the father of her unborn child.
The realisation that the father of her baby was none other than the Sword of Vengeance was a devastating emotional blow. Most things she could get around, but not this.
Any hope she’d had of finding Saif and living happily ever after had just been crushed. How could she tell this man—this formidable king—that she was carrying the heir to his throne? When would she tell him? Would he be willing to grant her a private audience—or would he find out somehow and steal her child?
He was darker than night and twice as dangerous, she thought as Ra’id al Maktabi stared coldly down the table at her. He would think her a gold-digger, or worse, if she told him about the baby, and would almost certainly demand that any child of his would be brought up in Sinnebar.
At his signal the hiss of the air-conditioning was instantly subdued to a hum. ‘Don’t let me throw you off your stride, Signorina Ruggiero,’ Saif—the man she must now think of as His Imperial Majesty, Sheikh Ra’id al Maktabi of Sinnebar—insisted evenly. ‘Please continue.’
He made a gracious gesture with his hand, but she wasn’t fooled. This was a man everyone obeyed on the instant or suffered the consequences—which would be swift and terrible, Antonia suspected.
Sipping the water they had given her, she tried desperately to collect her thoughts. It helped to think about the child inside her, the child who depended on her, and then she widened these thoughts to encompass the many children who were helped by the charity she represented, and who depended on her getting this right. ‘Gentlemen,’ she began, determined to pick up the discussion without too great a pause. ‘I do have some spare proposals with me.’ She turned to one of the ever-present servants at her elbow. ‘Would you be good enough to hand this copy to His Majesty?’ she asked politely, passing over a neatly bound folder of printed notes.
‘You make a persuasive case, Signorina Ruggiero,’ Ra’id concluded as he brought the meeting to a close. ‘I will consult with my council, but I am persuaded to allow you to open a branch of your charity in Sinnebar.’
‘There is one other point I’d like to bring up.’
The surprise around the table showed itself in a collective gasp. No one interrupted the ruling Sheikh of Sinnebar, Antonia suspected, but in this instance she had no option as there was one item on which the ruler of Sinnebar’s agreement was essential. ‘The land …’ She got no further. No one, especially not Antonia, could have predicted Ra’id’s reaction. Wily gazes dropped before the power of their sheikh. Ra’id al Maktabi hadn’t even moved, but all the men around the table had detected some subtle change in him, and it was a change that threatened all of them—especially her, Antonia suspected.
But when he spoke Ra’id’s voice was perfectly calm. ‘We have a number of matters to discuss, Signorina Ruggiero,’ he agreed pleasantly.
Was she the only person in the room to hear the edge of menace in that voice? Antonia wondered. But wasn’t this the opportunity she’d been hoping for? She could tell Ra’id about their child. It might come as a bombshell to him, but she had to believe he would be as happy as she was when he got used to the idea.
Ra’id’s smallest emphasis on the word we had been enough to dismiss the council, who rose as one and, having bowed low to their sheikh, acknowledged her briefly before leaving the room.
CHAPTER TEN
SHE was alone with Ra’id. Even the servants had vanished. Now there was just echoing silence and the most powerful man in the Gulf—a man whose unwavering gaze was now fixed on her. This was no susceptible lover who would be thrilled to hear about a baby, but a hard man of the desert—a warrior who would stop at nothing to protect his people, a man without the luxury of a heart. She would have to be honest with him. She would explain first about the charity, and when the business part of the meeting was over she would tell him her most important news. She had to draw on her courage and remember the meeting earlier that day. The men who reported to the sheikh had all been broadly in agreement with her plan—subject, of course, to their sheikh’s approval.
But
