The Desert King's Secret Heir

Her gaze flicked to the closed sitting room door before she could stop herself. He noticed. Of course he noticed. How could he not hear the muffled children’s ditty and guess who was in there?

The fact he hadn’t even turned his head towards the other room only scared her more.

Thinking he’d washed his hands of her once their affair was over, even covering his tracks with a false name, she’d believed herself a sole parent in every sense. But Idris was here now, and she realised in dawning horror that she had no idea how he felt about a child. A male child. A child he might consider his heir. A child he might try to take.

Terror dug razored claws into her belly and her stomach cramped so hard she doubled up, gasping. Surely he didn’t plan to steal her baby!

‘Arden? What is it?’ This time he did reach out, long fingers branding her upper arm and sending flames licking through her.

‘Don’t touch me!’ It was a hoarse whisper, the best she could do. But it was enough. He reared back as if scalded.

She straightened, forcing herself to stand tall, jutting her chin to lessen the distance between them.

‘Tell me what you want.’

Had she just made the biggest mistake of her life, letting Dawud’s father into her home? A father who had the power, physically and financially, to take her baby away?

‘Tell me!’ Heat glazed her eyes. If he thought he was taking Dawud from her, he understood nothing about a mother’s love.

Something she couldn’t decipher glowed in those narrowed eyes. ‘I want to get you and your son to safety, where you won’t be bothered by the press. Then, we need to talk.’

Her stomach did that roller coaster dip again. Talk didn’t sound at all appealing.

But she was out of choices. She and Dawud couldn’t stay holed up, hoping the press would leave. They had to go out some time. Idris was her only lifeline. No one else could get them away from the press. She had to trust him, for now at least.

‘Pack what the pair of you will need for a couple of days. There’s a car outside to take you away and one of my men will be posted nearby to make sure none of the paparazzi break in here to get more fodder for a story.’

Arden’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t thought of that. Of some stranger pawing through their belongings, sullying their home.

‘Don’t worry. It won’t happen. I won’t let it.’

Arden snapped her mouth closed, reeling at his absolute conviction. Never in her life had she been able to rely on anyone. Every time she’d begun to trust she’d been let down. Her parents, foster parents, even Hamid, pretending there was more to their friendship than existed.

There was something inherently appealing about Idris’s assurance. Just as well she knew better than to depend on him. But, for the moment, she and Dawud needed help.

‘Give me ten minutes.’ She started down the hall then stopped, hesitating outside the sitting room door.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll wait here.’ It was as if he read her mind, her worry about Dawud.

She hesitated, unable to dismiss the thought of him simply striding in, picking up Dawud and carrying him out of the door.

‘You are both safe with me.’ That deep voice mesmerised—so grave, so measured. She badly wanted to trust him. He took a single step nearer. ‘You have my word, Arden.’

She caught the velvet brown of his eyes that from a distance looked pure black. She read determination in his jaw, strength in his proud stance and honesty in his direct gaze. For a second longer she wavered. Then she spun on her heel and darted into the bedroom.

She’d hear if he tried to scoop up Dawud and take him. Dawud would yell and it would be impossible to exit quickly with that mob outside.

Yet relief hit when she emerged to find him still in the hall. He stood, head bent as if listening to Dawud’s high voice carolling enthusiastically. Arden dropped the two bags, a bulky one full of Dawud’s toys and clothes and a small one for her.

Idris’s head jerked up. ‘Ready?’

Arden nodded, trying and failing to read his expression. ‘I’ll need a child’s car seat and—’

‘No need. Arrangements have been made for a car seat. All you need is your bags and your son.’

Your son. Not Dawud. As if Idris was trying to distance himself. Pain turned like a twisting stiletto in her chest. Arden told herself she was pathetic. Seconds ago she’d worried Idris might try to kidnap Dawud. Now she was disappointed he wasn’t more enthusiastic about him.

He hasn’t even asked if he’s the father.

Because this whole situation was a mighty inconvenience for him. More than an inconvenience. Coming just before his marriage to Princess Ghizlan it must be a headache of massive proportions.

She made herself nod and put down the bags. ‘I’ll get him.’

‘You can introduce me.’ When she hesitated Idris continued. ‘It will make things easier. It will be scary enough for him facing the crowd outside, even with my security men keeping them back.’

Arden hadn’t thought of that. It was odd, and unsettling, having someone else point out what her son needed before she did. She couldn’t get her brain past the immediate. Right now that was overwhelming. Introducing Dawud to his father. The man she’d thought he’d never know.

The doorknob felt slippery in her clammy hand and she breathed deep, securing a smile for her son. This had to be done and it was up to her to ensure he felt none of the tension crawling up her spine and along her hunching shoulders. Deliberately she pushed back her shoulder blades and walked into the room.

‘Mama!’ He swung round as the song ended, a huge smile on his face.

Reaction hit her square in the chest as she met his laughing gaze. Eyes of dark brown velvet, so like his father’s. When he’d been born they’d been a constant, difficult reminder of the man who’d duped and deserted her. But over the years they’d become simply Dawud’s eyes.

Now, seeing the similarities, not just in his eyes but in his whole face, from his jet dark hair to his determined chin, a powerful tide of emotion rose. Arden wobbled to a halt.

‘Mama?’ Dawud scrambled to his feet and came towards her, arms outstretched. But before he reached her he halted, head turning, eyes growing.

Arden sensed rather than saw Idris beside her. It was as if he generated his own force field, one that made her flesh prickle and tighten whenever he got close.

Was he as nervous as she? As if this were an irrevocable step beyond which the future could never be the same?

She fell to her knees and held her arms out for Dawud. ‘Hello, darling.’ Dawud’s eyes remained fixed on the man looming over the pair of them, his head craning high to take him in.

Arden was just about to scoop him up when she felt a brush of air beside her as, in a single movement, Idris sank to the floor, settling cross-legged. His knee touched hers but he didn’t seem to notice. His attention was fixed on Dawud.

Idris leaned forward a fraction and said something in his own language. Something melodic yet strangely husky, and made a fluid, graceful movement with one powerful hand from his face to his chest.

For a second Dawud stood motionless, then a smile creased his features. ‘That!’ He pointed at Idris, first his head then his chest.

Idris made the gesture again, slower this time, a courtly gesture of greeting, she realised. Dawud clapped his hands and chuckled, then waved one hand in front of his face, trying to emulate the gesture.

Again that unseen cord tugged at her insides. To watch Dawud smiling at his father, trying to copy him...it was something she’d never expected to see. Not after the hell she’d gone through trying to locate Shakil and finally acknowledging defeat. She didn’t even know if she wanted to see them together, yet the shining joy in her son’s face was hard to resist.