From One Night To Desert Queen by Pippa Roscoe

CHAPTER FIVE

THEMOMENT MAYAemerged from his bedroom, Khalif demanded to know how Star was.

‘She is fine,’ Maya replied. ‘Taking a moment, but she is—’

His assistant stood, snaring Maya’s attention. ‘Any medical conditions we should know about? Family history of—’

‘That’s enough, Amin,’ Khalif said.

‘Your Highness, we need to know if there is any—’

‘If Star is pregnant, we will get to those kinds of questions. Until then I will not invade her privacy in such a way,’ he warned.

Amin stared at Khalif until Star opened the door to the bedroom and came out, with a smile only he might be able to tell was nervous.

‘As I told Star,’ Maya said to the room, ‘we will need about eleven days before we can be sure a pregnancy test will be completely accurate.’

‘That’s the day after the memorial event,’ Amin said angrily as if somehow that was Star’s fault too.

‘Yes,’ Maya confirmed as Khalif’s head began to spin. Everything seemed to be converging on that one event.

‘You can’t miss it,’ Amin said to Khalif.

‘Why would you miss it?’ Star asked Khalif in confusion and started a little at the glare his assistant sent her way. Khalif was about to say something when she turned to Amin. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, peering at him. ‘Do you need some water?’

Amin turned an indelicate shade of puce. Khalif couldn’t tell whether Star had been purposely oblivious to Amin’s obvious anger or simply unseeing of it.

‘You cannot leave, Your Highness. There is still too much work to do—’

‘Amin...’ he warned.

‘She can go,’ Amin said, waving an arm in her direction as if she were a baggage to be passed around, ‘but you are needed here.’

‘Enough!’ Khalif barked, his hand slicing through the air and any further objection his infuriating assistant might have. He was done. ‘Out. Everyone. Now.’

Amin looked as shocked as if he’d just been told categorically that Santa Claus was real and moved only when the security guard in front of the door opened it and gestured to him to leave. Maya ducked her head—quite possibly concealing the ghost of a smile—but left and was followed by the security guard closing the door behind him.

‘Did you want me to...?’ Star’s question fell short, probably at the look on his face which—if it was anywhere close to his feelings right now—would be a sight to behold. He resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair, aware of how much that would give away.

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘If I am pregnant, probably not, no.’

‘Right. Of course. Really? Already?’

Star shrugged her shoulders and stared at him as if he were an unexploded bomb. He certainly felt like one.

‘Herbal tea would be lovely, if you have one.’

Thathe could do. He went to the kitchenette and retrieved one of the herbal teas he’d always kept for Samira.

His brain stumbled over her name as if, even mentally, he couldn’t face it. He glared at the leafy infusion as if it were responsible for creating a link between Star and her at this specific moment.

Pulling himself together, he passed the cup under the heated water tap.

‘I know you’re a prince and everything, but if you don’t know how to boil a kettle...’

He felt a smile soften the grim line of his lips and shifted to the side so that Star could see the steam coming from the boiling water.

‘Ah... Fancy.’

‘Very,’ he confirmed. He turned and passed her the tea. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Not pregnant, if that’s what you’re wondering,’ she said, gently blowing the steam from her tea across the rim of the cup. She looked up at him and shrugged. ‘Kal—Your—Oh, please just tell me what to call you?’ she pleaded lightly.

He smiled at her evident fluster. ‘Kal when it’s just you and me, Khalif in front of the people who just left the room, and Your Highness if there is ever anyone else present.’

If there is ever. Not when.

Star gripped the cup tighter to disguise the shaking of her hands caused by the realisation that he had no intention of introducing her to any more people than was strictly necessary. And while that hurt, could she blame him? She had only intended to share one magical night with him before returning to Norfolk. Something that now seemed impossible.

‘I get the feeling you’re not letting me on my flight,’ she said.

‘No.’

