"You'll have to prove yourself with your studies," he continued, fighting the clutching fingers of that abused and lonely boy, "but that's something every student has to prove. I've never seen your work, so I can't judge how you'll do. I'm sorry I tried to do that outside."
Slowly she nodded. "Withholding your judgment is not a terrible thing, for you have no knowledge of my skills. I can see how you would worry that I might not understand these subjects, but I'll show you otherwise."
He nodded, belatedly becoming aware of the steel spine beneath that delicate golden skin. Perhaps he could chance trusting her with something far closer to his heart than a business deal. "The orphanage is pretty run-down."
She adjusted to the change of topic with ease. "Yes. There isn't much room for growing boys."
"No." He perched on the edge of the desk, trying to make himself less threatening to his wife. If he tried, maybe she'd approach him, even after he'd hurt her. It was a bitter pill to swallow for a man who'd never relied on anyone, but he accepted that he needed more than hot sex from his wife. He needed tenderness, the one thing he could never ask for. Especially not after the way he'd let his temper rip into her. "In a few months, this house will be remodeled and made much larger, large enough to fit all of them."
Her eyes widened, but she remained silent. "I don't want the boys institutionalized. I want to create a home for them." He gave her a wry smile. "But there will be a very large private wing for us. With soundproofing."
Her responding smile was shaky. "What will happen to other orphan boys?"
"I can't save every orphan in the world, but I can save these ten. And Becky, too, soon as we find her." He wanted to ask her what she thought of his plans, his dreams, but kept talking. "The old orphanage is going to close at the end of this year, to be replaced by a modem facility. I'll be funding that, but Beau, Damian, Brian and all the others are to be mine. The legal process is almost complete."
As he watched, his wife covered the distance between them in graceful strides and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Hardly believing, he embraced her slender length, luxuriating in the feel of her warmth against the skin of his shoulders and neck. Her exotic scent teased his nostrils and threatened to bring the more primitive side of his nature to the surface.
"So you don't mind mothering ten boys and one girl?" he asked, breathing in the freshness and sweetness of her. Lord, he needed this woman he kept catching fleeting glimpses of. The feeling of vulnerability rocked him but wasn't strong enough to make him release her. "I'll be hiring several full-time helpers, so if you're not comfortable with the idea, you can-"
Drawing back, she placed a finger on his lips, her smile bright. "I always wished for many children, but my mother had difficulty with birthing, so I thought I'd only have one or two if I was very lucky. Thank you for blessing me with such a great gift, husband."
Stunned, he remembered his cutting words to her on their wedding night. He'd never thought of her as maternal and then realized what a fool he'd been. What woman who didn't adore children would've won the trust of the boys so quickly? "Will it be dangerous for you to have children?" Keeping one arm wrapped around her back, he placed the palm of the other against her stomach.
Her eyes widened at the openly possessive action. "The doctors my mother took me to after I was old enough to understand the reason for her worry, told me that I should be safe but not to strain my body beyond two children."
He rotated his hand on her abdomen. He'd barely begun to understand her and already he could imagine her big with his babe. Lifting his head, he found those exotic eyes staring into his. Taking a chance that he'd won some forgiveness for his earlier burst of temper, he leaned in close and when she didn't move, brushed his lips over hers.
Electricity sizzled between them. On his shoulders, her fingers clenched convulsively. Groaning, he deepened the kiss and tasted the uniqueness that was Hira. She was a mix of sugar and spice, fire and ice, his desert beauty. Before he could prolong the contact, she'd pushed off his chest and was a foot away.
Startled, he looked up into a pink-cheeked face, wondering if he'd misread her, if she hadn't welcomed his touch. His gut twisted. As he watched helplessly, his wife raised her hands to her face and gave him a look that was a mix of shocked innocence and sheer desire. When he moved, she swirled on her heel and left the room.
Marc began to chuckle, his tenseness retreating. Hira had just discovered that he could turn her on even when she was steamed with him. He whistled. If he had that to work with, he'd eventually get his way. And his way involved long, sultry nights spent cradled in his wife's body.
He must've done something right because that was exactly how he spent the hours of darkness that night.
When he surfaced the next morning, the clock told him it was close to dawn. Hira was lying on her stomach, using one of his arms as a pillow. His leg and other arm were flung over her, as if even in sleep, she captivated him. He watched her sleep, stunned at himself for doing it. It betrayed a commitment beyond anything he'd ever before experienced.
He'd spent most of his childhood as a kid without any loving ties. As an adult he'd kept that cloak of alone-ness wrapped around him...until the night he'd seen Hira Dazirah on the balcony of her desert home, smiling up at the moon. Right then and there he'd fallen so hard and fast he'd had to have her. He'd been tied to her with passion's reins since that first moment, but yesterday something stronger had snapped into place between them, something born out of their willingness to fight rather than withdraw into silence. He was a little bewildered by the gentle strength of this feeling but could find no reason to fight it.
As if she'd been disturbed by his watching her, her eyes blinked open and she yawned. For a while, she lay there and watched him back, sleepy and apparently happy to be in the position she was in. Then one slender hand lifted to stroke his cheek.
"You appear sad, Marc. Husband." Her lips curved in a soft smile. "May I do something for you to give you joy?"
Her generous offer made his chest tight. No one had ever offered to do something for the simple reason of making him happy. "No, baby. I'm okay."
When he moved his leg off her, she rose up on one elbow and touched his cheek again. "Husband, tell me something of your childhood."
He couldn't help playing with the silken strands of her midnight-and-gold hair. "Why do you want to know?"
"It is said that the child will show you the man." She kissed his chin, the movement causing the strands in his fingers to slide away. Last night she'd been all woman, pure heat and passion. Later, when he'd tried to move away, she'd held on. He'd understood the silent message. His lover needed more than ecstasy. So he, a man who'd never been accused of tenderness, had spent the night happily holding his wife as she slept.
"You're a hard man to know so I would learn of you from your childhood."
"Did you ever learn to lie, cher?" Folding one arm behind his head, he ran the other down the warm curve of her back, lingering on the upward slope of her buttocks. When she didn't protest, he ran his hand back up and then down again, indulging his sense of touch.
Hira nodded vigorously in response to his question and didn't sound the least repentant when she said, "I told my father many lies." He raised a brow.
"Like when he asked me whether I had told the housekeeper to give away Fariz's old computer. I told him I had." She propped herself up on her elbows, face cupped between loose fists.
"But?"
"But I kept it hidden in my room. He never came in there. Rayaz was young and spoiled, but Fariz wasn't a bad brother. He didn't ever tell Father my secret. He even used to lend me his software."