The Sheikh’s Unexpected Son: The Blooming Desert Series, #3

By Leslie North

Annalise "Lise" Danbury spent a wonderful, whirlwind two weeks with Bahir Al-Masri, a gorgeous and sexy man she met at the London university where she teaches languages. Then he went home, with only an "it's been fun." But he left more than just an angry woman behind—he left her pregnant. Traveling on business to Qasha two years later, she sees Bahir again. Only "Bahir" is really billionaire sheikh Raed Al-Qasha. And he's just as stunned to find out he's a father. Making matters worse, Lise is finding it impossible to ignore their attraction, even though she's still steaming mad.

 

Raed never forgot Lise and his guilt at leaving her nagged him long after he returned home. But he pushed thoughts of her away, knowing nothing could ever come of their relationship. If he married, it would be for strategic reasons, someone who could help him build his philanthropic foundation on an international scale. Which is why seeing Lise again has him torn. Having an old fling and an illegitimate child around might create a scandal that could destroy his efforts, yet he can't deny the attraction they still have. Thinking to keep Lise and his secret son out of the spotlight, he requests they live in the royal palace and lures her by saying she can use his staff in her language-teaching pilot. Big mistake. It isn't long before the two give in to their desire, complicating all his plans. Lise is nothing like the woman he envisioned marrying. But she just might be the woman he needs…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Relay Publishing
• Release date: Aug 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201208882

Book preview

1

Raed, third in line to the throne of Qasha, lounged in the backseat of the SUV that had brought him to the garden party, phone held up in front of his face for a FaceTime call with his brother. Hamid, King of Qasha, peered through the screen at him, his wife Tali moving back and forth behind him.

I’m sorry we couldn’t be there, Hamid said, seeming to search Raed’s face for signs of trouble.

He laughed. You don’t have to look so worried. It’s a garden party, not a political summit.

Hamid clicked his tongue. You know better than that. Any gathering at the British consul’s house is a political summit.

I don’t think the consul wants much political summiting at his grandson’s birthday party, Raed said lightly. You worry too much. He sat up straight and pushed a hand through his hair, using the phone as a mirror to make sure he looked good. He did, of course. "Everything’s fine here. Mother is well, and I’m here on your behalf—at least, I will be once you let me off this phone call."

And everything else—

Everything else is going exactly how I thought it would. Mubarak and Mahir are clashing over who gets to be the one to assist me with everything, and they’re running up against boundaries with Stephen.

How is Stephen, by the way? Hamid’s brows knitted together. It’s been a while since I asked after him. He won’t be—

He won’t be causing any trouble with your councilor or your secretary, Hamid. The two men were doing plenty of that for themselves, what with all their posturing and politeness. May I go now?

Let him go, Tali said from some distant point in the room. We have places to be, too.

Hamid let out a breath. Relax and enjoy the garden party.

Ha ha. Raed peered out the window toward the garden gates. The consul’s garden was extensive, almost an attraction unto itself, and the SUV had brought him to its separate entrance. The party was visible through the open gates—flashes of bright fabric and soft flowers, and the intense green of a manicured space. And children running here and there and everywhere. The Consul’s grandson has about a hundred friends in attendance. I doubt there will be much relaxation.

Raed— warned Hamid.

I’ll relax, he shot back, then ended the call. So it wasn’t his scene—not with all the children and the noise. That didn’t mean he could slink away. Hamid had asked him to be here, so he would, with a smile on his face.

Raed climbed out of the SUV, and all three of his advisors—his assistant Stephen, plus Mubarak and Mahir from Hamid’s staff—turned to look at him from where they stood by the garden gates. Very casual. He could hardly tell they’d been waiting for him, milling around just like his driver had been doing. He gave them a wave and strode past, through the stone and wrought-iron gates and into the garden.

It was even noisier than he’d imagined. The guests gathered around standing tables, shifting like butterflies in the wind as they greeted one another and exchanged pleasantries. Waiters in dark uniforms circulated among the crowd with trays balanced neatly on their palms, offering appetizers and flutes of sparkling champagne. The hum of conversation overpowered the sound of the bees making their lazy way from one flower to the next.

Oh, he wanted a quiet room to keep planning for the Bahir Foundation, his project that would change the world. Success was so close Raed could practically taste it. All he had to do was get there.