A dull thud hit her heart and blood rushed to her cheeks. Eleven days, Maya had said. She couldn’t stay here for eleven days! Panic flooded her body, adrenaline effervescent in her blood. What about her mother? Every single minute she stayed with Khalif the necklace remained lost to them, as did the chance to save her mother.

She put down the hot tea before she could spill it and burn herself. ‘I can’t... I can’t be here for eleven days, Kal,’ she said, her voice almost a whisper.

‘You won’t be. In half an hour we’ll head into the desert.’

‘The desert?’ Star asked before realising that he wouldn’t want her somewhere she could be found by some unsuspecting staff or family member.

‘We have a family residence in the desert.’

‘Really?’ Star frowned. She’d not heard or seen any reference to it in the exhibition. Maybe, just maybe... She couldn’t tell whether the thread of hope winding around her heart at the possibility that she might find the necklace there was fanciful or fated. And then she was horrified at herself for thinking such a thing, for being opportunistic at this time, and her stomach began to hurt as much as her heart.

‘I need to call my sisters.’ They would know what to do, she thought, rubbing absently at her stomach—a move that Khalif’s keen gaze homed in on.

‘You can’t tell them.’

Her eyes flew to his face.

‘You can’t,’ he repeated. ‘If news gets out then...’

‘I trust my sisters.’

‘I’m glad. But I don’t.’

‘You are cutting me off from a support that I need right now,’ she warned.

‘Then allow me to be that support.’ His words were at odds with the grim determination on his features.

She turned away from him.

‘Star.’ She halted without looking back. ‘If you are pregnant—’

‘We’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it,’ she interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of his declaration. Because she knew it would erase all the good that they had shared up to that point, all the moments of connection and how she’d felt seen by him.

‘I need you to understand that while Duratra is a peaceful, inclusive and diverse country, even we balk at unmarried sheikhs with illegitimate heirs. Family is incredibly important to us. It comes first.’

‘I appreciate that,’ she said, still facing the door to the bedroom.

‘Star. I need you to understand that if you are carrying my child, we will marry.’

No.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to come to Duratra, find the necklace and return home to Norfolk, where they could find the jewels, sell the estate and get the treatment their mother needed.

Spinning to face him, ‘But I can’t be what you’d imagined as a wife?’ she said.

‘No. You’re not.’

She pressed her teeth into her lip to stop the hot ache in her throat from escaping.

‘But if you are carrying my child that won’t matter.’

‘So you’d marry me for the sake of our child?’ she demanded.

‘Yes.’

‘But not love. You’d not want to marry me.’ Star rubbed at her wrists, trying to soothe away the impression of shackles that her mother—that Catherine—had seen marriage as.

‘No royal marries for love, Star.’

‘That is very sad indeed.’

‘It’s just the way it is,’ he said as if it were a tenet to live by. ‘If you are pregnant, we will marry.’

Less than two hours later the Jeep jerked a little to the right as they skirted the base of another impossibly tall sand dune and he cursed. Usually Khalif was a much better driver than this. He loved this drive. Not that he’d taken it in the last three years. No one had been back here since Faizan and Samira’s accident—as if distance alone would help stave off their grief.

Khalif was hit by an overwhelming need to speak to his brother right now.

You’re a fool, Faizan would have said.

And Samira would have looked at him with her large, deep brown eyes, accepting, understanding and hopeful that he’d found happiness at last.

He braced himself against the wave of loss that hit as inevitably as the tide. That was why he didn’t like thinking of them. The pain that always followed was too much to bear.

He gripped the steering wheel and turned to check on Star. She had regained a little of the colour in her face. He resisted the urge to lift his sunglasses and rub his eyes, instead pushing forward with focused determination. As if the distance between them and the palace was something to be beaten into submission.

‘I’m sorry about your mother’s diagnosis,’ he said. It had been burning a hole in his conscience since Maya had told him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must feel like.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

‘Is there anything that can be done?’

‘We are working on it.’

Star stared at the rich yellow sand, rising and falling as if endless, silently praying for it to distract her. The ‘family residence’ in the desert was her last hope and she would turn it upside down if she had to.

