Special Deliveries: Heir To His Legacy. Elizabeth Lane
ago. It was a brilliant opportunity.”
The left side of his mouth lifted upward in a poor imitation of a smile. “Most women I’ve known would consider a sale on a designer handbag a brilliant opportunity.”
She could tell he was trying to make her angry. She wasn’t sure why he was trying to make her angry, only that he was. “I like a good handbag as much as the next woman. But if you really want to watch my eyes light up talk string theory to me.”
“I am afraid I would be outmatched,” he said, inclining his head. She’d earned some respect with that response.
He was testing her. Jackass. Nothing she wasn’t used to. Men didn’t like being shown up by women. The men in her academic circle were threatened by her mind, by her successes. So they were always looking for a weakness. Good thing she didn’t have one. Not when it came to her mind, at least.
“You ought to be,” she said. “But if you wanted to talk… I don’t know, Arabian stallions I might be outmatched.”
He laughed. “You think my expertise lies in stallions?”
“A guess. A stereotypical guess, I confess.”
He shrugged. “I’m not one for horses myself. Military vehicles are more my domain. Weapons. Artillery. How to stage an ambush in the dunes. Things like that.”
The statement maybe should have shocked her, but it didn’t. There was nothing that seemed remotely safe about Sayid al Kadar. He exuded danger, darkness. She wasn’t one to cultivate a lot of interpersonal relationships, but danger was one thing she’d learned to see early on. A matter of survival.
“Well, I can’t make much conversation about that.”
“Silence would be your solution, then?” he asked, arching one dark brow.
“I wouldn’t say no to it. It’s been a long twenty-four hours.” It had taken some time to get the documentation to allow Aden to fly.
“The press will be gathering in Attar as we speak. Jockeying for position in front of the palace.”
“Do they know what you’re announcing?”
He shook his head. “No. I will announce it after the results of the DNA test are back. A precaution, you understand. The testing must be done to prevent rumors of us bringing in a child who is not truly an al Kadar.”
“This royalty business is complicated,” she said.
“It’s not. Not really. Everyone has a role, and as long as they are there to fill it, everything keeps moving.” There was a bleakness wrapped around those words, a resignation that made her curious.
The plane’s engines roared to life and she curled herself around Aden, holding him securely as they started down the runway.
“He makes you nervous,” Sayid said.
She looked up, knowing exactly what he meant. “I don’t have any experience with babies.”
“And you haven’t been waiting around dying to have your own.”
“I’m twenty-three. I don’t exactly feel ready for it. But… even in the future I didn’t have plans of… marriage and motherhood.” Quite the opposite, she’d always intended to avoid both like the plague. Had done so quite neatly for her entire life.
“Yet you protect him. Like a tigress with her cub.” Everything was a casual observation from him, no heat of conviction. No emotion at all.
“There are survival instincts that are born into us,” she said, looking down at Aden’s head, his hair fuzzy and wild, standing on end. “An innate need to propagate the species and ensure its survival.”
“Is that all?” he asked.
She shook her head, her throat tightening. “No.”
“It is good. Good that he has an aunt who loves him.”
Yes. It was completely natural for her to love him. To feel like he was a piece of her. He was, after all. Her nephew. Her only remaining family.
The only remaining family that she acknowledged. Her parents were no longer a part of her life. She never intended on speaking to them, going back and peering into the ugliness that was their marriage. She’d escaped it, and she never intended on going back.
Aden represented her last link with family. Her last chance. It was no wonder the bond was so strong. And he had no one. At least, he’d had no one. It had been just the two of them, holed up in the apartment, surviving.
“I do love him,” she said.
“It pleases me.” She noticed he didn’t return the sentiment, and that none of the pleasure he spoke of was reflected in his tone. She searched his face, looked into those hard, black eyes to see if she could find some hidden depth of emotion. Some tenderness for the tiny baby in her arms.
There was nothing there.
Nothing but an endless sea of darkness, a black hole, that seemed to pull light in, only to extinguish it.
“I went to live with my uncle, Kalid, when I was seven. I don’t know if Rashid ever mentioned that,” he said.
“No.” She’d barely ever spoken to her brother-in-law. He wasn’t usually present during her visits with Tamara.
“It is common, with the warrior children, to go and learn from the one currently holding the position.”
“So young?”
“It is necessary,” he said. “As you mentioned, early childhood experiences play strongly into how you will be as an adult. Something so important could not be left to chance.”
“What… what do you mean?”
“Because to be a perfect soldier, you can’t be a perfect man,” he said. “You have to be broken first, so that it can’t happen later. At the hands of your enemies.”
His tone was perfectly smooth, perfectly conversational. Betraying nothing of the underlying horror. But it was there. In his eyes.
It was easy to imagine getting pulled into that darkness. Easy to imagine getting lost in it. In him. The feeling that created rocked her deeply, gripped her stomach and squeezed tight.
She’d never had a thought like that before, had never felt, even for a moment, the sudden, violent pull to someone like she felt for Sayid.
She turned away, redirecting her focus. This six months was for Aden. A chance to introduce him to his home. To give him the transition they both needed.
It was not a time for her to get drawn in by a man with dark eyes and an even darker soul.
IF THE PLANE WAS LIKE another world, the Attari palace was something beyond that. On the outskirts of a city that was a collision between the old world and the new, was the seat of the royal family’s power. Gleaming stone, jade, jasper and obsidian, inlaid in intricate patterns over the walls and floors, the edges gilded, catching fire in the dry, harsh sun that painted the air with waves of heat.
The only green was in the palace gardens, the lush plants an extravagant example of wealth. A surplus of water in a dry place. The fountains spoke of the same excess, statues carved of young women, endlessly pouring water into the pools below.
The palace itself was shielded from the heat, the thick stone walls providing cover and insulation.
Her entire apartment could fit in the entryway of the palace, pillars wrapped in gold supporting ceilings inlaid with precious stones.
For the fist time, Chloe was ashamed that she’d asked her sister into her apartment. Tamara had never said anything