The Sheikh's Surprise Mistress 2 (Jatar Sheikh Series Book 6)

by Jessica Brooke

  He begrudgingly nodded, “I will not let it come to that. You will be fine—he will thrive to full term—we will be a family.”

  “I think I’m going to be okay, but I still want that promise.”

  He gave me a curt nod, “Yes, Julie, I promise.”

  I relaxed then, sagging into the bed. He pulled up a chair and took up a place where he could still hold my hand. The doctor came back in and explained they’d stopped my internal bleeding, but I was on forced twenty-four hour bed rest for the foreseeable future. I declared that if I had to stay in bed the remainder of my term—another three months—I was more than willing to do so.

  “I am here now, and I will not leave again until you are with me—until we can return to home as a family.” The doctor left and Amir squeezed my hand, “There is a matter I’d like to discuss with you.” I blinked at him and squeezed his hand the best I could, but I was so weak even that seemed a pittance.

  “I feel we should marry,” he said.

  “What? Now? I can’t stand.”

  “I’ve acquired an official—he is here, waiting. Because of the child and my rights as his father.”

  I gave him a lazy grin. “Do you still have that hideously massive ring?” His eyes lit up and he fumbled in his suit pocket.

  “Wow, you have it on you?”

  He seemed anxious and nervous and unlike I’d ever seen him before. “After the last time, I’ve been reticent to ask.”

  I used the control button and levered the bed until I was sitting almost upright. “Well then, mister, get on your knees and do this proper.”

  He grinned and slid to one knee, then he winced and leaned against the bed frame, “Apologies, my love, we are quite the pair.”

  He stabilized himself down on both knees and popped open the velvet box. The ring that had haunted me for months shined as if backlit by a floodlight. It was enormous and set in a thick, solid gold band. It was the most unique setting I’d ever seen, and this time I really let myself look.

  “Julie Lynn Swanson, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  At this point, he knew this was a sure thing, but I gave him a hard time anyway, “Took you long enough.” He gave me a stern expression and growled.

  “Yes Amir, I would be honored to be your wife.”

  I stuck out my hand, and he awkwardly rose up and sat in the chair, taking a deep breath and straightening the offending leg. Then he slid the ring onto my hand, and I again burst into uncontrollable tears. He motioned with his hand and said something in Arabic, and the servant waiting at the door ran off. Within a few minutes, an official looking man in long robes and wrap around headdress entered and bowed.

  He called Amir, “Your Highness,” which was not at all out of the norm. But when he said the same towards me, I just about lost my jaw.

  Amir squeezed my hand, and then put a finger under my chin and pressed until my mouth was once again closed in a ladylike manner. I pulled him down and whispered, “I would at least like to have my hair clean for this.”

  He chuckled, “I adore how you find humor in everything.”

  “It’s deflection. Don’t confuse,” I muttered, and then he barked a laugh.

  “We will have a proper ceremony when you are able. Amsi will attend it with us. It will be a modern service, and you will wear white. This is merely for the law, and the child, and if...” He paused, and I could guess what he’d halted himself from saying.

  “In case I die?” He gritted his jaw and narrowed his gaze. “It’s okay, Amir. I think this is the very best course to take. I’m in full agreement.”

  He gave me a curt nod and turned to the holy man.

  The very quick ceremony was said in Arabic, and Amir translated for me. I nodded and said my parts when asked. I could say yes in Arabic. It sounded a lot like—llama—so I llama-ed myself right into marrying a sheikh. I also understood the very last word the holy man asked of Amir—Forever.

  They moved me back to our suite that night, and Amir took me in his arms and we cuddled the entire night. I slept sounder than I could ever remember sleeping my entire life. I was safe and with the man I loved. My husband. Before I fell asleep is muttered my new name.

  “Julie Lynn Rashid.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anna went into labor right on schedule, and I was wheeled to her bedside. I held her hand as she screamed her way through a torturous five hours. Which I guess is a quick delivery. I announced shortly after that I wanted a C-section. Forget this giving birth bullshit. Amir’s only words on the subject were, “We’ll see.”

