The Sheikh’s Bargain Bride(23)
He groaned and closed his eyes tight. He realized that she’d probably never told anyone her story before. He could tell by the way her words came out in a quiet stream as if she’d been holding back the flood of hurt for too long. If she’d found healing by telling him—and he hoped she had—then he’d found the opposite. Never had he felt such anger and pain and been unable to do anything about it. He felt the pain physically throughout his body. His hands hurt as he pulled her to him, holding her gently in arms that felt stiff with restraint.
“And then?”
“I stopped borrowing my mum’s clothes that’s for certain, avoided boys, avoided standing out at all and just studied hard. I learnt how to blend into the background.”
“The uniform of jeans and t shirt; the uniform of Bedu robes. “
“Yeh.”
“And you gained a scholarship to Cornell where you met Abduallah.”
“Abduallah didn’t try to put his hand up my skirt; he listened to me and I fell in love.”
“You did love him then.”
“When he asked me to marry him I said yes. I had never imagined that I would find someone so caring. And then, after we married, I came to know him better, to understand him and I realized I loved him like a brother. He was my best friend.” She stopped suddenly.
He frowned. “Like a brother? But—”
“Yes, Zahir?”
“But that was much later? Your love changed.”
He tried to find the answer in her eyes but she looked away as if not sure how to reply. He wanted her not to have been disloyal but the pieces didn’t add up.
“Yes, my love changed. By the time I met you we were simply best friends.”
He felt relieved but still a shadow of doubt dwelt in the back of his mind—a shadow he banished without further thought. There was no room in his life for doubt.
“I wanted you the moment I first saw you looking at me.” His voice was rough with remembered lust.
“I thought I recognized you, thought I’d seen you somewhere else but perhaps it was the resemblance to Abduallah. Perhaps not…”
He turned her in his arms until she was looking up at him. The trust in her face melted his anger and dissipated the pain he felt at her story. He dipped his head, needing to physically connect with the woman to whom he was drawn like a parched man to water. It had been that way since their first meeting. But he couldn’t kiss her immediately. He was close, so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his lips, so close that there was nothing between them except the communication between their eyes. He couldn’t kiss her because he wanted to know that it was something she wanted. The Imam didn’t need to tell him to honor her because he already did.
She shifted her head to one side as if understanding the unspoken question and nodded once, an imperceptible movement that registered loudly within him. But still he felt he couldn’t move, couldn’t break the spell of her. It was her lips that found his in a melding of warmth and softness and understanding. The kiss was like nothing before: not yet full of the passion that simmered beneath and not yet given over to the lust of their bodies, but holding more depth of feeling than he’d ever experienced.
It lasted about a minute. But he felt as if the sure ground upon which he’d built his life had shifted and nothing would be the same again. He pulled away and was relieved when she looked up at the stars. He followed her gaze noting distantly that the light of the stars spun out further in all directions than they had before, elongated by the mist that glazed his eyes.
He pulled her against him once more, his arm protectively around her, knowing that he could never let her go.
“I’m so sorry, Anna, for the past. I wish I knew you then and could have protected you. No-one should have gone through the pain of your childhood.”
She smiled into his eyes. “Zahir. You can’t protect everyone. You, yourself, had a childhood that was full of danger and hardship.”
“It was my duty and my gift to my people.”
“You were a boy for God’s sake.”
He shook his head. “You will never understand.”
“You’re wrong. I do understand. I understand our differences—and our similarities—and that’s OK.”
“Come, let’s go to bed.”
Anna lay in the large bed and waited. She could have gone to her own room. But she’d agreed to this marriage and she had never avoided the consequences of her decisions. So she lay there, listening to Zahir moving in the next room. Only the light of the stars illuminated the darkness. She watched his shadow slide into bed next to her. They lay in silence.