The Desert Lord's Baby (6 page)

He pursed his lips. “Eat in silence, you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “As if.”

He smiled then—a slow, hot smile, all for her this time, amused at her wisecrack.

She didn’t know what held her up all the way to the kitchen.

Once there she shakily tried to take Mennah to put her in her high chair. He declined, did it himself as if he’d been doing it every day. Then, without being told, he placed Mennah’s toys on her tray and she immediately began the game of throw and fetch.

After her bones solidified enough in her limbs, Carmen began the reheating procedure then turned around, only to be stabbed in the heart again by the poignant sight Farooq and Mennah made together, so alike, sharing such an elemental, almost tangible bond.

She located something resembling her voice. “You’re taking to your father role spectacularly. And I’ve never seen her like this with anyone. Not that she’s seen many people.”

“She recognized me. As I did her. The bond is…elemental.”

What she’d just thought. “Yes,” she choked. “And I—I’m truly sorry for depriving you of-of…” She made a helpless gesture at them, her hand trembling. “This. But please believe I thought I was doing the best thing. For her.”

He said nothing to that. Not out loud. His eyes said he believed nothing she said.

Oh, well. He wouldn’t get over his anger that fast.

She inhaled before she blacked out. “I’ll cooperate in any way so you’ll be a part of her life, be with her whenever possible.”

“I will be with her always.” This wasn’t a statement. This was a pledge. A decree.

“A-always? B-but you live halfway across the globe…”

His gaze hardened. “And so will she.”

“But you said…”

“I said I won’t take her from you, and I won’t. You will both be with me. We will marry.”

S
omething was burning.

Was that her sanity going up in flames? Why else could she have imagined he’d said—said…

We will marry.

But she wasn’t imagining him exploding from his relaxed pose by Mennah’s high chair and…charging at her…

She blinked as he zoomed toward her, couldn’t even brace herself, couldn’t think, blink, breathe.

Next second he bypassed her. She whirled around in the draft of his movement, uncomprehending, watching as he yanked the pan off the stove, quickly poured its contents onto the serving plate she’d prepared before turning off the flames.

Then he looked at her, one eyebrow raised disapprovingly. “You seem bound on not feeding me this filet mignon.”

Carmen stared at him. Had he really said
we will marry?

But how?
Why?
He didn’t want her. Or at least, he’d never wanted her for more than a passing diversion. He—he…

He was doing this for Mennah.

Comprehension materialized like a jagged rock inside her heart, expanding outward, tearing it apart.

She might have loved him at first glance, but she’d never entertained the fantasy of being his in any way but a fleeting one. That he should be offering the ultimate commitment, no matter the cause, and no matter that he wasn’t actually offering, but decreeing it, was…was…

Her mind screeched to another halt.

Oblivious to the effect of the bomb he’d just dropped on her, Farooq bent to the serving plate then straightened, crowding her view, draining the spacious kitchen of light and oxygen. Or she might be about to pass out again…

“Your efforts weren’t successful. I believe the dish is still edible. All it now needs is a hostess who deems to serve it.”

She gulped, kept staring, frozen.

“Well?”

It was the way he said it. The condescension was too much. She smirked. “Didn’t you brag about not needing people to serve you? Why don’t you serve it yourself? Or are you handy only with macho stuff? Is serving food a lowly female chore?”

He stared at her as if she’d grown another head.

No wonder. He must be shocked that she could still talk. She knew
she
was. And more, that she could talk to him that way. No doubt people didn’t dare sneeze in his presence.

Mennah squealed, demanding their attention. And again this incredible transformation came over his face. His very vibe changed to a soothing transmission as he turned to Mennah with a smile that tampered with Carmen’s heart and brain function all over again.

“You heard that,
ya sagheerati?
Your mother thinks she can get away with anything as long as you’re around.” He turned eyes heavy with disturbing things on Carmen. “She forgets there will be times when you won’t be.”

The sheer danger of the sensuality infusing his words kicked into Carmen’s heart and loins. It made her melt. It made her mad. It made her reckless.

She tossed her head, straightened from her swooning position. “You really know nothing about me if you think I’d use Mennah as a shield—or as anything. And I need no shields against you.”

