The Sheikh's Secret Son
Autore
Maggie Cox
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Chapter One
THE FALL FROM the granite wall happened in an instant, yet strangely time seemed to slow down as Darcy saw herself plunge downwards. It was like an uncanny out-of-body experience. Her mind flashed—happening but not happening—just like in a dream. Trouble was, she’d lost concentration due to her mind being dominated by the nerve-racking task at hand—which was hopefully to see the charismatic owner of the regal manor and to tell him at last that their passionate affair had produced a son...
Now, the searing knife-like pain that shot through her ankle as she hit the ground gave her something even more pertinent to worry about. Issuing a string of unladylike curses, she rubbed at the offending bone, wincing as the pain intensified excruciatingly. How on earth was she going to stand? The flesh was already reddening and swelling—too fast for her liking. No chance of presenting the poised unruffled appearance she’d had in mind, then...
Even as the realisation descended a heavy-set man in a slightly snug black suit started running towards her from the other side of the splendid gardens. It didn’t take much guessing to deduce that he was a security guard. She reminded herself of her intention to stay as calm as possible, no matter what occurred. Then she made herself breathe deeply to try to control the waves of pain that washed over her.
When the man got to her, his breath hitting the frigid October air in tangible puffs of steam, she saw that his fleshy olive complexion was coated with a fine sheen of perspiration.
Despite her dilemma, Darcy quipped, ‘You could have saved yourself the effort. I’m clearly not going anywhere any time soon. I think I’ve twisted my ankle.’
‘You are a very silly young woman to risk such a foolish thing. I can tell you now that the Sheikh is not going to be very happy.’
Her realisation that he was referring to the man she’d desperately hoped to see made her feel as though she’d slammed into the wall rather than merely falling off it.
‘His Highness is the owner of this property and you are trespassing. I have to warn you that he will not take the intrusion lightly.’
‘No... I don’t suppose he will.’
However her ex-lover reacted when he saw her, it surely couldn’t make her feel any worse than she felt already. Yes, it could. Darcy had been on edge before the accident, never mind now, with the looming possibility of being confronted by him and accused of breaking and entering.
‘Look, what’s happened has happened, and as much as I need to explain my motives for being here to His Highness, first I’m going to need your help in getting to my feet.’
‘That is not a good idea. You need to be checked over by a doctor first. Trying to stand might make the injury worse.’
Staring up at the guard, she witnessed an unexpected glimpse of concern in his chocolate-brown eyes. Then he withdrew a phone from his jacket and spoke to someone at the other end in a language that she was only too familiar with from her days of working at the bank. To make matters worse, the recognition brought with it a vividly searing memory that she expressly didn’t welcome right then—especially when she’d stupidly put herself in the mother of all awkward situations.
And all because she’d been driven to scale a wall she never should have attempted in the first place, resulting in a highly inconvenient injury.
But what else was she supposed to do when the necessity of seeing her former lover was becoming ever more urgent? Her worst fears had come true. He was engaged to be married. No matter how many times she reminded herself of the fact, her heart vehemently rejected the idea as though it was poison.
At the same time Darcy realised the guard really wasn’t going to help her to her feet, he abruptly ended his call. Then he withdrew a voluminous handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to mop his brow.
‘The doctor is coming. I have also arranged for you to have some water.’
‘I don’t need water. I just need some help to get to my feet.’
Suddenly aware that any further attempts to ask for his assistance were futile, Darcy let her head drop with a grimace and the silken wheat-coloured hair that had escaped from her loosely arranged topknot glided down over her cheekbones. She could only pray it was helping to disguise the shock and fear that were pulsating through her. Surrendering to weakness for even the shortest time was anathema to her. The last time she had done such a thing it had cost her dear.
‘Who is this doctor, anyway, and will he call an ambulance?’
‘You do not need an ambulance. The doctor who is coming is the Sheikh’s very own physician. He is highly qualified and has an apartment here.’
‘Then I don’t suppose I have much choice but to wait for him. I hope he’s got some strong painkillers.’
‘If you need to take painkillers then you also need water. Do you want me to call someone to inform them that you have had an accident?’
Darcy’s heartbeat rapidly quickened. Her mother would hardly take the news calmly. Not when she was apt to turn the slightest mishap into a drama worthy of a soap opera. The last thing she wanted was for her parent’s anxiety to spill over to her little boy and worry him.
