Sheikh's Secret Love-Child
Claiming his queen…To legitimize his heir!Playboy Sheikh Malak assumed he’d never inherit the throne but when his brother unexpectedly abdicates, he finds himself king! Now past indiscretions must be put aside…until he uncovers the hidden consequence of one delicious seduction with an innocent waitress. Malak will claim his heir, but fiercely protective Shona won’t let him just take their son. Malak’s only choice is to bind Shona to him—as his queen!An intense royal romance with a secret baby twist!
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Claiming his queen...
To legitimize his heir!
Playboy Sheikh Malak assumed heâd never inherit the throne but when his brother unexpectedly abdicates, he finds himself king! Now past indiscretions must be put aside...until he uncovers the hidden consequence of one delicious seduction with an innocent waitress. Malak will claim his heir, but fiercely protective Shona wonât let him just take their son. Malakâs only choice is to bind Shona to himâas his queen!
An intense royal romance with a secret baby twist!
USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Awardânominated author CAITLIN CREWS loves writing romance. She even teaches her favourite romance novels in creative writing classes at places like UCLA Extensionâs prestigious Writersâ Programme, where she finally gets to utilise the MA and PhD in English Literature she received from the University of York in England. She currently lives in the Pacific Northwest, with her very own hero and too many pets. Visit her at caitlincrews.com.
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ISBN: 978-1-474-07271-7
SHEIKHâS SECRET LOVE-CHILD
© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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Contents
WHEN THE OTHER shoe finally dropped, and hard, Shona Sinclair couldnât say she was entirely surprised.
Horrified, yes. Terrifiedâcertainly.
But not surprised.
On some level, she had always known this day would come.
Get ready,she told herself stoutly. Because itâs finally here.
There were four men, cold-eyed and burly. She had never seen royal guards before, not in real life, but she hadnât the slightest doubt that was exactly what they were. She knew it the moment she saw them. They came into the restaurant in a kind of rolling, lethal wave. They looked to the right and to the left, not looking for tables like everyone else who wandered in from the streets of the French Quarter, but more as if they were taking stock of every single person in the place.
If asked, Shona was certain theyâd have an accurate count of all the busboys as well as the few patrons scattered amongst the tables who picked at their down-market gumbo and rubbery beignets.
Shona knew who they were. She knew. And more, she knew what their appearance meant. She could feel it like a shuddering thing that wrapped around her and shook her so hard she couldnât breathe for a moment.
But she still held out hope. She caught her breath and she hoped.
It could be a celebrity, she told herself. That happened with some regularity here in New Orleans, even in a less than A-list place like this. But these men didnât have that Hollywood look. They were too serious, for one thing.
And they were looking directly at her, for another.
It was early yet. The dinner service had yet to really kick into gear and the restaurant was still fairly empty. But this was the famous French Quarter in New Orleans. It could fill up at any time and frequently did, because
