Liz Fielding - The Sheik's Unsuitable Bride

The only reason she kept it was because, one day, Freddy would insist on knowing who his father was. By then, hopefully, memories, like the photograph, would have faded, people would have moved away and his name would have been forgotten. And Freddy would be valued for himself as a decent young man.

The only reason she looked at it now was because five years had, without her noticing it, dulled her sense of danger. Because she needed to remind herself how much damage falling in lust could do.

Eventually she closed the box, put it away. Hung up her uniform, laid out a clean shirt and underwear for the morning. Brushed her teeth. Finally crawled into the same single bed that she’d slept in all her life. And discovered that she’d been working on the wrong memory because the moment she closed her eyes she was confronted with Sheikh Zahir’s smile.

The one that barely showed on the surface, was no more than a warmth behind his eyes.

Felt his long fingers cradling her head, the touch of his breath on her cheek, his mouth…

Diana finally dropped off, but her sleep was disturbed by dreams in which she was driving a sparkly pink taxi around and around the inside a snow globe. She was constantly being hailed by Sheikh Zahir who, when she stopped, didn’t get in the back but just looked at her and said, ‘Kiss me, I’m a prince.’

Then, when she did, he turned into a frog.

She woke with a start, her heart pounding, her mouth dry, for a moment unsure where she was.

The low, insistent peeping of the alarm finally broke through the fug of sleep and, with a groan, she killed the sound, rolled over and got out of bed in one movement. It was still early and her eyes were heavy, but she didn’t want to risk closing them and having that dream start up again.

Pulling on her dressing gown, she went across the landing to Freddy’s room to be there, as promised, when he woke and give her mother an extra half an hour in bed. Make the most of the luxury of an unusually late start since she wasn’t due to pick up Zahir from the hotel until ten o’clock.

Assuming, of course, that Jack was still laid low.

Say what she liked about him, Jack Lumley wouldn’t malinger; he’d be back at work today if it was humanly possible. Or even if it wasn’t. Inspecting his precious car for the slightest mark, the smallest bit of dust and heaven help her if he found any.

Let him look.

He’d never be able to tell his car had been out of the yard. Well, not unless he tried to sit in it. She’d had to pull the seat forward to accommodate her shorter legs and hadn’t thought to put it back.

‘Bad girl, Diana,’ she said, grinning as she gave her wrist a light tap. ‘Write out one hundred times, “I must always return the seat to its original position.”’

‘Mummy?’

Freddy blinked, then, wide awake in an instant, bounced out of bed, grabbing his ‘good work’ sticker and holding it up for her to see.

‘Look!’

‘Shh…’ she said, putting her finger to her lips. ‘It’s early. Don’t wake Grandma and Grandpa.’

‘Look, Mummy!’ he whispered, holding it right in front of her face.

‘Terrific!’ she whispered back, scooping him up and carrying him downstairs, treasuring this precious time when, for once, she could share breakfast with him, watch over him as he cleaned his teeth. Walk him to school so that her mother wouldn’t have to go out of her way but could go straight to the bus stop.

Her dad was right, she thought, as all three of them muddled together in the hall, gathering their belongings, making sure that Freddy had everything he needed for the day, her mother was looking tired and, on an impulse, she gave her a hug.

‘What’s that for?’ she demanded in her don’t-be-daft voice.

‘Nothing. Everything.’ Then, sideswiped by the unexpected sting of tears, she turned quickly away, calling back to her father in the kitchen, ‘I’ll give you a call later, Dad, let you know what’s happening.’

‘Don’t worry about us,’ he said, coming to the door. ‘I’ll be waiting when Freddy comes out of school. Maybe we’ll have a look at the river, eh? What do you say, son?’

‘Can we?’ Freddy’s face lit up and, smiling at her dad, Diana reached for her little boy’s hand.

Her mother coughed meaningfully, shaking her head. Then, ‘You don’t have to walk all the way to the gate. I leave him at the corner and he walks the rest of the way all by himself.’

‘He does?’ she squeaked. Then, doing her best to smile, ‘You do?’

Freddy nodded.

‘I watch him every step of the way,’ her mother mouthed in silent reassurance.

‘Well…’it was only a few steps from the corner to the school gate, but Diana still had to swallow hard ‘…that is grown up!’

Her little boy was growing up much too fast. Making giant leaps while she was too busy working to notice. To be a full-time mother.

But what choice did she have if she was going to make a life for him? She couldn’t rely on her parents for ever. She’d put them through so much already. Could never quite get away from the fear that she’d caused her father’s stroke.

‘Don’t forget that you’ve got parents’ evening tonight,’ her dad called after her.

‘It’s engraved in my brain,’ she promised, turning to wave from the gate.

At the corner nearest to the school she managed to restrain herself from kissing Freddy, stuffing her hands into her pockets so that she wouldn’t be tempted to do anything as embarrassing as wave. Watched him as he ran away from her and was swallowed up by the mass of children in the playground and waited to make sure that he was absorbed, accepted.

Why wouldn’t he be?

Half the children in his class were living in one parent families. But at least most of them had a father-even if an absent one-somewhere.

She turned and, blinking furiously, walked quickly down the road to the Capitol Cars garage.

Zahir had not slept.

He and James had worked through most of the night, putting the finishing touches to details that had been a year in the planning.

It wasn’t lack of sleep that blackened his early morning mood, however, but an email from Atiya, his youngest sister.

She’d written, full of excitement, about his forthcoming wedding, eager to let him know what she thought of each of the bridal prospects on their mother’s ‘shortlist’, which was awaiting his return. Since Atiya knew them all and was evidently thrilled to the core at the prospect of him marrying one of her dearest friends, she had taken immense pleasure in describing each of them in detail so that he would have something other than their mother’s opinion-what, after all, did mothers know?-on which to make his choice.

This one, apparently, had beautiful hair. That one a stunning figure. A third wasn’t so pretty but had the loveliest smile and a truly sweet nature.

It had, he thought, all the charm of a cattle show, with him as the prize bull. It was, however, a timely reminder of who he was. What was expected of him.

Which did not include dancing in the street with his enchanting chauffeur.

‘D I …’

Sadie had been waiting for her and she crossed to the office, assuming that the summons heralded a return to normal and trying to be glad. Sheikh Zahir had no doubt regretted his impulse to kiss her, dance with her-fooling around with the ‘help’ was always a mistake-and conceded that James Pierce might have had a point. Given him the go-ahead to call Sadie and arrange for another driver.

Which, or so the small inner voice of reason assured her, was a very good thing. She was still fighting off the memory of that dream. It would save embarrassment all round.