Carrying the Sheikh's Heir(37)

                If she was angry with him, so much the better. He’d intended to be nice to her, but he’d gone way overboard. And now he would have to stay away from her, as he’d intended in the first place.

                * * *

                Sheridan didn’t believe that Rashid would come to see her that day. After the confusing—and paradigm changing—previous night, she didn’t really think his decision to talk to her would stand.

                And of course she was right. As the day wore into night, there was no sign of Rashid. She was allowed to wander the palace, as he’d promised, but she did not bump into him anywhere. She wore one of the dresses from the dressmaker, along with a hijab that covered her hair, and then she spent fascinating hours walking through the palace and studying the architecture.

                But in spite of her enjoyment of everything the palace had to offer, she remained preoccupied with Rashid. With last night. She couldn’t think of it without blushing. She’d had sex with him—hot, wild, crazy, passionate sex—after knowing him for two days.

                Worse, she wanted more. She knew it wasn’t going to happen—that it shouldn’t happen—but she couldn’t help but imagine Rashid coming to her room in the night. He would peel her clothing away, and then use that magical mouth of his to drive her insane with wild need.

                Sheridan fanned herself absently with her hand. The guard who strode silently along wherever she went didn’t bat an eyelash. She’d tried to talk to him about mundane things, but he remained silent.

                When she ventured out to the stables after dinner, he followed. But when she tried to touch one of the horses, just to pet its velvety nose, he stopped her.

                “His Majesty would not want you to get bitten, miss.”

                “I’ve been around horses before,” she said, more than a little surprised that he spoke English. She’d started to think he was ignoring her because he didn’t speak her language. “I think I can tell when they’re going to bite.”

                Still, she strolled along until they came to a room at the end of the stable. She looked over the top of the door and practically melted.

                “Puppies!” She turned to her guard. “What kind of dogs are they?”

                He seemed to hesitate, as if he didn’t want to engage in conversation, but then he relented. “They are Canaan dogs, miss. A hardy and ancient breed.”

                The puppies were small and squat, and had curled tails. They almost looked like huskies, except they weren’t gray and didn’t have thick fur. The mother dog was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

                “They’re precious.”

                Sheridan stood and watched the puppies wiggling happily, playing and yipping, and wished she could go in and sit down and let them climb all over her. But she knew her guard wouldn’t approve of that. Eventually, the sound of approaching hoofbeats made her turn her head. A man in desert robes sat astride a beautiful bay horse as it trotted toward the stable. When they reached the building, he swung down and handed the reins to a groom, who had appeared out of nowhere.

                And then the man turned his head until dark glittering eyes met hers, boring into her with that combination of heat and anger that seemed unique to Rashid. Her belly clenched at the primal recognition that stirred to life inside her.

                Beside her, her guard had dropped into a low bow. Sheridan, not quite knowing what to do, decided to curtsy. Oh, she was plenty angry with Rashid, but she would not create trouble by refusing to acknowledge his power over his subjects. She wasn’t stupid and she knew it was important to have her guard’s respect.