Beauty and the Sheikh(33)

He tried to form a response, find the perfect words to convince her to stay. But they could never be the ones she wanted.

Holly’s shoulders crumpled before she again straightened them. With a slight nod, she strode out the door and out of his life.

Rafiq stared at the closed door and didn’t fight the heavy desolation that swept through him like a desert storm.





Chapter 18



She should have been terrified. Holly stared out the window of the jet over the tarmac as they continued boarding, but couldn’t summon the energy for fear.

Or perhaps her phobia of flying was nothing compared to facing the reality of leaving Rafiq. Part of her wanted to climb off the plane and take the first taxi she could find back to the palace.

But then, it would just hurt all that much more later, because someday she would have to give up being his mistress when he needed to settle down with a wife.

A sob caught in her throat and she bit her lip to swallow it. There were no more tears to cry, and at least being put through the emotional wringer meant she’d probably fall asleep after a few minutes in the air.

The engines roared to life on the plane and her heart constricted. She was leaving; it was too late now.

There was a jolt as the plane began to back up, away from the terminal.

Holly stared at the expanse of orange desert and the rugged mountains behind them as the plane moved to line up for takeoff. Shoot. She’d thought the tears had dried up. Grabbing the tissue from her lap, she dabbed the corners of her eyes again.

Despair settled over her, heavy like a wet blanket. Closing her eyes, she prayed for sleep to take her.

Maybe she fell asleep, or just got lost in the darkness of her thoughts, but when the hairs on the back of her neck lifted she knew something had changed.

The engines were quiet and they certainly weren’t in the air, she knew that much.

Holly held her breath as she slowly opened her eyes again.

Rafiq.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage as she saw him board the plane. He watched her as he strode down the narrow aisle, his determination apparent in the hard slash of his mouth.

Hope flared inside her, but she quickly snuffed it out. Rafiq wasn’t used to being denied, and likely he’d come to try to force her into staying. It wouldn’t work. Not this time.

He stopped in front of her row, ignoring the passenger next to her and seeking only her. “You must leave the plane at once, Holly.”

Did he think he could intimidate her in front of all these people? She shook her head. Thank God many of them probably didn’t speak English. “I’m returning to the States.”

“If you don’t leave the plane, the pilot will have you forcibly removed.”

He wouldn’t! She opened her mouth to deny it but then saw the pilot making his way down the aisle.

“You can’t do this, Rafiq.”

“It’s already done.”

Biting back every curse she wanted to fling at him, Holly unfastened her seatbelt and maneuvered her way from the seat. She would hire a car to drive her across the desert if needed, but she wouldn’t be forced to stay with Rafiq one day longer.

Rafiq plucked her bag from the overheard and indicated for her to leave first.

She strode down the aisle, her cheeks warming but her chin raised. Everyone watched them—they knew it was their Sheikh who’d boarded the plane and probably realized now who she was.

Out on the tarmac she spun on him. “Rafiq, you can’t—”

“Please, let’s talk in the limo.”

“I’m not getting in there with you.”

“Holly.” Her name was a husky plea on his lips, breaking her willpower.

She gave a small nod and climbed inside. Once they were at the palace, she would arrange transport out of Raljahar.

Rafiq climbed in a moment later and slid up the window between the backseat and the driver.

“I hate you for doing this, Rafiq.”

“Understandable. I hate myself for letting you go.”

His confession killed the furious words she had loaded and ready to fire. She watched him slide his mirrored sunglasses up onto his head and caught her breath.

Rafiq’s eyes were bloodshot, dark circles lingering beneath. There was an anguish in them that she knew mirrored her own.

“I tried to sleep,” he muttered savagely. “I tried to let you go, but I knew you were right. I kept envisioning the car crashing. The plane exploding—”

“Well, that’s awfully morbid.”

His laugh cracked. “The point is, you were right, Holly.” He moved to sit beside her. “It doesn’t matter if I marry you or not. I can't keep you safe from everything. I can't control the events that transpire in life—I can barely control myself when you're around. But I do want you around."

Her heart slammed against her ribcage. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying I love you and that you’re the only woman on this planet I want as my wife. I will take the risks if you will, and ultimately it is your choice. I know I’m about five hours too late—”

“You’re not too late.” Holly flung herself across to his seat and buried her face against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I didn’t want to leave you. I hated that I was.”

“Then don’t. Stay in Raljahar.” He cupped her face gently and pressed his lips against hers. “Marry me and be the mother of my children.”

“Yes. Oh yes, Rafiq.” This time, when the tears fell she knew they were for the right reason. “I love you so much.”

He brushed his lips over hers again. “And I love you.”

She hesitated. “But if I stay, I have one stipulation.”

His brows came together, worry flickering in his eyes. “Anything. What is it?”

“I have a cat named Butterball. She’s entirely too fat and prone to bladder stones, but I’ve had her since I was fourteen and I love her—”

“She’ll be here within forty-eight hours, habiba.”

“Thank you.” She grinned and slid her hands over his solid chest beneath his robe, the relief and joy so overwhelming she was shocked to feel the familiar stirrings of hunger. “And maybe we should get started on that mother-of-your-children part immediately.”

Rafiq groaned. “I love the way you think.”

So did she. She met his mouth in a fiery kiss that sealed their passion and promised their future.



One year later



Holly adjusted her son in her arms and watched as her husband swam another lap in the pool. A few minutes later he climbed out, approaching her where she sat in the wicker chair.

A sigh fled past her lips as he blotted the droplets of water from his upper body.

“How is my son?” he asked, crouching down to drawn a finger down the curve of the baby’s cheek.

Holly glanced down at their child and smiled. “Sleeping now, it would seem.”

Yaasir’s thick lashes fell on his pink chubby cheeks. Each breath he drew in raised his little belly.

“I did not think I could love anyone else as much as I love you, Holly,” Rafiq’s confession was husky. “But my heart grows larger with our family, it seems.”

“I like the sound of that.” She smiled, watching him through her lashes.

His gaze reflected the love in her eyes and her heart did a little flip. “I’ve missed you, habiba.”

She knew what he meant. It had been several weeks since they’d last made love.

Holly’s pulse quickened as she stared up at her husband from beneath her lashes. “We have several hours before Andrew arrives to meet his nephew,” she said softly.

Her brother had done remarkably well after his time in rehab. Hadn’t gambled since and had moved to Raljahar to work for Rafiq.

“Perhaps we should let Yaasir sleep in his room and have a bit of time for ourselves,” she continued.

Rafiq looked at her, his eyes alight with heat and uncertainty. “It is not too soon?”

Her cheeks warmed. “The doctor said I am fine…and I’m up for it if you are.”

Rafiq gave a quiet laugh and helped her to her feet. “Ah, habiba, I am most definitely up for it, as you say.”

They left Yaasir with his nanny in the nursery and then returned to their room. Holly savored every moment as Rafiq proceeded to remind her just how much he loved her.



~ The End ~


About the Author


Shelli is a New York Times Bestselling Author who read her first romance novel when she snatched it off her mother’s bookshelf at the age of eleven. One taste and she was forever hooked. It wasn’t until many years later that she decided to pursue writing stories of her own. By then she acknowledged the voices in her head didn’t make her crazy, they made her a writer.