One Dance with the Sheikh

by Tessa Radley

  His murmur had caused her pulse to start to pound. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not sex. It’s you who makes me lose control.”

  The words were so soft she only just made them out. Her heart started to hammer. His honesty was more than she could ever have hoped for. Laurel went to sit beside him on the arm of the great chair. “Show me,” she invited.

  But the kiss was not raw with passion. Instead he brushed her lips gently with his.

  Tender. What did this mean?

  Finally he lifted his head and looked down at her. “I am terrified,” he admitted softly.

  It was true. There was fear in the depths of his onyx eyes.

  “Why?” Then it came to her. This was about the baby. “You’re worried for the baby? I know I’m an older mom, but lots of women wait until their thirties to have families now. I’ll get the best medical care money can buy. It will be fine.”

  “No. Not that—my fears are much more selfish.”

  “What is it?” Now he was frightening her. “Tell me,” she insisted when she’d had enough of empty, polite silences.

  “Despite what I led you to believe, my parents’ marriage was far from perfect. It wasn’t the romance of a lifetime.”

  “Is that all?” Relief flooded her and she shifted closer to him. “Well, it turns out that my parents’ marriage must’ve been far from perfect, too. But we’re not our parents, Rakin. We don’t need to repeat their mistakes.”

  His eyes locked with hers.

  “My father never loved my mother,” he said flatly.

  Pain shot through her. He was telling her that he could never love her. He’d told her it was over between them. She’d already accepted that, so why was she letting the wound tear open again? Laurel squared her shoulders. “Even though my mother claims my father loved both her and Angela, I’m finding it very hard to reconcile my father’s behavior in having a second family with any kind of meaningful love for my mother—it’s certainly not the kind of love I want.”

  “But if he made your mother happy—”

  “Exactly! And he was a great father. To all of us. And I can never forget that.” With that off her chest, Laurel felt a lot easier. Now she had to come to an understanding with Rakin. One they could both live with. “After the divorce we can work at our relationship—and make sure the baby is well adjusted. We certainly don’t need to keep each other miserable in an empty shell of a marriage. And we will both love the baby.”

  Rakin’s gaze drilled into her. Then he said, “It wasn’t only my mother that my father didn’t love. He had high expectations of me. He was proud of me. But he never loved me.”

  Her heart melted. “Oh, Rakin—”

  “What if I can never love this child?”

  The terror was back in his eyes. Her heart ached. This was what he was afraid of?

  “I’ve seen your patience with Flynn—”

  “That’s different.” He waved her reassurance away.

  Laurel persisted. “I saw you pull that boy onto Pasha—the way you gave him what he most dreamed of.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  “A person who didn’t like children.” Laurel wanted to throw her arms around him, hold the little boy in him close. “Believe me, if this is your fear, I assure you it is groundless.”

  He shot her a veiled look. “It is not my only fear.”

  “So what else do you fear?”

  He shook his head.

  “Rakin!” Laurel let a little of her exasperation through. “How can I help when you won’t even let me know what you’re thinking? Let go!”

  “Letting go is the hardest thing you could ever ask of me.” He drew a deep breath. “All my life I have been raised to be proud. To be restrained. To behave like a member of the royal family. To honor the Abdellah name.”

  Laurel couldn’t help making the connection.

  “Some men shouldn’t be fathers. Yours may have been one of them.” The uncertainty in Rakin’s eyes caused her heart to contract. “Your treatment of Flynn at the wedding, of the boy who you put up on your horse is different from how your father would’ve responded. You are not your father.”

  Rakin shook his head. Laurel watched him rise to his feet and walk across the room to stare out the windows overlooking the sea. She sensed he was facing the most important challenge of his life.

  And he was terrified.

  * * *

  “I love you.”

  The sound of the words was as soft as the whisper of a gull’s wing on the wind. Yet it roared like a tornado through Rakin’s brain. He wheeled around in disbelief.

  “What?”

  Despite the summery sunshine that streamed in through the windows, she stood with her arms folded protectively around herself, clearly steeling herself for his rejection.

  Then she said it again. “I. Love. You.” More slowly for sure, but still the same world-changing words. He hadn’t misheard.

  Rakin took a step forward. Then stopped.

  Did she mean them?

  Or was this obligation speaking…for the sake of their child? He despised himself for the moment of doubt as soon as he saw the sheen of emotion in her eyes. Relief buckled his knees; then strength and confidence flowed back through him.

  She meant it.

  Laurel loved him.

  And this beautiful woman was so much braver than he. She’d risked all, baring her heart, risking his rejection.

  He swallowed. Then demanded, “Say it again.”

  The green eyes he adored sparkled at him. “I love you.”

  Rakin didn’t wait for a silence to follow. He gathered the strength that her words had given him and, taking a quick breath, he shut his eyes and forced out a whisper. “I love you, too.”

  Then, needing to see her reaction, he opened his eyes. Moisture glimmered back at him.

  “I’m not going to cry,” she said determinedly.

  “No, you’re too happy to cry.”

