Sheikh's Desert Desire: Carrying the Sheikh's Heir

He didn’t release her, though. He took her again and again, until she was a quivering mass of nerve endings, until her body couldn’t take another moment’s pleasure, until he finally let go of his rigid control and came, his seed filling her in warm jets.

He laid his forehead against the wall behind her, his breath coming in gusts. His skin was hot and moist and so was hers. She turned her head into him, tasted the salt on his skin on impulse.

And found herself released. He stepped away from her and fixed his trousers, then reached down and picked up her gown for her. She snatched it out of his hand and he met her gaze evenly.

They stared at each other for a long moment, her clutching the dress in front of her like a shield, him clenching his fingers into tight fists at his side. As if he wanted to touch her again but had to force himself not to.

Her legs were weak and anger bubbled hot in her veins, but if he reached for her, if he kissed her again, she’d open to him like a flower.

And she really despised that about herself. There was such a thing as being delightfully impulsive, as being friendly and open, but this was too much.

“I don’t understand you,” she said. “If you don’t like being with me, why do you touch me in the first place?”

She thought they had a chemistry that was unusual, but maybe she was fooling herself. Maybe he just saw her as an option for quick sex. He found his pleasure in her body and he was done. And she was just stupid enough to make the same mistake twice.

He shoved a hand through his hair. “I like being with you. But it’s over and I have work to do.”

She shook out her dress angrily and slipped into it. Then she turned her back on him. “I can’t do this without your help.”

He came over and stood behind her, his fingers brushing her skin as he zipped her up and fastened the hooks. When he finished, she turned around and glared at him.

“This can’t happen again,” she told him tightly. “I have feelings, Rashid, and I won’t let you stomp all over them just to get your way. And another thing,” she added, pointing at him. “There are women in this palace in dresses and business suits and slacks. I’ve seen them, and while I played along with your commands to dress as a Kyrian woman, I won’t blindly do it anymore. Kyrian women seem to represent a range of styles, which you purposely did not tell me. If I want to wear my jeans, I’m wearing them.”

His expression was tightly controlled. “When you appear before the council, you will wear traditional clothing. Aside from that, I don’t care.”

She lifted her chin as she met his dark stare. “Oh, I already gathered that, Rashid. You don’t care at all.”

* * *

Rashid met with the council and informed them he would be marrying, and why. The council wasn’t pleased that Sheridan wasn’t Kyrian, but they could hardly argue with the fact she was carrying his child.

“And would you consider a Kyrian woman for a second wife, Your Majesty?” one of the men asked.

Rashid let his hard stare glide over the gathering. They were good men, wise men, men whose families had spent generations on the council. And while they had gotten far more progressive over the years, they still clung to some traditions. A pure Kyrian dynasty was one of those, though they all knew that past sheikhs had sometimes married foreigners and had children with them. Still, it cost him nothing to appease them. They would not accept Sheridan as queen, but as a princess consort. And with a future queen of Kyrian descent to be named, they would be happy.

“I will,” he said coolly. “But not immediately.”

That seemed to satisfy them and the council was dismissed. Rashid returned to his office to work, but he couldn’t seem to stop picturing Sheridan up against the wall, her lovely legs wrapped around him, her sweet voice panting in his ear as he took her over the edge.

He pushed back from his desk and sat there staring at the place where they’d been. He’d taken her like a savage. Like a man for whom control was impossible to attain, when nothing could be further from the truth.

She wound him into knots and he didn’t like it. She’d said he didn’t care, but he very much feared he might. Not a lot, certainly, but more than he was comfortable with. Because he couldn’t stop thinking about her, or about how it felt to lose himself in her body.

He was not the sort of man to become obsessed with a woman, yet she intrigued him. Had from the first moment he’d seen her standing in her shop, all small and blond and seemingly sweet.

But then he’d kissed her and his world had gone sideways. He’d wanted her every moment since.

And he hated that he did.

She was pregnant. Thinking the words sent that same cold chill through him, as always—but there was something else, too. Pride, possession, ownership. She was carrying his child and he was going to marry her. For Kyr.

