The Sheikh’s Pregnant Lover (Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid Book 1) Page 7

  An hour later, they rode through Santorini on the way to the dock. The villa smelled like smoke, and Hannah couldn’t stop shaking her head in disbelief. How had she forgotten the lava cake? How? It didn't help that Kyril teased her over her choice of dessert, as it seemed fitting that a lava cake would catch fire. Or maybe it was the…eruption he had in mind.

  “It’s all right,” Kyril said, soothing her with a few words.

  “It’s not. I can’t believe I forgot.” Hannah shook her head, though the kind words soothed her irritation at his earlier teasing.

  He rested a hand on the swell of her belly. “There are more changes going on with you than the outward ones. And we lived, didn’t we? That’s all that matters.”

  11

  Kyril’s phone buzzed against the bedside table.

  They were back on the yacht, and after his time with Hannah had been interrupted by the sudden combustion of one lava cake, he'd felt nearly mad with need for her. It had been an exercise in torture to sit through dinner, delicious as it was, and as hungry as she was. The moment they left the dining room, he'd pressed her back against the wall and kissed her like he was as desperate for her as a drowning man is for air. Which, perhaps, he was.

  But Hannah—Hannah wasn’t a creature of the water. She was fiery, scratching at his shoulders and back and opening her legs wide for him. She met each of his kisses with a dueling tongue and soon moved her mouth to his chest. Hannah peppered his skin with hot, wet kisses, licking and sucking and biting, and when her teeth closed on his skin he'd let out a roar of impatience and picked her up in his arms. He’d taken her directly to bed, drawing out her passion as she squirmed on the bed before he allowed himself to climax. He wanted her again, even now. His need for this woman had no limit.

  When had they fallen asleep? He didn’t know. Kyril could feel Hannah beside him, hear her even breathing, and he didn’t want to wake up yet.

  He closed his eyes and began to drift off.

  Another buzz from his phone.

  With a growl, he snapped it up from the table, intending to silence it. It buzzed again in his hand. What was happening? Were people that concerned about a minor kitchen fire?

  No.

  The screen of his phone was filled from top to bottom with messages. From his father. From his mother. From his brothers, Rami and Issam, and from his sister, Adira. The last one was from her. “Tell me it wasn’t your wedding night!”

  He covered his eyes with his hands.

  Then he looked back to the phone.

  It was a parade of links and messages. The kitchen fire, it turned out, wasn’t the main event—the paparazzi photos of him carrying suspiciously rounded woman wearing only a bathrobe and an enormous ring had sparked rumors all over Al-Dashalid.

  And the rest of the planet.

  Kyril’s face burned with a hot shame. He hadn’t told his family he’d gotten married. In all the excitement, he hadn’t made the calls. He’d been so busy tending to Hannah’s every need that he’d only focused on the most pressing duties from Al-Dashalid. It was a mistake, clearly, and his family deserved better. His country deserved better. There was uproar in Al-Dashalid, and it was all his fault.

  There was no way around it. Kyril would issue a terse press release, deal with the fallout, and move on.

  Hannah stirred as he threw his legs over the side of the bed, and his phone rang in his hand again. His father.

  “Good morning, Darling.” He ran a hand over her hair. “I have to make a few calls. The news is out.”

  “What news?”

  “About our marriage.”

  That was all he had time for before he answered the phone, pacing quickly toward the window.

  No—Hannah was his wife. She deserved to be part of this.

  He went back toward the bed. “Hello, Father.”

  “What happened, my son? Are the news reports to be believed?”

  His father’s voice was loud enough for Hannah to hear even without the speakerphone. Her cheeks reddened but she lifted her chin. “You didn’t tell them,” she whispered.

  Kyril’s father pressed further. “Are you both all right?”

  The fire. The fire that had set off this frenzy. “We’re both—all three of us are perfectly healthy,” Kyril began. “I married Hannah in a private ceremony this week.” He laughed, his nerves getting the better of him. “Two ceremonies, in fact. We’re married. She’s my wife.”

