A Secret Birthright(60)

And she let go. “I…end it.”





Gwen closed Ryan’s nursery door lost in dark musings.

Would he miss her if she left? Did he even need her anymore? Now that he had Fareed, his grandfather and an extensive family to love and cherish him? Or was she the one who needed him? He who was everything she had left to live for?

Fareed was probably realizing this now. That her role in Ryan’s life had been as temporary as it had been in his. She’d protected him until she’d delivered him into the hands of those capable of giving him the love and life he deserved.

But knowing Fareed, out of kindness, he wouldn’t say anything. He hadn’t said anything as she’d given him back his freedom. But he must have welcomed it. Chivalry and honor aside, he’d probably welcome her disappearance from his life completely, would prefer not to have her in it through their connection to Ryan.

She approached the bedroom he’d given her. The one farthest from his. She’d hoped he’d cut her off from his passion because he’d thought she was his brother’s woman, that when she confessed, his desire would be reignited.

But it had just been extinguished. The bad taste of her duplicity, however he mentally rationalized and accepted it, must have put out the lust that would have burned itself out sooner rather than later.

God, what was she still doing here? He no longer wanted her. Ryan no longer needed her. She had to go away now. She’d solve all their problems this way. She’d unburden Fareed of her presence, and Ryan was too young, he’d forget her in a month.

As for her, she might be less miserable without them, than with them and unwanted and unneeded. She might even survive.

She wouldn’t if she stayed.

She opened the door, hesitated on the threshold.

What was she doing here anyway? She didn’t need to gather her stuff. It wasn’t hers in the first place. Nothing here had ever been hers.

She’d leave like she’d come, with nothing.

And this time, Fareed wouldn’t come running to stop her. He’d stand by and would be relieved to see her go. He might even help…

“Do you know what I wanted to do when I saw you standing on that podium?”

Goose bumps stormed through her. The deep purr, like a coiled predator’s, issued from the bed.

Fareed.

She grabbed at the light switch, her hand hitting and missing it many times before soft, indirect light illuminated him.

He was wearing an abaya again, both it and the loose pants beneath, white and gold trimmed this time. His hair gleamed wet and sooty from a shower, his skin glowed with the same bronze of the headboard he was propped against, with his legs stretched out almost to the end of the bed, crossed at the ankles.

He hurt her with his beauty.

What was he doing here? What did he mean when he asked…

His voice drowned everything again, answering his own question. “I wanted to walk up to you, gather your papers, tell you that you didn’t need to solicit the world’s approval or endorsement anymore, that you have mine, that I would put everything that I have at your disposal. Then I wanted to haul you over my shoulder and take you where I can ravish you.”

She’d walked up to the bed. Was looking down at him.

Was she dreaming this?

But he was saying things she hadn’t even dreamed he’d say.

And he was saying more, infinitely better than any dream. “Then I discovered you were engaged. I was enraged, stunned. How could you not wait for me? I was also noble, stupid and I walked away. Four years of stoic deprivation later, you tell me you walked out of that conference and on that fiancé I fantasized about exiling to some undiscovered island.”

His hand clasped hers, tugged her down. She fell over him, disbelief and debilitating relief racing through her. He melted her softness and longing into his hardness and demand. She shook, gasped, resuscitation surging from his every word and touch.

“Then instead of our siblings paving the way for our being together, everything they did kept us apart and it took a string of tragedies to unite us as we should have been from that first day.”

He dissolved clothes that felt like thorns off her inflamed flesh as he spoke. She writhed in his arms, a flame igniting higher as he tore off his own clothes, the feel of his flesh her fuel.

He crushed her lips under his, breached her in a tongue-thrusting kiss that had her begging for his invasion now, no buildup, just total, instant possession.