Rashid got to his feet and left the office, striding through the palace until he came to his rooms. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the hour was growing late. He changed into jeans—not without thinking of her informing him that she would be wearing her jeans whenever she wanted, that defiant tilt to her chin—and a button-down shirt, and then went through his suite of rooms to the hidden door that connected to the women’s quarters.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the lock. And then he released it and stepped inside. She wasn’t in bed so he moved through the rooms until he saw her at the computer. She was hunched over it, her head in her hands, and his heart squeezed.

Then she reached for a tissue and he knew she was crying. Damn it. His fault, no doubt. Because he’d pushed her away. But how could he explain to her that being in her arms after they had sex felt like a betrayal? Not because of the sex, but because of the way he wanted to linger, the way he wanted to know everything about her.

“Sheridan.”

She startled, shooting up out of her chair and whirling to face him. Her nose was red. “My God, you scared me to death.”

“I’m sorry.”

She was wearing her jeans and a silky shirt and she looked so small and alone as she stood there with her shoulders bent. “How did you get in here?”

“There’s a hidden door in the bedroom. It leads to my rooms.”

“Oh,” she said softly, and he knew she must be wondering why he hadn’t used it to bring her back the other night. But there were more immediate things to think about.

“What is wrong?”

She gave a half shrug. “I was just reading email from my business partner. I think we’re both realizing our dream is over now.”

“I know you blame me for these things, but I am not the one who caused this.” And yet he did feel guilty for his part in changing her life.

“Believe it or not, I do know that. But it seems so odd that a single oversight could impact so many lives.”

“This is quite often the case.”

“For a king, I’m sure it is. For a girl from Savannah who just wanted to give her sister a gift, this is all a bit of a shock.”

She walked over and put her hands on the back of a chair, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles whitened. He watched her, torn between going to her and holding her and staying where he was. In the end, he decided to stay. She would not welcome him at the moment.

She swiped the tissue over her nose again and stuffed it in her pocket. “So what did you come here to tell me to do now?”

Rashid’s brows drew down. Why had he come? Because you can’t stay away. Because she has a brightness to her that draws you like a moth. Because you want to feel that brightness wrapped around you again.

“I didn’t come to tell you to do anything.”

She waved a hand as if she were sweeping aside a bothersome fly. “Well, isn’t that a relief? What can I help you with, then?”

For once in his life, he was left with nothing to say. He dug down into the recesses of his brain. “My brother is going to build a skyscraper for me. I understand you have architecture experience. Perhaps you could consult?”

She blinked at him. Several times. “I...well, I did train as an architect, but I worked on historical preservation. Old buildings. Skyscrapers aren’t quite my thing. Not to mention I left the profession to start Dixie Doin’s with Kelly.”

“Why did you do that?” He truly wanted to know. She’d gone to school for one thing and ended up doing another.

She shrugged. “I enjoyed architecture, but it wasn’t as fun as party planning. I like organizing things, making people happy. Preserving old buildings takes time, but making people happy with food and fun is instant gratification.”

“Which explains why you spend so much time in the kitchen. I enjoyed the lotus-shaped napkins, by the way.”

She smiled at him, a genuine smile for once, and his heart did that little hitch thing again. “I’m glad. I’ll show them ferns next. Then maybe some swans.”

“No swans at the state dinner, I beg you.”

She laughed. “Fine, no swans.” But then her smile faded and she slumped against the back of the chair. “Will I get to attend these functions, or am I to be kept shut away like that cousin you can’t trust not to drink too much and dance on the tables?”

The way she said things amused him. “Do you drink too much or dance on tables?”

“Not since college.” He must have looked surprised because she laughed again. “I’m kidding. I danced on the tables without drinking. Because it was fun sometimes to let loose.”

He tried to imagine her on top of a table, dancing and having fun. “Do you let loose often?”

She hesitated a moment. “Too often where you’re concerned.”

The words hung in the air between them. He could feel his body hardening, and she hadn’t said anything provocative. Or done anything provocative. But he knew how she tasted, how she felt, and he wanted to unwrap her and taste and feel her again.

