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Carrying the Sheikh's Heir(38)

By:Lynn Raye Harris


                Rashid’s eyes narrowed—and then he came toward her. His gaze raked over her, taking in the hijab and dress—which she’d realized weren’t strictly necessary since she’d seen women in his palace dressed in Western business attire—before landing on her face again.

                “Miss Sloane, isn’t it a bit late to be touring the stables?”

                Miss Sloane. As if he hadn’t been inside her just a few hours ago. She lifted her chin. “I believe I already established that I’m still on a different sleep schedule than Kyr. Though it isn’t quite eight o’clock here yet, which I would consider early even were I acclimated to your time zone.”

                Her heart thundered relentlessly in her breast as she stared at him. He was no longer quite the stranger he’d been before last night’s passionate encounter, and it disconcerted her.

                He turned his attention to the guard. “Leave us.”

                The guard rose and melted into the night. Sheridan felt a hot wash of anger move through her.

                “I realize you’re a king, but do you have to talk to people like that?”

                His brows drew down. “Like what? I told him what he needed to know. Do you prefer I ask him politely to go?”

                “It might be nice, but no, I don’t really expect that out of you.”

                “You sound like my brother.”

                She blinked. “Do I? Is he a nice, sensible man?”

                “Nicer than I am.”

                “So you admit you aren’t very nice.”

                “I’m not trying to be.” He shrugged. “I am who I am. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.”

                She dropped her gaze. It was an odd conversation in some respects. Odd because of what they’d done the night before, and odd because she could feel that fire beneath the surface. It was only waiting for ignition.

                “After last night, I really didn’t expect an explanation.”

                Oh, wow, had she really said that? She wanted to bite her tongue.

                He searched her features. “You are upset because I did not allow you to stay in my bed.”

                “Allow?” She resisted the urge to poke him in the chest, but only barely. “What makes you think I wanted to stay? We were finished and it would have been awkward to stay. You don’t strike me as the type for small talk, and I’d rather not have to attempt it. It was better that I left.”

                His dark eyes flashed with some unidentifiable emotion. “You continually surprise me. I thought you would be upset. Regretful. Wringing your hands and wishing you could undo the things we did together.”

                She shrugged as if casual sex was her thing when it really wasn’t. “Why would I want to undo it? It was nice.”

                “Nice?” His voice was a growl and she suddenly wanted to laugh. Even superior kings had fragile egos when it came to their performance in bed. Hint that you were less than satisfied and you found yourself faced with a dangerously tense male animal with a point to prove.

                “Unlike you, yes, it was nice. Very nice, if you insist.”

                He stiffened. And then he laughed softly. Once more, the sound of his laughter had a way of surprising her. It was as if he didn’t laugh often enough and wasn’t quite sure how. “You are baiting me. I see it now. If I said the moon was golden tonight, you’d say it was yellow.”