Sheikh Without a Heart

The look of shock on the servant’s face made her feel better.

The thought of spending the night outdoors didn’t.

“Where are the Sheikh’s quarters?”

“In the north wing, madam.”

“Fine,” she said briskly. “In that case, please show me to a suite in the south wing.”

The servant inclined his head and set off at a brisk pace, with Rachel following after him.

She was sure she wouldn’t sleep.

She was too angry.

She’d made a fool of herself, thinking she loved the Sheikh—and thinking it was all she’d done.

Suki had always teased her.

“You’re just not normal, Rachel,” she’d say. “Not liking guys … What, are you frigid?”

Maybe she was. Or maybe she had been. Karim had changed that. She supposed she should be grateful to him for introducing her to the pleasures of lust, because what she’d felt for him was that.

Pure, basic lust.

Of course, being a strait-laced idiot, she’d had to give a purely primitive sexual need the trapping of romance.

“Stupid,” she told herself, as she showered in a bathroom the size of a ballroom, then crept between the covers of a bed that could have slept a basketball team.

Stupid, indeed—and how could she ever expect to sleep, knowing that about herself?

And why was she remembering sleeping in his arms, his breath warm on the nape of her neck, his hand cupped over her breast …

The tears came as a surprise.

What was there to cry about?

Not him. Never him, she thought …

And buried her face in the pillow, to muffle her sobs.

Karim lay sleepless in his bed, arms folded under his head, staring at the dark ceiling.

He was still too angry to sleep.

Tomorrow loomed as a day filled with unpleasantries.

He had to talk with Suki Donnelly. The thought was distasteful. He’d disliked the woman on sight but he’d have to see if she was going to grant him custody of Ethan without a fight. She was the baby’s mother, after all. Rachel, who was only his aunt, had flat-out refused.