‘No. I don’t... Thanks all the same.’ Her smile at the guard was tentatively hopeful, but she suspected he didn’t believe a word she said.
Because of the dwindling daylight, she hadn’t noticed the two figures hurriedly heading towards them from the manor house. But she noticed them now. There was definitely the suggestion of urgency in their quickened steps as they started to run.
Deliberately glancing away, Darcy winced as she rubbed at her swollen ankle.
Would the next people to arrive on the scene be the police, to charge her with breaking and entering?
As if intuiting her distress, her companion dropped down in front of her and consolingly patted her arm. Her blue eyes widened in surprise. His behaviour was hardly typical of any security official she knew of. But just then, when she was feeling alone and frightened, despite her fake bravado, the man’s kindness was appreciated.
‘The doctor will soon tend to your ankle. Do not distress yourself unduly.’
‘I’m not distressed. I’m just angry that I climbed the wall. I meant no harm by it. I just wanted to take a peek at the house in the hope that...in the hope that if I saw the Sheikh I might speak with him.’
Her teeth clamped down on her lip as the man’s perusal suddenly grew more interested, and she found herself hostage to an uncharacteristic wave of self-pity.
With her voice quavering, she said, ‘I read in the newspaper that he had moved here. I used to work for him, you know?’
‘Then if you wanted to see him again, you should have rung his office and made an appointment.’
‘I’ve tried doing that, many times, but I was told by his secretary that he had to agree to it first. She never got back to me, no matter how many times I tried. In truth, I don’t think he even got my messages.’
‘I am sure he did. Perhaps His Highness has his reasons for not contacting you?’
‘Rashid.’
The deep bass voice behind them had them both immediately turning their heads. The impressive Arabian attire of the owner of the voice added to Darcy’s profound sense of shock when her gaze fell upon his features. His sublimely carved face was etched deep into her memory, but the last time she’d seen it their time together had culminated in a deed that had devastatingly broken her heart. Yet, despite that, her instinct was to greet him with familiarity.
Zafir...
Thankfully she checked the impulse just in time. His haunting black eyes were staring at her hard, she saw, piercing her like the glowing points of a dagger. Although she shuddered, she still drank him in, realising that although he looked a little older he was still as handsome as sin and must still set women’s hearts fluttering from here to Kathmandu.
He had also grown his hair.
It fell way past his magnificent shoulders in glossy black waves. The disturbing recollection that the dark strands were like the finest silk to touch made her guiltily yearn to experience running her fingers through the new length...
‘The young lady fell off the wall, Your Highness,’ the guard interjected, sounding inexplicably protective, ‘and she is hurt.’
‘Hurting is what she is good at.’
Stung by the bitterly voiced statement, Darcy opened her mouth to protest. He was the one who was good at hurting...not her. Or had he so quickly erased that little fact from his memory?
‘What are you doing here, and why are you trespassing on my property?’
‘I’ll tell you why—because you wouldn’t take my calls or return my messages. You wouldn’t even let me make an appointment to see you. God knows how many times I’ve tried. This was a last resort. In all honesty I would have preferred to have left you alone...but I had to see you.’
His glance suspicious, the autocratic man in front of her responded grimly, ‘I have never, to my knowledge, received any such messages.’
Darcy’s mouth turned sickeningly dry. ‘You’re joking? Why wouldn’t you have received them? I always told your secretary that it was urgent and confidential. Why didn’t she believe me?’
‘Never mind that right now... If what you say is true then I will be making my investigations. More to the point, what is the reason you want to see me, Darcy? Did you not believe me when I said I never wanted to set eyes on you again? You could hardly have expected any good to come out of our meeting.’
He leaned down to her, and even as she breathed in the exotic scent of agar that highlighted his cologne she saw the expression on his carved face was disturbingly accusing.
‘How long have you known that I was here?’
Her eyes widened nervously. ‘I only recently found out. There was an article in the newspaper.’
‘And you saw the opportunity to get back at me for what happened in the past?’
Her blood ran cold for a moment. ‘No! That wasn’t the reason I wanted to find you, Zafir. Did you imagine my aim was to try and blackmail you in some way? If you think that then you couldn’t be more wrong.’ Tears stung the backs of her eyelids like hot springs. Swallowing hard, she continued, ‘The article said that you are engaged to be married.’