  “As the mother of your child, she should be.” Despite his father’s earlier enthusiasm, he sounded tired. “But Kyril, the nation can’t—”

  “I know, Father. There will need to be some damage control.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Kyril saw Hannah flinch.

  “To satisfy the traditionalists.”

  Her face relaxed.

  “Congratulations, Son.” Again, his father hesitated despite the warmth in his voice. “But you do know there will be no heading this off. We’ll all need to take it as it comes. The news must be confronted with our heads held high.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll pass along your confirmation to the family.”

  “Thank you.”

  “All my love, Son.”

  “All mine.”

  He ended the call.

  Hannah fell back against the pillows, her hair a glorious blonde mess. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell them.”

  Kyril couldn’t help himself. He ran his hands over her skin, the rises and falls of her curves calming him in a way no woman’s ever had. “Come outside with me.”

  She sat up. “Outside?”

  “To the pool.”

  Hannah gave him a look but got up and followed. He had the awful, twisting sense that this was going to be their last moment of peace together before the storm in Al-Dashalid, and he wanted her to enjoy it.

  On the private deck he slipped her underthings from her body, the smooth silk hitting the edge of the pool with a whisper. Then he took his own clothes off. Kyril lingered a moment, his hand on her belly, then led her into the pool. It was warm, and with the sun kissing their skin, it was heaven.

  Hannah ducked under the water and resurfaced into the sunlight, every inch of her glowing and radiant. Kyril’s heart twisted. She’d been planning for more travel after Greece, and now that they’d had a honeymoon of sorts, he could see her getting more excited with each passing minute. Last night, before she’d fallen asleep, she’d curled her body into his. “What if we extended our trip? It could be a world-tour honeymoon.” Kyril had heard the smile in her voice.

  “What are you thinking about?” Hannah ran her hands over her hair, causing a cascade of droplets to fall back into the pool. “You’re staring.”

  “You,” he said simply, though it wasn’t entirely true. Kyril swam over to her, kissing her cheek before he swept her to the edge of the pool. From that vantage point, they could look across the marina and watch the world wake up.

  “I want to keep traveling with you endlessly.” Hannah ran her fingers down his arm and squeezed his wrist. “But it won’t be possible, will it?”

  He tried to burn the sight of her, hair wet, body lush and glowing, into his mind. She was trying to look stoic—he could see it in her face. It didn’t quite hide her disappointment.

  “In a way…” Kyril ached to tell her what she wanted to hear. “In a way, we will always be traveling together. Our life will always be an adventure. And we will visit Santorini again. And anywhere else your heart desires.”

  “Just not now,” Hannah said, lifting her chin. “I understand.”

  “Do you?” Kyril put his hand underneath her chin and raised her face to his. “I hope you know how much I wish we could leave the marina and cruise to destinations unknown.”

  “But you have responsibilities at home.” Her wide blue eyes were determined.

  “My country. My family. There will need to be a formal announcement.”

  “About the wedding?”

  “The wed
ding…and the baby.”

  She glanced downward, a flicker of her eyelashes, and Kyril couldn’t bear it. “I am not ashamed about the way our child came to be. Know that in your heart.” His own heart beat faster at the thought of it. With every day that passed, he found himself more and more dedicated to this yet-unknown child and to Hannah. It took Kyril’s breath away. “I couldn’t imagine doing any of this with anyone else.”

  She grimaced. “I imagine the rest of your country might not feel the same way.”

  “Oh, they’ll be furious,” Kyril said with a laugh. “But mostly that they didn’t get to watch the wedding ceremony live and televised. A sheikh having a secret wedding? It’s such delectable gossip and such a disappointment at the same time.” He kissed her, and Hannah made a low noise in the back of her throat that spurred him on as much as her glistening, naked body. “I shudder to think of the fallout.”

  Her eyes flicked open, sparkling with desire. “But your family will stand with you.”

