them. He didn’t share his headaches or his nightmares or any of his worries or concerns, as far as Olivia could see. He presented himself as a fortress, solid and impenetrable, because everyone was depending on him. It was, Olivia suspected, a heavy burden to bear. And it made her feel more honoured that he’d shared those things with her. As impossible as it seemed, they did have a connection, one that grew deeper on her side every day. One she could no longer deny, at least to herself.
Over the last few weeks Zayed had taken time out of his busy days and spent it with her, and they’d shared several meals as well as a few sunny afternoons simply whiling away the hours and getting to know each other.
Olivia had treasured those stolen hours, the easy conversation, the glimpses of humour, the attraction that always, always simmered between them. She’d started to feel comfortable with him, known by him, and that made her desire and care for him all the more. Which was foolhardy in the extreme, because she knew it was all likely to come to an end when she found out she wasn’t pregnant.
And if she was pregnant and Zayed kept her as his Queen? That was the possibility that brought her to both the heights of hope and the depths of fear. The more time she spent with him—the more time she saw his solicitude, his moments of humour, his care for his people and even for her—she feared she was falling in love with him. And that was something that she couldn’t allow to happen. Not when she knew a marriage to Zayed would only happen for expediency’s sake, not because of love. And she didn’t know if that was something she could accept, not in the long term. But in any case, she might not even have a choice. If she was pregnant, Zayed would not let her walk away. And Olivia had no idea how she felt about that.
A knock sounded at the door of her bedroom, and Olivia turned from the stunning view. ‘Hello?’ she called in Arabic. ‘Come in.’
‘It’s me.’ Zayed appeared around the door, looking crisply attractive in a western-style business suit. When not among the tribes of the desert, he tended to wear western clothes, a preference he’d said was from his Cambridge days. Olivia had enjoyed getting to know this little detail about him, as well as countless others. He preferred coffee rather than tea, and he listened to jazz. He had glasses for reading, and a partiality for Agatha Christie, something that had made her smile.
‘Hi,’ she said now, trying to ignore the tumble of her heart simply at the sight of him. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, fine.’ He braced one shoulder against the doorway, surveying her bedroom with a distracted yet strangely purposeful air. Olivia wondered what he wanted. Although he’d made a point of seeing her every day, he’d never come to her bedroom first thing in the morning. She felt a little frisson of fear. Was this odd sort of honeymoon period over already?
‘It’s been two weeks,’ Zayed said, and there was an intractable note in his voice. Olivia stilled, one hand resting on the stone windowsill.
‘Yes,’ she agreed cautiously. ‘Thirteen days, to be exact.’
His agate gaze searched hers. ‘You should take a pregnancy test tomorrow, then.’
‘Is there one available?’ Olivia asked as lightly as she could. Her heart had started to hammer just at the thought of taking such a test. And, as luxurious as their accommodation was, they were in the middle of nowhere. How would Zayed procure a pregnancy test?
‘I’m having it flown in.’
She swallowed. ‘Oh.’
‘Better to know than not.’
Which sounded rather awful, and she couldn’t tell anything from his expression. ‘Yes, I suppose.’
So as soon as tomorrow this could all be over. He’d send her away and reopen negotiations with Sultan Hassan for Halina. Why, oh, why, did that thought have to hurt so much?
‘I’m having dinner with a government official from France tonight,’ Zayed said abruptly. Olivia looked at him in surprise.
‘Here?’
‘He’s flying in.’
‘Along with the pregnancy test?’ she couldn’t help but quip, and Zayed gave her a tight smile. ‘On the same helicopter, as it happens, although obviously two very separate requests. I thought you could join us for dinner.’
‘You—what?’ Now she was really flummoxed. Although she’d enjoyed her time at Rubyhan, and had socialised and interacted with just about everyone there, she still felt as if she were being hidden away from the rest of the world, Zayed’s unfortunate mistake, his dirty little secret. She’d hardly expected to be introduced to someone important, someone who expected Zayed to be married to Princess Halina and not a governess nobody.
‘You speak French,’ Zayed pointed out. ‘You told me a few days ago.’
‘Yes, but...’
‘And having you there will make the dinner less formal, which is important at this stage.’
‘This stage of what?’
‘France might be willing to support me against Malouf,’ Zayed explained. ‘This is their initial approach.’
‘Okay.’ She didn’t understand the ins and outs of the politics, but she accepted that Zayed did, and if he wanted her there, she would go. ‘How...how are you going to introduce me?’
‘Simply as my companion. I do not think Pierre Serrat will ask any awkward questions. He is a diplomat, after all.’
Olivia nodded, unsure how she felt about any of this. It was so unexpected, yet the last few weeks had been filled with unexpected things.
They’d been exciting, she acknowledged, and she’d known more happiness here than she ever had in the Sultan’s palace, a fact which made her feel a little sad. When and if Zayed sent her away, she would do something different with her life, she vowed. She would go to Paris, get a job, live independently as she never had before. The prospect made her wilt inside. She was falling in love with him, she acknowledged despondently. With every moment, every second she spent in his company, she tumbled a little bit further. And there was nothing she could do about it.
‘I’ll send Anna to you later,’ Zayed said. ‘To prepare for tonight.’ Olivia nodded, and he paused in the doorway. ‘Thank you, Olivia.’
‘You’re welcome.’ The words were squeezed out. Zayed nodded once, then he was gone. She stared at the empty doorway for a moment, wishing she knew what was in his head. Was he hoping that she wasn’t pregnant, so he could get rid of her as soon as possible?
Of course he is, you ninny.
No matter how pleasant the last two weeks had been, and they’d been very pleasant for her, Zayed was a man on a mission, one he’d explained to her himself, one she understood and sympathised with. He needed Sultan Hassan’s cooperation too much to jeopardise it by staying married to her.
She was so foolish, half daring to dream about a life with a baby and a husband at her side. A man, she reminded herself ruthlessly, who would be there only by duty, not by desire. Far better for her as well as for Zayed if she hadn’t fallen pregnant. She knew that, even if in her weaker moments she didn’t feel it.
Olivia spent the morning as she had intended to, proofreading some correspondence
