Читать книгу Sheikh's Convenient Marriage - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

‘SO,’ SAID LEILA slowly. The word was tiny and meant nothing at all, but one of them had to say something. Something to shatter the tense, taut silence which had descended on them the moment they’d left the consulting room. Something to make Gabe move again instead of sitting there frozen, staring out of the windscreen as if he had just seen some kind of ghost.

He had brought the car to a halt in a wide, tree-lined street, and Leila was glad he’d driven away from the Harley Street clinic which had just delivered the news she had already known.

He hadn’t said a thing—not a thing—but she’d noticed the way his hands had tightened around the steering wheel, and the ashen hue which had drained his face of all colour.

She was pregnant.

Very newly pregnant—but pregnant all the same.

A new life growing was beneath a heart now racing as she waited—though she wasn’t really sure what she was waiting for.

She remembered Gabe’s barely perceptible intake of breath as the expensively dressed consultant had delivered the results of the test. The doctor had looked at them with the benign and faintly indulgent smile he obviously reserved for this kind of situation. Probably imagining they were yet another rich young couple eager to hear what he had to say. Had he noticed the lack of a wedding ring on her finger? Did anyone actually care about that kind of thing these days? She swallowed. They certainly did in Qurhah.

She wondered if the medic had been perceptive enough to read the body language which existed between the prospective parents. Or rather, the lack of it. She and Gabe had sat upright on adjoining antique chairs facing the medic’s desk, their shoulders tense. Close, yet completely distant—like two strangers who had been put into a room to hear the most intimate of information.

But that was all they were really, wasn’t it?

Two strangers who had created a life out of a moment of passion.

She turned in the low sports car to glance at Gabe. She didn’t know what to do. What to say or how to cope. She wanted something to make it better, but she realised that nothing could. Something unplanned and ill-advised had resulted in both their lives being changed—and neither of them wanted this.

The sunlight illuminated his chiselled features, casting deep shadows beneath the high slash of his cheekbones. But still he hadn’t moved. His profile was utterly motionless, as if it had been carved from a piece of golden dark marble.

She knew she couldn’t keep sitting there like some sort of obedient chattel, waiting for his thoughts on what had happened. She wasn’t in Qurhah now. No longer did she have to play the role of subservient female. She had always longed for equality—and this was what it was supposed to be about. Taking control of her own destiny. Learning to express her own feelings instead of waiting for guidance and approval from a man.

Knotting her fingers together in a tight fist, she knew something else, too. That she didn’t want this icy-eyed Englishman to feel that she had trapped him. What kind of a man was he who could sit there like a statue in the face of such news? Didn’t he feel anything? ‘Whatever happens, I’m not going to ask you for anything,’ she said. ‘You must understand that.’

Gabe didn’t answer straight away—and not just because her accented words sounded as disjointed as if she had been speaking them in her native tongue. He had learnt when to be silent and when to speak. Once—a long time ago—he had given in to the temptation of hot-headedness. But never again. It had been the most brutal lesson and one he had never forgotten. And then, when he’d started out in advertising and was clawing his way up the slippery slope towards success, he had learnt that you should never respond until you were certain you had the right answer.

Except that this time, he couldn’t see that there was a right answer. Only a swirling selection of options—and none of them were good. The facts were unassailable. A woman with a baby and a man who did not wish to become a father.

Who should never become a father.

He felt a dark dread begin to creep over his heart as he wondered whether history always repeated itself. Whether humans were driven by some biological imperative over which they had no control. Driven to make the same mistakes over and over again.

‘Not here,’ he said, his voice tight with restraint. ‘I don’t intend discussing something as important as this in the front seat of a car. Do up your seat belt and let’s go.’

But he could see that her hands were trembling as she struggled to perform the simple action. He leaned forward to help her, and her proximity left him momentarily disorientated. The warmth radiating from her body seemed to have intensified the spicy scent of her perfume. The sunlight was bouncing off the ebony gloss of her hair and her lips looked so unbelievably kissable that he was left with the dull ache of longing inside him.

And wanting her would only complicate things. It would cloud his mind and his judgement at a time when he needed to think clearly.

Clipping in the seat belt, he quickly moved away from the temptation she presented and started up the engine.

For a while they were silent as they stop-started through the busy streets, where outside the world carried on as normal. While inside...