  “I’m sure they will. My father—”

  “I meant me,” she interrupted, and his heart swelled with joy. Hannah grinned at him. “Me and our baby.” She blew a breath out through rounded lips. “I’m sure there will be fallout, but I’ll—we’ll stand with you.”

  “It could be difficult at times,” Kyril admitted. “Not everyone we meet will be so…enthusiastic about the way we’ve gone about things.”

  “What’s done is done.” Hannah let one of her hands fall to her belly. “And anyway, all that is still in the future. For now, we’re in this pool…” She lifted her hand, dragging her fingertips down the ridges of his abs. The sensation chased all the worry from his mind, and he was instantly at attention. “There’s nobody here to interrupt us. No cameras. No prying eyes.”

  He couldn’t keep himself away for another moment. “Let them come,” Kyril said between devouring kisses. “I don’t care.”

  12

  Hannah’s heart fluttered in her throat as the black sedan swept them through the streets on the way to the palace. It was a white, sprawling structure at the northern end of the city, watching over the heat and bustle below. They’d arrived at the country’s biggest port the night before, and she’d slept a restless few hours before an early doctor’s visit. Kyril had insisted. The visit had gone well, and they’d returned to the yacht just before the stylist arrived. Kyril had wanted to make sure she felt her best, and she did, with her hair dried and gleaming in an elegant chignon, fresh makeup, and a brand-new outfit.

  She put her hands in her lap and forced herself to take a breath. Kyril was busy on a tablet, no doubt making plans to control the fallout he’d talked about. Hannah knew it would take only a word to draw his attention, but now that they were back in Al-Dashalid, he seemed distant from her in a way he hadn’t on the yacht. His time had to be carefully managed, she saw, because he was so deeply involved with running the country. There wouldn’t be many carefree romps in the pool at the palace, assuming the palace did have a pool. It probably did. What palace wouldn’t?

  Hannah missed the relative privacy of the yacht. She didn’t, however, miss having to haul her luggage from place to place by herself. It had been sent ahead. She wasn’t sure of the logistics, but those things didn’t seem to be Kyril’s concern. He simply gave the order to have their things sent ahead.

  They drove by a crowded marketplace, brightly colored tents guarding the wares from the sun, and Hannah wanted to go back. They had fantastic cheap jewelry at the market, and she longed to lose herself among the stalls. But she pressed her lips together and swallowed the disappointment she couldn’t shake.

  She’d known that marrying Kyril would result in a life dictated by royal duty, but she wished it hadn’t come so soon. It was her own fault. That stupid lava cake…

  Hannah straightened her back. Moping about it wouldn’t change a thing. In fact, she’d known this time would come months ago, the moment the pregnancy test had shown two pink lines instead of one. It had been obvious. And yet this drive toward the palace felt like a cage closing in. Those last months of freedom had gone by in a flash.

  “They're waiting for us at the palace,” Kyril said, and she realized he’d turned off the tablet and was watching her.

  “What’s—what’s the plan for that?” Hannah swallowed a flash of anxiety. This wasn’t like landing in a new city, armed with her own itinerary. And she’d never been to the palace before. When she’d been in Al-Dashalid, they’d spent time at her own hotel room and some of the smaller royal residences, away from the main palace. The anxiety morphed into a strange excitement. She’d also never been in a real working palace before. “A…meet and greet, probably?”

  Kyril laughed. “If by that you mean a formal introduction to my family, then yes.”

  “They’re going to love me.”

  He laughed again. “Undoubtedly. I’m certain we’ll sit down with them right away. After that, we’ll let the day unfold.” Kyril took Hannah’s hand in his and squeezed it. They were almost there.

  With her hand in his, she felt calmer. Maybe it wasn’t a cage she was entering. Maybe all of this was a new, exotic adventure. It would be different, yes, but there would be chances to travel, and a new world awaited her, chock full of amazing experiences.

  Maybe, instead of tying her down, being with Kyril would set her free.

