The Sheikh and the Pregnant Bride. Сьюзен Мэллери

at you,” she said. “Aren’t there any you want to marry?”

      Qadir raised his eyebrows. “You take my father’s side in this?”

      “You’re royal. Doesn’t having heirs come with the really plush surroundings?”

      “So you’re practical.”

      “I understand family loyalty and duty.”

      “Would you have agreed to an arranged match if it had been expected?”

      Maggie considered the question. “I don’t know. Maybe. If I’d always known it was going to be that way. I’m not sure I would have liked it.”

      “Such an obedient daughter.”

      “Not on purpose. I loved my father very much.” He’d been all the family she’d ever had. She still expected to see him in the house or hear his footsteps. One of the big advantages of her job in El Deharia—besides the money—was that she could escape the sad memories for a few weeks.

      Qadir shook his head. “I am sorry. I had forgotten your recent loss. I did not mean to remind you of your pain.”

      “Don’t worry about it. I’m kind of bringing it with me everywhere I go.”

      He nodded slowly as if he understood what it meant to lose something so precious. Did he? Maggie realized she knew nothing about Qadir beyond what she’d heard on television. She didn’t read gossip magazines. Or fashion magazines for that matter. Her idea of a great evening was when Car and Driver arrived in the mail.

      “You must have other family back in Aspen,” he said. “How will they cope with you gone?”

      “I, ah, I’m kind of alone. It was just my dad and me. I have a few friends, but they’re busy with their lives.”

      “So you had no one to call and tell about your new job?”

      “I called Jon. He worries about me.”

      Qadir’s dark gaze settled on her face. “Your boyfriend?”

      “Not anymore,” she said lightly. “He’s someone I’ve known forever. We grew up next door to each other. We played together when we were kids, then kind of fell in love in high school. Everyone assumed we’d get married, but it never seemed to happen.”

      She’d always wondered why they hadn’t taken that last step. They’d dated for years, been each other’s first time. He was the only man she’d ever been with and until Elaine, Jon had only been with her. She still loved him—a part of her would always love him.

      “I think we fell out of ‘in love,’ if that makes sense. We still care for each other, but it’s not the same. I think we would have broken up a long time ago, except my dad was sick and Jon didn’t want to dump that on me, too.”

      But she’d sensed the changes in their relationship. “I ignored the obvious because of my dad dying. After he was gone, Jon and I talked and I realized it had been over for a long time.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “He’s met someone else. Elaine. She’s great and they’re crazy about each other. So that’s good.”

      She mostly meant that. Jon was her friend and she wanted him to be happy. But every now and then she wondered why she couldn’t have met someone, too.

      “You are very understanding,” Qadir said. “Even if it is all a mask.”

      She stiffened. “I’m not pretending.”

      “You’re saying there is no anger at Jon for replacing you so easily?”

      “None at all,” she snapped, then sighed. “Okay, there’s a twinge, but it’s not a big deal. I don’t really want him for myself, exactly.”

      “But he should have had the common courtesy to wait a while before finding the love of his life.”

      “I can’t agree with that. It makes me sound horrible.”

      “It makes you sound human.”

      “I’m emotionally tough.” At least she was trying to be. There had been a single breakdown about five weeks ago. She’d called Jon, sobbing and trembling with pain. She’d hurt everywhere, not only from the loss of her father, but from the loss of her best friend.

      Jon, being Jon, had come over to comfort her. He’d hugged her and held her and she’d wanted more. She’d kissed him and…

      Maggie walked to the balcony and stared out into the night. Thinking about that night made her so ashamed. She’d seduced him because she’d wanted a chance to forget all that had happened in her life. And maybe to prove she still could.

      At the time, he’d only known Elaine a couple of weeks, but Maggie had sensed they were getting serious. In a way it had been her last chance with Jon.

      When it was over, neither of them had known what to say. She’d apologized, which he’d told her wasn’t necessary. Things had been awkward between them. They still were.

      “Life is complicated,” she murmured.

      “I agree.”

      She looked at him. “You’re not going to get any sympathy from me, Prince Qadir.”

      “You’re saying my life of wealth and privilege means I don’t deserve to complain.”

      “Something like that.”

      “You have many rules.”

      “I like rules.”

      “I like to break them.”

      Hardly a surprise, she thought as she smiled. “Of course you do.”

      He laughed. “I still do not intimidate you. What was it you called me? A guy with a checkbook and a car?”

      “Is reverence an important part of the job?”

      “Not at all. You may even call me by my first name, without using my title.”

      “I’m honored.”

      “No, you’re not, but you should be.” He took a step toward her, then touched her cheek. “Do not mourn for the man unwise enough to let such a prize go. He was born a fool and he will die a fool. Good night.”

      Qadir disappeared with a speed that left Maggie gasping. She didn’t know what to think about first. The soft brush of his fingers on her cheek or what he’d said.

      She wanted to protest that Jon wasn’t a fool. That he was actually a really bright guy, which was one of the things she’d always liked about him. Except she liked Qadir’s attitude about the whole thing. She also enjoyed thinking about herself as a prize to be won…by a man who was not a fool.

      Chapter Two

      Maggie finished getting ready, then hovered by the door, not sure if she was just supposed to go down to the garage or wait to be called or what.

      “Palaces should come with instruction books,” she murmured to herself as she reached for the door handle. She might as well see if she could find her way to the garage and…

      Someone knocked on her door. She pulled it open to find a pretty blonde about her age in the wide hallway.

      “Hi,” the woman said. “You’re Maggie, right? I’m Victoria McCallan, secretary, fellow American and your guide to all things royal. Victoria, never Vicki, although honestly I can’t say why. It started when I was little. I think I was in a mood and I haven’t gotten over it.”

      Victoria smiled as she spoke. She was a few inches shorter than Maggie, even in her insanely high heels. She wore a tailored blouse tucked into a short, dark skirt. Her skin was perfect, her nails long and painted and her hair curled to her shoulders. She was the very essence of everything female. Maggie suddenly felt tall and awkward. Not to mention seriously underdressed in her jeans and T-shirt. She didn’t want to imagine what