‘And no doubt you want to congratulate me?’
‘Don’t make light of my pain like that.’
As was her habit, when she was fuming at some injustice or another, she indignantly folded her arms. The movement was a little sharp, and it somehow ricocheted down to her injured ankle. She wasn’t able to suppress the groan of pain that rose up inside her.
His ebony eyes darkening in concern, Zafir turned to his immaculately suited companion. ‘Dr Eden. Please give the young lady some water and take a look at her ankle...now. It might be broken.’
Appalled that that might be the case, with a tremulous sweep of her hand Darcy pushed back her hair and stared. ‘I’m sure you’d relish that, wouldn’t you?’ She all but grabbed at the silver flask that was proffered and imbibed a deep gulp of icy liquid before she said anything else.
As he rose to his full height, the Sheikh’s expression was clearly perturbed. ‘While you deserve to be punished for what you did to me, I do not take any pleasure in the fact that you have been injured. And just one more thing’
As the slim, middle-aged doctor lithely dropped down to his haunches to examine her foot, the Arabian’s black eyes glinted a warning.
‘Do not call me Zafir. The use of that name is permitted only to a select circle of family and friends and clearly, Miss Carrick, you should speak in deference to the hierarchy of my position...you are my subordinate.’
It jolted her that he’d used her surname, and it gave her little satisfaction that he’d so strongly emphasised the ‘subordinate’ part. The suggestion of fury in his voice made her heart contract even more. She hadn’t immediately succumbed to tears at this latest encounter with him but Darcy felt like crying now.
Once upon a time she’d loved this man more than life itself. Now he sounded as though he hated her. And all because he’d believed his brother’s vindictive lies...
‘Although I can’t say for certain until it’s X-rayed, I think what we have here is a severe sprain, Miss Carrick.’
The doctor’s slim, cool fingers were gently checking her bones for breakage and prodding the puffy skin around her ankle to inspect it. Straight away his calm assertion along with his professional expertise reinstated her hope that things weren’t as disastrous as she’d feared.
A relieved sigh escaped her but then she quickly frowned. Just who did she think she was kidding? Things were about as disastrous as they could get. And, having intuited the mood he was in, she suspected that Zafir didn’t intend to let her get off lightly for shinning up his garden wall in order to force a meeting. He was the eldest son of the ruling family in the kingdom of Zachariah, and consequently not just important but powerful too, and she knew that if her motivation hadn’t been solely to tell him that he had a son and heir she would never have attempted to see him at all.
How many times did a person’s self-esteem have to be stamped into the ground before they were forced to admit defeat and walk away?
‘We should take you into the house so that we can make some arrangements for your care,’ Dr Eden added, his grey eyes flicking towards his impressive employer for confirmation.
The first man to help her reacted first, quickly assuming what must be his esteemed position as the Sheikh’s chief security guard. ‘I will go and get a stretcher, Your Highness.’
‘That won’t be necessary, Rashid,’ Zafir flashed, his icy gaze irritably scanning Darcy as she sat hunched on the new-mown lawn, massaging her ankle. ‘I will carry Miss Carrick over to the house myself.’
Her immediate declaration of indignation at being treated like some extraneous piece of baggage died on her lips. In her more forgiving moments, when she’d flirted with the unlikely idea of somehow meeting up with Zafir again and having a frank conversation with him about what had really happened back then, it hadn’t been like this. No, never like this... The warm, funny, erudite man she’d once worked for and fallen in love with was a very different person from the cold, embittered stranger she was faced with now.
Biting her lip, she murmured, ‘I think I’d rather crawl.’
She didn’t know if he’d heard her, but to add insult to injury he easily dropped down to lift her into his arms.
‘I hope you don’t have an accomplice in this little escapade of yours? If you do, no doubt he is long gone. Perhaps he found out that you were not so bewitching after all, and sensibly took the opportunity to flee when he had the chance?’
Swallowing down her hurt that he so naturally assumed she’d been with another man and up to no good, Darcy schooled herself to stay silent instead of reacting. But her senses were awash with pain, and a regret that thundered like a raging river in her blood.
Could he not see beyond his own prejudiced beliefs and realise the truth? Clearly not...