He shot her a glance and saw that her face looked as white as chalk and he found himself unexpectedly shocked at the sight of her physical frailty. ‘Have you eaten?’ he demanded.

She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You should be. You haven’t had any lunch.’ And neither had he. The morning had passed in a dazed kind of blur ever since he’d met Leila at the Harley Street clinic, where she had been dropped off by Sara, a princess who had once worked for him.

He was still remembering the look on his assistant’s face this morning when he’d told her to clear his diary for the rest of the day. Surprise didn’t even come close to it. He could just imagine the gossip reverberating around the building as people started second-guessing why Gabe Steel had done the unimaginable and taken an unscheduled day off work.

And when they knew? When they discovered that the man who was famous for never committing was to become a father? What then?

‘You need to eat,’ he said implacably.

‘I don’t want anything,’ she said. ‘I feel sick. I’ve felt sick for over a month.’

‘Is that intended to make me feel guilty, Leila? Because you’d better know that I won’t accept all the blame.’ He sent out a warning toot on his horn, and the cyclist who had shot out from a side road responded with a rude gesture. ‘If you hadn’t come on to me in a weak moment, then we wouldn’t have found ourselves in this intolerable situation.’

Wondering briefly what the weak moment had been, Leila leaned her head back against the seat as the cool venom of his words washed over her. Yet, she couldn’t really condemn him for speaking the truth, could she? It was intolerable—and there wasn’t a thing that was going to make it better. A wave of panic hit her and the now-familiar refrain echoed around in her head.

She was ruined.

Ruined.

Outside the car window, London passed by but she barely noticed the brand-new city which should have excited her. She felt like an invisible speck of dust being blown along and she didn’t know where she was going to end up. She was with a man who did not want her but was forced to be with her, because she carried his child within her belly.

‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked.

‘To my apartment.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t be seen at your apartment. My brother might find out.’

‘Your brother is going to have to find out sooner or later—and this isn’t about him or his reaction to what’s happening. Not any more. This is about you.’ And me, he thought reluctantly. Me.

Without another word he drove to his apartment and parked in the underground garage before they took the elevator to his apartment. The rooms seemed both strange yet familiar and Leila felt disorientated as she walked inside. As if she was a different person from the one who had arrived here in the early hours of this morning.

But she was.

Yesterday nothing had been certain and there had still been an element of hope in her heart, no matter how misplaced. But with the doctor’s diagnosis, that hope had gone and nothing would ever be the same. Never again would she simply be Leila, the princess sister of the Sultan. Soon she would be Leila, the mother of an illegitimate child—a baby fathered by the tycoon Gabe Steel.

The man who had never wanted to see her again.

She tried to imagine her brother’s fury when he found out but it was hard to picture the full extent of his predictable rage. Would he strip her of her title? Banish her from the only land and home she had ever known? And if he did—what then? She tried to imagine supporting herself and a tiny baby. How would she manage that when she’d never even held a baby?

She was so preoccupied with the tumult of her thoughts that it took her a few minutes to realise that Gabe had left her alone in his stark sitting room. He returned a little while later with his suit jacket removed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. She noticed his powerful forearms with their smattering of dark golden hair and remembered the way he had slid them around her naked waist. And wasn’t that a wildly inappropriate thing to remember at a time like this?

‘I’ve made us something to eat,’ he said. ‘Come through to the dining room.’

His words made Leila’s sense of disorientation increase because she came from a culture where men didn’t cook. Where they had nothing to do with the preparation of food—unless you counted hunting it down in the desert and then killing it.

She told herself that he wasn’t listening to what she’d said—and she’d said she wasn’t hungry. But it seemed rude to sit here on her own while he ate and so she followed him into the dining room.

This was not a comfortable room either. He was clearly a fan of minimalism, and the furniture looked like something you might find in the pages of an architectural magazine. Tea and sandwiches sat on a table constructed from dull metal, around which was a circle of hard, matching chairs. The table sat beneath the harsh glare of the skylight, which made Leila think she was about to be interrogated.

And maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. She certainly had a few questions she needed to put to the man now pushing a plate of food towards her.

She held up the palm of her hand. ‘I don’t—’

‘Just try,’ he interrupted. ‘Is that too much to ask, Leila?’

