Special Deliveries: Heir To His Legacy: Heir to a Desert Legacy

“If I am not in your bed, I will, at some point during our marriage, be in the bed of another woman. I am willing to give up a lot for my country, and to give Aden the best life he can have, but I am not giving up sex for sixteen years.”

She blinked. She supposed asking that of him was completely unreasonable. And yet, there was a small spark of anger, jealousy, inside that started in her stomach and flared up to her chest, making her heart pound hard.

Not so much jealousy in a possessive way. Not because she couldn’t bear the thought of sharing him, which would be silly, all things considered. But because a part of her very much wanted to be the woman in his bed. Wanted to be the one he couldn’t abstain from and, more than anything, be the one to benefit from his experience.

So stupid, Chloe.

The idea of seeing him with other women, of watching them parade through the palace in… tiny nighties with their big fake boobs bobbing up above the necklines for all the staff to see, made her stomach clench tight.

“Just… whatever you do,” she said, “be discreet. I don’t want to be conscious of what’s going on inside your bedroom. You keep it in there, I won’t open the door. To you, you can be getting some, to me, you can be in there all by yourself. And unless I open the door you can be both promiscuous and celibate. It’ll be Schrodinger’s affair.”

“Because it’s impossible to prove unless the door is opened?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the joke.”

“You need to work at cultivating more mainstream humor.”

“That would have killed in Advanced Quantum Field Theory.”

“The same applies to you. When you take a lover, you must use complete discretion. There can be no hint of a scandal for the media. None at all.”

“Um… okay.” She was celibate no matter which side of the door you stood on, and she had been for all of her life, so the idea of taking a lover after her marriage, after becoming a mother, seemed a little out there for her.

But she wasn’t going to admit that, either. The only thing worse than knowing Sayid was getting action with some gorgeous girl, was knowing that she wasn’t getting any action with an equally gorgeous guy. Which had never, ever mattered to her before. Stupid that it seemed to now.

“This is very serious, habibti. If I get caught in a scandal, very few people will care. I am a man in a man’s world, and when it comes to sex, men are forgiven much. Women are not. If anything happens there will be an outcry for me to divorce you. This marriage is about image, and nothing must compromise that. Nothing can be done to damage the way the people see you.”

“Don’t worry. I will be the soul of discretion when engaging in my illicit affairs. No sex on the dining table,” she said, and she felt her cheeks heat. She was trying to play at being sophisticated and worldly, trying to pretend she could stand there discussing just how their extramarital affairs would work without feeling horrifically awkward and embarrassed. It wasn’t working.

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “On the dining table? I think that would be quite uncomfortable anyway.”

She swallowed. “Shows how much you know.”

“I could show you how much I know.”

The words escaped Sayid’s lips without his permission. He should not press this. Should not push her to see how far the attraction could take them. But it was so easy to embrace, the images flashing through his mind, hot and fast.

As hard surfaces went, the dining table didn’t feature in his fantasies. But against the wall? Her legs wrapped around his waist? That he could most certainly work with.

He could strip her of her clothes, of every inhibition. Could knock every fact she knew about the universe out of her head while she cried out her pleasure. And he would take his own in her gladly.

He clenched his teeth, tightening his hands into fists, trying to ignore the raging of his heart, the rush of blood south of his belt. He couldn’t afford to burn off his sexual frustration with Chloe. Couldn’t afford to let passion of any kind erupt between them.

Control was essential, keeping his defenses up, was essential. Always. And most especially with her. Why, he wasn’t certain, but he knew that it was. Sex, the desire for it, for a woman, should not make him shake inside. And yet she did.

Which was why he could never touch her.

“I… that’s okay. I don’t need you to.” Thankfully, Chloe was as wary as he should be. She bent down and scooped Aden into her arms, holding him tight against her chest, using him as a shield.

“As you wish.”

“And I do. Wish it. That way.”

“I have business to take care of before the wedding. I’ll meet you at the coastal palace.”

“Is that where the wedding will be?”

“Yes. A small ceremony on the beach.”

“You have all of this figured out, don’t you?”

He chuckled, no humor behind the sound. There never was with him. No happiness. No lightness. And it made her heart burn. “At this point, there is very little I would claim to have figured out, Chloe James.”

CHAPTER EIGHT (#u8c8e8ecd-f3db-5ae3-ac67-0175a2185bbc)

THE OCEAN SIDE PALACE was an entirely different world to the main palace in central Attar. Here everything was washed white by the sun. The salt breeze coming in from the waves cooled the air, infused it with moisture, so unlike the arid heat found inland.

Sayid had spent a great deal of time at this palace growing up. A retreat from the times spent in the desert, living in Bedouin tents and learning how to survive in the harshest of environments.

Even now, walking into the cool, white stone foyer lifted a weight from him.

And then the realization that he was getting married in less than twenty-four hours, on the beach in front of the palace, hit him full force and any sense of Zen was lost entirely.

A wife. He had long given up the thought of having a wife. Thinking of marriage made him think of a different time. Of a beautiful girl with liquid brown eyes and a bright smile. Of the same girl, pale and terrified as she was forced into a car, taken from her home. Taken from him.

As he stood, men holding him in place, preventing him from going after her. Keeping him from rescuing her. From saving the only person who had ever mattered.

He put his hand on one of the white stone pillars, relished the chill that seeped through his skin. He looked out at the ocean, crashing into the rough, imposing rocks that stood sentry in front of the palace. He moved his palm over the pillar, so cold, like everything inside of him. As it had been since the day he’d lost Sura.

“She’s upstairs, on the balcony. Getting her henna done.” Alik was standing at the foot of the staircase, his hands in the pockets of his dark slacks.

“How long have you been here?” Sayid asked.

He and Alik had been through hell and back together. He was Sayid’s only friend. The only person who understood what the kind of life he led was like. What it cost. But at the moment, happiness wasn’t his dominant emotion when he looked at the other man. It was something else. Something dark, visceral and unfamiliar.

“Long enough to have bent her over the dining table out on the balcony once, taken her up against the wall in the bedroom twice, and in the bed…”

“Alik,” he said, striding forward.

“In theory,” Alik finished. “Every woman I desire is at my disposal, why would I touch yours?”

“She’s not my woman,” he said.

“She’s going to be your wife by this time tomorrow.”

“Only in name. Only on paper.”

“Not in your bed? A waste of a beautiful woman.”