Sheikh’s Secret Love-Child
Page 15
“Shona—”
“I know all about it,” she told him, and her eyes filled while she said it. It was almost more than he could bear. “Oh, God, do I know about it. And I’ve lived my whole life until now in response to every single thing they did to me when I was a kid. Or didn’t do. The neglect. The cruelty. I could react to it forever. So could you. But where does it end?”
“Shona.”
But still she didn’t stop. Instead, she moved closer, that finger softening until her whole hand was on his chest. And he couldn’t seem to set her away from him the way he knew he should.
The way he told himself he would any minute. Any minute now.
“I promised myself that I would never, ever allow Miles to feel even a moment of the kind of crap I lived through,” Shona told him, fierce and solemn at once, and all that emotion turning her brown eyes brilliant. “And I won’t. Don’t you get it? We get to decide what his life is like. We get to decide what kind of man he becomes. Do you really want him to be like us, Malak? Do you want to break him before he even starts?”
There were tears on her cheeks. And equally as astonishing, his hands were on her shoulders, holding her.
He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t holding her.
“Never,” he gritted out.
As if it was the most sacred vow he would ever utter.
“I have to believe that love is only as scary as we make it,” Shona whispered. “I have to believe that we are not doomed to play out these same tired cycles over and over and over again. He deserves better, Malak.” She reached up then, and fit her hand to his jaw, and in so doing knocked the world off its axis. “But so do we.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” Malak managed to get out past the constriction in his throat, his chest. He dipped his head so his face was next to hers. Close enough to kiss her—and yet he didn’t. He couldn’t, not just then. Not with the world in the balance between them. “I don’t know how to do any of this. I don’t know how to feel these things or—”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to know. I don’t think anybody does.”
“I have to be a king, Shona. I cannot be...this.”
That last word came out raw. As if it was ripped from deep inside him. As if it was a rib he’d torn from his own chest.
And then it was as if the dam broke. He could no more keep the words inside than he could take his hands off her or step away. And he tried. He tried but failed to do anything but keep her close.
“I think of nothing but you,” he told her, and he didn’t know if he shouted or whispered. He couldn’t hear a thing past the roaring in his ears. “You haunt my dreams. You’re in my head wherever I go. This is madness.”
He expected her to step away then; to fight him, because that was what she did. That was what they did.
But instead, incredibly, she smiled.
And it felt like sunlight, there in the middle of a dark desert night.
“It’s not madness,” Shona told him. “It’s love.”
“Love is not this red, fanged thing,” he growled at her. “Love is not dirty and wild and ravenous. It cannot be this full, this comprehensive, this—”
“This perfect?” she asked, still smiling. Shona shifted then, pushing herself up on her toes and balancing herself against his chest, her face tipped to his. “I hate to break it to you, my favorite little king, but all of that—all of this—is love.”
He felt as if something roared in him then, something animal and intense. On some level, he was astounded that the walls of the castle didn’t crumble where they stood, but they stayed tall and strong, and so did Shona, gazing back at him with water on her face and trust in her gaze.
Malak wanted nothing more than to earn that trust, no matter if it took him the rest of his life.
“I don’t know why you think this could possibly work,” he said, but he was gathering her close, as if his body knew things he was afraid to look at directly. “When all that has ever happened here is disaster.”
“Because it has to work. Because there is no alternative.”
Shona’s smile went wicked, but it was the most beautiful thing Malak had ever seen. It lodged deep in his heart, where, he understood at last, she had been since the day he’d seen her draped in gold in a hotel bar so long ago.
Where she would always be, for the rest of their lives.
“Haven’t you heard?” she asked, there against his mouth, fit tight against him as if she’d been made for him. Malak knew she had. “I am always right. After all, I am the queen of Khalia.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS THE grandest wedding in Khalian history.
Or so Shona was told at every turn.
It took days. It followed typical Arabic custom, and Shona found that she loved every part of that except the traditional separation of bride and groom. By the time they got to the actual wedding ceremony, and the reception that seemed to include every last person in the kingdom as well as the entire world, she thought she might fall to pieces if she didn’t get some time alone with Malak.
In bed and out.