And again.

“We’ve only been together twice,” he pointed out.

“And if you hadn’t avoided me for so long, I imagine it would have been far more often than that. Though I suppose it’s a very good thing you did.”

Okay, he was seriously hard now. Ready to walk over there and take her in his arms. “You say the most unexpected things.”

“I’m too honest for my own good sometimes. I’ve always been this way, but I like it because it beats keeping things inside.”

“But you do keep some things inside.” He was thinking of her sister and the way she defended the other woman’s weaknesses even when they affected her life. He wondered why she did that, but he supposed he didn’t really have to ask. When he’d been a kid, he’d done everything he could to keep Kadir insulated from their father’s wrath. It hadn’t always worked, but he’d tried.

She bowed her head. “I suppose I do. But everyone needs a few secrets, right?”

Who was he to contradict her? He had secrets of his own. “I don’t know if needs is the right word. But yes, I know what you mean.”

Her blue eyes gleamed. “I’m still angry with you. But if you walked over here and took me in your arms, you could make me forget it all for a few hours.”

He was poised to do just that when she continued.

“But I’m asking you not to.” She shook her head. “I need time to process this, Rashid. I need time to figure out how to fit my life into this box you’ve handed me. I can’t do that if you confuse me with sex.”

CHAPTER TEN

SHERIDAN’S HEART POUNDED as she gazed at the handsome sheikh standing across the room. Just a word from her and he would cross the distance separating them and make her feel as if she were the most important, wonderful thing in his life for a few hours.

But she couldn’t let it happen again. Not after the way she’d felt this afternoon when they’d made love so urgently against a wall. After, when she’d felt shattered by the emotions he stirred inside her, when she’d needed tenderness and closeness, he’d pushed her away. Every effort she made to be close to him, he rebuffed. So why did she keep doing it?

And now she had to marry him. She didn’t know how she was going to survive if she had to keep navigating a sexual minefield with him. They’d done everything backward. Baby, sex and now marriage, and she couldn’t keep going down the same path without knowing who he was. Really knowing.

“The sex doesn’t mean anything to you,” she said. He did not contradict her, and her belly squeezed a little tighter. “And it doesn’t mean anything to me either, but it could start to mean more than it should just because I feel so out of place here.”

That was what truly frightened her. She was a stranger in a strange land, wholly dependent on this man, bound to him by ties greater than any devised by law. She had to keep her feelings grounded in reality. To do that, she couldn’t fall into bed with him every time he came near her.

He shoved his hands into his pockets—God, he was delicious in faded jeans—and adopted a casual pose that belied the tension in the set of his shoulders. He was a man poised on the edge of action. Always. That he would attempt to hide that from her was encouraging.

Because they both knew who had the true power. That he would allow her to have her own both stunned and warmed her. It was progress.

“I am not trying to place you in a box. You seem not to realize how very privileged your life is about to become.”

“A gilded box is still a box.”

He rubbed a temple and came around to sink down on the cushions of a settee. “I do in fact know this.” He leaned back and gazed up at the domed ceiling above them. “I hated living in this palace as a child. It was hell in many ways.”

She came around the chair and perched on the edge of it, her heart in her throat and a dull pain stinging her eyes.

He shrugged. “My father was a harsh man, habibti. He did not believe in sparing the rod, so to speak.”

She swallowed. Was he actually sharing things with her? Or was this an anomaly? “I heard that you only recently returned to Kyr. Is that why?”

His eyes glittered. “The palace is full of information, it would seem.”

“The person I heard it from seemed rather terrified to impart it. As if you would be angry. As if you are a tyrant who punishes people for slights.”

He looked rather stunned at that revelation. “I am a king, and I must be harsh at times. But I am not a tyrant. The only people who feel my wrath are the council and my immediate staff. I have no need to terrify maids or cooks, I assure you.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think you did.” Because the people she’d met seemed happy to have him as their king, though they were also more than a little awestruck by him. He didn’t speak much, they said. He kept to himself. He was serious and responsible and he didn’t smile.

