The Sheikh's Pregnant Prisoner. Tara Pammi

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ near the edges, even by mistake, of a man’s quarters.

      Arif said, “We can send her to the women’s clinic in the city and still have a guard there.”

      “No.”

      Letting Lauren wake up in some unknown clinic amid strangers when this was all his fault, that was inexcusable, even for him.

      He wanted her close, somewhere she could be watched without causing a fuss and curiosity, which she undoubtedly would anywhere else.

      And he was no normal man like he had told her. He was not the favored orphan anymore either. He was the sheikh, and he was damned well going to use, or abuse—he didn’t care which—his power in this.

      “Do as I command, Arif.”

      Stealing one last look at her, he turned and headed toward the elevator, Lauren’s words echoing in his ears.

      “The man I mourned doesn’t exist. Or if he did, he’s truly dead.”

      How close she’d come to the truth. That carefree, reckless, indulgent man he’d been in New York, he truly didn’t exist.

CHAPTER THREE

      LAUREN OPENED HER eyes slowly, feeling a sharp tug at her wrist. Her mouth felt woolly as if she had fallen asleep with cotton stuffed into it. It took her a moment to focus around the strange room. Feeling a little frayed, she propped herself on her elbows and scooted into a sitting position.

      She was lying on a huge bed on the softest scented cotton sheets. The subtle scent of roses tickled her nostrils. A dark red tapestry hung on the opposite wall while sheer silk curtains fluttered at the breeze. Her whole apartment in Queens could fit into the suite, she thought, awed by the magnificence of the surroundings.

      “It is nice to see some color in your cheeks,” said a voice near the foot of the bed in heavily accented English.

      The IV tube tugged at her wrist as Lauren moved.

      A woman laid a cool hand against Lauren’s forehead and nodded. She wore a bright red tunic with a collar and long sleeves, and black trousers underneath it. Her hair was tied into a ponytail at the back. Her skin, a shade lighter than Zafir’s rich copper tone, shone with a vibrancy that made Lauren feel like a pale ghost.

      “The fever is gone. Would you like something to drink?”

      When Lauren nodded, instead of handing the glass to her, the woman tucked one hand at Lauren’s neck and held it to her mouth with the other. The cool liquid slid against her throat, bringing back feeling into her mouth. Feeling infinitely better, Lauren looked at her. “Where am I?”

      A little line appeared in the woman’s smooth forehead. “The royal palace.”

      Holding her growing anxiety at bay, Lauren studied the suite again. Rich, vibrant furnishings with hints of gold greeted her eyes. A high archway lighted with bronze torches led into the balcony on her right, from which she could see the turrets and domes of the palace.

      First, he had her locked up accusing her of conspiracy, and now he had staff waiting on her?

      She ran a finger over her dry, cracked lips. Her blouse was creased and her cream trousers looked dirty. “I’ve never fainted in my life before. If you remove the IV, I’d like to wash up. And then leave.”

      The woman shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

      After the day she’d had, Lauren was in no mood to be ordered around. “Excuse me, but who are you?”

      “I’m one of the palace physicians, the only female one. His Highness ordered that I attend to you personally,” she said, her words ringing with pride.

      It took Lauren a moment to realize who she meant. She was still a prisoner then, upgraded from that stark...cell to the sumptuous palace. “Well... His Highness can screw himself for all I care,” she muttered, emotions batting at her from all directions.

      The woman’s mouth fell open, and she looked at Lauren as though she had grown two heads. Lauren felt like an ass. It wasn’t really the woman’s fault.

      “I’m sorry....”

      “Dr. Farrah Hasan.”

      “Dr. Hasan, I have to leave. In fact, if you can just hand me my phone.” She pointed to her gray metallic handbag—the funky bag looked as out of place on the red velvet settee as she felt in the grandiose palace. “I’ll call the airport and reschedule my flight.”

      “You can’t leave, Ms. Hamby. Besides the fact that His Highness has forbidden it,” she rushed over her words as if afraid that Lauren would lose it again, “given your condition, you’re very weak. I recommend that you spend at least a week in bed and wait two weeks before you fly long-distance.”

      “My condition?” Lauren said, her heart beginning a strange thump-thump loud enough to reach her ears. “Nothing’s wrong with me except the effects of dehydration.” Which was really His Highness’s fault. But she managed to keep the words to herself this time.

      “Your pregnancy,” Dr. Hasan said with a frown. “You’re not aware of it?”

      Lauren felt as if she’d been physically slapped. She shook her head, huffed a laugh at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. The doctor’s eyes remained serious.

      She couldn’t be. “But that’s not...”

      She collapsed against the bed, shaking uncontrollably from head to toe. Her breaths became shaky, and a vicious churn started in her stomach. Pregnant? How was that possible? She took her pill without missing it a single day. She clutched the sheets with her hands, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes.

      Fear and shock vied with each other, a heaviness gathering in her belly.

      She couldn’t be pregnant. A child needed unconditional love, stability, two parents who loved it, who would put it before anything else, before their own ambitions and duties.

      Zafir and she couldn’t even bear to look at each other without distrust.

      Panic unfurled its fangs, and she felt woozy again.

      “Just breathe, Ms. Hamby,” the doctor said, and Lauren let that crisp tone wash over her, glad to have someone tell her what to do.

      As her breathing became normal again, a little flicker of something else crept in. She shoved her top away under the cotton sheets and splayed her fingers on her stomach. A tiny life was breathing inside her, and it felt as though it breathed courage into her.

      A baby.

      Her job as an ER nurse at an inner-city hospital in Brooklyn consumed every ounce of her energy, both physical and emotional. Christ, she had never even had a normal boyfriend.

      She saw and dealt with unwed, single mothers and their difficulties on a day-to-day to basis. That gritty reality coupled with her own childhood had made at least one thing clear in her head. She’d never wanted to bring a child into the world that couldn’t have the love of both parents.

СКАЧАТЬ