Sheikh's Desert Desire: Carrying the Sheikh's Heir. Maisey Yates
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so unlike any man she’d ever known that he confused her. He was arrogant, bossy and he already acted as if he owned her.
And she let him. She’d always thought she was a feminist, but the way he made her behave was decidedly not liberated. It was needy, physical and completely focused on sexual pleasure. If he threw her into a stall right now and had his way with her on the hay, she’d only urge him on.
He moved away from her and she tried not to let her disappointment show.
“Come, I will take you back to your quarters.”
She threw another glance at the puppies before joining him. They walked side by side, but not touching, toward the palace.
“You like puppies?” he said.
“I love puppies. I’ve never had a dog, but I plan to get one some day.”
“You’ve never had a dog?”
She shook her head as they walked across the courtyard. “My sister was bitten by a neighbor’s dog when she was four. So we never got one because she was too scared.”
“That hardly seems fair,” he said.
Sheridan felt that old familiar prick of resentment flaring deep inside. It was followed, as always, by guilt. It wasn’t Annie’s fault.
“Maybe not, but she cried whenever my parents talked about getting a dog for the family, so they gave up. We didn’t even have a cat.”
“Did a cat bite her, too?”
Sheridan stopped abruptly. Rashid was a few steps ahead when he turned toward her, waiting. “She had allergies,” Sheridan said. “And it’s not her fault.”
He moved toward her again. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him. He bristled with a coiled energy that she was certain contained a hint of anger. At her? At Annie?
“Perhaps not, but it seems to me as if your sister’s problems have done nothing but impact your life. Did you always give up everything you wanted for her sake?”
Sheridan’s chest grew tight. The lump in her throat was huge. “Don’t talk to me that way. You don’t know my sister and you have no right to judge her. Annie’s fragile. She needs me.”
His gaze raked her face. “Yes, she needs you. She needs you to acquiesce to her demands, to give her what she wants, to provide the thing she believes she’s been cheated out of.”
Sheridan gasped. And then she reacted. She moved to slap him, but he caught her wrist and held it tight. His dark eyes were hard. And filled with a sympathy she’d not seen there before.
She was shaking deep inside. “How dare you? Annie didn’t ask me to have this baby for her. I offered! And I’m going to do it, even if it takes another year to start again.”
He ran his fingers down her cheek tenderly, and she trembled. “Of course you offered, habibti. Because you love her and because you were afraid for her. I don’t fault you for this. I fault her for refusing to see what it might cost you.”
She shook her head softly. “They are paying for the procedure and the birth. It’s not costing me anything.”
He let her go and stepped back. His mouth was a white line now. “It costs nine months of your life, it places a burden on your body and then there is the emotional impact of giving up the child at the end. That is not nothing.”
He was confusing her. Just a couple of days ago he’d suggested she turn over any child to him and now he was talking about the emotional impact of that kind of decision. Who was this man?
“I knew that when I offered.”
His expression was black. “Yes, but did you also know that you were offering to risk your life? Did you consider that? Did she?”
Sheridan’s heart pounded. “Childbirth is safe. This isn’t the eighteenth century.”
He stood stone-still but she sensed his muscles had coiled tight. As if he was a nuclear reaction waiting to happen. But then he pulled in a deep breath and huffed it out again and she knew he’d found the switch to turn it off.
“Of course it’s not. You are correct.”
Sheridan had a strong urge to reach for him, but she didn’t. Something was bothering him. Some dark emotion reflected in his gaze, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was.
“What’s this about, Rashid?”
“It’s not about anything,” he finally said.
Her voice was little more than a whisper. “I don’t believe you.”
He stood there for a long moment, as if he was fighting an internal battle. And then he turned and strode away without another word, disappearing into the long gallery running along the back of the palace.
THE DAYS PASSED too slowly. Sheridan kept hoping to see Rashid, but he seemed to be avoiding her. She emailed with Kelly, planned the menus for two upcoming parties and felt guilty for not being there to help with the physical preparations. But there was really no need. Dixie Doin’s operated like the efficient party machine it was meant to be.
Sheridan had spent a lot of time making sure that was so when she’d decided to have a baby for her sister. Though she’d intended to work until the birth, there were never any guarantees and she’d wanted to be prepared for anything.
Kelly hardly missed her, though she assured Sheridan that she missed her personally. Emails from Annie were another story. Sheridan dreaded to open them. She knew Annie was upset, but the lack of understanding about the situation made her stomach hurt. Her sister actively hoped that the IUI had failed. Sheridan understood that wish, understood it would be the easiest thing for them all. She’d thought the same thing when she’d first been told, but now that she was here with Rashid and he was real to her, not just a random sperm donor, the situation was much more complicated.
She thought of the man who had touched her so sensually, the man who heated her blood and chilled her bones and confused her to no end. No, this situation was no longer random and impersonal. It had ceased to be so the instant he’d walked into her life.
If Rashid hadn’t come looking for her in Savannah, what would Annie have wanted her to do? Sheridan didn’t want to know, and yet she couldn’t help thinking about it. Would Annie have wanted this baby, too? Or would she have wanted Sheridan to terminate the pregnancy so she could start fresh with Chris’s sperm?
She didn’t even know if she was pregnant yet, but already she was emotional over the idea of losing this baby. Would it have been simpler if she’d never met Rashid, never slept with him?
Probably, but it was too late for that.
Sheridan took her usual route through the palace, stopping in the kitchen to see the staff and find out what they were preparing. She was fascinated with the food here, the fresh olive oil and breads, the fruits and nuts, and the flavorful dishes made with chicken and goat. The staff seemed wary at first, but as her visits increased—and Daoud, her formerly silent guard, or Fatima translated for her—they began to look forward to her arrival.
She tasted food, oohed and aahed appropriately and discussed ingredients. She even made note of some things to try for Dixie Doin’s. Not everything was Kyrian, however. There was plenty of French cuisine as well, which surprised her at first but not when she considered that the French had once sent colonists to Kyr.
If anyone found it odd that an American woman roamed the palace, they did not say so. In spite of the women she saw in business attire, she kept to the rules Rashid had set and wore Kyrian clothing. She even wore the hijab, because when her blond hair was hidden people seemed less likely to see her as an outsider.
Not that all Kyrians had black hair—there