  That wrung a laugh from her.

  “I want to get married again,” he said.

  Joy blazed in her face. “Yes.”

  For a moment Rakin couldn’t absorb it. “You agree?”

  She launched herself into his arms. “Of course I agree.”

  “So where are we going to be married?” she asked a little worriedly her head resting against his shoulder. “I’d love to be married here with my family present. But it would be a little odd because we’re already married. And wouldn’t your grandparents expect us to be married in Diyafa?”

  “I don’t care where we get married—or who attends. The only person I want there is you.” Rakin kissed the top of her soft, sweet scented hair.

  “Like when we got married in Las Vegas.”

  Leaning back so that he could see her face, he said, “Except this time will be different. This time when we exchange vows I will know you love me. You will know I love you. That is what this marriage is about—celebrating our love for each other.”

  The wrinkle on Laurel’s brow cleared. “We don’t need anyone else there. As far as the world is concerned we’re married already. This time is for us alone.”

  Rakin nodded.

  “I feel free. I don’t need to worry about what people think.” Laurel mouth curved upward. “I loved the romance of our Vegas wedding.”

  “Then we will be married on the Grand Canal.”

  “We’re going back to Las Vegas?”

  Rakin gave her a smug smile. “I thought you might enjoy the real thing this time—a wedding in Venice.”

  She threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Rakin.” Then she sniffed and laughed. “We’re going to come back here every summer.”


  “Whatever you want.” Rakin grinned, ready to agree to anything.

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” His grin widened.

  “You don’t look very serious.”

  “I’m happy.”

  That got him another—more passionate—kiss. And for a few moments there was silence. When it was over, she said, “I want our child, our children—”

  Rakin’s eyes blazed. “Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement. I do not want only one child.”

  “Yes!” Laurel knew what was bothering him. He had been an only child. “I want our child to have siblings. And every summer we’ll come back here to the beach house. My brothers and sisters and their wives and husbands and children will be welcome, too.” As her father had known they would be when he had left her Captain’s Watch.

  “That will keep you close to your family. But it’s not like you’ll be separate from them forever. We can jet over to visit them any time you like. And you’ll still have your public relations work.”

  At that she flung her arms back around his neck. She’d half-expected him to demand that she give her work up. Relief filled her that it was a battle she didn’t have to fight. “I love what I do.”

  “I know that.”

  “And as my wife you will have even more opportunities to gain connections. You may, in time, want to talk to your siblings about outsourcing the PR. That way you could set up your own consultancy, still work for The Kincaid Group, but you’d be able to source other clients as well.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “I know,” he said smugly. “I’m simply full of good ideas.”

  Laurel wrinkled her nose at him and laughed.

  “I love it when you laugh. You hold nothing back. And you become more beautiful than ever.”

  “How can I help it? You make me happy.”

  Relief filled him. He was not his father. His wife would not become a miserable shadow of herself. She loved him…and he loved her.

  Their children, too, would be loved.

  Epilogue

  The doorbell sounded.

  Elizabeth Kincaid glanced around at the family who’d already gathered in the salon for pre-dinner drinks. “That should be Laurel and Rakin.”

  “I’ll let them in.” Pamela disappeared to open the front door.

  When Laurel appeared in the doorway to the salon with her lean, dark husband behind her, Elizabeth immediately saw that her eldest daughter was not the sad character who had visited only a few days ago—she glowed. Rakin’s arm was settled possessively around her waist, his lean length complementing her fiery beauty.

  After they’d all exchanged hugs and greetings, Laurel announced from the circle of her husband’s arms. “We’ve got news for you all.”

  Silence fell over the room.

  “We’re expecting a baby!”

  Excitement erupted. Kara squealed. Lily, blossoming from her own pregnancy, was the first to leap to her feet and give Laurel a hug. Susannah wiped away the tears of joy that had sprung to her eyes.

  And Brooke rushed to give Laurel a kiss. “RJ and I aren’t having a baby just yet. But this is almost as exciting as being pregnant myself.”

  Laurel hugged her sister-in-law. “Don’t take too long—it will be fun for our children to have cousins the same age.”

  Elizabeth swallowed as Brooke gazed across at RJ. “I don’t think it will be long.”

  Everyone started talking at once.

  His arm around Kara, Eli edged them both forward to stand beside Laurel. Then he said, “I take it this means I’m forgiven?”

  Laurel took his hand in hers, and Elizabeth’s heart swelled at the sight of the gratitude on her eldest daughter’s face. “If it hadn’t been for you, Rakin would probably never have proposed, so I owe you a thank-you from the bottom of my heart.”

  Kara retorted, “There’s a certain déjà vu feeling about this. I seem to remember my gratitude to you for jilting Eli.”

  Her middle daughter’s forthrightness made Elizabeth gasp. But everyone else laughed. Soon Elizabeth was laughing, too. It brightened her face and she caught a tender look from Cutter.

  He was her rock. She had a second chance at happiness and love. The future was already brighter than it had been for a long time. If only the questions surrounding Reginald’s death could be settled, everything would be perfect.

