She was fascinated with the food here, the fresh olive oil and breads, the fruits and nuts, and the flavorful dishes made with chicken and goat. The staff seemed wary at first, but as her visits increased—and Daoud, her formerly silent guard, or Fatima translated for her—they began to look forward to her arrival.
She tasted food, oohed and aahed appropriately and discussed ingredients. She even made note of some things to try for Dixie Doin’s. Not everything was Kyrian, however. There was plenty of French cuisine as well, which surprised her at first but not when she considered that the French had once sent colonists to Kyr.
If anyone found it odd that an American woman roamed the palace, they did not say so. In spite of the women she saw in business attire, she kept to the rules Rashid had set and wore Kyrian clothing. She even wore the hijab, because when her blond hair was hidden people seemed less likely to see her as an outsider.
Not that all Kyrians had black hair—there were some brown and tawny gold heads she’d seen—but her hair was so pale as to be noticeable when uncovered.
She’d gone to see the puppies again. When there was no sign of the mother dog, she asked Daoud why. That was when she learned that the puppies were orphans. They were being bottle-fed and taken care of by the grooms. She’d had Daoud ask if she could feed them, though he’d seemed reluctant to let her.
But she’d done it, and then she’d found herself surrounded by yipping dogs while she giggled and petted them and watched them suck down the milk. They were so sweet and she loved spending time with them. It was the highlight of each day, especially as she never saw Rashid.
She thought about him. She lay in her bed at night with her hand over her belly and thought about the man she’d made love to only once. The man whose baby might be in her womb right now.
She wondered where he was, if he was in his own bed and thinking of her, or if that single night had been an aberration and he now gave her no more consideration than what he’d had for breakfast. Probably the latter, considering she hadn’t seen him since that night when he’d left her standing in the darkened courtyard.
She’d considered walking down the corridor in the middle of the night again, opening his door and making him talk to her. But when she’d gotten brave enough to act on it, a guard had been stationed outside her own door. He’d looked up from his tablet computer, his eyes meeting hers steadily until she’d shut the door.
Clearly, Rashid had thought she might come looking for him and had taken steps to prevent it. She was somehow both embarrassed and furious at once at the notion.
Still, Sheridan went through the days and did not ask where Rashid was. If he thought she was pining for him, then she was going to prove she wasn’t. How could she when he was still such a stranger?
An enigmatic, compelling stranger that she wanted to know better.
Soon it was the night before her pregnancy test and Sheridan couldn’t seem to settle down. Her stomach was twisted in knots and nothing Fatima brought seemed appealing. She finally tried a little bread and some sparkling water and settled onto the couch to read for a bit when the door to her suite opened and Rashid walked in without preamble.
Emotion flooded her in an instant: happiness, anger, fear, sorrow. So many things it was hard to sort them all out, and all caused by this dark man who stood there in a smartly tailored gray suit and Kyrian headdress. Not for the first time, he made her heart skip a beat.
“Fatima says you aren’t eating,” he said, his voice tight and diamond edged. Just the way she expected it.
Of course he was getting reports about her. “I’m not hungry.”
He came over and glared down at her. If he would put his hands on his hips, it would be the perfect admonishing parent pose.
“You have to eat. It’s not good for you or the baby not to eat.”
She put her hand over her belly automatically. “We don’t know if there is a baby.”
“We will know soon enough. Besides, it’s better to assume there is a baby and do everything to take care of it properly.”
She wanted to yell at him. “I didn’t refuse, Rashid. I can’t keep anything down right now. My stomach is upset.” She set the book aside and matched his glare. “You promised we would spend some time together so we could know each other better, and yet I’ve not seen you in five days now.”
His expression didn’t ease. “I’ve been busy. This is what happens when one is a king.”
“Yet you found time to come here tonight and chastise me for not eating.”
He stripped off the kaffiyeh and tossed it aside. Then he raked a hand through his hair. “I came straight here from a meeting.” He walked over to the table where Fatima had left food in chafing dishes and examined the contents. Then he picked up a plate and dished some things onto it.
Sheridan bristled. “If you think you’re going to force me to eat—”
“Not at all,” he said, picking up a fork and heading over to sit in a nearby chair. “I haven’t eaten yet and I’m starving.”
Sheridan blinked. After days of silence, he was planning to eat with her? He’d taken her to bed, made her feel things that excited and confused her and then when she’d been certain he was planning to do it again, he’d left her standing alone in the courtyard.
To say she didn’t understand him was an understatement.
“Wow, I’m being graced with your majestic presence for dinner? I’m honored.”
He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming. But not with anger. “You said you wanted to talk to me. Here I am. Talk. Bore me silly if you must.”
She folded her arms. “Perhaps I’m a sparkling conversationalist. Did you ever consider that?”
“It has not been my experience with most women, but perhaps you will be different.”
She told herself it would be unwise to throw a pillow at him. She chose instead to focus on one aspect of what he’d said. “Most women? Who has managed to please you conversationally?”
He took a bite of food, chewed and swallowed. She didn’t think he would answer her, but then he looked up again and speared her with his hot gaze. “My wife did,” he said. “Not always, it’s true. But often enough. She died five years ago, in case you were wondering.”
Her belly had tightened into a hot ball of nerves. Of all the things he could have said, she hadn’t seen that one coming. Her heart ached for him. “I’m sorry, Rashid.”
She didn’t know what else to say. To lose someone you loved had to be such a tragedy. And someone so young, too. No wonder he sometimes seemed cold and lonely. It made sense now.
He set the plate aside. “This is not something I speak of, but if we are to marry, I thought you should know it.”
Her throat was tight and her heart hammered in her stomach, her chest, her ears. “I appreciate you telling me. But I’m not certain marriage is the answer to our dilemma. Assuming there is one.”
He frowned. “This child has to be born legitimate, Sheridan.