Hello, he said, shaking hands with the first person he came across, the man’s name eluding him. Only for a moment, though, because the man offered it to him, the way people usually did when he greeted them. As if he was too important to remember such small things.

Of course, of course. Raed clasped arms with him like they were old friends, and then he was off to the races. One by one. Greet them all. Make them all feel special, as if he were seeing into their souls. People remembered that. And even if Raed couldn’t keep all their names in his head, they would remember him. Connections spun out from those handshakes and arm clasps like invisible strings. A prince of Qasha could never have too much influence, Raed had decided a long time ago. He could buy it at events like these garden parties.

Raed turned away from a pair of guests—a lady in a purple dress and her companion, who wore a dark traditional robe—and caught a flash of blonde in the corner of his eye. Long blonde hair in a sleek ponytail. The image tugged at something deep inside him. Two years ago, he’d met a woman with similar blonde hair. She’d been teaching a class at a college in London. A short class. Not nearly long enough to get his fill of the way she moved and spoke. The memories came quickly, one after the other. Two weeks at Lafayette College, where she’d been his teacher for English for International Business. Everyone in the class had been hot for her, with that glossy ponytail and her smart little suits and her glasses.

But only Raed knew what was underneath those suits. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face, thinking about the two weeks after the class. He’d taken her to his penthouse, which had a view of the Thames, but that hadn’t been enough for him. He’d wanted to give Lise everything. So they’d gone to dinner in Paris via his private jet and spent a weekend in a Scottish castle and ridden ponies in the New Forest. He’d even taken her up in a hot air balloon over the Cotswolds.

And then—

Then. He’d been called back to Qasha. She hadn’t liked that. What would have happened if he’d stayed? Raed let himself linger on the thought for one more moment, then stepped back into the crowd. He’d never know.

The woman turned, as if she’d heard his thoughts, and his heart came to a crashing stop behind his breastbone.

It was her.

It was Lise.

That nose, the bow of her lips, the rise of her cheekbones—he’d know her anywhere. How had he thought it was anyone else? She wore a tea-length dress that displayed the perfect curve of her hips. And she was coming toward him right now.

The clink of silverware and the buzz of garden-party conversation fell away. Gorgeous, gorgeous—his heart beat harder with every step she took toward him. But his brain fought for control. The consul is coming over. Look alive.

He managed it at the last moment, shaking the consul’s hand with a firm grip. Sir Richard, Raed said. Lovely party.

It is, it is, Richard agreed. Your Highness, I’d like you to meet Annelise Danbury. You need to hear her ideas. Lise, this is Prince Raed Al-Qasha.

Raed couldn’t hear anything over the recognition in Lise’s eyes. Hello, he said, and he reached for her hand, taking it in his and raising her knuckles to his lips. A fleeting kiss. More glancing than anything they’d shared during those two weeks. Her green eyes narrowed, but she kept her professional smile firmly in place. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Her gaze was cool, and she took her hand back with exquisite care. Oh no, the pleasure is all mine.

No, it wasn’t—he was sure of that.

Lise, Raed is establishing a foundation with the kind of reach that would do your project justice. The consul planted himself between the two of them, his gaze moving from Raed to Lise as he spoke. What she’d like to do is scope out the possibility of a language school here for Lafayette College. His voice was so warm, but her gaze was sharp. But not just any language school. Lise would develop tailored programs for client organizations with teachers placed inside clients’ companies rather than having busy executives come to the school. The consul put a careful hand on Raed’s shoulder. You’ll find it absolutely fascinating. If you’ll excuse me—

He disappeared before Raed could formulate a goodbye, which was good, because he could not keep his eyes off Lise.

You’re still stunning, he managed.

And you’re a prince. She held her champagne glass tightly, shooting stealthy glances at the people around them. Somehow, you didn’t mention that when we met before.

More than anything, he wanted to touch her. If he could just run his hands down the line of her waist, if he could just brush his lips against hers, Raed was sure things would fall back into place. The cold tug between them would turn into something hot and alive. But Lise stood ramrod straight, her gaze steely.

When we met before, he said carefully, I had no idea how things would turn out. I didn’t know how I’d think of you— The admission threatened to overwhelm him. "I’ve thought about you a lot. Those two weeks we spent together were...transcendent."