“You don’t?” His stare was all mock-serious interest, giving her more rope. “Are you certain about that?”

Oh God, what was she doing, provoking him this way? She knew she was no match for him, even in her own country. No one was a match for him, anywhere. He was just too powerful, as a diplomat, a tycoon and royalty. She was audaciously speaking her mind counting not on Mennah’s presence but on his restraint, his basic benevolence. Both qualities she’d already strained to the limit.

But there was no stopping her now. After the upheaval of the last hour, her emotions were hurtling at the speed of her chaotic thoughts, without brakes.

“It’s clear you have an ego of planetary proportions,” she taunted. “You must have Atlas-level strength to be able to lug it around. And to think I once contributed to expanding it.”

His gaze scraped down her body, making her feel he’d taken off every scrap of clothes, leaving her exposed, vulnerable. “You think your being the first and only woman to ever end a liaison with me contributed to my cosmic ego?”

Was that an edge of bitterness? Had her desertion meant something to him after all, on a personal level?

No. This intensity must be the outrage of a prince who expected people to prostrate themselves before him, who couldn’t believe that, for whatever reason, she hadn’t, just that once.

She shrugged, all artificial animation and contentiousness draining out of her. “Oh, I’m sure I caused a chink in it. One that could be detected with a microscope.”

“We’re talking galactic scope. Don’t you mean a telescope?”

“Whatever.” She exhaled, ran both hands through her hair. “I’m sure your ego is satisfied, now that you know why I did end it.”

His eyes followed her movements, the way her shirt stretched over her breasts, spiking her arousal as he drawled, “Oh, I’m not satisfied. You’ll have to work to that end. Hard. And long.”

And it detonated in her every cell. The memory of every sensation, every tremor of the ecstasy he’d inundated her with, how hard and how long he’d done it, taking her the way she hadn’t known she’d needed to be taken, giving her far beyond what she’d imagined she could be given or thought she could withstand.

Her legs wobbled, sending her groping for the counter’s support. “If you feel that strongly when only your ego is involved, you take yourself way too seriously. You must try the occasional letdown, maybe even criticism. Very therapeutic.”

In answer, he picked up the serving plate, prowled toward her like a panther measuring the moment he’d pounce, savoring the kill. He looked at Mennah. “Your mother is being very brave, Mennah. Or very foolish. Or she knows exactly what she’s asking for.”

“I’m only asking that you—that you—” The rest struck in her throat. He was nearing her as if he intended to collide into her.

“That I what? Take you up on your challenge?”

She leaned back. At the last moment he slowed, imprinting his body on hers as he reached around her with a hand holding the plate, the other joining it, imprisoning her with an arm on either side as he put the plate on the counter behind her. She once again felt something burning. Her skin this time. Her nerves.

He looked down into her shocked eyes, the gold of his turned to lava. “Wise of you to know when to stop.”

Before she showed him just how unwise she was and answered with something inflammatory, he leaned harder into her, pressing his erection into her midriff.

Before she could process that he was aroused, berate herself for the surge of elation that she affected him still, he pulled back, pulled up the high stool for her, his gaze steady on hers, telling her to sit down and shut up.

As if she could talk now, still feeling his potency digging into her, liquefying her insides. She sat. More like collapsed. Not to obey him or the voice of reason, but because she no longer had solid bones inside her limbs.

She watched with surreal fatalism as he served the filet. Until she noticed he’d taken two thirds himself.

“Relative body mass,” he murmured at her glare. “But I’ll feed Mennah from my share. Let’s see what she can consume.”

He sat down beside her, picked up a knife and fork and sampled a piece of the filet. His eyes rose to hers in surprise.

“It’s even more delicious than it smells.” Before she voiced the crack that catapulted to her tongue, he turned to Mennah.

“And you,
ya kanzi,
are so clever you knew how good it is, how to ask for more.” He cut a tiny piece over and over, mincing it. “Open up, here comes more…” He carefully forked it into Mennah’s eager mouth.

Carmen tensed, ready to jump if Mennah choked, felt Farooq’s echoing vigilance. Mennah gulped it down easily, asked for more in delighted shrieks. He chuckled, complied at once.