But queens did not necessarily get what they wanted, or not instantly anyway, she discovered. She had to greet a thousand people. She had to smile and nod and talk about the orphan initiatives she was putting into play after the wedding, because she’d taken what Malak had said about the good she could do seriously. She had to remember the names of every important person who appeared before her and clearly knew hers, and found to her dismay that she had to draw on every last one of the comportment classes she had tried so hard to avoid.
She met neighboring kings. She met Malak’s brother and sister. Zufar, the man who had given up the throne, and the wife who clearly made him so happy, making it obvious he’d made the right choice. Galila, who greeted Shona as if they were already friends, which eased a kind of tension inside Shona that she hadn’t known she was holding onto.
It was as if they were already a family, Shona thought at one point, and she was a part of it.
Family. It was something she’d never had before. Not really. It was something she’d never believed in.
And it seemed to be the order of the day, she thought, when her brand-new husband and his brother and sister were all smiles, built bridges and olive branches, with their imposing half brother, Adir.
Even the old king made an effort, mustering up one of his rare smiles and wearing it throughout the reception, as he greeted all the people he no longer ruled. But the best part, as far as Shona was concerned, was when he took Malak’s hands, called him his son and his king in the next breath, then turned to Shona and welcomed her like a daughter.
More family. So much family Shona was tempted to believe in it despite herself.
Miles, of course, was beside himself with joy. The crown prince of the kingdom smiled and laughed and told anybody who would listen that his parents were married at last and they really were a family.
King, queen and crown prince together, at last.
It all made Shona giddy.
And this time, if the other shoe dared try to fall on her, she planned to burn it in midair.
Because the queen of Khalia wanted to believe in happy families and love, thank you. Not ugly old shoes.
Finally, it was time for the bride and groom to leave.
Malak took her hands and led her from the reception that sprawled over the entire first floor of the palace, which had been thrown wide open to let in as many members of the public as could fit, all wild with joy for their new king and this next chapter for their kingdom.
“This does not look like the way to your bedroom,” Shona told him when he led her outside.
“I am afraid you will have to wait, little one,” Malak replied, grinning. And then he led her across the wide courtyard to where a gleaming black helicopter sat waiting. He helped her on board, and soon enough they were aloft.
The pilot flew them up and over the capital city, with all its towers and be
lls ringing out the kingdom’s joy at their union. They continued out over the desert, until all there was in every direction were the rolling, brooding sands. And for a long time, there was nothing below them but the ripple of the desert, the odd tide, stretching out toward the horizon.
The helicopter began its descent, and it was only as it lowered that Shona saw where they were headed. A splotch of impossible green in the middle of all that sand. She caught her breath, because she knew what this place was—what it had to be—and it was even more magical than she could have imagined.
“Welcome to my oasis,” Malak said when he helped her out of the helicopter. “I regret I cannot give you a fairy tale. But I can give you this.”
“It’s perfect.” She smiled at him, her heart too big for her chest. “It’s all perfect.”
There were pools of sparkling water ringed by date trees. Palms rustled overhead, and bright tents waited on the far side of the pools, with stout walls of fabric to keep out the sand.
But in the middle of everything was Malak. And he was all that mattered. They could have been back in her falling down old house in New Orleans and she would have felt just like this.
Brighter than anyone should be without bursting into flame.
“I love you,” Malak told her when he led her into the biggest tent, which was furnished like an apartment—but like no apartment Shona had ever seen. A four-poster bed rose to one side, a living area complete with couches and pillows to the other, while thick rugs made it seem as if they weren’t in the middle of a desert at all.
Malak drew her to him and gazed down at her, and Shona forgot the luxuriousness of their surroundings—because there was nothing but him. Nothing but them.
“I love you, Shona,” her husband, her king, the love of her life, told her. “You gave me my son. And then you gave me the world. And in return, I will give you everything I have. And all that I am.”
“I appreciate that,” she murmured, and laughed when his eyebrows rose in that expression of arrogant astonishment that she loved perhaps more than she should have. “But I suspect my wedding gift is better.”
“Better than the love and devotion of the king of Khalia? The mind boggles.”
Shona reached out and took his hands in hers, then drew them to the slope of her belly, and held them there.