The hard timbre of his voice had softened into something which sounded almost gentle and the way he said her name suddenly made her feel horribly vulnerable. Or maybe she was imagining that. Maybe she was looking for crumbs of comfort when all he was doing was being practical. She realised that she felt weak and that if she didn’t look after herself she would get weaker still. And she couldn’t afford to do that.

So she ate most of the sandwich and drank a cup of jasmine tea before pushing away her plate. Leaning back against the hard iron chair, she crossed her arms defensively over her chest and studied him.

She drew in a deep breath. ‘You can rest assured that I don’t expect anything from you, Gabe. You’ve made your feelings absolutely plain. That afternoon was a mistake—we both know that. We were never intended to be together and this...this baby doesn’t have to change that. I want you to know that you’re free to walk away. And that I can manage on my own—’

‘What are you planning to do?’ The question fired from his mouth like a blistering fusillade of shots. ‘To get rid of it?’

The accusation appalled her almost as much as the thought that he should think her capable of such an action, and Leila glared at him. He doesn’t know you, she realised bitterly. He doesn’t even like you.

‘How dare you make a suggestion like that?’ she said, unable to keep the anger from her voice. ‘I’m not ready to be a mother. I’m not sure I ever wanted to be a mother, but it seems that fate has decided otherwise. And I will accept that fate,’ she added fiercely. ‘I will have this baby and I will look after him—or her. And nothing and no one will stop me.’

Some of the tension had left him, but his mouth was still unsmiling as his gaze raked over her face. ‘And just how are you planning to go about that?’ he demanded. ‘You who are a protected and pampered princess who can’t move around freely unless under cover of darkness. What are you going to tell your brother? And how are you intending to support yourself when the child comes?’

She wished there were some place to look other than at his eyes, because they were distracting her. They were reminding her of how soft and luminous they’d been when he had held her in his arms. They were making her long for things she could never have. Things like love and warmth and closeness. A man to cradle her and tell her that everything was going to be all right.

But she didn’t dare shift her gaze away from his, because wouldn’t that be a sign of a weakness? A weakness she dared not show. Not to him. Not to her brother. Not to anyone. Because from here on in she must be strong.

Strong.

‘I have jewellery I can sell,’ she said.

His smile was faint. ‘Of course you do.’

She heard the sardonic note in his voice. Another rich princess reference, she thought bitterly. ‘Things my mother left me,’ she added.

‘And how do you propose getting your hands on this jewellery?’ he questioned. ‘Are you planning to take a trip to Qurhah and smuggle it out of the safe? Or perhaps you’re thinking of asking your brother to mail it to you?’

‘I could probably...I might be able to get one of my servants to get it to me,’ she said unconvincingly. ‘It would be risky, of course, but I’m sure it could be doable.’

Gabe gave a short laugh. Of all the women who could have ended up carrying his baby, it had to be her. A spoiled little rich girl who just snapped her beautiful fingers and suddenly money appeared. Did she really think it was going to be that easy?

His customary cool composure momentarily deserting him, he leaned across the table towards her. ‘Do you really think your brother will be amenable to you taking funds out of the country to support an illegitimate baby?’

Her face seemed to crumple at the word, and Gabe felt a brief twist of regret that he had spoken to her so harshly. But she needed to confront the truth—no matter how unpalatable she found it.

‘You have to face facts, Leila,’ he said. ‘And you’re not going to find this easy. At some point you’re going to have to tell your brother what’s happened.’ He saw the way her eyelids slid down to conceal the sudden brightness of her eyes, the thick lashes forming two ebony arcs which feathered against her skin. ‘Have you thought about what his reaction might be?’

‘I have thought of little else!’

‘So what are you planning to tell him?’

The lashes fluttered open and the look in her eyes was defiant, though the faint tremble of her lips less so. ‘Oh, I won’t mention your name, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘I am not frightened of your brother, Leila. And neither am I denying what happened—no matter how much I might now regret it.’ His mouth hardened. ‘I’m asking what you are intending to tell Murat.’

She didn’t answer for a moment and when she did, her voice was heavy. ‘I guess I’m going to have to tell him the truth.’

‘Or your unique version of the truth?’ he questioned wryly. ‘Won’t the Sultan think that his sister’s innocence has been compromised by a man with enough experience to have known better? It might suit your purpose—and his—to convince him that you were taken advantage of by an Englishman with something of a reputation where the opposite sex is concerned. Mightn’t it be more acceptable for him to think of you as a victim rather than a predator?’

