An Arabian Marriage. LYNNE GRAHAM

male who had an advance guard of pure-bred thugs? He might well be a most unsavoury character. Certainly he behaved like one with that threat he had just uttered without conscience, announcing that he had the power to set aside the arrangements that his more responsible brother had put in place. What kind of a man spoke like that when a child’s needs and security lay in the balance?

      And Jaspar al-Husayn needn’t bother looking down that classic nose at her as if she were the dust beneath his royal feet. In fact, Freddy, who had a temper that was usually slow to rise, was just about fizzing with rage in her determination to protect Ben. Only if her concerns were put to rest would she dare to concede the dangerous truth that as Ben’s uncle he had far more rights than she could possibly have.

      ‘Can you offer me proof of your identity?’ Freddy enquired, unleashing the first volley of what she expected to be a long and bitter defensive battle.

      The brilliant dark eyes flashed gold, lush black lashes narrowing over his piercing gaze. ‘I have no need to offer such credentials.’

      That rich dark drawl carried a note of incredulity that he could not hide. Freddy straightened her shoulders. ‘I don’t know you from Adam. You could be anybody and I’m not prepared to discuss Ben’s future without evidence that you are who you say you are.’

      ‘I am not accustomed to being spoken to in such a discourteous manner,’ Crown Prince Jaspar countered in the most lethal tone.

      A chill ran down Freddy’s rigid spine but she needed time, time to check him out and time to take advice. That it would mean for ever burning her own boats with this arrogant male was unavoidable, for Ben’s safety and well-being were of paramount importance.

      ‘Perhaps you could come back tomorrow evening about eight with appropriate references,’ Freddy countered unevenly, somewhat intimidated by the aura of sheer blazing disbelief that emanated from him. ‘I will then be happy to sit down and discuss in a polite and civilised way what path his future should follow.’

      ‘You have angered me. You will regret it.’Jaspar al-Husayn swore very softly.

      Pale as death, Freddy watched him stride from the room and listened to the front door thud shut in his wake. He had given her such a scare that she could hardly breathe. Ben began to wake up, sleepily rubbing his eyes and whimpering a little the way he often did at such times. Freddy gathered him up in her arms and hugged him to her, her heart racing. An orphaned child born of such important lineage and likely to inherit a large amount of money was a very vulnerable child, she reflected fearfully. She needed to make an appointment with a solicitor and check out her legal position.

      CHAPTER TWO

      LATE afternoon of the following day, Jaspar studied the report from his security team on Erica Sutton’s activities since his visit to her apartment. That she had evidently rushed straight to a solicitor for advice came as no surprise to him.

      Jaspar was satisfied that he had put Erica Sutton under considerable pressure, which had been precisely his intent. While his late brother had been gracing ceremonial occasions and cruising the Med with his party girls, Jaspar had been acquiring the brilliant business acumen with which he oversaw Quamar’s considerable investments abroad. Military school and the tough, fast-moving world of finance had honed Jaspar’s natural talents to a fine and ruthless edge. He knew how to negotiate. Once he knew his quarry’s weaknesses and the time was right, he moved in for the kill.

      Subjecting Erica Sutton to the fear that she might lose all that she had gained by her son’s birth had been a deliberate ploy. Doubtless, she imagined that to continue enjoying her present lifestyle she had to retain custody of her son but that was not, in fact, the case. When she learned that she could give up his nephew without surrendering her financial security, Jaspar believed that she would rush to do so.

      But he was intensely amused to read that Erica had apparently spent two hours in a beauty salon that very afternoon. So the real Erica Sutton was about to make herself known!

      His crack about her unlovely appearance had evidently been more than flesh and blood could stand. Had she imagined when he’d set up that first meeting that he was someone who had power over her finances? Why else would she have gone to such ridiculous lengths to present him with that fake image? How could she have thought that he would be impressed by such a disguise? Adil, connoisseur that he had been, would not have looked twice at a woman with a hideous hairstyle, heavy spectacles and frumpy clothes.

      But then, possibly, Erica Sutton was not the brightest spark on the block, Jaspar conceded lazily, recalling the reality that she had telephoned the Consulate of Quamar in an apparent effort to confirm his identity. So naive, so clumsy, he reflected, for naturally even the junior diplomat who had dealt with her call had refused to confirm or deny his presence in London on what was essentially a private trip. But then he was surprised that she had not simply recognised him from the many family photographs on his late brother’s yacht, Beauteous Dreamer.

      Hopefully, he could wrap up the whole unfortunate business by the end of the day for he did not wish to strain his father’s non-existent patience. He already had nursery staff standing by to take charge of his nephew. Possibly the arrival of a grandson might distract his parent from the rather more personal goal which Adil’s death had sadly made a matter of much greater urgency… Jaspar’s own marriage.

      At thirty years old, he was well aware that he was fortunate to still be single. But then his father had feared that Adil’s inability to settle with one woman had been the direct result of having been pressed into marriage while he’d still been too immature to have made that commitment. However, Adil’s death had changed the whole picture where Jaspar was concerned. That he marry and produce a son to safeguard the succession was now of great importance.

      He would let his father choose his bride. Why not? For the past two years, the royal household had staged regular social events simply to ensure that he met a great number of young women. On a most discreet basis, innumerable bridal candidates had been served up for Jaspar’s perusal, the hope being that he would do what everybody wanted him to do and fall in love. But the knowledge that he was being targeted with every weapon in the feminine armoury had made him extremely critical. And the concept of love left Jaspar colder than Siberian ice. Adil had always been falling in love, but Jaspar had only loved once and the experience had been traumatic. Love was a weakness that Jaspar had no intention of falling victim to a second time.

      The day before, Freddy had visited the first solicitor able to give her an immediate appointment. Having described Ben’s situation without naming names, she had requested an honest opinion of her position.

      ‘An uncle is a close relative and, in this particular case, the authorities would also take into account Ben’s inheritance as well as his background,’ the older man informed her.

      Freddy tensed. ‘His…background?’

      ‘Naturally with his father having been of Arabic descent there are cultural aspects which would have to be respected in his upbringing.’

      Not even having foreseen that likelihood, Freddy paled, but she pressed on regardless to finally reach the climax which she had intended all along. ‘But if I was to apply to have Ben made a ward of court…er…to protect him?’

      ‘Protect him?’ The solicitor frowned in visible surprise. ‘On what grounds? Have you cause to believe that Ben would be at some risk with his uncle?’

      ‘Well, not precisely, but…I didn’t like the man at all,’ Freddy proffered feelingly.

      ‘If necessary, social services would intervene to ensure the child’s well-being but, on the basis of what you’ve told me about the uncle, I don’t see why they should. I also don’t think you need to take quite so much responsibility onto your own shoulders,’ she was told.

      Disconcerted by that quiet rebuke, Freddy left his office, dogged by the depressing suspicion that she had been charging at foolish windmills and refusing to accept the inevitable. Why had it not occurred to her that Ben’s cultural heritage would weigh heavily in the balance of what was judged best