Carrying the Sheikh's Heir(65)

                The car that would take Sheridan to her doctor’s appointment was waiting for her the next morning. Daoud escorted her down the steps and out the door, but before he could help her into the car Rashid strode outside, looking regal and magnificent in his desert robes.

                “I thought you had a meeting,” Sheridan said.

                Rashid grinned at her. “Did I not explain to you how this works? I am the king. I can reschedule meetings.”

                Sheridan settled onto the seat and Rashid climbed in beside her. Then the door sealed shut and the car started toward the city.

                “It’s not necessary for you to be there the first time.”

                He took her hand in his and butterflies soared in her belly. “I know you’re trying to spare me any pain, but I feel as if I should be there for you.”

                Sheridan’s heart squeezed tight as she gazed up at his handsome face. She’d spent every night for the past two weeks in his bed, and she still felt the same butterflies whenever he touched her. Butterflies, heat, need and a melting, aching, wonderful tension that suffused her whole being as he worshipped her body with his own.

                And now he’d given her a dog. She’d named the little guy Leo because it just seemed to fit. He was the same tawny gold as a lion, plus he’d been given to her by the Lion of Kyr. Her husband. She dropped her gaze to their linked hands and felt a bittersweet happiness flood her.

                Because she was falling for this man. So very hard. Sometimes she thought he cared about her, too, but then she’d catch him standing on the terrace in the middle of the night, leaning against the railing, caught up in thought. She didn’t disturb him. She just watched and waited and when she couldn’t stay awake any longer, she fell asleep in his bed alone. He never left her right after they made love anymore, but he did leave. Often.

                And it hurt. She could admit that to herself. It hurt that he still felt the need to get away from her. She could never understand the depth of the loss he’d experienced, but he couldn’t live his life mired in the past. That wasn’t good for him. Or for their child.

                Or for her, but then she felt as if that was a selfish thought to have. She knew she was not a replacement for his lost wife, a woman he’d loved very much, according to Daoud.

                Daoud didn’t talk about his king often, and never about anything private, but he had once let it slip to Sheridan that he’d been with Rashid in Russia and that he’d watched him change after the tragedy. Rashid had never been a bubbly person, but he’d closed down completely in the aftermath of his wife and child’s death.

                Sheridan squeezed Rashid’s hand and hoped he didn’t regret coming with her today.

                They soon arrived at the Royal Kyrian Hospital and were ushered into a spotless examining room. There was no such thing as waiting to be seen when you were the king of Kyr, because the doctor and her staff were already there and waiting for Sheridan to arrive.

                After being directed to change and then ushered onto the table, Sheridan lay there while the doctor used the ultrasound wand to search for a heartbeat. Rashid stood beside her, holding her hand, his eyes on the screen as the doctor found the tiny bean that was their baby.

                And then the heartbeat filled the speaker and Sheridan couldn’t contain a sob. She bit her lip, trembling from head to toe, while the doctor took photos. Rashid’s grip tightened. She looked up at him, at the whiteness of his skin, and her heart skipped.

                He was reliving an earlier moment just like this, she imagined, and she wished she could tell him it was okay, that it would all be okay. But she couldn’t really guarantee such a thing, could she?