But he was fair. No one had yet claimed he wasn’t.

One dark eyebrow arched as if he didn’t quite believe her. “Really? I would imagine you were my greatest critic. Did I not kidnap you and force you to come to Kyr? Am I not forcing you to marry me against your will?”

She clasped her hands together in her lap. “Well, those things are pretty bad and you should feel quite ashamed of yourself. But you haven’t been cruel. Exasperating and arrogant, but never cruel.”

He held her gaze steadily. “I am intimately acquainted with cruelty, and therefore I have striven never to be the kind of man who resorts to it in order to achieve his aims.”

Again, her heart twisted for the child he’d been. “I believe you.”

He blew out a breath. “Well, we have progress, then.” He stood suddenly. “Good night, Sheridan. Sleep well.”

“Rashid, wait.”

He turned back to her, a question in his expression.

Why had she stopped him? What did she want to say? Her heart beat hard and her throat ached and she didn’t understand this urge to go to him and wrap her arms around him. Not for the sexual chemistry, but for the boy he’d once been. The boy who’d had a cruel father and hadn’t known much love.

She wanted to know more. So much more. But he was finished and she didn’t know how to make him start again.

“Sleep well,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment. And then he was gone.

* * *

Kadir al-Hassan arrived the next day with his wife, Emily. Sheridan had just returned from playing with the puppies when she found the palace staff in an uproar. Or the domestic staff anyway. She swallowed hard and hurried to her room to change out of her jeans and T-shirt. It was quite a relief to be able to dress in something she wasn’t worried about getting dirty, though she’d chosen to wear the hijab, too. She liked the fabric covering her head when she went out into the hot Kyrian sunshine. It helped keep her cool.

Now she hesitated as she stood in her closet. She had her clothes from home and the Kyrian clothing. In the end, she chose to wear a blouse and trousers with the hijab. Then she checked her email and waited nervously for someone to decide she should be sent for.

Finally, there was a knock at her door and Emily al-Hassan was on the other side. She was a pretty girl, tall and slender and elegantly dressed in a designer suit and low heels. And she was smiling.

“You must be Sheridan,” she said after she introduced herself. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”

Sheridan was happy to meet her, too. Emily was American, and it was like having a visitor from home even though they’d never met before.

Emily took a seat and talked easily while Fatima arrived with tea. Once Fatima was gone, Emily’s expression changed to something more sympathetic and concerned.

“How are you holding up?” she asked. “Is Rashid behaving himself?”

Sheridan felt a little odd talking about her life with a stranger, but then Emily was the only other person she knew who shared the novel experience of marrying a Kyrian royal.

“I’m not sure he knows how,” Sheridan said, and Emily laughed.

“Truthfully, when I first met him, Rashid scared me half to death. He’s so quiet. So intense.” She frowned then. “I probably shouldn’t say anything, but you are marrying him now and so I feel you should be armed with as much information as possible. Rashid and Kadir didn’t have a good relationship with their father. He was very harsh.”

“Rashid mentioned it.”

Emily’s eyes widened a bit. “Did he? How interesting. Did he also mention that their father refused to choose an heir? It should have always been Rashid, but King Zaid wanted to punish him. So he left the succession undecided.”

“But he decided in the end.”

Emily sipped her tea. “No. Kadir did. Rashid did not come when their father died, and so Kadir had to take the throne. But Rashid finally showed up before the formal declaration. And Kadir abdicated.”

Sheridan blinked. “Why would he do that?”

Emily’s cheeks reddened a bit then. “It’s a long story, but he did it for me. I was too scandalous for Kyr, you see. And Kadir never wanted to be a king. He only married me to get out of it.”

“But you’re still married.”

Emily laughed. “Oh, yes. Marrying Kadir for all the wrong reasons is still the best thing I ever did. Because it turns out the reasons were right in the end.”

Sheridan’s throat ached. It was clear that Emily al-Hassan loved her husband very much. And he must love her equally as much to have given up a throne. It was incredibly romantic. And it made her sad when she thought of her and Rashid and their impending marriage.

