Mills & Boon New Voices: Foreword by Katie Fforde. Ann Lethbridge

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СКАЧАТЬ his child. Nothing better than having her in his bed every night.

      “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” she said softly, “but if I’m wrong, this is your child too. We’ll figure out what comes next when we have to.”

      “Yes, we’ll figure it out,” he replied on a sigh of weariness. It had been a long, long day.

      He closed his eyes. What he needed right now was sleep. And he needed to be here with this woman.

      It felt right.

      He was drifting off when she whispered in his ear, “Sleep, Zafir.”

      She said something else, but he wasn’t quite certain what it was.

      Right before he fell asleep, he realized what it had sounded like: I love you.

      Sometime in the night they got chilled and moved into the bedroom, burrowing beneath the thick covers on the bed. Genie lay in the dark, listening to Zafir’s deep breathing. She was in so much trouble here. In two days’ time her life had been turned inside out by the past she’d tried to forget.

      She still loved him, and she couldn’t deny it. And, though she really didn’t believe she could fall pregnant, the slight chance had her mind working overtime. What would happen if she had his baby?

      He’d said he would provide for their child. But he wasn’t going to offer to marry her. He was the King of Bah’shar and he could never do so.

      But would he be a part of their child’s life? Or would he, like her father, be absent and distant?

      Genie didn’t believe Zafir would ignore their child on purpose. He would not be like her father. But his royal duties and his future wife—because, yes, a king needed legitimate heirs—would most likely keep him away.

      Genie shifted in the bed, trying to shove her tumultuous thoughts away. There was nothing to worry about yet. She would cross that bridge when she reached it.

      “Can’t sleep?”

      “Not well,” she admitted. “You?”

      “I was sleeping fine, but you kept moving.”

      “Sorry.”

      She heard him yawn. “You are worried about being pregnant?”

      “I was thinking about it, yes. But I don’t really believe it will happen.”

      “You will not have to worry, Genie.”

      “No, but I think I’ll have to worry every day of my life if there’s a child. That’s just what mothers do.” She turned toward him on the bed, propped herself on an elbow. “I’m sorry about what happened with your second wife, Zafir.”

      “It was a long time ago.”

      She bit her lip, decided to proceed. “What happened in your first marriage?”

      Zafir did not pretend to misunderstand what she was asking him. He let out a deep sigh. “Jasmin had difficulty conceiving. When she did conceive, she couldn’t carry past the first trimester.”

      “I’m so sorry.”

      “There were three miscarriages. She was depressed, though I did not realize it, and she swallowed pills. It is my fault she died. I should have forced her into treatment.”

      Sadness ripped through her. “How could you know she would do such a thing?”

      “I should have known. She was impulsive, and she made threats. I didn’t take her seriously until I came home late and found her unconscious.” He sighed into the darkness. “I wasn’t supposed to be late that day. I think she wanted to be found, that it was a cry for help. But I failed her.”

      My God. Genie’s eyes filled with tears. How could he take such a burden on himself? But she already knew the answer: he was a good man who took his duty seriously, be it the duty of a king or a husband. Or even a lover.

      “If there’s one thing I learned growing up,” she said very softly, “it’s that we aren’t responsible for the actions of others. My mother and I both suffered because she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—get herself out of the situation with my father, but that wasn’t my fault. It took me a long time to understand that.”

      “I knew Jasmin was unstable. I should have realized she would eventually go through with her threats.”

      Genie grasped his hand in hers. It was big, warm, and he squeezed his fingers closed around her hand. The grip was firm, reassuring, but not too hard. A wave of love and longing rocked through her.

      “No one is to blame but her, Zafir. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but she is responsible for making that choice, not you.”

      “If I’d been home when expected—”

      “You could have stopped her that time, but what about the next? Maybe she could have been helped with treatment, but there are no guarantees. You’re wrong to blame yourself.”

      He pulled her hand to his lips. “You have grown wise, Dr. Gray. Thank you for your words, though I am certain I will always feel guilty about what happened.”

      “That’s your right, Zafir.” It made her sad that he would take so much on himself, and sad for his poor wife. It also made her feel badly for resenting Jasmin for so long. She’d been caught up in the marital politics of her people as much as Zafir had been. And producing an heir had no doubt been paramount to that marriage. When she hadn’t been able to do so, she must have felt so desperate.

      Genie burrowed in closer, wrapped her arms around him. Her heart was a lost cause and it did no good to try and keep her distance. She would take whatever time she had with him while it lasted.

      He stroked the skin of her bare back, his fingers dipping farther and farther down her spine each time. Liquid heat filled her veins, but she would not act on it. This was about comfort, not sex.

      Until he shifted and she realized he was fully aroused. “Wait a minute,” he said, leaving the bed and then returning before she’d had a chance to miss his heat. She heard the rip of foil, and then he was on top of her, pressing inside her slick body while she moaned her pleasure to the heavens above.

      They’d had a few days of bliss, but Zafir knew it would have to end. The problem was that he didn’t want to let her go. That having her here seemed like the most important thing in the world. With Genie in his life, his bed, his heart, he faced each day with the determination and strength he needed to make Bah’shar better than ever.

      She made this life that had been thrust upon him make sense. He’d married twice, out of duty, but he’d never felt as if he’d had a connection with either of his wives. Why did he feel this connection with a woman he could never have?

      He could never ask her to give up her life for him—not now. She was a professional, successful woman. And he was still required to marry and produce heirs for the throne.

      But why couldn’t he marry her? She could still do her work, and she would come home to him each night. She’d said the temples СКАЧАТЬ