  * * *

  Kyril was right—they were waiting for them in a receiving area on the main floor. It reminded Hannah of a living room, if that living room had been expanded to four times its normal size and appointed with understated and obviously expensive furniture. All the pieces were different, yet they all bore the same mark of elegance and luxury. Nothing like the secondhand stuff she’d filled her apartment with at home.

  She recognized his whole family from her research on the Internet, having been consumed with finding out as much as she could since they’d planned to come back. Kyril’s father, Zafir. His mother, Daya. His sister Adira, and his brothers Rami and Issam. They stood in a clutch in the center of the room, and by the way they were standing, Hannah could tell they were a close-knit group, traditional and private. It soothed her. Kyril took her arm and strode to them, head held high. Adira was the first to notice.

  “Kyril! You’re here! And this must be Hannah.” His sister rushed over, eyes shining, and embraced Hannah. “Welcome. You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you so much, Adira, and congratulations on your graduation.” She’d spoken too soon. ”Oh—”

  Adira laughed out loud, the sound reminding her pleasantly of Kyril. “She’s been looking us up,” she cried as the rest of the family came to join them. “Then you also know that Rami’s afraid of you.”

  Hannah’s cheeks flushed.

  “That’s entirely incorrect,” Rami said, extending his hand for Hannah to shake. There was little warmth in his eyes, and Hannah felt herself standing as tall as possible. “Though I do have some concerns about the repercussions this situation might have on our business interests. We need to consider this from every—”

  “Oh, Rami, don’t be like that.” Daya brushed him off, coming to put her hands on Hannah’s shoulders and look her up and down. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Are you feeling well? Have you eaten? We’ve had lunch prepared, all healthy—”

  Kyril’s father cut her off, beaming. “Kyril, you didn’t say she was as beautiful as the morning sun.”

  Kyril looked sheepish. “I wouldn’t say that to you.”

  Issam, the youngest brother, hung back, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you sure about this, Kyril?”

  Adira turned and shot a glare at him. “Issam—” Her voice held a warning, but it wasn’t enough.

  Issam shook his head and stepped forward to introduce himself. The moment he was done, Adira took Hannah’s arm. “Ignore him. We’ll talk while we eat.”

  * * *

  Every inch of the long table in the royal dining room was laden with dishes, each one more delicious th
an the last. Adira and Daya sat Hannah between them. Before she could take her first bite, they were talking.

  “I knew you wanted to be part of the family,” Adira said kindly. “That’s why you did your research on us. Go ahead. You can admit it.”

  “I did,” Hannah said. “I didn’t want to seem careless.”

  Adira chuckled. “Wishing me a happy graduation when we had hardly met. I love it.”

  “Speaking of being part of the family…” Daya looked thoughtful. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together over the coming days. The dress will be the least of our worries when it comes to the ceremony.”

  “Ceremony? What ceremony?”

  Daya patted her hand. “The official royal wedding ceremony. Invitations will need to be issued soon. I’ll sit down with the social planner and arrange that, and—”

  “Oh, that’s—” Hannah struggled to find the words. “You don’t need to throw another wedding.”

  “Of course your wedding in Greece was legally binding,” Daya said. “But there must be an affair on behalf of the royal household.”

  “But I won’t…necessarily be a part of the royal household.”

  The conversation around Hannah stopped dead. Zafir’s fork clinked into his plate in the silence. His gaze was bemused, but kind. “What do you mean by that, Hannah?”

  She swallowed hard. “I planned to maintain a more…independent lifestyle.”

  “See?” Issam’s voice was cutting. “She needs her own security detail, otherwise she’s nothing but a risk to us.”

  “She’s part of this family,” Adira shot back. “She’s already doing her best to get to know us, Issam.”

  “That doesn’t mean she's not a risk.”

  Hannah could see Kyril’s jaw tightening from across the table. “If you’re going to speak about my wife like that in her presence, you can excuse yourself from the table right now, Issam.” His voice rang with authority.