‘I’m no victim, Gabe!’ she flared back. ‘And I’m no predator either, no matter how much it suits you to think that. I certainly didn’t plan to seduce you—I was a virgin, for heaven’s sake! I just...just gave into the “chemistry” you were talking about. And you certainly didn’t seem to be objecting at the time.’

‘No, you’re right. I didn’t put up much in the way of a fight.’ His face tightened—as if her words were taking him some place he didn’t want to go. ‘But your brother is going to wonder when and where this great love affair of ours took place.’

She flushed. ‘Obviously, he doesn’t know that I came to your hotel room.’

‘Actually, you came in my hotel room,’ he reminded her sardonically. ‘Don’t forget that part of the story, Leila—because it’s probably the best part of all.’

Her flush deepened as his words brought back memories of the way it had been that day. The way he had kissed her and told her she was beautiful. In those few brief and glorious moments, she’d thought she’d found her heart’s desire. For a short while she had felt as perfect as it was possible to feel.

But those feelings were in the past and they had been nothing but fantasy. All that was left was the brittle reality of the present—so why torture herself by remembering something which had been so fleeting?

‘That’s irrelevant,’ she said. ‘And I’m not scared of my brother.’ But then some of her bravado left her. Tiredly, she lifted up her hands and buried her face in them as the warm darkness enveloped her like a welcoming cloak.

‘Leila?’ His voice was suddenly soft. ‘Are you crying?’

‘No, I am not!’ she said fiercely, but she kept her face hidden all the same.

‘Then look at me,’ he commanded.

Rebellion flared inside her. She didn’t want to look at him because, although there were no tears, she was afraid of what he might be able to read in her eyes. She didn’t want to expose her sense of deflation and defeat. The liberated woman she’d yearned to be seemed to have slipped away into the shadows and was nowhere to be seen. And she had no one to blame but herself. She had gone to a known playboy’s bedroom and let him kiss her. Why had she thought that having sex with a total stranger was somehow empowering?

‘I have a solution,’ he said.

His words broke into her thoughts. She lowered her hands but her head remained bent—as if she had found something uniquely fascinating to look at on the dark denim of her jeans. ‘You have a magic wand with the power to turn back time, do you?’

‘Unfortunately, I’m clean out of magic wands, so it looks like I’ll just have to marry you instead.’

At this, her head jerked up, her gaze meeting his in disbelief. ‘What?’

‘You heard. And you’re clever enough to realise it’s the only option. I have no choice, other than to make you my wife—because I can see it would be intolerably cruel to let a woman like you face this on your own.’ His eyes glittered like ice. ‘Because you are not on your own. I share equal responsibility for what has happened, although you are a princess while I am...’

His face grew taut and Leila saw the sudden flare of pain which had darkened his grey eyes.

‘You’re what?’ she prompted breathlessly.

For a moment he said nothing. A sudden darkness passed over his face, but just as quickly it was gone. The billionaire tycoon was back in control.

‘It doesn’t matter. For obvious reasons, this child cannot be born illegitimate. You will not need to hide your head in shame, Leila. I didn’t ever want to be a husband.’ His cool eyes flashed silver. ‘Or a father. But as you say—fate seems to have decided otherwise. And I will accept that fate. We will be married as soon as possible.’

It should have been the dream solution but to Leila it felt like no such thing. She didn’t want to marry a man who looked as if he were destined for a trip to the gallows, or to live with the realisation that she had trapped him into a life he didn’t want. She couldn’t imagine ever bonding with this icy stranger.

‘I won’t do it,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I won’t tie myself to a man who doesn’t want me. And you can’t make me marry you.’

‘You think not?’ The smile he gave did not meet his eyes. ‘You’d be surprised what I can do if I set my mind to it—but I’m hoping that we can come to some kind of amicable agreement. These are the only terms I am offering and I’d advise you to accept them. Because you’re not really in any position to object. Your brother will disown you if you don’t and I doubt whether you have a clue how to look after yourself. Not in a strange city without your servants and bodyguards to accede to your every whim. You cannot subject a baby to a life like that and I won’t allow you to, because this is my baby too. You will marry me, Leila, because there is no alternative.’