Craving Beauty(26)

She jerked in surprise, and a tear-stained face met his. "Wh-Leave!"



"No." He forced her head back against his chest. "You cry as much as you   want, princess, whenever you want. But you cry in my presence."



She hit his chest with her fist. "I do not u-use tears to get m-my way!"



"No," he acknowledged, his proud wife would never use tears to sway him.   Apparently, neither did she trust him enough to be vulnerable to him.   Well, damn it, from today, that was going to change. "I don't like you   crying all alone."



She didn't speak again. Instead she lay against him, tears streaming   quietly down her face. He held her and stroked her until there were no   more tears and the birds outside were settling down to sleep.



"Better?" he asked, wiping her face with consciously gentle fingers. He   was aware that he had calluses. He'd crawled out of the bayou but it   still called to him. Being behind a desk was alien to him.



She nodded and turned her face a little, giving him permission to   complete the job. He did, feeling a dangerous squirt of pleasure at the   tiny gesture. It spoke of deep-rooted trust as her lonely tears hadn't.   Perhaps, he thought suddenly, there was more to her crying alone than   her acceptance or rejection of his help.



"I had begun to think of him as my own." Her voice was barely a whisper.



"Me, too, cher. Me, too."



Slim arms slipped around him. "They'll be happy with the Kellers. They're good people."



"I had them triple-checked. No problems in the marriage. No indications   of violence. They adore children but they're infertile," he told her.   "Brian and Becky embody their dreams. People cherish their dreams."   "Yes." Hira nodded. "Yes. Dreams are to be cherished."



"Why do you cry alone?" he asked. Why don't you need me as much as I need you, the wounded boy inside, him wanted to ask.



Her silence went on until he thought she wouldn't answer.



Then, "My father often reduced my mother to tears purely for his own   amusement. I swore I would never let anyone humiliate me that way."



"I would never..." He was so blindsided by hurt he couldn't complete the sentence.



Slender hands cupped his cheeks, and when he glanced down, Hira's tawny   eyes were looking into his, wide and startled. "No, Marc! I didn't   mean... I know." she whispered. "I know you would never, ever do that to   me."



There was no way he could doubt the honesty of her desperate confession. "Then why?"



She swallowed. "Instinct. I've never had anyone to go to before." It was   a simple answer but one that spoke of years of pain. Such habits  didn't  develop overnight.



The memory of seeing her eyes sparkling with withheld tears made him   ache deep within. "Crying all alone isn't healthy." He didn't like the   thought of her hiding away her hurts, or what such actions revealed   about her past.



"Do you ever cry?"



He thought of the rock in his heart at the loss of a child he'd thought of as his own. "No."



"That is not healthy, either."



He was stumped. "I'm your husband. Aren't Zulheil wives supposed to follow their husband's commands?"



"Only the old ways state that. I've begun to explore the new ways that   my father forbade. They say a wife can disobey her husband if she has   good reason."



"Well, hell." He found himself smiling. "Are you going to turn into an American woman?"



"Perhaps partly. Would that displease you?"



He chuckled. "I have a feeling that even if it did, it wouldn't matter to you."



A pause. "You could make my existence difficult."



There were so many facets to his wife that she kept surprising him.   "Cher, I make your life hell, anyway, so what would change?" He'd meant   to make her laugh but she remained silent on his chest. Hugging her, he   said,

"Hey, come on. I'm not that bad, am I?"



"You're not cruel," she said a long while later. "As a husband, you're   more than I could've wished for. But I wouldn't have chosen you for   myself if I'd truly been given a choice."



It was a kick to his gut. "I see. Why?"



"Because you can't give me what I most desire."                       
       
           



       



"And what's that?"



"Love of a kind that's rare in this world. Love that will not stop or   dampen when I am old and have wrinkles, when I'm no longer the beautiful   woman men covet. Love that will cherish me though I may become ill or   hurt.

That is what I most desire."



The quiet declaration of lost hope hit him with the strength of a Mack   truck doing eighty miles an hour. She'd put into words what he'd wanted   but had never been able to articulate. "You've experienced such love?"



'It's the most wonderful thing in the world."



"Romaz?" he forced himself to ask.



"No." Her answer gave him some peace at least. "That was my first brush   with love. 'Puppy love' as they call it here. No, I've never  experienced  that kind of love and perhaps I never will, but I've seen  it in the  love our sheik has for his wife."



Marc couldn't disagree. There was something between Tariq and Jasmine   that outshone the stars. "Why can't you imagine me giving you that?"



She snorted. "Husband, you have something against beautiful women. I'm   not stupid. I know you married me to show the world that you could own   something this beautiful." There was no trace of boast in her voice,   just blunt honesty.



"I will not argue that you cherish me, that you treat me as a human   being with thoughts and feelings and the right to live my dreams. But I   can't forget that you selected me as a trophy, as if I were something  to  own.



"You acceded to my father's desire to have us wed, though you only knew   my face. I've tried but I can't get over the fact that my worth to you   is determined by my beauty alone."



"That's a big call to make." Anger vibrated within him. Perhaps he'd   started this marriage the wrong way, but never had he thought of Hira as   an object. Not even when they'd married. And in the weeks since they'd   said their vows, powerful emotions had taken root in him, emotions  that  defied her summation.



"Can you say that it is untrue?"



"Yes, I damn well can. I don't see you as a thing. You're the woman who   coaxed Brian to eat and you're the woman who held me when Becky lay in   the hospital bed. You read encyclopedias in your spare time, watch  music  videos when you think I'm not looking and are addicted enough to   strawberry sorbet that I have to make sure there's a new carton in the   freezer every three days."



Hira's eyes widened at his recitation. She hadn't been aware he knew of   her craving for that particular ice cream, had just assumed the   housekeeper bought it from a standing order. As for the music videos...



"I don't see you as a thing. I see you as a woman unlike any I've ever known." Marc's tone dared her to disagree with him.



"But would you have married me if you'd known my love of books and   economics?" she persisted. He'd wanted a beautiful wife, not a smart   one.



He chuckled. "Cher, I'm damn glad you turned out to be an intelligent   woman. At the beginning of our marriage, I thought I might've let my   hormones tie me to a woman who'd bore me within a week. Whatever else   you might do, you'll never bore me."



"I see. I may have misjudged you, husband. For that I say sorry." A   spurt of fire warmed her heart. It whispered that she could trust him   with her budding emotions, that he'd cherish the love that had crept up   on her while she'd been busy arguing with him.



"Don't." His voice turned rough. "You were right about some of it. I did want to show the world I could hold someone like you."



Ice froze the fire. "I see."



"No. You don't." He sighed and dropped his chin onto her hair. "I guess   you deserve to know, after everything you've had to put up from me. I   grew up poor. Coming from Zulheil, you can't imagine the kind of poverty   into which I was born. I scrounged around for food, knowledge,   anything. Even before Muddy, sometimes I stole so I could eat."



Hira hurt for the boy he'd been. His pride was so much a part of who he   was that the stain on his honor would've hurt him terribly. "It pains  me  that your mother didn't hurt for you. I find it a thing I cannot   understand."