Lise snorted, looking away. So transcendent that you never thought to look me up? So transcendent that you kept your identity a secret? Who does that? She dropped her voice to just above a whisper. "Who doesn’t mention that he is a prince?"

The heat of the moment was intense, Raed reminded her. We were in Paris, we were in Scotland, we were all over each other— He could almost feel her body against his now, the way she’d moved, the sounds she’d made. They’d been music to his ears. They’d been so warm and wanting and so unlike anything he thought he’d have as a prince. Raed had spent his life preparing for an arranged marriage. If it wasn’t handled by his parents, his business circumstances would dictate his choice. Raed’s wife would be a partner in his royal goals, but romance wouldn’t enter into it. But now, looking at Lise...

We were all over each other, that’s true. Lise pressed her lips together and looked him up and down. But you can’t relive the past, Raed. You can’t go back and be honest now.

I wasn’t trying to—

Mummy! The toddler’s voice was high and clear, and Lise’s head turned, her face lighting up in a little smile that Raed knew instinctively. Her child. A little boy in a puppy mask came toddling through the crowd, followed closely by a maid. He ran fast on his chunky legs and collided with Lise’s knees. Mask off! he cried. Off, off.

She bent to him, helping him untie the party mask he’d been wearing. Better?

He reached for her, and Lise picked him up. Then Raed saw his face.

His own face, made smaller and younger and more perfect than he’d ever seen it. His own face, on a child. The noise of the party dropped away, a rushing filling his ears. Like being at the seaside, only worse. It clouded his thoughts. There was nothing but the little boy in Lise’s arms, nothing, nothing, nothing.

What the h— He put a hand to his mouth, then dropped it away. "You never told me that you—that we—have a son!"

How could I? Lise met his gaze without flinching. You never even told me your real name. I—

Raed held up a hand, desperation replacing the whoosh of his blood in his head. We can’t talk about this here. Not here, not at the garden party, with people watching. They’d be tracking his every move. They’d be listening in for gossipy tidbits. They’d already said too much, and Raed could feel the scandal coming like a dark cloud on the horizon. A son. He had a son. I’ll be in touch.

And before she could answer, Raed turned on one heel and signaled his advisors. They could stay or come with him. He had to get out of here.

2

Lise took Jake’s hand as they stepped out of the university’s main office and beamed down at her boy, who grinned back up at her, chewing furiously at the piece of candy she’d given him part way through the meeting with the head of the school. It had gone well, she thought, even though they hadn’t gotten around to discussing her actual plans for the project. The head of the school had been called away half an hour in. She’d had a chance to lay out her plans and get one appreciative nod in that time. So she didn’t know how the man felt about her plan for teaching. What she did know was that people in Qasha, and at the university in particular, liked to know the whole person. So it had worked out that she didn’t quite have childcare for her son figured out. It had all worked out.

You did a great job at the meeting, she told Jake. Want to go get a drink?

Yesh, he said around the candy. It would be gone by the time they got to the cafeteria on campus, which was in another building across the courtyard. The entire place was gorgeous. Sandstone buildings with graceful archways dotted the edges of a massive, green courtyard. They wandered past a garden in bloom, flowers in shades of pink and red and orange. Jake squatted by the raised edge of the garden and stroked one of them with his fingertips.

Lise took a deep breath. Enjoy the moment. Don’t rush. That’s what all the parenting books had said when she was pregnant with Jake. Rushing only made things worse. So why was her mind rushing toward Raed again and again and again? Raed—she’d known him as Bahir. A man named Bahir had swept her off her feet and across Europe and lit up every nerve of her body with an intensity that seemed to linger even now. Focus on the flowers, Lise. Focus on your son. Her son with Raed’s eyes and Raed’s fall of dark hair. Jake stood up from the garden and toddled a few steps down the path, and she caught his hand up again.

This trip to Qasha had turned out to be so different from what she’d expected. And her friend Tali was married to her son’s uncle. She’d known that Tali had married the ruler of Qasha, of course. Lise had been planning to surprise her once she arrived here, but Tali wasn’t in town. Raed was, though. His name banged around in her mind until it seemed like the only sound in the world. Lise shook her head, forcing her thoughts away from him. The sun was gloriously warm this morning, the birds singing, the campus alive with students moving from one building to the next.

And her son’s chubby