Sheikh's Convenient Marriage

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_064e80d5-fba9-58b2-9a9c-a058c410edf9)

‘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.