Carrying the Sheikh's Heir(60)
“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.