Carrying the Sheikh's Heir(69)

                In spite of the churning of her brain, Sheridan tried to go about the business of helping Layla to plan the wedding ceremony. It was to be a day of celebration in Kyr, a holiday for the people, and no expense was to be spared.

                But she kept asking herself if she’d be helping to plan another of these events for Rashid and a second wife. And that was something she could not do. Not ever. Her stomach twisted in on itself until she couldn’t even stand the thought of food. She grew shaky and hot and had to go lie down.

                But she couldn’t really rest. She kept thinking about how much her life had changed, how Rashid had come and snatched her out of Savannah with little thought to what she wanted, and then how he’d managed to woo her with hot kisses and silky caresses. She’d fallen deep under his spell.

                But she had to be brutally honest with herself: it wasn’t mutual. She wasn’t sure it ever would be. And she couldn’t live like that. She just couldn’t. She was patient and she’d been willing to give him time—but if he brought home another wife? Hot tears fell down her cheeks and she swiped them away angrily.

                No. Just no.

                Sheridan got up and went to wash her face. She changed into a Kyrian dress and covered her hair with a hijab. She wasn’t going to sit here and wait for Rashid to return with another woman on his arm. She’d been the good girl for so long. All her life, she’d given up things she wanted so that Annie would be happy.

                It was the ultimate irony that she was here with Rashid because she’d been trying to make Annie happy. No other reason. And she’d been doing what she always did with loved ones, which was to be supportive and understanding and hope that they could come to happiness on their own. She’d tried to give Annie a baby, and she’d tried to give Rashid time and space.

                Nothing she’d done worked. It was time she admitted that. And it was time she stood up for herself. Past time. Sheridan was done putting everyone but herself first. It was time she took action.

                Time she demanded that Rashid make a choice.

                * * *

                Rashid sat through yet another meeting in yet another desert enclave, listening to his people’s concerns and making plans for how to best help them. The nomads weren’t quite the same as when he’d been a boy. Now they had generators, televisions, cell phones and satellite dishes. These things brought concerns of their own, so of course he promised to look into them.

                And then there were the daughters. At every stop, he was presented with daughters who would, it was hinted, make fine wives. All of Kyr knew of his marriage to Sheridan, and of the upcoming national holiday in celebration. Soon they would announce the impending arrival of the royal twins, but not until Sheridan was safely into the second trimester.

                Rashid’s teeth ground together at that thought. Was there truly anything quite so ironic as safety during a pregnancy? So many things could go wrong. Babies were fine up until birth, and then they were stillborn. Mothers hemorrhaged to death. Things went wrong.

                It made him break out into a cold sweat.

                Not because he was in love with Sheridan, but he did like her. Against all his plans otherwise, he liked the woman he’d had to marry. She was so open and giving, so thoughtful. She’d been worried about his reaction at the hospital before anything had happened—and he’d proved her correct, had he not, when he’d been unable to handle the news she was pregnant with twins?

                He’d hurt her by being so cold after, but he’d had to escape. He’d had a sensation very like panic that had wanted to crawl up his throat and wrap its fingers around his neck. He hadn’t known what would happen if that was allowed to occur. And so he’d planned his escape. He’d left her there and embarked on his trip without her.