Читать книгу Working With Cinderella - Линн Грэхем, Lynne Graham - Страница 18

OF COURSE it should never have happened.

And of course it must never be referred to again.

But it was a little before morning and they’d made love again after she’d turned and looked at him while she still could. She ran a finger across the scar above his eye about which she had often wondered and was brave enough now to ask.

‘What is that from?’

‘You don’t ask that sort of thing.’

‘Naked beside you I do.’

Maybe it was better she knew, Emir thought. Maybe then she could understand how impossible it was for them.

‘Some rebels decided that they could not wait for the predictions, so they took matters into their own hands.’ He did not look at her as he spoke. He felt her fingers over his scar and remembered again. ‘They decided to take out one lineage.’ He heard her shocked gasp. ‘Of course our people had seen them approaching and they rallied. My father went out and battled, as did my brother and I …’

‘And your mother?’

‘She was killed in her bed.’

He removed her hand from his face, climbed out of bed, and dressed and headed to prayer. He had begged the desert for a solution and for a moment had thought one had been delivered; instead it had been a taunt. He must play by the rules, Emir realised as he remembered again that night and all he had inherited.

So he prayed for his country and his people.

He must forget about their lovemaking, the woman he had held in his arms. He had never felt closer to another, even Hannah, and he prayed for forgiveness.

He prayed for his daughters and the decision he was making and he got no comfort, for his heart still told him he was making the wrong one.

Then he remembered what his father had fought for and he knew he must honour it—so he prayed again for his country.

Amy lay silent, taking in this last time she would be in his bed, the masculine scent of him. Her hand moved to the warm area where he had slept and she yearned to wait for him to return to the bed and make love to her just one more time. But for both of them that would be unfair, so she headed to the bathing area and then to her own room.

She fixed her hair and put on the blue robe, became the nanny again.

For Emir there was both regret and relief when he returned from prayer and saw the empty bed. Regret and relief as they shared a quiet breakfast. She did not once refer to last night, but it killed him to see her in the familiar blue robe and to know what was beneath.

And when the silence deafened her, when she knew if she met his eyes just one more time, it would end in a kiss she wished him good morning and headed to her room. She lay on her bed and willed the twins to return, for sanity to come back to her life and to resume again her role.

But of course it felt different.

Her heart swelled with pride and relief when the birthday girls were returned.

Their squeals of delight as she kissed them made her eyes burn from the salt of unshed tears. She realised how close to being their mother she had come.

‘What are these?’ She attempted normal conversation, looked at the heart-shaped vials that now hung around their necks.

‘They are filled with the sands of the desert—they must be worn till they go to bed tonight, then they are to be locked away until their wedding day.’

‘They’re gorgeous.’ Amy held one between her finger and thumb. ‘What are they for?’

‘Fertility.’ He almost spat the word out, his mood as dark as it had been the morning she had faced him in his office, and it didn’t improve as they boarded the helicopter for their return to the palace.

The twins were crying as the helicopter took off.

‘They are not to arrive with teary faces. There will be many people gathered to greet them. My people will line the streets.’

‘Then comfort them!’ Amy said, but his face was as hard as granite and he turned to the window. ‘Emir, please.’ Amy spoke when perhaps she should not, but he had been so much better with the girls yesterday, and it worried her that she had made things worse instead of better. ‘Please don’t let last night …’

He looked over to Amy, his eyes silencing her, warning her not to continue, and then he made things exceptionally clear. ‘Do you really think what happened last night might have any bearing on the way I am with my daughters?’ He mocked her with one small incredulous shake of his head. ‘You are the nanny—you are in my country and you have to accept our laws and our ways. They are to be stoic. They are to be strong.’

But he did take Clemira and hold her on his knees, and when Clemira was quiet so too was Nakia.

Amy sat silent, craning her neck as the palace loomed into view, bouncing Nakia on her knee, ready to point out all the people, to tell the little girl that the waving flags were for her sister and herself.

Except the streets were empty.

She looked to Emir. His face was still set in stone and he said nothing.

He strode from the helicopter, which left Amy to struggle with the twins. He was greeted by Patel and whatever was said was clearly not good news, for Emir’s already severe expression hardened even more.

Amy had no idea what was happening.

She took the twins to the nursery and waited for information, to find out what time the party would be, but with each passing hour any hope of celebration faded and again it was left to Amy to amuse the little girls on what should be the happiest of days.

Her heart was heavy in her chest and she fought back tears as she made them cupcakes in the small kitchen annexe. At supper time she sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to them, watched them smile in glee as they opened the presents she had wrapped for them. Amy smiled back—but her face froze when she saw Emir standing in the nursery doorway.

His eyes took in the presents, the teddies and the DVDs. He watched as Amy walked over to him, her face white with fury, and for a second he thought she might spit.

‘They have everything, do they?’ Her eyes challenged him. ‘Some party!’

‘My brother is too busy in Dubai with his horses.’

He walked over to the twins and kissed the two little dark heads. He spoke in his language to them for a few moments. ‘I have their present.’

He called the servants to come in and Amy watched as the delighted twins pulled paper off a huge parcel. She bit on her lip when she saw it was a dolls’ house—an exquisite one—built like the palace, with the stairs, the doors, the bedroom.

‘I thought about what you said. How it helped you. I wanted the same for them.’

‘How?’ Even though it seemed like a lifetime ago, it had only been a couple of days. ‘How on earth did you get this done so quickly?’

‘There are some advantages to being King—though right now …’ Emir almost smiled, almost met her eyes but did not ‘… I can’t think of many.’

He stood from where he’d knelt with the twins and still could not look at her. He just cleared his throat and said what he had to—did what should have been done long ago.

‘Fatima will be sharing in the care of the twins from now on,’ Emir said, and Fatima stepped forward.

Not assisting, not helping, Amy noted.

‘She speaks only a little English and she will speak none to the twins: they need to learn our ways now.’

She did not understand what had happened. For as blissful as last night had been she would give it back, would completely delete it, if it had changed things so badly for the girls.

‘Emir …’ She saw Fatima frown at the familiarity. ‘I mean, Your Highness …’

But he didn’t allow her to speak, to question, just walked from the nursery, not turning as the twins started to cry. Amy rushed to them.

‘Leave them,’ Fatima said.

‘They’re upset.’ Amy stood her ground. ‘It’s been a long day for them.’

‘It’s been a long day for their country,’ Fatima responded. ‘It is not just the twins who will mark today—Queen Natasha gave birth to a son at sunrise.’

For a bizarre moment Amy thought of the screams she had heard last night, the cries she had thought might come from Hannah. Yet Natasha had been screaming too. She felt as if the winds were still tricking her, that the desert was always one step ahead, and watched as Fatima picked up the twins and took them to their cots. Fatima turned to go, happy to leave them to cry.

That was why there had been no celebrations, no crowds gathering in the streets. It had been a silent protest from the people—a reminder to their King that he must give them a son. Fatima confirmed it as she switched out the light.

‘Unlike Alzan, the future of Alzirz is assured.’