Because if she didn’t find the necklace and they couldn’t save their mother then...then...she’d be alone. Her sisters loved her, but her mother understood her. And the awful shadow of loss she felt for the father she had never known would be nothing in comparison to what life would be like without her mother.

She cleared her throat against the aching burn and Khalif passed her a bottle of water. She refocused her gaze on the miles of golden sand and brilliant blue sky.

‘How do you feel?’

‘No more pregnant than I did an hour ago,’ she said, the concern in his voice a kindness that softened her reply.

If you are carrying my child, we will marry.

It was only now that she might be pregnant that Star realised just how much she’d wanted to marry before having a child. It was in the way her heart quivered at the thought of her baby growing up to experience the same stares and whispers that she and her sisters had. An experience that Khalif had shared in his own way.

‘But if I was,’ she said hesitantly, picking up the threads of her answer, ‘if I was pregnant, if we had a child, can you ensure that they wouldn’t be judged, or excluded or...?’

‘Star, look at me,’ he said, removing his sunglasses. Only when she met his gaze did he continue. ‘With every ounce of my being I would protect you and our child. Our family has an agreement with the press, both in Duratra and internationally, that protects our children from scrutiny until they turn eighteen. They attend a central city school until they decide whether they want to attend university. We can’t protect them from everything, but we do our best.’

Star thought about that for a moment, not immune to the devotion and determination in Khalif’s tone. She had grown up sure of her parents’ love, even though her father had passed. Their love of her, love of each other, hadn’t needed a marriage certificate. But her grandparents’ behaviour had made her see through different eyes—ones that were hurt and had caused hurt. And she would never do that to her child.

‘If I were pregnant, I would do whatever it took to protect them,’ she said, finally turning back to him, knowing that he would understand what she meant.

‘As would I.’ His words felt like an oath and she felt the stirrings of the connection she’d been drawn to when they’d first met and something tight eased in her heart.

The sound of his phone ringing cut through the Jeep, but he put off answering it until Star returned to look out of the window.

Biting back a curse, he pressed the wireless earbud to his ear and pressed a button on the steering wheel to answer the call. ‘Yes?’ Khalif answered in Arabic.

‘Wow. Okay. Nice to speak to you too,’ came the sardonic response from Reza.

‘I don’t have much time. I’m on the way to Alhafa.’

‘Really? Is that...wise?’

Khalif glanced across at Star. Nothing about his decisions had been wise since she’d come crashing into his life.

‘There wasn’t much choice.’

‘The plans for the memorial are barely finalised, let alone—’

‘I know, Reza. But what do you want me to do? Abbad will never be happy with the choice of memorial for his youngest daughter. We could have renamed the mountains and it wouldn’t be compensation for his loss.’

‘If that’s what you’re trying to achieve, Khalif, then...’ Reza’s voice trailed off, genuine concern evident.

He cursed. ‘I don’t know any more, Reza.’

‘Well, at this rate, Amin might have a heart attack and be removed from your staff for medical reasons.’

‘He’s necessary.’

‘He was necessary for Faizan. I’m not sure he’s necessary for you.’

‘Is that what you called me for? To berate me for messing up this memorial and my choice of employee?’

‘Actually, I called to berate you for possibly impregnating a British tourist, but sure, while we’re at it, we might as well—’

‘I’m hanging up now.’

‘Khalif, it defeats the purpose if you tell me that you’re—’

Khalif pulled the earbud from his ear and tossed it into the well near the gearbox, smiling. The moment of relief was, however, quickly dulled by the realisation that Reza was right.

If that’s what you’re trying to achieve...

‘I am sorry,’ Star said in the wake of the terminated phone call. He risked a glance towards her. ‘For your loss,’ she clarified.

He clenched his jaw, only capable of uttering the same two words she had given to his concern about her mother. ‘Thank you.’

‘Memorials are hard to choose,’ she said, and he wondered if she had somehow understood the one-sided conversation. His anger escaped before his mind could catch up, his response a half growl, half scoff, questioning what she’d know about it, until he remembered the loss of her father.

