Special Deliveries: Heir To His Legacy: Heir to a Desert Legacy

“I love it. But then, I think being a scientist is committing yourself to studying for the rest of your life. And I love that. I always want to learn and grow. I want to find out how it all works.”

“Being a scientist takes a lot of curiosity,” he said, his eyes dropping to her lips. And just like that, the air between them thickened, tightened. Her breasts felt heavy, her entire body languid and restless at the same time, which was simply an impossibility, and yet beneath his dark gaze, it was. “Do you consider yourself curious, Chloe?”

She cleared her throat. “I suppose so.” Their eyes met and held, and she felt something tighten inside of her, her breath catching. “Are you… curious, Sayid?”

She’d known, before she’d spoken, that the words would be layered with double entendre, and yet she’d still spoken them. But the minute she did, she knew it was a mistake. Knew she’d crossed into a zone that was way, way out of her league.

Heat flickered in his dark gaze and she could feel inside of her, burning her. “About certain things,” he said, his voice low. Husky.

She stood up quickly, her chair tilting slightly and knocking into the chair next to it, the sound loud in the cavernous room. “Sorry, sorry.” She tried to straighten them, her cheeks burning, her heart pounding. “I have to go.”

Sayid was faster than she was, his movements smoother. He crossed to her side of the table and caught her arm, drawing her to him, his expression dark. “Why are you running from me?”

“I’m not,” she said, her voice a choked whisper. “I’m full.”

“You hardly touched your dinner,” he said, reaching up with his other hand to push a strand of hair out of her face.

“I’m not that hungry. Stress and all. You know, interesting thing about stress it can actually clog your pores and create—”

“I’m not interested in the side effects of stress,” he said, his tone heavy, rough.

“Well… I’m just… explaining.”

“Why are you running from me?” he asked again, dipping his face lower, his expression fierce. “It’s because you know, isn’t it? You feel it?”

“Feel what?” she asked.

“This… need between us. How everything in me is demanding that I reach out and pull you hard against me. And how everything in you is begging me to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“I think you do.” He lowered his hand and traced her collarbone with his fingertip, sliding it slowly up the side of her neck, along her jawbone.

She shook her head, pulling away from him, from his touch. “No,” she lied, “I don’t.”

She didn’t understand what was happening with her body, why it was betraying her like this. She’d never felt this kind of wild, overpowering attraction for anyone in her life. But if she was going to, it would have been for a nice scientist who had a large collection of dry erase pens and looked good in a lab coat.

It would not be for this rough, uncivilized man who believed he could move people around at his whim. This man who sought to control everything and everyone around him.

Unfortunately, her body hadn’t asked her opinion on who she should find attractive. Because that was most definitely what this was. Scientific, irrefutable evidence of arousal. Increased heart rate, swollen lips, tightening nipples, oh… dear… and yes, wetness between her thighs.

But if there was one thing she knew about attraction it was that it was physical, and she was not a physical creature. Her body was nothing more than a slave to its base, biological urges, but she was a woman who used her mind. A woman who reasoned and made choices based on things that had nothing to do with being in close proximity to a man with high testosterone.

“We may not have to play like this is a love match, but we will show my country that the marriage is real enough and that means you can’t get up and run away during dinner parties.”

“I wasn’t running away,” she bit out.

He slid his thumb over the exposed skin on her arm. “I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter what you choose to believe or not. I was just ready to go back to my room. And study. Molecules.”

“Then stay,” he said, a challenge laced in his words. “Stay and talk to me.”

The way he said “talk,” didn’t sound as if he wanted to talk at all. She had no experience with situations like this. Had never had the inclination to cultivate any. Now she sort of wished she had some, wished there was some way she could play cool and sophisticated.

But there was simply no way. Not only did she lack experience, but him being so dominant and so very, very male was off-putting to her. Which is what made it all so strange. Because the very things about him that scared her the most were also the things that she seemed to find most attractive.

