Jessica Gilmore - The Sheikh's Pregnant Bride

‘Oh?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘The baby doesn’t need a mother for its first three months? Being orphaned before birth isn’t in extremis enough? Tell me, Saskia, what have you been doing since the last time I saw you? Apart from dropping out from university?’

Her hands curled into tight fists. How could he be so dismissive? Act as if they hadn’t once been, if not in love, so very close to falling off that cliff? Maybe it had just been her, so besotted she hadn’t noticed how little he felt for her. But for all his faults, for all his arrogance, she had never known Idris Delacour be deliberately cruel. Even that last time...she hadn’t actually managed to tell him about her father’s death when he sent her away.

Surely Maya and Fayaz had filled him in on what had happened to her, told him about her father? She’d assumed so. But if he hadn’t known she was their choice of surrogate, hadn’t known she was in Dalmaya, then maybe not. Thinking about it, they had always been very careful not to discuss Idris with her beyond mentioning that he had achieved his dream of renovating the chateau and the vineyards. Her pulse began to race as she took in his politely contemptuous expression. He couldn’t know, not about her father’s death, not about Jack. After all, she hadn’t even known of Jack’s existence when they were together.

She lifted her chin. ‘This and that.’ If he didn’t know about Jack then she wasn’t going to enlighten him. The less he knew about her life, her circumstances, the better. The less ammunition he would have.

‘No husband? Fiancé? Significant other? Career? I thought not. I’m offering you it all on a plate, Saskia, a family, a home, a position that comes with all the luxuries and money a girl like you needs to get by.’

She wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of even a chin wobble. ‘You know nothing about a girl like me.’

‘Non? Well, I suppose I have the rest of my life to find out.’

‘The answer is still no. You can sue me, Idris. See what people think about the King of Dalmaya suing a woman into becoming his wife. I can take that kind of humiliation, can you?’

His eyes were hard and flat. That shot had gone home. He’d always been abominably proud. ‘I don’t need to sue you, Saskia. If you don’t marry me and legitimise the baby then the lawyer agrees you have broken the in extremis clause and the first three months agreement. We won’t owe you a red cent. You’ll leave here not a penny the richer for your year and a bit’s hard work.’ His eyes flicked contemptuously to the side table laden with little pastries and fruits.

The world stilled and stopped. No money? No money meant no house, no university, no way of clawing herself out of the exhausting cycle she had found herself repeating over and over for the last seven years. No money meant a return to long hours and mind-numbing work, to low wages and choosing between food and heating. To damp flats. No money meant no security for Jack... She couldn’t breathe, the lump in her throat outsized only by the heavy stone in her chest. She couldn’t do it all again. She couldn’t...

Somehow, she had no idea how, she managed to take in a breath, only her whitened knuckles giving away her inner turmoil. She could do it. She’d done it before. She would have no choice but to pick herself up once again.

But not without a fight. ‘I’ll talk to my lawyer.’

‘You do that,’ he said affably. ‘I can afford to fight this all the way. Can you say the same, Saskia? Daddy must be keeping you short if you’ve resorted to surrogacy and you’ve been off the party circuit for a while. Will any of your boyfriends pick up the tab?’

The casual, contemptuous mention of her father was like a physical blow but she didn’t waver, keeping her voice low and cold. ‘Don’t you worry about me.’

‘You’ll be a single mother as well. That’s not the kind of accessory men look for in their dates.’

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. There was no humour in his dark eyes, just a searing contempt. ‘What do you mean?’

He shrugged. ‘The lawyer was quite clear. Under Dalmayan law there’s no way of proving that the child is Fayaz’s. I don’t have any obligation to take in a child of unknown origin.’

‘The agreement. His DNA...’ But she remembered the lawyer’s words as clearly as Idris did.

‘Inadmissible.’

‘Not in the UK.’

‘Saskia, we’re not in the UK.’

‘You’d turn your back on your cousin’s child?’

‘This country is going through enough right now. I wasn’t born here or brought up here. My first language is French, my surname is French. My mother ran away surrounded by the biggest scandal of the last century. That’s the legacy I inherit. I need to be seen as committed to Dalmaya. The last thing I need is a motherless baby who isn’t mine muddling up the succession. Now, I’m willing to marry you, legitimise the baby and make it my heir. But it’s all or nothing, Saskia. Pick wisely.’

Go to hell.

The words were so tempting but she reined them in while she desperately searched for a way out, a way to reach him. Her earlier thought ran through her brain like a track on repeat, reminding her that the Idris she had known before wasn’t cruel. Single-minded, yes. Definitely ambitious. But not cruel. Not until the last time she’d seen him.

But that man, that man who had turned his back on her, he was capable of turning his back on the baby too, she was almost sure. Almost...it was a slim word to hang her hopes on to. Could she risk it?

If he was in earnest then she wouldn’t just be returning to the UK penniless, she’d be returning with a baby. A baby would make finding a job, a place to live so very, very much harder...

And of course there was Jack. She’d promised him a better life. Could she drag him back to an even more difficult childhood than the one he’d left? He’d never complained before but he’d never known another way before.

‘Saskia!’ A voice broke through her thoughts and she looked up. Was it that time already? She’d meant to keep Jack well away from Idris but it was too late. Her brother raced through the marble hallway, dropping his bag in the middle of the room as he kicked off his shoes. His au pair followed, picking up his discarded belongings as she went. How quickly he’d adjusted to the heat and the space and the staff. How could she take him back to an inadequately heated one-bedroom flat?

He skidded to a halt by her chair. Ignoring Idris’s raised brow, she held out her arms for the cuddle her brother still greeted her with. ‘Jack, how was your day, tiger?’

‘Good. I scored three goals during playtime.’

‘Three goals, huh? Good to see you’re learning something in that fancy school of yours. Jack, I want you to meet someone. This is Idris. I used to...’ She faltered. ‘We knew each other when I was younger. He is Fayaz’s cousin.’

Jack turned, a little shyly, but stuck out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

Idris threw her a startled glance as he shook Jack’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you too, Jack. Are you over visiting Saskia?’ But his keen eyes were scanning Jack and Saskia knew he had noted the school uniform, the au pair, the houseboy standing to one side with a tray filled with milk and cookies. All the signs that Jack was a permanent member of the household.

‘No.’ Jack sounded surprised. ‘I live here.’

‘You live here?’ His brows had snapped together and he was looking at Jack assessingly.

‘Jack is my brother and I am his guardian,’ Saskia interjected smoothly. ‘Jack, go and have your milk and cookies in the kitchen, okay? Then I think Husain has offered to give you a swimming lesson.’