  Omar was beside himself at the birth of his first child, and he continued to shout with glee at random intervals. He even began singing in his native tongue, and Amir joined him. Their baby boy was to be named, Omar Richard Khalid. Anna joked she was just going to call the boy, Bob. This of course infuriated Omar, but made us girls laugh.

  When they handed her the baby and he nursed for the first time, we both cried. I held my stomach and told Amsi I couldn’t wait for him to enter the world. Amir heard me and amended that we could all wait and he needed to stay put at least another two months.

  The next week went along fine. I stayed in bed and managed a ridiculous amount of sleep. I’d been ordered to buzz Amir on the walkie talkie the moment I awoke. If I didn’t do this, and he checked on me and found me awake, I would get a lecture at length from him. I weakly picked up the walkie and pressed the little buzzer button. I really couldn’t take another one of his lectures.

  He entered within moments and sat on the bed. “Your hand is much too cold,” he announced as he began to rub it.

  This annoyed me and I jerked it away. “I’m fine,” I snapped. “Everything hurts—sorry for that,” I apologized after his face fell. “Help me to the bathroom?”

  He really did appreciate having something to do and with his cane on one side, he stabilized me, and we awkwardly got me to the toilet. It wasn’t until I sat down that his face clouded. “You’re bleeding again.”

  I checked and yup, I was. It was minor, but at this point, anything was bad. Amir rushed out to get the doctor, and I tried to stand. It took me three shaky attempts and then I was upright, but so incredibly dizzy, I leaned against the cool wall for support. When I looked in the toilet it was crimson. My head swam and my knees shook, and before I could sit back down, everything went black.

  In total darkness, I felt when I hit first the edge of the toilet and then my head bounced against the tile floor. I felt as if I were down in a tunnel, or a pit and the incongruity of the coldness against my cheek warred with the warmth I felt spreading out between my thighs.

  I heard Amir when he reentered the bathroom and the frantic, panicked tone in his voice, but then I totally blacked out. I had flashes of consciousness, and I was aware of Amir being there and holding my hand. Sometimes I would hear his voice as he either comforted me or barked at a doctor for something. I tried to resurface, but I couldn’t. I was also aware of intense stabbing pains up through my belly. I think I complained about the overhead lights at one point, but I’m not certain. I also have a vague recollection of sirens and being in a vehicle.

  It seemed to me that a lot of time passed. I felt lost in a sea of odd visuals. The worst part was the voices. There were always background conversations I was unable to tune into or fully hear. Snippets that only sent me further into a hidden internal hysteria. A lot of it was in a language I didn’t understand. Foreign hands touched me and various places on my body were pierced with sharp moments of pain that later turned into numb aches.

  My belly disappeared. I don’t know how or when, but I remember the feeling of vacancy and loss. My companion was gone, and I had no way of crying out or calling for him. Where was my baby?

  Amir? Where are you? Why aren’t you protecting our baby?

  Time moved at an odd pace trapped inside my body and brain. I lost track of so many things, and I was certain I’d died. I even saw a brilliant white light at one p
oint and could have sworn my grandma Marjorie was calling for me from the back stoop of her farmhouse. I tried to go to her, but then Amir begged me to stay, so I did, choosing him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “She is going to be okay. Long recovery. She’ll need around the clock care. It was close, Sir, a very close thing.”

  “When can I take her home?” Amir questioned.

  “She needs another week here, and honestly Sir, it is easier for her while the baby remains in ICU.”

  Oh God, my baby is alive?

  I’d given up hope and was almost angry that I’d survived. I’d slowly been resurfacing and yesterday, for a very short spell I opened my eyes. My room had been empty, which was fine. I couldn’t stay alert long enough to care. Today it was the Doctor’s stethoscope that roused me, but I didn’t open my eyes. I just listened.

