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‘Don’t you realise how much I still love you?’
Rashad studied her with doubt in his candid gaze.
‘But how could you?’
‘You say sorry very nicely. You’re great with blackmailers, too. You’re very handsome. You make me happy. I suppose that’s the most important thing of all. When I’m with you, I’m just so happy!’
‘You love me?’ His spellbinding smile was beginning to curve his lips.
Tilda stretched up and kissed him, and that was all the encouragement he needed to kiss her back-breathless.
‘Oh, and I think I might be pregnant,’ she shared in an afterthought, deciding that she would never keep anything from him again. ‘And I’m pleased.’
Rashad laughed out loud and surveyed her with near reverence. ‘I must be the luckiest man alive.’
Feeling very much like the luckiest woman, Tilda let her eyes drift dreamily shut as he carried her off to bed. She suspected that the end of their honeymoon would be postponed for yet another few days…
Almost three years later, Tilda watched Rashad hunker down to open welcoming arms to his son and daughter.
Sharaf was almost two, a solid little boy who was tall for his age with black hair and blue eyes. Pyjama-clad, the child hurled himself at his father with a shout of delight and immediately started chattering. Rashad tucked his son under one arm and murmured gentle encouragement to the baby crawling laboriously towards him. Bethany was nine months old. Blond and brown-eyed, she had her father’s charismatic smile and her mother’s temper. As the Persian rug beneath her rumpled and impeded her progress she burst into tears and threw herself flat to sob. Rashad scooped her up and soothed her with an ease that revealed how comfortable he was handling his children. The little girl clung like a limpet and patted his face, beaming at him with love and approval.
It was the weekend and Tilda and Rashad often spent weekends at the Palace of the Lions, where privacy was usually assured. Sharaf had proved such a delight to his parents that they had decided to have another baby as soon as possible after his birth. He was a delightful child, forward for his age and very active. Tilda had had two straightforward pregnancies and was planning on waiting awhile before contemplating a third.
Her mother had recently married Evan Jerrold and was living in much more comfortable circumstances. It had taken a year and professional help for Beth to overcome her agoraphobia. It had been a tough challenge for her, but she was now a regular visitor to Bakhar. Tilda had been delighted by Beth’s remarriage, for she had always liked Evan and she no longer worried about her parent in the same way that she once had. Her brother, Aubrey, had qualified as a doctor and Katie was at university. Her younger siblings, Megan and James, were doing well at school. It was a source of great satisfaction to Tilda that she was still able to see a lot of her family. She often visited London with Rashad.
The king was a regular visitor to their home in the Great Palace for he was very fond of children. Tilda had become very relaxed around the unassuming older man. She led a very busy but fulfilling life. She had supervised the renovation of the Palace of the Lions. She also realised how lucky she was to always have ready assistance with the children and she made the most of it. She had taken up painting again, although she had privately reached the conclusion that, although she enjoyed the pursuit she was possibly a more talented accountant than she would ever be an artist. Even so, Rashad, who could hardly draw a recognisable stick figure, was hugely impressed by her every artistic endeavour and embarrassingly quick to show her work off to visitors.
Tilda lifted Bethany from her husband’s arms. Their baby daughter was yawning. ‘She’s sleepy.’
Rashad leant down and claimed his wife’s luscious mouth with a brief but hungry insistence that made her dizzily aware of his potent masculinity. She went pink and thought about how much she had missed, for he had been in New York for a week. Sometimes Tilda and the children travelled with him, but it wasn’t always practical. Together they put Sharaf and Bethany to bed. They enjoyed such quiet family moments. Rashad told his son a bedtime story while Tilda gave their daughter a drink and tucked her into her cot.
‘At last,’ Rashad groaned, tugging her into his arms in the privacy of their bedroom. ‘I couldn’t wait to get back to you tonight.’
‘Hmm…’A blissful smile on her lips, Tilda leant into the heat of his big, powerful body. ‘Did I ever tell you how happy you make me?’
‘I can live with being told again.’ Stroking her hair back from a delicate cheekbone with tender fingers, Rashad studied her with possessive intensity. ‘But I couldn’t live without you…I love you more every day…’
