Page 19 of The Innocent Carrying His Legacy

He was dizzying.

She was trapped by the icy clarity of his gaze and by a strange weakness, as if a tide were receding and she were being carried with it, adrift, and it were drawing her slowly and inexorably out to sea.

Blackness edged her vision and she didn’t even realise she was falling until the Sheikh moved, and she felt one hard, muscular arm come around her, catching her and drawing her close against the granite solidity and heat of his body.

She let out a breath, her hands automatically coming up to press against his chest in order to balance herself, yet more shock echoing through her. He felt as if he were made of iron and steel, and yet, as she’d already sensed, there was nothing cold about him. The hard metal shape of him was sheathed in velvety bronze skin and warm linen, and a very deep part of her wanted to simply close her eyes and rest against him as she would a sun-warmed rock.

His relentless gaze bored into her, his arm hard against her back, trapping her against him, and she couldn’t move. She just couldn’t move. She’d exhausted all her energy coming out here, confronting him, then being marched into the fortress and having the door locked behind her. And then this bombshell, not being able to leave, the insistence on her marrying him. Claiming the child...

She was so very tired and deep down she was very afraid. Connie was gone, and she desperately wanted to do her best for her friend, for the child she carried, but she wasn’t sure she could. And she’d never imagined she would have to do this all on her own...

Anger and grief and fear tangled inside her, knotting together so tightly she couldn’t pull them apart. And, much to her horror, the tears came back again, her eyes prickling, her vision swimming.

Oh, God, to nearly faint in front of him...and now she was on the verge of bursting into tears... It was too much.

Ivy closed her eyes and she heard him mutter something that sounded like a curse before she felt herself being swept up into his arms.

She should have fought, should have protested, should have done something to stop him, but she didn’t. The last four weeks since Connie had died had just been too hard and she’d come to the end of her strength.

She was dimly aware of being carried out of the office and through dark, echoing stone corridors, the sounds of voices following her, mainly the Sheikh’s deep tones as he issued orders.

Perhaps she was being taken back to that library again, which wasn’t a pleasant thought, but Ivy couldn’t bring herself to care. The man who carried her was very warm and very strong, and it seemed almost natural to relax against his hard chest.

She hadn’t been carried like this since she was a child. In fact, come to think of it, had sheeverbeen carried like this? Certainly it had been a very long time since she’d had anyone’s arms around her, since she’d even been touched. She couldn’t remember the last time...

Maybe she’d lie like this for a little while. It wouldn’t matter. Just for a couple of moments.

She put her cheek against the linen of his robe, inhaling his dry scent, mixed with that intriguing, masculine spice. She could hear the beat of his heart, steady and strong and sure. It was comforting.

The sounds of doors closing echoed and then the air around her changed, became less arid and more cooling. Brightness pressed against her lids and she would have thought she was outside except there was no suffocating heat. It was quieter too, and calm, and somewhere she could hear a fountain playing.

Then she felt herself being placed on something soft and for a brief second her fingers clutched at him, as if a part of her didn’t want him to put her down, but she made herself let go. This brief moment of weakness was coming to an end and now she needed to deal with reality.

Ivy forced her eyes open.

She was in a light, airy room with high ceilings and walls covered in smooth white tiles with a scattering of blue and green here and there. The floors were cool white stone, covered with silken rugs that echoed the blues and greens of the tiles, and a few jewel-bright reds. Deep windows looked out onto a shady colonnade around another, most exquisite little courtyard containing a small fountain and a lot of greenery; she swore she could even hear a bird calling.

There were a few low couches strewn with silk cushions and side tables ready for drinks or snacks or books. Ornate wooden bookcases stood against the walls, the shelves stuffed full, and she could see that many of the titles were in English.

She wasn’t sure what kind of room this was, but it looked like the much more comfortable, luxurious cousin of the bare little library she’d just been taken out of.

Shifting slightly, she realised he’d put her down on one of the couches and that it was incredibly comfortable, and, quite frankly, she didn’t want to move. The room was cool and soothing and quiet, and all she wanted to do was lie on this couch and maybe go to sleep and forget about the past couple of weeks for a while.

But the Sheikh was crouching next to her, his sharp gaze studying her critically, like a doctor examining a patient and wondering what treatment to give next.

It made her feel exposed and vulnerable, and she was very tempted to close her eyes again, to block him out and pretend he didn’t exist. Yet that wasn’t going to help her.

He did exist and he was the father of this child. A child he wanted to claim...and apparently her along with it.

She’d never been a coward and so she couldn’t opt out now, no matter how badly she wanted to.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said stiffly. ‘I didn’t mean to faint like that.’ She tried to sit up, only for him to gently push her back down again, his large hands heavy and warm on her shoulders.

‘You need to rest.’ His dark, harsh voice was full of authority. ‘And then you need a shower, some fresh clothes, and more food. You definitely require more water.’

Ivy felt her hackles rising once again, his peremptory tone abrading her raw emotions.

‘And no,’ he went on before she could speak. ‘Don’t argue with me. Not only is it a waste of your energy, but you also know that I’m right.’

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