  “We need to let her hold her child,” Amir insisted.

  “I told you, Sir, he must remain in the incubator at least another month. He is incredibly fragile. He was almost three months premature. The survival rate for a premature birth such as this is staggeringly low. The simple fact he is alive at all, is a blessing indeed.”

  Amir persisted, “If my wife can see him then? She must see that he survived.”

  “She will. As soon as she is alert enough, you may take her to the nic unit. But she can’t touch him. Not yet.”

  “I see,” Amir said and I heard the doctor leave. Amir picked up my hand and held it, but was silent. I squeezed his hand the best I could, but it was a pittance. His voice grew closer, and I felt him on my bed.

  “Julie? My love? Our baby survived.”

  “Amir?” My voice was barely a whisper, and it was difficult to form words, almost painful.

  His voice grew even more urgent, “Yes, love. Right here.”

  I tentatively opened my eyelids and peered out through a slit of blonde lashes. “Amsi?”

  “He is alive. He is tiny and weak, but he lives.”

  “You promised,” I croaked.

  “I was not going to lose you, my love. Never lose you. Our doctors saved you both.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “They had to operate on him. His tiny heart needed help. His lungs are not fully developed. He is on a respirator. He has the best doctors and care available.”

  “I’m so sorry, Amir. I love you.”

  “Rest, my love. You will recover in time. I am here.”

  ***

  I had no idea how much time passed between my moments of lucidity, but whenever I did open my eyes, Amir was there. He looked tired and so much older than I remembered him being. He must have been sleeping in the hospital, too, because there was a small bed next to the window. He was actually dozing in a chair this very moment. I pushed myself a few inches upright, and that wore me out, so I sagged back and rested. When I opened my eyes again, he was awake and reading something.

  He instantly met my eyes and came to my bedside. It felt odd to let my mouth curl into a smile, like my face hadn’t done so in such a long time it forgot the motion. “I need to see our baby.”

  Amir nodded and then drew his brows together. “We have to take you to him. Are you strong enough?”

  “I doubt it,” I answered wearily. “But I have to start somewhere—right?”

  “Tomorrow perhaps?” he offered.

  I agreed and held his hand. “Tell me about him.”

  Amir’s face lit up and he grinned. “The child is a fighter. He is small now, but someday will grow tall and strong. I am assured of this. His…” His tone changed from assured bravado and a hint of doubt crept in. He cupped his hand—just one hand and his expression was a mask of concern.

  “He fits in the palm of my hand, Julie. He is too small to be in the world.” His chin quivered, “I fear for him—I am not good with weakness.” He forced down a sob and met my eyes. “It would have killed me to lose you.”

  “You didn’t—I’m here. I’ll pull through.”

  He shook his head, “It was a near thing—too close.”

  I swiped a thumb over his damp cheek. “Close only counts in nuclear war and horseshoes.”

  It took him a long moment to comprehend my joke, but when he did he jerked with a stifled laugh. “And hand grenades.”

  “Yes, and apparently premature births. Now could you please call a nurse and get the catheter out of me? I want to start taking myself to the toilet.”

  “Ahhh, indeed my female is returning,” he said with a hand pat as he ducked out the door and shouted something in Arabic.

  As time went on, I began to feel incrementally better, and by the third day I was able to shuffle all by myself to the in-room toilet. And today they were going to wheel me to the infant unit so I could see my baby boy. Amir was with me the entire morning, and he’d been especially talkative. I’d asked him to share anything and everything with me, and he gradually begun to let the words flow.

  He told me stories of his youth. Crazy horse races in the desert. Even crazier camel races. He was one of five children, all younger than him, and all off running their own districts within his country of Abu Dhabi. He was the acting King, but the distribution of responsibility was equitable among his siblings and still living parents.

  “I’ve told them about our joining. And of course my child and you,” he announced.

  “Yeah, how did that go over?”

  He flinched, “As expected.”

