He looked up then, his dark gaze spearing her in place. Her blood thumped slowly in her veins at the heat she saw there.
“Angry? No.”
He went back to what he was doing and she huffed a sigh. “Rashid, you don’t act like someone who’s not angry.”
He dropped the papers he’d been going through and came around the desk. Then he leaned back on it and crossed his arms. “You looked like a lamb being dragged to the slaughter at that table just now.”
Her blood was beginning to hum with irritation. It was a welcome feeling compared to the ones she’d been having. “You didn’t seem all that happy, either. I don’t think there was a person in this room who believed either of us wanted to get married, so don’t you go blaming me for your mood.”
“I do blame you, Sheridan. My mood is one of frustration. Because I could smell you beside me and I couldn’t touch you. You’ve told me not to touch you and I won’t. But it frustrates me greatly. A man should be able to touch his wife.”
Her heart skipped. Of all the things she’d thought were bothering him...
The blood rushed wildly through her veins. He was sexually frustrated, not angry. He wanted her. In spite of everything, little bubbles of excitement popped and fizzed in her tummy.
“I thought you said we would have a marriage in name only.” Because he had said so in the car in Savannah, and though they’d already had sex twice, she wanted him to admit he’d changed his mind. Because she wasn’t going to keep having wild encounters with him and then be sent away as if she’d somehow misbehaved.
His eyebrows shot up. “Do you honestly think after this past week that’s going to happen?”
She shrugged. “You tell me. Both times we’ve been together, you couldn’t wait to get away.”
He put his forehead in one palm for a moment, his fingers spanning his temples. And then he was looking at her again.
“It’s not you.”
There was a pinch in her chest. “That’s a cliché, Rashid. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s also what people usually say right before they say something awful, like ‘I think we need to take a break’ or ‘I just can’t love you the way you deserve.’”
As soon as she said the word love she wished she could call it back. It had no place here, and judging by the way he was looking at her now, it never would.
“We are clearly not taking a break. We’ve only just started. And as for love...” His expression grew stony. “I’m not capable of it, Sheridan.”
Sheridan swallowed hard. Why did it hurt to hear him say it? Did she really expect love to enter the equation?
Yes. Yes, she did. Maybe not now, but someday. How could you live with someone, have such undeniable sexual chemistry with them, and not fall in love at some point? It didn’t seem possible. There was more heat between her and Rashid than there’d ever been in both of her other relationships combined.
But maybe that was just her. Maybe Rashid took that kind of response for granted.
Sheridan turned toward the door. “I think I should go now. You clearly have work to do.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you, habibti.” She thought of the way Kadir had said that word to his wife and tears welled behind her eyes.
“Why would I be hurt?” She lifted her chin. “We are nothing to each other, Rashid. Apparently, we’re going to remain that way.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEY ATE DINNER in Rashid’s private dining room with Kadir and Emily. That was an exercise in torture for Sheridan since those two were so clearly in love that it hurt to watch. Not because she expected Rashid to love her or because she wanted to love him, but when you found yourself pregnant and married without a mention of love, you felt rather cheated over the whole thing.
Why had she used that word earlier? Because she’d been hurt, that was why, and she’d tried to cover it up. She’d blundered, and then she’d found herself stumbling down a path where her new husband had informed her that he wasn’t capable of love. It was not an auspicious beginning to a marriage.
She’d half expected Rashid to stop her when she’d walked out on him earlier, but he’d not done so. When she’d walked out of his office, Daoud was there. And for the first time ever, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head.
“Your Royal Highness.”
Sheridan had started to shake then. “Daoud, please. Get up.”
He’d done so, his dark eyes searching her face in a way that warmed her. As if he’d been looking for sadness and willing to pummel whomever had made her so. But then he’d dropped his head again and she’d realized that Rashid was in the hall behind her.
“Take Her Highness to her room, Daoud. She needs to rest.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
So she’d rested. And when she’d finished resting, she’d gone to the stables to check on the puppies again. They were getting bigger by the day. Soon, Daoud informed her, they would be given to new homes and she wouldn’t get to see them anymore. She’d picked one up and held its soft furry body against her cheek before handing it back to the groom and returning to the palace.
And now they were at dinner and Sheridan was trying to follow the conversation, though not doing a good job. They were speaking English, because Emily didn’t speak Arabic either, but the laughter and sound of voices just droned over her head while she wallowed in her own misery over her situation.
She’d spoken to Annie earlier, and Chris. Annie was over the moon with excitement about seeing the specialist. Chris was more subdued, as if he knew what this opportunity was costing Sheridan. But he was grateful nevertheless. He expressed it adequately enough for them both, though Sheridan might have liked her sister to realize how huge a change was occurring in her life.
For Annie, the prize was a baby of her own. Nothing and no one got in the way of that fact.
