The Sheikh's Pregnant Bride by Jessica Gilmore

Author:Jessica Gilmore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

TEARS WERE A PRIVATE, shameful indulgence. They had been ever since her father’s death, since the moment she left Idris’s apartment with nowhere else to turn.

But now she’d allowed that first tear to fall. Now someone else was holding her up. Now arms were around her, a strong shoulder supporting her. Now for the first time in many, many years someone else had taken part of her burden and it undid her.

Saskia shuddered as great, racking sobs forced their way out: grief for Maya and Fayaz, wistfulness for the life she had planned and would never now live, guilt at how much, how very much she loved Sami, a love she knew Maya would be grateful for and yet that somehow felt like a betrayal.

Fear for the long years ahead, Queen of a country she didn’t know. Worry at being married to a man she barely knew and yet knew all too well. And now gratitude. This man she’d thought didn’t know her at all had realised the dearest wish of all. Jack was hers, always. Rosa didn’t want him, wouldn’t take him away. And the rest of his childhood would be safe and happy and filled with security.

She was barely aware of Idris’s hand on her back, moving in slow, comforting circles, of his mouth pressed into her hair telling her softly that it was okay, that it was all going to be okay. She was barely aware of the solid strength of him, of the way she fitted right into him, of his subtle sandalwood scent. Barely aware until, with a gulp, the sobs began to subside and then, then she was all too aware. Each circular caress burning hotter and hotter, the touch of his mouth branding her, every nerve firing up at the feel of his fingers. She tensed, regretting it immediately as his hand stopped its torturous caress, as he lifted his head away from hers, stepped away. The absence of his touch a physical ache.

‘Feeling better?’ His voice was low, hoarse. Had he felt it too? That connection? Or was he just being kind, desperate to grab his folders and escape his hysterical wife?

‘No.’ She wasn’t sure what she was doing—although she was aware she was probably making a terrible mistake. But she also knew that she was desperately lonely. Had been for a long, long time and here in this palace, surrounded by people, in almost unimaginable luxury, with two beautiful, healthy children, she was lonelier than she had ever been before. She knew that she felt safer than she had for a long time while in his embrace. She knew that she craved human contact. Touch. Idris’s touch.

She’d sworn she would never be vulnerable again. Not in front of Idris, not in front of any other human. Sworn she would never let him reject her again. But looking at the suppressed need in his dark eyes, she was certain that he wouldn’t reject her. Certain that he craved her touch as much as she craved his.

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