  “It’s an odd perspective to be the maligned minority,” I replied.

  He brushed it away as if were nothing. “When they see your beauty and recognize your intelligence, they will fall for you just as much as I have.”

  I shrugged, “Hope so.”

  Amir reassured me, “My mother will admire you for your strength.”

  I lifted my brows, “Not that strong anymore—actually I have no idea who I am anymore.”

  “You are the love of my life, you pale-skinned goddess of a woman.”

  “Ahhh, ever the sweet talker. I forgot how poetic you are.” I scratched at my IV tube in my hand.

  “Can’t wait to go home.”

  “Soon,” he reassured me.

  “I haven’t asked you how you’re doing. You look tired,” I said.

  He lifted his shoulders, “I am weary. It’s been a long month.”

  It was then that I realized how long I’d been out of it. Drifting in sub-space as my body fought to live.

  “How are you emotionally?”

  “I am okay now. There was a moment where I thought I’d lost you—well, both of you.” His eyes met mine, and I felt his anguish.

  He lowered his gaze and continued, “Even though I’ve lived a relatively short life, I’ve lived hard, done much. After the death of my first wife and our son, I understood what was truly important. I’d not made her the most important thing—person—I’d not made her feel important. Our boy was young as well, and I’d been busy with government. I was easily distracted from the family life. I fear I took it for granted. Then you came along and hit me like a train. You tumbled me this way and that. You ruined me, Julie.”

  I made a strangled sound, but he lifted his hand to silence me. “No, I must continue. I swore to myself I would verbalize this when you recovered.”

  He brushed a hand through his dark mop of hair that desperately needed to be trimmed. “Your strength—your stubborn, strong willed attitude—was something foreign to me in a female. Nothing I thought you wanted, was what you wanted. Yet still, you submitted to me. This was an amazing thing, Julie. This was as if another king were kneeling before me. I didn’t know how to deal with you—so I thought that marrying you—making you my wife—I thought that would cement our stations, and you would cease fighting me.

  “When you refused my proposal in Boston, I was left flailing and without focus. I’d been certain I could keep you as mine, and you refused. I returned home and attempted to distract myself. Nothing worked. The day I crashed the Bugatti was an accident—it was not
a conscious choice I made—although that said, I also cared not at all if I lived or died. I was certain you were finished with me.”

  He made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know where I’m going with this. All I know—I know this for certain—I want to make you and the boy my main focus. I want you to be the most important things in my existence. And if that means I share rulership of our family—if I must at times submit to you—then so be it, my warrior woman.”

  His outpouring made my heart swell. I remembered the day he’d let me dominate him sexually. The day I’d felt in complete control and how empowering it had been. I breathed through my nose as I thought about his declaration.

  “You’ve already shown me how important I am to you. You’ve already given me many concessions that I am fully aware a man like you rarely, if ever, gives to a woman. I don’t doubt your devotion, Amir. Please don’t doubt mine. When I married you, I made the choice to be your wife and under your rule.”

  My expression softened, and I picked up his hand and kissed it.

  “You’ve changed me, too—you know? I was strong through necessity before—it was how I survived on my own—how I made sure I succeeded. I had a devil may care attitude about attachments because I saw them as a liability—a weakness—which if we’re being honest—they are! But now I want that weakness, Amir—I want that liability because it is you and it is our child. I was just slow to realize this.”

  I patted the bed and slid to the side, “And I miss being in your arms. You make me feel safe.”

  He crawled up next to me and we comically arranged my tubes so nothing was strangling either of us or pinched off. He joked as he pulled me against his chest, “I love it when you’re helpless.”

  We both laughed and I snuggled against the warmth of my man.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I was now able to walk on my own all the way down the hall and to the elevator that would take me to the infant ICU unit and my precious baby boy. When I first saw him, I was horrified at all the tubes and contraptions affixed to his tiny body. He was too small—like Amir had stated—much too small and helpless to be in the world alone.