  She spared a thought for Angela Sinclair. It couldn’t be easy knowing that the police had your son under suspicion for his father’s murder. Elizabeth looked around the room at her sons. RJ was shaking hands with Rakin. Matt had pulled Flynn onto his knee and was stroking his son’s dark hair while he talked to Lily and her fiancé Daniel.

  She had her family. They were safe and happy. It was Angela’s world that was about to turn upside down—

  Pamela’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Ten minutes until dinner will be served. Flynn, come wash your hands.”

  Crossing to the bookshelves, Elizabeth drew out a fat leather-bound family album. Baby pictures. It seemed appropriate given Laurel’s news and Lily’s pregnancy. One day, not too far away by the sounds of it, Brooke and Matt would join them, too.

  Then she crossed to sit on the elegantly carved sofa beside Cutter. Placing the album on her knees, she gave Cutter a secret little smile. Then she said, “Before Pamela serves dinner, gather around—I want to show you all how beautiful Kincaid babies are.”

  No one needed second urging, and within minutes she was surrounded by the family she loved.

  * * * * *

  Turn the page for an exclusive short story

  by USA TODAY bestselling author Day Leclaire.

  Then look for the next installment of

  DYNASTIES: THE KINCAIDS,

  A VERY PRIVATE MERGER,

  by Day Leclaire

  wherever Harlequin Books are sold.

  THE KINCAIDS: JACK AND NIKKI, PART 5

  Day Leclaire

  “So, tell me, Nikki…how did you and Jack meet?”

  They were gathered around Angela Sinclair’s dinner table, enjoying a Saturday evening supper. Apparently, they’d reached the point in their three-month affair for Jack to take Nikki to Greenville and introduce her to his mother and half brother, Alan. And though she suspected Angela knew full well how the two of them had met, Nikki answered with a swift, reminiscent smile.

  “I won him.”

  “Bid a thousand dollars for me at the Read and Write bachelor auction,” Jack confirmed.

  “Best purchase I ever made.” Nikki’s smile grew, warmed. “One look and I knew I had to have him. Best of all, my money went to assist literacy in everyone from nine to ninety-five. You can’t beat that combination, can you?”

  “No, I guess not.” Angela cleared her throat and continued to regard Nikki with a friendly expression, though for some reason a hint of wariness rippled beneath the surface. “And what is it, exactly, you do for a living? I don’t recall Jack mentioning it.”

  Nikki hesitated at the abrupt change in subject and returned her fork to her plate while she considered how best to respond. Her glance touched on Jack before switching to Angela, who’d asked the question. “I’m a corporate investigator.”

  Angela’s pale eyebrows shot upward and she studied Nikki with appealing hazel eyes that were identical to those of Alan, her younger son. “How interesting. Who do you work for?”

  To Nikki’s intense relief, Jack intervened, reaching across the table to rest his hand over his mother’s. “She’s not at liberty to talk about her investigations,” he explained, his voice containing a rare gentleness. He’d treated Angela with that same hint of protectiveness and loving concern throughout the meal, as thoug
h his mother were a fragile piece of spun glass. Nikki couldn’t help wondering if it related to Angela’s vulnerability now that her role as Reginald Kincaid’s mistress had come to light, or if some other cause were at the heart of the matter. “Her investigations are confidential.”

  “Oh, of course.” Angela gave a light laugh. “I should know better considering I’m a nurse. We also have to maintain client confidentiality.”

  “Perhaps you can tell us about some of your cases,” Alan suggested, his smile a warm reflection of his mother’s, as were his golden-blond hair and innocuous, pretty-boy good looks. “Changing the names to protect the guilty, of course.”

  Alan had come as quite a surprise, perhaps because he and Jack were polar opposites. While Jack reminded her of his Kincaid half-siblings, Alan possessed none of the ruthless intensity that characterized his half brother, perhaps because his father had been so different from Reginald Kincaid, the man who had fathered Jack.

  “To be honest,” Nikki said, “they’re not all that interesting. Most of my job involves straight background research.” Of course, since she worked for the Kincaids—something she’d neglected to mention to Jack and which she was certain would come back to bite her badly in the near future—she didn’t dare discuss any of her investigations. Particularly since the main case on her desk right now was investigating Jack Sinclair. Of course, she’d been asked to investigate him well after they’d started dating. And sleeping together. The situation made for a very precarious line she was forced to walk. Perhaps this would be a good time to deflect the attention. “So, what do you do, Alan?”

  Almost as soon as she spoke, she realized she’d asked the wrong question. Angela pretended an intense interest in her dinner, while Jack watched his brother with sardonic amusement. “Yes, Alan. Tell us what you do.”

  For just an instant, Nikki caught a flash of something glittering in Alan’s eyes, something that suggested the two brothers weren’t as close as she’d assumed. Then the brief moment of animosity vanished and Alan offered another charming smile. “I’m between jobs right now,” he confessed with self-deprecatory humor. “But TKG has offered me a position. It was one of Reginald Kincaid’s dying wishes.”