The man dumped her unceremoniously onto her feet and began to remove her clothing. That was when Sheridan came to her senses. She batted at his hands and tried to scramble away. He said something, but the blood rushing in her ears prevented her from understanding. She just knew she had to get away from him. She had to find Rashid.
She drew in breath to scream—
And the man jerked her into his arms, his mouth coming roughly down on top of hers, silencing her.
Sheridan struggled for only a moment before she realized whose mouth was ravaging hers, whose arms wrapped around her, whose hands speared into her hair and tilted her head back for greater access.
She clung to him, her body softening, hands clutching his wet robes. When he realized she knew, he set her away from him, though she whimpered and wanted to stay in his arms.
“We have to get you out of that wet clothing, habibti,” he said, his voice rough and beautiful.
Her teeth were chattering again and this time when he began to strip her, she didn’t stop him. Her hands were too cold to help and so she simply stood there while he stripped the clothing from her body and then wrapped her in a warm blanket. He chafed her arms and then he picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he set her down and pulled a soft fur on top of her.
“Rashid,” she said when he started to walk away, but he only turned and shot her a look that she couldn’t read.
He was wet, too, his hair sticking to his head, his face streaked with moisture. He did not seem to be as cold as she was, however.
“I’m going to send for something hot to drink. I’m not leaving.”
When he walked out, she huddled under the blankets, her brain whirling. She’d made a grave mistake coming here like this. He would be furious, and he would think her unbalanced for even attempting such a crazy thing. Why wouldn’t he want another wife? A more sensible one who didn’t act on her emotions without fully considering her actions first?
He returned soon with a brass pot and two cups. He poured tea for her, laced it with sugar and handed her a cup.
“I’m afraid the Bedouin don’t drink decaffeinated tea, but this is weak. It shouldn’t hurt the babies.”
She dropped her eyes as she studied the cup, blowing on the steam curling over the top of the liquid. Shame rolled through her.
She could hear him pouring tea for himself, stirring the tiny spoon against the glass, and her nerves tightened as she waited for the explosion.
When it didn’t come, she looked up and met a hot, dark gaze staring back at her. Her heart turned over.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have left the palace.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” He lifted his cup and she thought his hands were shaking, but then she decided it was just her who was shaking. “You could have died out there, Sheridan. The desert is very unforgiving.”
“I know.”
Strong fingers suddenly gripped her chin and lifted her face until she had to look directly at him again. His gaze was searching.
“Is that what you wanted to do?”
She blinked. “Wh-what?” It took her a moment to process it, but when she did, she sucked in a hard breath. “God, no! I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”