She felt… everything.
Her stomach
swooped like she’d dived out of an airplane, and she blinked her eyes shut, trying to bring order to her chaotic thoughts.
She didn’t love her husband. She couldn’t. They were so different. He was nothing like Addan, and she had loved Addan, yet it hadn’t been like this. Not even a little. She couldn’t begin to compare the way she felt for the two brothers.
Unconsciously, her hand curved over her stomach and she wondered at what Fatima had felt there. Was it possible there was a child growing inside of her?
She’d been dubious, but something felt different.
And the idea of having Malik’s baby made her heart soar. She smiled unconsciously, her head spinning, her eyes wandering to the watch she wore, checking the time frequently.
She turned the first page with exasperation, needing a distraction, and read the opening, her mind absorbing the words even as all of her was attuned to the palace and its sounds. An hour or so later, she stood, moving to the balcony, bringing the book with her. The night was dark and still, no hint of the desert breezes to bring relief. She stared up at the constellations, stars that were so different to what she’d grown up with, stars that were shimmering and beautiful, with their pulsing lights against the ink black of the night sky.
She breathed in, and ran her hand over her stomach again.
What had Fatima said? Something about the continuity of things, and this baby would indeed be that. Their loved ones were out there, up in heaven, looking down on them, and through this baby, they’d be brought back to life in some way.
Whenever she and Malik had a baby, even if she weren’t pregnant now, that baby would grow up hearing stories of his uncle Addan, his grandfathers, all the people who would have loved that baby to bits and who weren’t here to do so.
She continued reading, her eyes growing heavy as she reached the halfway point of the book.
She stood, making a cup of spice tea, and taking it to the bed. She lay down, reading, sipping tea, and within a few minutes her eyes grew heavier still and she fell asleep, the book open on the pillow beside her.
It was the soonest he could get away. He worked through the afternoon and evening, eating amashyr for dinner, something simple he could manage with his hands alone, dealing with the matters that had arisen in his absence. And finally, a minute before midnight, he closed his laptop, pushed back from his desk and addressed the staff who were working around him.
“That’s enough for now. Go. We can resume in the morning.”
And he’d walked out without waiting for a response.
As he neared his suite of rooms, he felt like a spring was coiling tighter and tighter inside of him. Only a few paces from the enormous doors that heralded the entrance to his room, he understood why.
Despite what she’d said, he had no idea, he couldn’t have known with any certainty that he’d find her sitting there waiting for him, or not.
And if she wasn’t?
He braced himself on the exterior to his apartment, uncaring – barely noticing – the guards who stood sentinel on either side.
If she wasn’t?
An image came to him out of nowhere, of him going into her room, lifting her sleeping body over his shoulder and carrying her to his room. Of having her suite locked up for good.
A muscle jerked in his cheek because he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was capable of such an act. He knew that his need to have her within reach every night was primal and physical and absolute, and that he would do just about anything to achieve it.
But the part of him that wasn’t a beast, that wasn’t an animal acting on instincts, the part of him that was educated and had at least a degree of civility, knew forcing her into his suite of rooms wasn’t the answer. He wouldn’t – couldn’t – do that.
Not to any woman, but especially not to the woman who – were it not for a twist of fate – would have been married to his brother.
He stifled a groan and pushed the doors open impatiently, sweeping into his rooms and looking around. Darkness surrounded him, but there was the hint of a glow coming from his bedroom.
Hope surged in his chest. He strode through, the tension in his body growing with every step.
He paused inside the door jamb, and simply stared.
She was beautiful – always beautiful. But asleep like this, she looked so young and so fragile. Awake, she was feisty, combative, sweet, smart – she was so vibrant. But asleep?
Something pulled inside of him.