‘My father was cremated,’ she said, her eyes ahead on the horizon, but clearly seeing some distant past. ‘His ashes were scattered in the Solent but Mum wanted me to have somewhere that I could go to, that I could visit if I wanted to. Somewhere just for me and him. She saved a little bit of his ashes for me, so that when I was old enough I could decide where that would be. I...’ She trailed off, as if searching for the words. ‘It was hard to decide. I didn’t know him, I could barely remember him and I felt this...pressure to get it right, like I was being tested somehow on some instinctive connection I should have with the father I had never known.

‘And then I realised that it wasn’t about him, or Mum, or what people expected. This was for me.’ She pressed a hand against her heart and his palm itched as if he felt the beat of her heart there. ‘There’s a forest near to where we live, and I spent days searching for the oldest tree. It’s this beautiful old gnarled oak that’s been there for hundreds of years. Mum, Skye and Summer came with me and we lit candles and I buried the little vial of ash in its roots so that he’d always be a part of the wood we both loved so much.’

Khalif remembered that she’d said her father was a carpenter and thought that it was perfect. It must have been a beautiful moment for her. For them. And he was struck by a spark of jealousy. Jealous of the privacy and intimacy of the moment.

‘It’s not that easy,’ he said, his voice shockingly hoarse.

‘Easy?’ she asked, the tone to her voice making him realise how that had come out.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that this memorial is not just for me, my nieces, my family, my country, but Samira’s family, her country... It’s...’

‘Big.’

‘Yes.’

She nodded. ‘So all the more reason to find the one that feels right?’

He looked at her for a second longer than he needed to, causing the arousal he felt to sneak beneath his defences and grip him low and hard.

‘So, tell me about this family residence,’ she said, breaking the moment, a brightness to her tone that hadn’t been there moments before. And if it felt just a little forced, he could understand why.

He sighed and cast his mind back through the family history and legends of the old fortress. ‘It’s been there almost as long, if not longer than the city. It was originally a fortress between our land and the neighbouring countries, but it hasn’t been used by the military since the fourteenth century. It was barely even used in the last few hundred years, but my father liked it and started to hold family gatherings there, especially since his friendship with His Majesty Sheikh Abbad.’

‘Your sister-in-law’s father? His country borders yours?’

‘Yes. But, before my father, it was mainly known for being used for...’

He trailed off, as if not wanting to finish the sentence.

‘For what?’ she prodded.

‘For the Sheikh’s mistresses.’

‘How fitting,’ she replied drily.

‘You are not a mistress,’ he announced.

‘No, I suppose being a mistress would require more than one night.’

Silence filled the Jeep as they both descended into a mix of memories and fantasies of what had been and what could be. Star wanted to bite her tongue and Khalif clenched the steering wheel.

They rounded the curve of a road that would have been invisible if he hadn’t known where to look, and his pulse started to beat a little harder just as Star gasped in astonishment at the incredible medieval structure that was more beautiful to him than the city palace. The ochre stonework stood proudly against the bright blue sky, beside the rich forest-green slash of the palace gardens.

Despite its military exterior, inside smooth functionality gave way to intricate and ornate carved stone and corridors with rooms that opened up like Russian dolls, and mentally Khalif traced a path towards quarters almost as familiar to him as his own.

‘Star, before we get to the residence—’

‘That’s not a residence, Kal. That’s a palace.’

‘Yes. Sorry, were you expecting—’

‘Something smaller, perhaps? As implied by the word residence,’ she teased. ‘Sorry, you were saying...’

Khalif’s stomach tightened, hating himself already for what he was about to say. ‘Because of the situation, because we can’t risk any word getting out, I have to request that you stay in your room for one hour in the morning and one hour in the evening.’ She stared at him, those oceanic-blue eyes levelling him with their eerie calm. ‘It is so that the staff can get what they need to do done, without seeing you. It’s safer for you and them. No matter what happens, I don’t want any hint of impropriety linked to either of our futures, no matter what they are.’

