‘CAN I HOLD one of the babies, too?’
Raif detached his gaze from his oldest daughter’s wide dark eyes as she stared at him with complete and completely terrifying trust to find Zane’s young son William tugging on his trouser leg. The toddler’s eager expression had a shudder running through Raif.
No way, buddy.
‘Perhaps when you are older,’ he murmured, cradling his tiny baby a little tighter against his chest and rocking her gently.
The boy frowned. ‘Why not now?’ he demanded with the uncomplicated logic of a child. ‘Auntie Kasia let Kaliah hold one, why can’t I?’
‘Because Jazmin and Amal are very precious to me. And I would not want you to drop them,’ Raif replied bluntly, admiring the boy’s audacity if nothing else. And deciding he would have to have another word with his wife. Seriously, was it safe to let a six-year-old with the temperament of a lion hold their daughters?
‘But that’s not fair!’ His nephew pouted.
‘I know,’ Raif said, unable to hold in a rough chuckle as the boy stomped out of the ornate chamber they had been given for
their stay in the Golden Palace, no doubt to tell tales to his father in the suite next door.
Good luck with that, buddy.
Zane would be on his side, because he was as protective of his children as Raif was of his. In truth, they had been having many surprisingly reassuring conversations in the months since the girls had been born—every time Raif freaked out over a bout of colic, or a sleepless night, like last night, when Jazmin had resolutely refused to settle. Every time Raif convinced himself he had to be the worst father in existence, Zane had been the one to reassure him.
‘Cut yourself some slack, Raif. And wait till they’re six and want to ride a horse faster than you do before you freak out too much.’
Raif let out another rough chuckle at the memory of that conversation. How times had changed in the space of a few months.
Strange to think he had found a friend as well as a brother while staying in the Golden Palace—waiting for his wife to recover from the excruciating twenty-two-hour labour that had brought his children into the world.
The terror of seeing his wife in such pain, and the responsibilities of parenthood had turned his old rivalry with his brother into something supportive and strong…rooted in the shared trauma of new fatherhood, no doubt.
It had been a steep learning curve.
Pressing his lips to Jazmin’s downy soft skin, he inhaled the sweet scent, elated to see her eyes had finally closed. His heart expanded with love—and pride—as he returned his daughter to the adjoining bedroom.
His heart ricocheted into his throat as he spotted Kasia in the armchair beside their bed, nursing their younger daughter, Amal, at her breast, the bright morning sunshine gilding her skin.
She glanced up and smiled and his heart expanded another inch, all but gagging him.
God, how he loved this woman. Her smile, her sweetness, her support, her intelligence and her love.
He placed Jazmin in her crib as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Because she was. She and her sister and her mother. If anything ever happened to any one of them, he would go out of his mind with—
He cut the thought off.
Do not go there or it will drive you insane.
He patted Jazmin’s tiny back until she stopped struggling against her exhaustion and settled into a deeper sleep.
‘Well done, Papa,’ Kasia murmured around a jaw-breaking yawn. ‘You finally got her to sleep.’
‘Of course,’ he said with a confidence he didn’t feel, but was determined to fake as he straightened and walked towards his wife. ‘One down, one to go.’
Kasia smiled a sleepy smile, her wild hair rioting around her head, the amber eyes, which he hoped both of their daughters would inherit glimmering with amusement. ‘Actually, I think Amal has gone, too,’ she said, glancing at the baby fast asleep on her breast. ‘So that’s one for Mum, too.’
Slipping one finger under their younger daughter’s lips, Kasia detached the small cupid’s-bow mouth from her nipple.
The familiar jolt of arousal shuddered through Raif at the sight of his wife’s exposed breast.
He flinched, shame making him tense as he ruthlessly controlled the insistent shaft of heat, which had only become more insistent in the last few weeks.