Without further preamble, he swept her up and marched towards the house, with the effete doctor in front and Rashid following behind—no doubt his gaze diligently sweeping the area in case anything else untoward threatened. She didn’t dwell on that for long, because now her senses had to contend with the unexpected intimacy of being pressed firmly against the Arabian’s chest, knowing that he took no pleasure in the sensation and that all he must feel for her was contempt.
* * *
Zafir’s heart was beating double time as he carried Darcy over to the sumptuous couch in the drawing room. In his wildest dreams he’d never thought to have the opportunity to hold her again like this. When he’d banished her from his sight over four years ago he’d sworn he wouldn’t even think of her. But something had told him even then that he was lying. The beautiful face that he’d always likened to his vision of an angel was etched on his heart, whether he wanted it to be or not.
As he helped lower her gently onto the sofa’s plumped-up cushions it was no easy task, when her bewitching perfume kept infiltrating his senses and he noted that her extraordinary blue eyes still had the ability to dazzle him more than ever.
But he would be a fool if he forgot for even an instant that this woman had cruelly betrayed him. If their relationship had progressed he would have given her everything—not least his undying love and devotion—but she had thoughtlessly ruined it all by fooling around behind his back and making a play for his own brother.
Her behaviour was beyond belief. Pretending devotion was clearly just a game to her. With her angelic face and no doubt practised feminine wiles, likely she could twist any man who took her fancy round her little finger and have her way. His brother Xavier had warned him more than once what she was capable of—although Zafir knew his notoriously charming sibling was apt to bend the truth from time to time.
But blood was thicker than water, he told himself and how could he not believe what he’d seen with his very own eyes?
In the aftermath of that shocking incident Xavier had wasted no time in giving him further details of what Darcy was really like, saying he’d seen the way she operated at the bank the family owned long before Zafir had appeared to run the head office in London.
The cruel scene he’d witnessed had brought an end to all his hopes. He’d found Darcy in a heated embrace with Xavier.
Her features had radiated her shock and dismay when he’d suddenly surprised them by coming into the room, and immediately she’d denied any wrongdoing. Instead she’d insisted that she’d been trying to get away from Xavier, not willingly embracing him! That in truth Zafir’s brother had been harassing her—had been doing so for months. It was he who should be penalised, not her...
‘Tell the housekeeper to get a drink for my unexpected visitor.’ After addressing Rashid, Zafir turned back immediately, to keep Darcy in his sight—although under the circumstances it would take nothing less than a miracle for her to be able to run away. ‘What is your preference, Miss Carrick? Tea or coffee?’
The glance he gave her was neither friendly nor particularly polite. He wasn’t going to grant the woman any dispensation—that was for sure. Aside from her previous misdemeanours, she had now made an unbelievable attempt to break into his house.
‘Neither.’
It was hard not to be moved by the look of anxiety he saw reflected in the blonde’s vivid blue eyes and, strangely, it bothered Zafir more than it should have. Was she honestly not concerned that he might call the police and prosecute her for trespass? There was no reason why he shouldn’t, he told himself. No matter what had gone on between them in the past, he certainly didn’t owe her any allegiance.
‘I—I just want to know what you intend to do about all this,’ she said nervously.
‘Forgive me for interrupting, Your Highness,’ Dr Eden interjected firmly as he came and stood by the sofa where Darcy was lying. ‘But, whatever you decide to do, I’d advise that we get Miss Carrick to the hospital first, so that her injury can be X-rayed.’
Coming out of the stupor he’d fallen into while gazing at Darcy, Zafir nodded abruptly. Retrieving his mobile phone from the inside pocket of the Arabian khandoura he wore, he accessed the number of one of London’s most exclusive private hospitals to which he had a direct line. Glancing back at his visitor as he requested an ambulance, he had a sudden notion that she might be going into shock. She was definitely looking a little flushed, and her eyelids had fluttered closed as though she barely had the strength to keep them open.
‘Dr Eden.’ He authoritatively addressed the medic. ‘I must ask you to take Miss Carrick’s temperature. It is my opinion that she looks more than a little unwell.’
‘Do not be too concerned, Your Highness,’ the doctor reassured him. ‘It is quite a natural reaction for a person to feel faint after an accident, but I will gladly do as you ask.’
‘Good.’
