Page 21 of Unknown Royal Baby

Something flared in the gunmetal grey of his eyes. It looked like surprise. Yet her innocence must have been obvious to him that night. She’d been enthusiastic but not adept.

‘I’ll have a copy of that report please.’ She held her hand out. ‘I want Maryam to have proof, since you’re so keen on denying her.’

‘Denying her?’

How could he deny his own child? Why would he even want to? He knew how precious life was and how easily it could be snatched away.

Isam’s chest tightened at the thought of anything happening to his tiny daughter. When he’d held her he’d felt a rush of emotion so powerful it had strained his self-control to relinquish her into the cot and walk away.

One look and he’d suspected her identity. Even the shock of that suspicion hadn’t diminished his sense of wonder.

The feel of her in his arms, the way she looked, even that clean baby smell, forcefully reminded him of holding Nur all those years ago. The uprush of emotion had almost cracked his composure. But years of training as Crown Prince had come to his aid, enabling him to hide his wonder, excitement and yearning. And the grief that welled at the memory of Nur.

Suddenly, he had family once more. His mother had died when Nur was born. So when his sister, and more recently his father died, there was only him.

He’d been grappling with so much this past year that he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on that, though grief for his father was a constant. But now he was no longer alone.

‘Isn’t that what you’re doing? A paternity test is hardly the action of a man wanting to accept his child. It’s what men do to try wriggling out of their responsibilities.’

Avril folded her arms, the action drawing her T-shirt tight across her breasts and making his palms tingle as if wanting to reach out...

‘Don’t worry, as far as I’m concerned you won’t have any responsibilities. I’ve learnt the sort of man you are. I’ll raise my daughter alone.’

He met Avril’s accusing stare and realised she was serious.

The sort of man you are.

Bitterness twisted his lips. That was the sixty-four-million-dollar question, wasn’t it? What sort of man was he?

Once Isam had never thought that in doubt. He was honest and hard-working. He had a sense of humour and enjoyed time with friends, especially adventuring on desert trips or kayaking, though he didn’t have much free time. He’d spent recent years working with his father for the betterment of his country, though mainly behind the scenes while he managed his own business too. His father had had more patience for the restrictions of royal protocol that Isam found so constricting.

But since the accident Isam’s character and abilities had been called into question. Not outright. No one would dare. But the arrangements made to govern the country while he was incapacitated had given some a taste for regal power they hadn’t wanted to relinquish. Nevertheless, it was disappointing to know there’d been a whispering campaign against him emanating from that direction.

So easy to blame others. But given your...continuing problem, can you be completely sure of yourself?

Isam refused to acknowledge the poisonous voice in his head. It only came on the darkest days, which, thankfully, were growing fewer.

One step at a time.

‘A paternity test is also the action of a sensible man in a position of power.’ He refused to apologise for that. It was the reality of his life. ‘You must realise it was a reasonable precaution. It doesn’t mean I’m rejecting our daughter.’

He saw Avril’s eyes grow wide at his emphasis on the wordour. She swallowed and he guessed that behind her bravado she was scared.

Who could blame her? The stakes were high and they were all but strangers to each other.

‘Maryam isours,’ he reiterated. ‘Not simply yours, not simply mine.’

‘So the real issue was that you didn’t believe me. You had to make sure I wasn’t lying.’ Her expression betrayed disappointment and hurt rather than anger, and Isam felt it like a gut punch, driving hard enough it threatened to wind him. The depth of his reaction surprised him. ‘What did I ever do to make you think me a liar, Isam? We worked together for months. We had a good relationship. I thought you knew me.’

‘Sex isn’t the same as knowing someone. Our affair—’

‘I wasn’t talking aboutsex.’

She interrupted as no one else did, her tone dismissive.

At home everyone was conscious of his royal status. Trying to have a discussion with Avril Rodgers could be frustrating but he preferred her honest emotion to blind subservience. Or those who paid lip service to respect while manoeuvring against him.

She went on. ‘I’m talking about the way we worked together. You respected me then. You liked me too. I didn’t imagine that. We shared a camaraderie.’ Her mouth firmed. ‘And I’d hardly call the other an affair.’

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