Kelly had been shocked, but she’d taken it all in and started making plans for the future of Dixie Doin’s without Sheridan. That had hurt, but it was also necessary.
“Sheridan. Sheridan?”
She stirred after her name was repeated and looked up to find three sets of eyes looking back at her.
“Are you ill?” Rashid asked. “Do you need to lie down?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I was just thinking.” She smiled as she picked up her water glass. “Please don’t stop talking on my account.”
Kadir shot his wife a look. “Actually, we were going to turn in. It’s been a long day.”
“Yes,” Emily said. “I’m pretty tired. It’s been a lovely day, though.”
Everyone agreed it had been a lovely day. And then they took their leave of each other with hugs and kisses on the cheek. The room was quiet when Kadir and Emily were gone. Oppressively so, just like before.
“We keep finding ourselves alone together in spite of our best efforts,” Sheridan said cheerfully as she turned toward Rashid.
“This is not necessarily a bad thing.” Rashid’s gaze was bright. Hot. And her stomach flipped even as her body began to melt at the promise in those eyes.
“I think I should go.”
“And what if I said your place tonight is here? In my bed?”
She felt light-headed, dizzy. It was anticipation, fear and, yes, even a certain kind of joy she found astonishing.
“I don’t think that’s wise,” she said, even though the voice in her head said something else entirely.
He moved toward her, took her hand and slowly pulled her into his arms. She went reluctantly, but she went. Her palms rested on his broad chest as his heat slid into her bones, her blood. Why did being held by Rashid feel so right? And why did she want to wrap her arms around him and comfort him? She wanted to know why he had that haunted look in his eyes, and she wanted to know why he pushed her away in the mos
t tender of moments.
“I think it’s very wise,” he told her. “The wisest thing possible.”
His head dipped toward hers and her eyes drifted closed. But then she pictured how it would go. The delicious silkiness of his kiss, the inflammatory response of her own, the frantic revealing of bodies and the cataclysmic joining that would strip all her defenses and leave her heart bare.
And then the ice at the end. She couldn’t take the ice.
“I’d rather talk,” she blurted out.
He stopped, his lips a whisper away from hers. “Sheridan, you torture me.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt. “We can’t keep having wild sex like this, Rashid. We have to talk sometime.”
He straightened, looking perfectly dejected. Like a kid who’d just had a treat taken away. “I don’t see why we can’t have sex first and then talk.”
“Because you won’t talk then. You’ll run, or you’ll take me back to my rooms, and nothing will ever get said.”
He studied her very solemnly. And then he stepped back and drew her into the living area. She sank onto one of the couches and curled her feet beneath her. Rashid went to the opposite end of the couch.
“What do you wish to talk about?”
Sheridan bit her lip as she watched him. What did she wish to talk about? Anything. Everything. Only she’d never really expected he would do as she asked, so here she was with no leading question. No carefully thought-out phrase to begin prying into his life.
So she launched into it like a cannonball off a diving board.
“Why are you incapable of love?”
His eyes widened. And then his mouth flattened and she was certain he would brush her off. He did not, however, but she found herself almost wishing he had.
“Because it hurts. Because people die and you’re left figuring out how to live your life without them. It’s easier not to love.”
“But choosing not to love and being incapable of it are two different things, right?”
He rubbed a hand over his face and looked away from her. “Maybe so. But I’ve chosen what works best for me.”
“You will love this child, though.” She wanted to understand him. He’d lost a wife and that had affected him greatly. But surely he would love their baby. She needed to know he was capable of that much at least.
“Sheridan.” He didn’t say anything else for a long moment. And then he closed his eyes and swallowed. “My wife was pregnant. She had a rare congenital defect that caused her to hemorrhage.”
He swallowed and his skin paled visibly. Sheridan wished she could stop him, wished she could go over and pull his head to her chest and just hold him. But how could she do such a thing when he was talking about the death of a wife and child he’d loved?
“There was nothing the doctors could do. And the baby, who until that time had seemed healthy, was stillborn.”
“Oh, Rashid.” Her eyes filled with tears. What could she say? What could she do? His anger over her having a baby for Annie made so much more sense now. He’d talked about risking her life that night. And when she’d asked him what was wrong, he’d told her it was nothing. She’d known it was not nothing.
She hadn’t known it was anything so tragic, however.
“Yes, I will love this child. But I’m terrified to do so. Perhaps now you can understand why.”
She clasped her hands tight in her lap. “I do.”
“Kadir doesn’t know about this. No one does. I was in Russia then, running my business, and had very little contact with anyone outside of the microcosm of my life.”
It humbled her that he would share something with her that he hadn’t even shared with his family. She thought of Emily telling her earlier that Kadir knew something had happened to his brother, but not what. “Maybe you should tell him. Maybe he has words of wisdom that I can’t seem to find.”
“There are no words of wisdom, Sheridan. You simply get through each day until the pain isn’t as great. You never forget, but you learn how to live anyway.”