She shook her head as hot feelings welled up inside her. “I don’t want to marry Rashid. I don’t love him, and he doesn’t love me. But there’s the baby to consider. A baby born to an unmarried mother can’t inherit a throne, apparently, even when the king of Kyr is most definitely the father. And forget shared custody.” She waved a hand. “Not happening here.”

“No, that is definitely Kyr for you.” Emily leaned forward and squeezed her hand. Sheridan liked how sympathetic and friendly the other woman was. “Kyr has its charms, and the al-Hassan brothers have even more. I promise you they are worth it in the end. Even grouchy Rashid.”

Sheridan laughed. She’d been on the edge of tears, but laughing helped to banish them. At least temporarily. God, she’d needed this. Someone who didn’t think the sun rose and set on Rashid, who knew he was flawed and who didn’t mind saying it.

“He is grouchy,” she said. “And bossy.”

Emily laughed. “Bossiness is an al-Hassan trait. But you have to admit they are devilishly handsome.”

“I haven’t seen your husband yet, but if he looks anything like Rashid, I’d say you’re a very lucky woman.”

Emily’s eyebrows waggled. “I am a very lucky woman. And you will be, too, once you tame Rashid.”

Sheridan sighed. The other woman was so certain everything would work out in the end. Sheridan didn’t feel that way at all. She thought of Rashid pushing her away after sex and her heart wanted to break. “I don’t know that he’s tamable. Or that I want to. In truth, I wish I could just go home.”

But that wasn’t as true as she claimed, and she felt a blush stain her cheeks. Emily very politely didn’t comment.

“Would you like more tea?” Emily asked instead, reaching for the pot.

“Please.”

After they settled down with fresh cups, Emily looked at her very thoughtfully. “Kadir tells me that Rashid has always been intense, but he has not always been the sort of emotionally closed-off man he is now. Kadir does not know what happened, but he thinks something did. There were a few years when they only had the barest of contact. Kadir was building his business and Rashid was in Russia.” Emily sipped her tea. “I’ve only known grouchy Rashid, so I can’t say for certain. But Kadir loves his brother very much, and he would not do that if Rashid was not good.”

Sheridan’s heart thumped. She wouldn’t have guessed that Kadir didn’t know about his brother’s marriage and his wife’s subsequent death, but clearly he did not. It wasn’t her place to say anything, so she sipped her tea and kept silent. But she hurt for Rashid as she thought of him losing the woman he loved and having no one to turn to.

They sat there for another hour, chatting about many different things. Emily explained the Kyrian wedding procedure to Sheridan, who found it comfortingly sterile. Oh, she’d always wanted the big emotional wedding, but signing her name on a document and then watching Rashid do the same would be quite enough for her. It was like signing loan papers at the bank. She could handle that.

But when the time came to do just that later the same day, Sheridan found herself more emotional than she’d thought she would be. The signing took place in Rashid’s office with Kadir and Emily for witnesses, along with the lawyers who presided over the entire thing. It lasted all of a few minutes as they sat on one side of a conference table with the lawyers on the other and Kadir and Emily at either end.

There was a translator who read the documents to Sheridan, and then she was directed to sign her name on a line. She could feel Rashid beside her, his gaze intent on her as if he expected her to refuse. She almost did. She almost stood and ran from the room, but in the end she knew it would merely be a stalling tactic.

She signed and put the pen down, then stared at her fingers clenched in her lap. Rashid scratched his signature across the document in a hasty scrawl, and then shoved the whole thing across the table.

He was angry, she realized, but she didn’t know why. She glanced over at Emily, who gave her a smile of encouragement and a firm nod, as if to say, “You can do this.”

Another few moments and the men on the other side of the table were filing the documents into briefcases and rising. They left the room, and then Emily went to Kadir, who took her hand in his and gave her a look that could only be called hot. He was very handsome, of course. The al-Hassan brothers had been designed by God to make female hearts beat a little harder when they walked into a room.