‘Okay.’

‘If you need anything at all, you can just leave a note in your room and they will provide it for you.’

‘Okay,’ she said again, forcing the word to her lips. Because the sharp sting of rejection was too familiar. Too tainted already with the feelings of shame and being unwanted. And right then she promised herself that if she was pregnant, her child would never feel the hurt of that.

He hadn’t missed how quiet she’d been since his declaration. Yes, he trusted his staff implicitly and yes, they were all discreet. But he would never put them in a position that would leave them open to questions from the press, or worse—his father. It was vital that he kept them and Star apart. She would understand. One day.

He had shown her the gardens first because they truly were breathtaking. Thanks to the aquifer that fed both the nearby oasis and the palace, there was enough water for the lush greenery that filled the palace gardens and to allow the natural life in the surrounding areas to thrive.

It seemed to have a similar effect on Star as a rosy blush was brought back to features turned stark by the restrictions he had placed on her. He would have wanted to show her more, but he needed to get Star settled so that he could call his father and explain his sudden departure. He drew her back towards the interior of the palace the family affectionately called Alhafa, escaping the searing heat of the desert sun the moment they passed through the doors. The thick outer walls of the palace, deep corridors and open courtyards worked to keep the internal temperature cool and manageable.

‘This entire wing has the family suites,’ he explained as he led her down the left-hand side of the palace.

‘I don’t want to take someone’s room,’ Star announced. It might have been the first thing she’d said since they’d left the Jeep.

‘It’s just us here.’

She nodded, keeping her head down.

‘Thankfully, my father listened to my mother and had the suites fitted with en suite bathrooms when my nieces were born. She refused to have her granddaughters spending time in a military fortress with no decent plumbing.’

As he’d hoped, it drew a gentle laugh from Star and the sound tripped down his back.

‘It didn’t matter for you and your brother?’

‘We were boys. It was different. It was good to toughen us up a little.’

Star looked towards a corridor shrouded in darkness. ‘What’s down there?’

‘Nothing,’ he said as icy fingers gripped his heart.

‘But—’

‘That area is off-limits.’

She turned back without a word and continued in the direction they’d been heading. His gaze was glued to her back because if he looked anywhere else he was terrified of the ghosts he’d see.

By the time they reached the room he’d had prepared for her, Khalif wanted to leave. To return to Burami. He should never have brought her here, where around every corner was a memory of his brother, of Samira. This was where he had first met her...and where he had last seen her. This was where he struggled the most to fit his feelings into a box called grief.

But it was the only place where he and Star would not be seen. And no one could find out about this. If she was pregnant, they’d deal with how and when the news of their engagement was delivered. If not...then they would go their separate ways and never see each other again.

No royal marries for love.

The words echoed in his mind as he watched her take in the room that would be hers for the next ten nights. She went straight to the balcony. The wooden screens had been pulled back to reveal the majesty of the desert. The bed was freshly made, the scent of jasmine hanging on the air from the beautiful blooms of fresh flowers in vases he’d not seen before. Her fingers trailed over her small suitcase as if in surprise and she turned to him, her hair swept over one shoulder, making him long to touch it.

‘Your fairies have been at work.’

‘I’m not sure how the staff would feel to be called that.’

‘Well, they’re invisible and do your bidding and don’t you dare say you don’t believe in fairies,’ she warned, a slight tease to a tone that must cast spells over the children she taught.

‘So that would make me Peter Pan?’ he asked.

‘And me Wendy,’ she said, the teasing gone.

And suddenly he couldn’t explain it, but his heart hurt at the thought of her returning home while he stayed in Neverland.

They both started when the sound of his phone cut through the moment.

‘You can go anywhere you like—apart from that wing. I’ll meet you here at seven and we can go for dinner.’

‘Oh, taking me to the best restaurant in town?’ she joked, as if his father’s call wasn’t important.