She couldn’t sit here any longer and not reach out to him. So she got up and moved closer, taking his hand and squeezing it in hers. That was all. Just a touch. He squeezed back and then they were looking at each other, their gazes tangling, searching, locking together for what seemed forever, but was probably only a few minutes.
“I’m sorry I pried. It wasn’t my intention to make you share painful memories.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “You’re very sweet. When you aren’t telling me to go to hell, that is.”
She smiled. It shook at the corners, but she held it together anyway. “If I didn’t tell you, who would? You have far too many people bowing and scraping and bending over backward to serve you. You need someone to remind you that you aren’t perfect.”
“No, I am definitely not perfect. In this, you are very like Daria.”
“That’s very sweet of you to say.”
“But also mercenary.”
“Mercenary?” Her blood beat in her temples, her throat.
His eyes glittered hot. “Life is for the living. And I want you, Sheridan. Now, tonight. I want to take you to my bed and keep you there until you can’t move a muscle. Until your body is liquid with pleasure, weak with desire and sated beyond your wildest imaginings.”
Her breath caught. “That sounds quite amazing, Your Majesty. But I’m still not certain it’s a good idea.”
Because he made her heart thrum and her body melt and her eyes sting with tears. She was drawn to him physically, but it was also more than that. And that was what frightened her. How could she spend time with him and not be drawn deeper into that spell? He was so much more than an arrogant and entitled king.
He was a man who’d lived an imperfect life, who’d experienced pain and loss and incredible sadness. He was also lonely, and that loneliness called to her because it was so familiar. He took care of everyone else first—his nation, his duties—and whatever was left over he gave to himself. But it wasn’t much.
For a man who was rich in material things, he was sorely lacking in emotional fulfillment.
“We have to start somewhere,” he said softly.
Oh, how she wanted to accept, to let him know he didn’t need to be alone. But the risk...
“I can’t go to bed with you now only to have you freeze me out later.”
“I don’t want to freeze you out.”
“But you do. You have.”
“I know.”
But he tugged her hand until she had to move right up against him. And then he speared his other hand into her hair and lowered his mouth to hers. She didn’t stop him. She closed her eyes, and then his lips met hers and she sighed. He kissed her sweetly, so sweetly, and yet the heat swelled inside her, rolled through her, intensified with each gentle stroke of his tongue against hers.
“I won’t get up and go back to my room in the middle of the night,” she said between kisses. “I won’t, Rashid.”
“I understand.” And then he kissed her deeper, harder, until the passion unfurled between them, until he pushed her back on the couch and shaped her body with his hands, exploring her curves endlessly.
She thought he would undress her there, but he soon lifted her up and pulled her outside onto the terrace. It was a beautiful night, not too cool yet, with stars winking over the dunes. He took her to the railing and stood there gazing out over the darkened desert. Behind them, the city lights tinted the sky, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the vast darkness before them.
“I left Kyr for many years,” he said, standing behind her at the railing and putting his arms around her, caging her in. “I gave up the expectation I would become king when I was a young man. I wandered the world, and I started my own business, which I built
into the powerful oil company it is today. I became who I am because of my life here in Kyr. And one thing I vowed many years ago was that no child of mine would ever believe I did not love or approve of him. Or her.”
He turned her in his arms then and she gazed up at him with eyes blurred with tears. “I believed you the first time you said it,” she said softly.
“Yes, but I wanted you to know that I was certain. This child will not lack for love.”
Sheridan swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to ask him if there could ever be love between them, but she knew it was not a question he wanted to hear. He’d told her he chose not to love, not that he was incapable of it, and so that gave her hope.
She put a hand to his cheek and watched his eyes darken. “You’re a good man, Rashid. And I know you’ll be a good father.”
He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. “You will want for nothing here, habibti. I know this is not the life you would have chosen, but I believe you will come to love Kyr as I do.”
“I hope I do,” she said, her heart pounding at the realization she could love so much more than Kyr if he would let her.
He kissed her suddenly. And this time he did not stop. This time, he kissed her until she was melting and pliant, and then he swept her into his arms—how many times had he done this now, and why did it thrill her every time he did?—and carried her into his bedroom, where he undressed her slowly, kissing and caressing each bit of skin he revealed, until she was quivering with anticipation, until she was ready to beg him for release.
He made love to her first with his mouth, and then, when she was sated and shattered, he settled between her thighs and entered her on a breath-stealing plunge. Sheridan wrapped her legs around him as he rode her, arched her body into his and let him take her over the edge of passion and into the depths of a pleasure so intense it made her cry his name again and again.
When she was shattered and spent again, when she couldn’t lift a muscle, Rashid found his release in her body. He rolled away from her and she lay there with the cool air wafting over her heated skin and her brain racing, wondering if he would get up and hand her the clothing he’d dropped onto the floor.
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