A short time later, satisfied with the doctor’s assurance that Darcy’s rise in temperature was not significant enough to be worried about, Zafir waited impatiently for the ambulance to arrive. In turn, their patient had become particularly quiet. She was clearly lost in a mysterious landscape of her own.
He had no idea what she might be thinking. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have had to speculate. He had been as intimately attuned to her thoughts and feelings as any man in love could be, and he still carried the grief of her betrayal like a suppurating wound that would never heal.
The sound of an ambulance siren pierced the room’s growing preternatural stillness, and it had the same impact as a lightning bolt flashing outside.
As Zafir hurried across the oak floor, with Rashid behind him, he called out over his shoulder to the doctor. ‘Keep a watch on Miss Carrick. Don’t let her out of your sight!’
‘What do you think I’m going to do? Perform some kind of magic trick and make myself disappear? I wish,’ Darcy grumbled sarcastically.
Zafir didn’t waste time with a response. He was already at the door, throwing it wide in order to hurry out into the hallway. Addressing the man at the front door, who introduced himself as the chief paramedic, he guided him and the two other crew members into the drawing room. Darcy was resting her back against the curve of the elegant couch, as though it had taken the strain off of the accident, but in spite of her little outburst just now she wasn’t able to hide the fact that she was worried.
So was Zafir. Right then, he honestly didn’t know what he was going to do about the consequences of her fall from his garden wall or her startling reappearance into his life. In truth, he was still knocked sideways at seeing her again. And as yet he hadn’t decided whether to prosecute her or not. Most people in his privileged circle wouldn’t hesitate to throw the book at her.
Hadn’t he learned that she wasn’t to be trusted? people would say. That she was nothing but a sly opportunist...a Jezebel.
He could almost hear the condemning words echo round his brain. Wasting no more time in deliberating—that would have to wait until they had the X-ray results—he instructed the paramedics to do what they had to do and transport her into the ambulance.
She was wearing jeans, a deep blue woollen sweater and a short mustard-coloured jacket. And as the paramedics expertly lifted her slender frame onto a stretcher Zafir observed that she’d grown a little thinner since he’d seen her last. Had she been eating properly?
He remembered that she’d often lose her appetite when she was stressed, and even though he knew he shouldn’t give a jot if something was troubling her, knew that Darcy was nothing to him any more, he gruffly declared, ‘I will accompany my guest to the hospital.’
‘Of course, Your Highness,’ the paramedic responded. ‘Just to reassure you, I think it’s going to be a very straightforward procedure. The young lady will soon be as right as rain again—you’ll see.’
He was a slightly overweight, cheerful-looking man of forty-plus, with a receding hairline—one of those dependable sorts that the great British public would probably describe as ‘the salt of the earth’. And, oddly, Zafir was reassured—at least for a minute or two.
* * *
When the attentive medical staff at the hospital stretchered Darcy into an examination room, Zafir came with her. Before they’d entered Dr Eden had given them his own efficient assessment and, in deference to his colleagues, told his employer that he would wait for him outside.
All of these events hardly reassured Darcy. The familiar scent associated with anything medical, along with the forbidding-looking examination couch, made her feel queasy, and Zafir’s daunting aristocratic presence even more so. But the most pressing thing of all on her mind was her son. At present Sami was in the care of her mother, because she was babysitting him, but what if she had to tell her that she needed to stay in hospital for the night?
Darcy had never told her mother who Sami’s father was, and she contemplated how she would couch her words in order to cause the least anxiety. She knew her mother would think she’d lost her mind—climbing the walls of the Sheikh’s home in an attempt to speak to him. Especially when she’d ended up spraining her ankle.
Was it worth it? She could hear her mother ask. You should have gone down the proper route of arranging a meeting with him, no matter how long it took. Look at what you’ve risked!
Darcy’s heart suddenly felt as heavy as a boulder inside her chest.
And that would be before she conveyed to her mother the fact that her ex-employer had been furious at her finding him even before she’d told him that he’d left her pregnant and that he now had a son.
Seeing as he was now engaged to be married, the news would hardly be the best he could receive. But, at the same time, what would the repercussions be for her? What if he immediately demanded custody of Sami? Or...worse still...wanted to take him back to Zachariah, away from her and all he had known for the past four years? That didn’t bear thinking about.