It didn’t even occur to Carmen to eat as she watched father and daughter demolishing his portion. It wasn’t until he turned enquiring eyes on her that she realized she was gaping at them.

At that moment Mennah repeated her sudden sleeping maneuver making him relieve her from his silent interrogation, his eyes captured by Mennah once again. And once again the tenderness there shocked Carmen. It was something that, despite his generous ways with her in the past, she hadn’t suspected he was capable of.

“Does she always fall asleep that suddenly?”

Carmen could only nod. His lips melted with indulgence as he rose and removed Mennah from her chair, then, enfolding her, walked out of the kitchen. It took Carmen a minute to lurch after him. She caught up with him as he exited the nursery.

He closed the door, said without preamble, “You don’t need to pack anything. Make a list of your needs and everything will be at the palace on our arrival in Judar. If you forget anything, order it and it will be brought to you within the hour. After you’ve settled in, I’ll order major store managers to come to the palace with their catalogs for you to pick whatever you wish.”

She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

An edge hardened his rich, dark tone. “We’re leaving right away. My jet should be ready for the return trip.”

She felt the tethers of her sanity snapping one by one, groped for an anchor against his sweeping incursion. “Listen—”

He cut her off. “If you decide you feel nostalgic about your things, I’ll send people to pack every shred you have here later.”

“Now wait a minute. I’m going nowhere….”

“You are going exactly where I take you. To my kingdom.”

She shook her head, groped for breath. “I—I can’t travel…my passport isn’t valid….”

“I don’t need one to take you out of the country and into mine. My word is enough. Anyway, I’ll arrange for one. It will be waiting for you when we arrive at my home.”

“I’m not leaving
my
home.”

“You are. In case you haven’t grasped it yet, I’m having Mennah. Since you are her mother, this means having you, too.”

His declaration felt like a slap. A stab.

A hurricane of emotions started churning inside her.

Even if he had wanted her for real, she would have been in turmoil. He wasn’t just the man she loved—had
thought
she loved—he was a prince from another culture. She had no idea what being his wife entailed. But to have him state his intentions this way, as if she could have been anyone he’d endure now that he’d accidentally impregnated her, that she
was
just an unwanted accessory that came with the daughter he wanted so much…

Trying to hide her humiliation from his all-seeing eyes, she tried to scoff, “Phew, I hope this isn’t how you make your peace proposals. Your region would be up in flames within the hour.”

He gave her a serene look. “I save my cajoling powers for negotiations. This isn’t one, Carmen. It’s a decree. You had my child. You will be my wife.”

The world began to tilt, overturn, nausea rising with his deepening coldness and clinical unconcern.

She somehow found her voice again, found something logical to say. “Okay, I appreciate the strength of your commitment to Mennah. But if you want to be her father, you can do that without going overboard. Parents share a child’s upbringing without being married all the time, all over the world.”

“I’d never be a long-distance father. My daughter will be brought up in my home, my land, exposed daily to my love and caring, taught her privileges and duties as a princess with her first steps and words. But for her best mental and psychological health, she also needs her mother constantly with her. By marrying you, that’s what I’m providing for her.”

Put that way, what he’d said was incontestable. But…“This can all happen without marriage. I don’t want to live in Judar, but I would for Mennah. We can both always be there for her.”

“And what would she be if you don’t marry me? My love child? Do I even need to state that a marriage, to give her her legitimacy, her birthright, is beyond question?”

“But I…” The quicksand beneath her feet snatched at her. And she cried, “I don’t want to get married ever again!”

Carmen’s vehemence hit Farooq like a gut punch.

He’d been fighting the urge to close his eyes every time she spoke, to savor that voice that could bring a man to his knees begging to hear it moaning his name.

That was until she’d said…

“You’ve been married before?” he rasped.

Her face contorted before she looked away.

Something hideous sank its fangs into him. Jealousy? Why? When he’d long known everything they’d shared had been a sham?

He knew why. His instincts still insisted he’d been her first passionate involvement. How could they be so misled? Even after she’d claimed he’d been one in a hundred? How did they still insist
that
had been the lie, and what he’d felt when she’d abandoned herself in his arms had been the truth?