Awareness and a kind of awe dawned on Malak’s face, his hands tightened against her belly, and Shona smiled in the vain hope that it might keep the tears at bay.
It didn’t. And she couldn’t say she cared.
“The palace doctor tells me I’m nearly six weeks along,” she whispered.
“Shona...” he whispered, as if she was the miracle. Not the life they had sparked inside of her.
“I love you, too,” she told him, with all that she was. “And we will love these babies of ours. And you will not only be a marvelous king, Malak. You’ll be the best father. I know it.”
“If I’m any kind of father at all, it is because of you.”
And then he was lifting her up, holding her above him and then letting her slide down into his kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and he held her there, for what seemed like forever.
“You already gave me Miles,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, and for once her brave and proud Malak made no attempt to hide it. “And you give me you, every day and every night. I know I can’t possibly deserve any part of this. Any part of you.”
Shona reached out and ran her hand over his jaw, then slid it around the back of his neck.
“It’s not about deserving it. It’s about doing it.” She kissed him then. Sweetly, but with the promise of all that heat that only seemed to grow between them. “All we have to do is believe we can.”
“I believe it,” Malak said fiercely.
And he carried her to that four-poster bed, lay down with her in the middle of a forbidden desert oasis that was like something out of a dream and they started on their forever.
One perfect kiss at a time.
* * * * *
Coming next month
MARRIED FOR HIS ONE-NIGHT CONSEQUENCE
Jennifer Hayward
‘What were you going to tell Leo when the time came? The truth? Or were you going to tell him that his father was a high-priced thug?’
She flinched. Lifted a fluttering hand to her throat. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead,’ she admitted. ‘We’ve been too busy trying to survive. Making a life for ourselves. Leo’s welfare has been my top priority.’
Which he believed. It was the only reason he wasn’t going to take his child and walk. Do to her exactly what she’d done to him. Because as angry as he was, as unforgivable as what she had done had been, he had to take the situation she’d been in into account. It had taken guts for her to walk away from her life. Courage. She’d put Leo first, something his own mother hadn’t done. And she had been young and scared. All things he couldn’t ignore.
Gia set her gaze on his, apprehension flaring in her eyes. ‘I can’t change the past, Santo, the decisions I made. But I can make this right. Clearly,’ she acknowledged, ‘you are going to want to be a part of Leo’s life. I was thinking about solutions last night. I thought you could visit us here… Get Leo used to the idea of having you around, and then, when he is older, more able to understand the situation, we can tell him the truth.’
A slow curl of heat unraveled inside of him, firing the blood in his veins to dangerously combustible levels. ‘And what do you propose we tell him when I visit? That I am that friend you referred to the other night? How many friends do you have, Gia?’
Her face froze. ‘I have been building a life here. Establishing a career. There has been no time for dating. All I do is work and spend time with Leo, who is a handful as you can imagine, as all three-year-olds tend to be.’
The defensively issued words lodged themselves in his throat. ‘I can’t actually imagine,’ he said softly, ‘because you’ve deprived me of the right to know that, Gia. You have deprived me of everything.’
She blanched. He set down his glass on the bar. ‘I am his father. I have missed three years of his life. You think a weekend pass is going to suffice? A few dips in the sea as he learns to swim?’ He shook his head. ‘I want every day with him. I want to wake up with him bouncing on the bed. I want to take him to the park and throw a ball around. I want to hear about his day when I tuck him into bed. I want it all.’
‘What else can we do?’ she queried helplessly. ‘You live in New York and I live here. Leo is settled and happy. A limited custody arrangement is the only realistic solution for us.’
‘It is not a viable proposition.’ His low growl made her jump. ‘That’s not how this is going to work, Gia.’
She eyed him warily. ‘Which part?’
‘All of it. I have a proposal for you. It’s the only one on the table. Nonnegotiable on all points. Take it or leave it.’
The wariness written across her face intensified. ‘Which is?’
‘We do what’s in the best interests of our child. You marry me, we create a life together in New York and give Leo the family he deserves.’
Continue reading
MARRIED FOR HIS ONE-NIGHT HEIR
Jennifer Hayward
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Copyright ©2018 by Jennifer Hayward
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