More compelling evidence as to why her body should not call the shots.

“Fine,” she said. “But I might have an easier time thinking of what to say if you let go of my arm instead of manhandling me like Ardipithecus ramidus.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at her own joke.

“What?”

“Ardipithecus… oh, come on. It’s funny. It’s one of the evolutionary stages of man. No? Nothing?”

“I assume you’re calling me a Neanderthal.”

“Well, sure if you want to oversimplify it.”

He released his hold on her. “You’re implying that I’m uncivilized, and make no mistake, Chloe, it’s very true. I don’t pretend to be otherwise.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“No matter how we feel about each other you and I will have to learn to get along in public, at the very least. We can hardly go to public functions only to end up sniping at each other.”

“True, yeah, you have a point there.”

“And you should refrain from implying that any important heads of State are more closely related to monkeys than men.”

“Says the man who told a diplomat to go to hell.” He treated her to a hard look. “Fine. I promise to reserve those insults for you, and even then, only in private.”

It was strange, because just a few moments ago she’d been thinking about how off-putting she found his masculinity, and yet, now, she was talking to him as though nothing had happened. She’d assumed his being so masculine had bothered her because the strength of men, especially men with power, was something she’d learned to fear.

But no matter how many times she struck out at Sayid verbally, and even the time she’d done so physically, he’d never made a move to hurt her in any way.

She was confident now that he wouldn’t. So what was it that frightened her? Because she was frightened, no question about that.

“Careful, when you say things like that, it sounds a bit like an invitation that I don’t think you’re making,” he said.

And then she realized just what scared her so much. The attraction and the fear were one. For the first time in her life, she was curious about sex in a way that went beyond the intellectual.

She didn’t like it. Not one bit, particularly given the situation and the man who was piquing the curiosity. Detachment was important. It was her protection.

“You’re right about that. I’m not making an invitation,” she bit out, backing away from him. More because of herself than him. Because for a moment part of her had considered telling him that she was issuing an invitation. And then she wanted to sit back and see what he would make of that, because she didn’t know what move she would make after that. She didn’t know enough about the whole sex thing to make the next move.

Not like she didn’t know how sex worked, just that she had no idea how one went about instigating it, particularly with a man like Sayid who had very clearly been there and done that.

It didn’t bear thinking about at all, because she was not going to go near him. Not in that way. Not ever.

“And I would decline if you were.”

The statement hit her right in the feminine ego. Not that she should be surprised by it. Men like Sayid hardly went for slightly chubby gingers who preferred Bunsen burners to boys and who had never even engaged in a good make out session.

“Well… moot. Because I already said I’m not inviting. Nope.”

“Good,” he snapped. Clipped. Hard.

Her cheeks heated, mortification washing over her, and it just served to make her even more angry. She shouldn’t care that he didn’t want to have sex with her, she didn’t want to have sex with him! Well, she wouldn’t have sex with him.

Maybe she sort of wanted to kiss him. At least, she wondered what it would be like to press her mouth to those hard, sculpted lips. To run her fingertip along the line of his jaw.

But that was all. Just idle wondering about a little kiss. Which was completely understandable. And normal. Lots of women probably thought about kissing him. And that, again, came back to biology because it certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality.

“Fine. Well, I’m leaving now. Not running, mind you. Especially since we established that you aren’t after my body.”

“Have a good evening,” he said, lips tight.

“Sure,” she tossed back, turning and stalking out of the room.

As soon as she got into the corridor, she stopped and leaned against the wall, hand on her chest, trying to still the beating of her heart. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, in and out. She felt dizzy.

She had to get a handle on this. And she would. The physical had never mattered to her, and it wouldn’t start mattering now.

It couldn’t.

Sayid needed a cold shower. But he had a call to make first. He paced the length of his office and punched in the speed dial for Alik Vasin.

“Da?”