‘It’s the place to be,’ he assured her with a quirk of his lips. And as he closed the door behind him, his smile flattened into a grim line and he flexed his hand from fist to open three times before retrieving the phone from his pocket.

This was not going to be fun.

Two hours later and the tension that had built across his shoulders and up his neck was as solid as concrete. The conversation with his father had gone about as well as any interaction they’d had in the last three years—terribly.

Have you forgotten your promise to Nadya and Nayla? You were supposed to spend the evening with them.

He had. He’d completely forgotten—but he couldn’t reveal to his father why. Bitterly disappointed in himself, guilt and grief swirling thickly in his stomach, he promised his father he’d make it up to them.

But the words were over-familiar to them both. They had been a constant refrain in the weeks, months and first few years following his brother’s death. Khalif had returned to Duratra and, even before the earth had settled on the coffins of his brother and sister-in-law, he had thrown himself into his duty. He’d sat up for nearly three straight nights, consuming every single piece of information needed. He’d made state calls, international calls, presenting himself as the first in line to the Duratrian throne. He’d handed over the running of an internationally successful business, stopped drinking, womanising, misbehaving and he’d worked. Hard. But he’d also hidden in that work. Hidden from his father, from his mother and most especially from Nadya and Nayla, who had been distraught not only at the loss of their parents, but also their uncle.

He couldn’t face them. Any of them. It hurt too much. To see his own grief reflected in their eyes. He hadn’t found solace with them, he’d found judgement, he’d found himself wanting.

Raza had intervened. They’d argued and fought until both were a little beaten and bruised, but Khalif had seen the truth of it. In the last year he’d been better, but he knew deep down he’d just been going through the motions.

Until a woman standing before a painting, with flame red hair, had caught his eye.

He almost growled as he stalked along the hallway towards the steam room in the lower level of the palace. His towel low on his hips and his bare feet slapping against the cool stone, diminishing some of the ire-fuelled heat that sparked across his skin.

He’d wanted one night. Just one. With a beautiful woman who made the weight of the crown lighter because it had been invisible to her. He’d wanted the taste of freedom she was unaware she had...and instead he’d quite possibly bound her to him for ever. Trapped her.

He banged the meaty side of his fist against the stone wall as he rounded the corner, welcoming the wet heat that was reaching out to him from the room beyond. He sent a prayer of thanks that Masoud knew him well enough to ensure the steam room was ready for his stay.

He pushed through the door and was hit by a bank of wet white air. He breathed in deeply, welcoming the mandarin and bergamot scented steam into his body, willing the heat to soak into his skin and relieve the stresses of an almost diabolical day.

He grounded himself, mentally drawing power up from deep beneath the ground, letting it fill his feet, his calf muscles, the base of his spine and up his back. He rolled out his powerful shoulders and flexed his neck from side to side. He just needed a moment. One to himself. He inhaled deeply again when he felt something brush past him.

Adrenaline and shock sliced through him as he reached out his hand and his fingers curled around a slender bicep.

‘Star?’ he asked, surprised and confused.

‘Yes. It’s me.’ She sounded almost guilty. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

He willed his heart to recover from the surprise of there being someone else in here, but his pulse didn’t slow. Instead, his sight blocked by the steam, his other senses were heightened. He registered the silky sheen to her skin, his thumb smoothing away a drop of moisture, and found himself pulling her towards him. As he drew her closer and closer, she came through the thick vapour into soft focus. His eyes dropped to her chest, straining against a white towel pulled tight beneath her arms, rising and falling with the quickening of her breath and making him want to lose himself in the exquisite pleasure of her all over again and damn the consequences.

With one hand still wrapped around her slender bicep, he raised the other to cup her jaw. She leaned into his touch as if she craved it as much as he did. His thumb traced down her neck and tripped over a gold chain. He followed the loops of precious metal to the pendant that lay beneath her collarbone and stopped.

He took the pendant in his hand, holding it up to his inspection and clenched it in his palm, rocked by fury, shock and a grief as swift and as powerful as the harshest of desert storms.

‘Where the hell did you get this?’ he demanded.