Crowned For The Sheikh's Baby: Crowned for the Sheikh's Baby. Melanie Milburne

that blue line on the pregnancy test.

      ‘You won’t be able to keep it a secret for ever, you know.’ Tamsyn poured boiling water into the teapot before looking up. ‘Is it that bloke who works in the accounts department—the one you got off with at the Christmas party?’

      Hannah shuddered. No way. That particular encounter had ended humiliatingly when he’d shoved his hand up her jumper and she’d jumped away and told him she didn’t want sex in the stationery cupboard, and he had sneered and told her she was fat and frigid.

       She certainly hadn’t jumped away in horror when Kulal had touched her, had she?

      But she knew Tamsyn was right. She couldn’t keep it a secret. She had no right to do that. And wasn’t the truth of it that if she disregarded her thoughtless and stupid behaviour... She swallowed again. If she thought about the reality rather than the repercussions—then she couldn’t deny the unexpected sense of excitement which was bubbling away inside her. She was going to have a baby and she would love and protect that baby with all her heart, just as she’d done for her little sister—no matter what obstacles lay ahead.

      ‘His name is Kulal.’ For the first time since she’d lain in his arms she said his name out loud and even as she uttered it, she thought how bizarre it was that her very first lover should have been the influential desert King.

      ‘Nice name,’ said Tamsyn approvingly. ‘What’s he like?’

      And here it was—in all its unvarnished and frankly unbelievable truth.

      ‘He’s...well, he’s very powerful and dynamic.’

      ‘Really?’

      She heard the doubt in Tamsyn’s voice which she couldn’t quite disguise and, for the first time in her life, Hannah wasn’t sure how to respond. Because she had always been the one who came armed with words of wisdom. Words to soothe and comfort. There hadn’t been a single bad situation during their growing up which she hadn’t felt equipped to deal with.

      Until now.

      Had she been guilty of thinking she was so clever—so invulnerable—that she would never find herself in a situation like this? Well, here was reality—about to teach her the hardest lesson of all.

      ‘He’s a sheikh,’ she said.

      Tamsyn screwed up her face. ‘What are you talking about?’

      Hannah swallowed. ‘The father of my baby. He’s a...’ She cleared her throat because not only did it sound unbelievable—it also sounded slightly grandiose. ‘A desert king,’ she finished quietly.

      She could see that Tamsyn was trying not to laugh, but then the gravity of the situation must have hit her and the smile was wiped from her sister’s wide mouth. ‘This is no joking matter,’ she said crossly.

      ‘I’m not joking—he is a desert king.’

      ‘Hannah.’ Tamsyn glared. ‘You’re not experienced. You don’t realise what men are like. They say all kinds of things when they’re trying to get a woman to—’

      ‘He is!’ declared Hannah, with an uncharacteristic burst of fervour because usually, she trod carefully where Tamsyn was concerned. ‘He’s called Sheikh Kulal Al Diya and he’s the King of Zahristan.’

      ‘Good...grief.’ There was a pause and then, the tea-making forgotten, Tamsyn slumped against the sink, her eyes wide. ‘Not...not the one in the papers who was described as—’

      ‘One of the world’s most eligible bachelors?’ supplied Hannah. ‘Yes, that’s him.’

      ‘But...how? I mean, how?’

      The question was well-meant, but it hurt. Because Tamsyn’s incredulity said a lot. It said: how could someone like Kulal have possibly become involved with a woman like her? Yet Hannah was in no position to criticise her sister’s disbelief, when she felt pretty much that way herself.

      ‘He needed a partner to take to a fancy party.’

      ‘And he chose you?’

      Hannah drew her shoulders back and spoke to Tamsyn with uncharacteristic coolness. ‘Yes, he did. I was working for him.’

      ‘As a chambermaid?’

      ‘As a chambermaid,’ Hannah agreed tightly. ‘I was assigned to work solely for him. Sometimes we used to chat about stuff. We got on quite...well.’

      Tamsyn gave a raucous laugh. ‘I’ll say. So you went off to a party with him and...?’

      ‘I’m not going to spell it out for you, Tamsyn—it’s pretty obvious what happened.’

      Tamsyn looked momentarily surprised—as if this new and rather bolshie sister, who usually trod so carefully, was taking a little getting used to. She nodded. ‘So what are you planning to do?’

      Hannah hesitated before answering because this was the bit she still wasn’t quite clear about. Because the moment she told him, she would lose control over the situation. Instinct told her that. Kulal wasn’t just a powerful man—he was also a desert king and weren’t royals notoriously possessive about their heirs? The truth was that she didn’t know how he would respond because she didn’t really know him. He might try to take control of her and the baby. He might deny all responsibility and send her packing. In many ways, it would be easier all round if she just crept away and brought up the baby on her own without bothering to tell him.

      A long sigh escaped from her lips. It would be easier, yes—but deep down she knew she couldn’t go through with it. Because Hannah had grown up never knowing or meeting her father, and she knew all about the huge emotional hole that could leave at the centre of a child’s existence. There were risks involved in letting him know—of course there were—but these were risks she had to take.

      ‘I’m going to tell him, of course,’ she said. ‘As soon as you’ve gone, I’m going to telephone him.’

      The only problem being that she didn’t actually have a number for him, because he hadn’t given her one. Well, why would he, when he’d never been intending to see her again? There had been one final, lingering kiss and Hannah, completely exhausted after their energetic night, had fallen into a deep sleep. And when she’d woken up, he was gone. The penthouse suite along the corridor had been cleared of all evidence that Kulal had stayed there. The bodyguards had disappeared and so had the Sheikh’s luggage. Even the fancy dress and priceless necklace were gone, presumably on their way back to the stylist. It might have all been a dream, were it not for the pleasurable aching of her body. And yet she had still been suffering from some kind of delusion, hadn’t she? There had still been a stupid part of her which had wondered if he might have left her a note or something.

      But whisking her way around his suite—supposedly giving it the most thorough cleaning of its life—had failed to produce any kind of sentiment that Kulal Al Diya would ever give her another thought. Hannah had felt flat—there was no denying it. It had been the most spectacular introduction to sex and now she was going to have to resign herself to her usual frigid life. Yet it had been more than that. In his arms, she had felt like a woman who was capable of anything. He had been tender with her. And passionate. In fact, he had been everything a woman dreamt a man could be.

      Maybe it was easy to be that way when you knew you were never going to see someone again. When you knew that you weren’t even going to have to speak to them in the morning. She told herself she should be grateful he’d just crept away in the early hours, because the reality of waking up in that cramped staff bedroom would have been embarrassing. Would she have boiled the electric kettle which was jammed onto one of the shelves and offered to make him a mug of herb tea? Then watched as he put on his clothes and tried to make his escape as quickly as possible?

      She’d tried to feel indignant that he’d beat such a hasty retreat, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to be angry with him. Had she somehow