“Vasin?” Sayid knew his friend’s voice, but wanted to get confirmation anyway. A formality that was necessary when a man did the sort of work Alik did. Or at least, had done. He knew the ex-mercenary wasn’t for hire anymore, not in that capacity. At least, not officially.

Sayid had hired him for his last job of that kind, and an unlikely bond had grown from there. Especially since Alik had been the one to spearhead the mission to get Sayid out of the enemy camp. Since Alik had been the one to find him, to keep looking when everyone else had given up.

“Da.” There was music in the background, a woman speaking a language Sayid couldn’t place, and then the sound of a door closing and the noise ending.

“Thank you for finding him.”

“It is nothing. Easy.”

“For you.” Alik was Sayid’s closest friend. A brother in many ways, more than Rashid had been even.

“For anyone. She was practically in the phone book.”

“She wants to stay.”

“With the boy?”

“Yes.”

Alik let out a short grunt that could have meant approval, disapproval or something completely neutral. “I didn’t figure she would want to stay because of you. And what did you tell her?”

“If I am to keep Rashid’s secret, having her here could be problematic.”

“Yeah, it could be.” There was a pause. “You are avoiding my question which only piques my curiosity. What did you tell her?”

“I asked her to be my wife.”

His friend laughed, genuine, filled with humor. He wasn’t sure how Alik did it. How he had lived through all of the things he had, seen and done the things he’d seen and done, and emerged with a smile. Alik lived fast and hard. Honor falling far behind pleasure on his list of important things in life.

Sayid envied him sometimes. Envied the ease with which the other man lived. That he was able to somehow be invincible, and a man, at the same time.

“That’s a bad idea, comrade. There is nothing worse than a wife.”

“Have you ever had one?”

“No. And not by accident.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I know because there is a blonde in my room tonight, and last weekend there was a brunette. Tomorrow, who knows? You cannot have that if you’re married.”

“Some men do.”

“Then what is the point of making vows? I never made a vow I didn’t keep.”

“You don’t make many vows.”

Alik laughed again. “No. No, I don’t.”

“You made one to me.”

“I did. And I did not make it lightly. You have my loyalty. Whatever you need, consider it done.”

“And you have mine. There will be a wedding. A small one, out of observance for Rashid’s death.”

“You need security,” Alik said.

“Naturally.”

“You want me.”

“Of course.”

“Is this your version of asking me to be best man?”

The corners of Sayid’s mouth twitched, the closest thing to a real smile he’d managed in too many years to count. “Best man with a handgun.”

Sayid heard a door open on the other end of the line, the music, the woman, again. Then finally, Alik responded. “I’ll do it.”

For the second time in her life, Chloe watched her life change through a news story. It was all over the TV. An announcement that interim ruler of Attar, Sheikh Sayid al Kadar, was taking a wife. The hero nanny who had disregarded her own safety to protect the miracle prince.

She felt her jaw go slack as the story played across the screen. As a picture of her flashed onto it. Then a picture of Sayid. She cringed at the sight of herself, squeezed into the only dress she had. She still wasn’t used to her fuller figure, and she could hardly call herself a fan of the look.

The female anchor was making eye contract with the camera, and talking about Chloe. A surreal experience for sure. “The stoic regent of Attar has announced his engagement to the heroine of the people, Chloe James, a part-time nanny and science student from Portland, Oregon. The wedding will be a small affair, appropriate for a nation still in mourning, and will take place a week from Saturday.”

“Ugh.” She groaned and turned the TV off, then turned around to face her whiteboard again. She’d been working an equation as part of her course work for half the morning while Aden lay on a blanket on the floor, kicking his feet in a slow, jerky fashion.

She leaned in and put her pen on the surface, trying to wipe the images on the screen from her mind, which was completely impossible to do. Completely.

She looked back at Aden, tugging her glasses off. “What am I getting myself into?” she asked. She got nothing from him, his blue eyes scanning the room, his fist finding his mouth.

