The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride

He reached for her, pulling her down, and Belle subsided onto his chest, hands splayed over his shoulders. It had been cataclysmic, and she needed the safety of his solid strength to centre herself.

Still her body clenched around him, and she felt the hot pulse of his strength deep inside. This elemental proof of his desire for her gave her a surge of primitive pleasure. She felt exhausted, but powerful, dazzled by the sheer potency of their experience and We didn’t use protection,’ she whispered, suddenly aghast that, in all that had gone before, she hadn’t given it a single thought.

How could she have been so reckless? So utterly absorbed in his lovemaking?

`You have nothing to fear, habibti.’ His deep voice was slurred, and she knew an involuntary stab of delight that she’d affected him so. `You stand in no danger of illness.’ He paused. And, knowing you, little one, I cannot believe you are a threat to me, either.’

His hand, warm and soothing, stroked her back in a long, languorous movement. She felt herself relax, despite her concerns.

She nodded. `You’re right. But I’m not using birth control.’ It was unlikely she’d conceive so early in her cycle, but the possibility couldn’t be ignored. She felt a frisson of emotion, and wondered if it was fear or something else.

There was deep satisfaction in his voice as he replied. `We’re married, Belle. It is natural that we should make children together.’. His words hung in the air as his hand, heavily deliberate, slowly circled the curve of her hip.

She should be accustomed to his touch after all they’d done together. But there was something so proprietorial about the way his long fingers caressed her sensitive skin and splayed knowingly over her hipbone. Suddenly she felt very small and defenseless, pressed against his formidable strength.

`Who knows?’ he continued, his voice a low burr. Èven now the miracle of creation may be taking place. I may have planted the seed that will grow into the heir to the throne of Q’ aroum.’

His words extinguished the tentative flare of excitement in the pit of her stomach.

She’d felt a trembling anticipation at the idea of carrying a baby, Rafiq’s child, inside her, despite the fact that she’d previously had no plans for motherhood. It had felt so right, the possibility of being pregnant by him. And his initial words had deepened her secretly burgeoning hope. For an instant she’d been blinded by a vision of them, together, loving parents of an adorable dark haired baby.

But now she saw that image for what it was: pure fantasy. She’d thought of a child born of love. Rafiq had his sights set only on securing the throne of Q’ aroum for another generation. Royal succession. Male primogeniture. That was all it meant to him.

It wasn’t the idea of their child that thrilled him. It was the possibility of his royal heir that filled his voice with smug satisfaction. The legitimate child of the reigning monarch. That was what Rafiq wanted.

She squeezed her eyes tight against the burning hot flood of tears.

She would not cry. Not here and now, at any rate. She needed privacy to come to. terms with the terrible, ridiculous disappointment that filled her.

Belle began to slide off his big body, intending to curl up on the edge of the massive bed. Even Rafiq, with his obviously virile nature, would understand her need for rest.

But she’d barely moved when his arms wrapped round her, clamping her securely against him.

Ì need to sleep,’ she lied. She needed to think, to regain some measure of control over her wayward emotions.

`Sleep then.’ He sounded like a large cat, purring deep in his throat.

She felt the vibration of his yawn deep in his chest. Ì‘ll just move over-‘

`No. Stay where you are. I like having you close against me.’

Despite everything Belle knew a moment of pure delight. But self-preservation was more important. Ì‘m too heavy,’ she protested.

This time it was his laugh that she felt rippling through his torso.

`Too heavy!’ He chuckled. `You’re just perfect, Belle. Now, close your eyes and go to sleep right where you are.’

‘But-‘

Òr I’ll think you’re not quite as exhausted as you should be,’ he warned, dipping his hand to stroke the side of her breast.

The tingle that spread across her nerve endings told her everything she needed to know about his dominance over her. She drew a sharp breath and concentrated all her might on not responding to his feather light caress.

He settled his palm, spreading his fingers wide over her ribs. She heard the heavy thud of his heartbeat, slowly returning to normal, his even breathing, and wondered how long it would be before he slept.