Chloe blew out a breath. “No advice?”

“Why exactly do you need advice?”

She turned and saw Sayid striding toward her with purpose and that maddening self-assurance of his.

“I just saw my engagement announcement on the news,” she said. “Along with the information that our wedding is less than a week away. Imagine my surprise.”

“Why wait?”

“I don’t know. There’s no reason to, I suppose.”

He shook his head once and reached into his pocket, producing a small box and holding it out to her. “I had my family’s jeweler take a gem from the Crown Jewels and set it into a ring for you.”

She flipped open the top of the box. “From the Crown Jewels?” She examined the piece. It was gorgeous, utterly perfect and unique.

A garnet, deep and clear, set into bright yellow gold, fashioned into vines that held the stone in place like a glittering flower.

“This is a little… much, don’t you think?” she asked, touching the jewel with her fingertip. It struck her then, that no one had ever given her a gift. A strange realization, especially when this wasn’t a gift, but a piece of the facade.

It felt like one, though. And not just any gift, something extravagant and beautiful. Something special. The sort of thing her parents never would have done for her because she was simply an afterthought.

It was embarrassing to realize how badly she wanted to put it on. How badly, in that moment, she wanted it to be special. How badly she wanted someone, even if it was Sayid, to think she was special enough to deserve something so incredible.

She closed the lid on the box. On the feeling.

She didn’t need that. Aden was her family. The only family she needed.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Of course. But I don’t need a piece of the Crown Jewels.”

“You do. Because every al Kadar woman is presented with a piece of it for her wedding, and you will be no exception.”

“It’s not a real marriage.”

“So give it back when we divorce.”

She cleared her throat. “And when… when do you think that will be, exactly?”

“When will you be ready to live apart from Aden?”

She shook her head. “I won’t. Not until he’s grown.”

“Then we will be married until then.” He studied her closely. “It is a big commitment for someone your age. For someone whose life is outside of the royal family.”

“Having a baby is always a big commitment. When a woman finds out she’s pregnant… in that instant, her whole life changes. Her whole future changes. That’s all that’s happened to me. Yes, the circumstances are more complicated. And yes, the change happened a little later. But I’m willing to change my expectations of life for him. More than that, I want to.”

“You will be a good mother for him,” he said, his voice steady. Serious. “You will be the mother Tamara would have wanted for him.”

Emotion swelled in her chest, and again she was conscious of the empty space in her that wanted so badly to be filled by another person. She wanted him to take her in his arms, to tell her everything would be fine. To simply hold her up for a while so that it wasn’t only her strength keeping her from falling to her knees.

But she couldn’t afford the weakness. Not when Aden needed her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Now, there is the small matter of lovers,” he said, changing the subject with a shocking swiftness that made her head spin.

“Of what now?”

“Lovers,” he said.

“I mean, I heard you, I just wasn’t sure what you… meant… by it?”

“If I am not in your bed, I will, at some point during our marriage, be in the bed of another woman. I am willing to give up a lot for my country, and to give Aden the best life he can have, but I am not giving up sex for sixteen years.”

She blinked. She supposed asking that of him was completely unreasonable. And yet, there was a small spark of anger, jealousy, inside that started in her stomach and flared up to her chest, making her heart pound hard.

Not so much jealousy in a possessive way. Not because she couldn’t bear the thought of sharing him, which would be silly, all things considered. But because a part of her very much wanted to be the woman in his bed. Wanted to be the one he couldn’t abstain from and, more than anything, be the one to benefit from his experience.

So stupid, Chloe.

The idea of seeing him with other women, of watching them parade through the palace in… tiny nighties with their big fake boobs bobbing up above the necklines for all the staff to see, made her stomach clench tight.

“Just… whatever you do,” she said, “be discreet. I don’t want to be conscious of what’s going on inside your bedroom. You keep it in there, I won’t open the door. To you, you can be getting some, to me, you can be in there all by yourself. And unless I open the door you can be both promiscuous and celibate. It’ll be Schrodinger’s affair.”

“Because it’s impossible to prove unless the door is opened?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the joke.”

“You need to work at cultivating more mainstream humor.”

“That would have killed in Advanced Quantum Field Theory.”

“The same applies to you. When you take a lover, you must use complete discretion. There can be no hint of a scandal for the media. None at all.”

“Um… okay.” She was celibate no matter which side of the door you stood on, and she had been for all of her life, so the idea of taking a lover after her marriage, after becoming a mother, seemed a little out there for her.

But she wasn’t going to admit that, either. The only thing worse than knowing Sayid was getting action with some gorgeous girl, was knowing that she wasn’t getting any action with an equally gorgeous guy. Which had never, ever mattered to her before. Stupid that it seemed to now.

“This is very serious, habibti. If I get caught in a scandal, very few people will care. I am a man in a man’s world, and when it comes to sex, men are forgiven much. Women are not. If anything happens there will be an outcry for me to divorce you. This marriage is about image, and nothing must compromise that. Nothing can be done to damage the way the people see you.”

“Don’t worry. I will be the soul of discretion when engaging in my illicit affairs. No sex on the dining table,” she said, and she felt her cheeks heat. She was trying to play at being sophisticated and worldly, trying to pretend she could stand there discussing just how their extramarital affairs would work without feeling horrifically awkward and embarrassed. It wasn’t working.

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “On the dining table? I think that would be quite uncomfortable anyway.”

She swallowed. “Shows how much you know.”

“I could show you how much I know.”

The words escaped Sayid’s lips without his permission. He should not press this. Should not push her to see how far the attraction could take them. But it was so easy to embrace, the images flashing through his mind, hot and fast.

As hard surfaces went, the dining table didn’t feature in his fantasies. But against the wall? Her legs wrapped around his waist? That he could most certainly work with.

He could strip her of her clothes, of every inhibition. Could knock every fact she knew about the universe out of her head while she cried out her pleasure. And he would take his own in her gladly.

He clenched his teeth, tightening his hands into fists, trying to ignore the raging of his heart, the rush of blood south of his belt. He couldn’t afford to burn off his sexual frustration with Chloe. Couldn’t afford to let passion of any kind erupt between them.

Control was essential, keeping his defenses up, was essential. Always. And most especially with her. Why, he wasn’t certain, but he knew that it was. Sex, the desire for it, for a woman, should not make him shake inside. And yet she did.

Which was why he could never touch her.

“I… that’s okay. I don’t need you to.” Thankfully, Chloe was as wary as he should be. She bent down and scooped Aden into her arms, holding him tight against her chest, using him as a shield.

“As you wish.”

“And I do. Wish it. That way.”

“I have business to take care of before the wedding. I’ll meet you at the coastal palace.”

“Is that where the wedding will be?”

“Yes. A small ceremony on the beach.”

“You have all of this figured out, don’t you?”

He chuckled, no humor behind the sound. There never was with him. No happiness. No lightness. And it made her heart burn. “At this point, there is very little I would claim to have figured out, Chloe James.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE OCEAN SIDE PALACE was an entirely different world to the main palace in central Attar. Here everything was washed white by the sun. The salt breeze coming in from the waves cooled the air, infused it with moisture, so unlike the arid heat found inland.

Sayid had spent a great deal of time at this palace growing up. A retreat from the times spent in the desert, living in Bedouin tents and learning how to survive in the harshest of environments.

Even now, walking into the cool, white stone foyer lifted a weight from him.

And then the realization that he was getting married in less than twenty-four hours, on the beach in front of the palace, hit him full force and any sense of Zen was lost entirely.

A wife. He had long given up the thought of having a wife. Thinking of marriage made him think of a different time. Of a beautiful girl with liquid brown eyes and a bright smile. Of the same girl, pale and terrified as she was forced into a car, taken from her home. Taken from him.