And he let her. He just held her, saying soothing things in Arabic that he’d forgotten he knew, things his nurse had said to him when he was a small child, angry and hurt by his lot in life. He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat but it wouldn’t go. He tried to stop the tears from flowing but they wouldn’t.
He said many things—soothing things, reassuring things, things that might help her—but none of them helped him. There was only one thing he couldn’t ask, that he was desperate to know—who was the bastard who raped you?
Instead he helped Taina back to the house, supporting her with his strength because that was all he could do, all he had to offer.
She walked to the window, looking out at God knew what.
“Are you okay? Would you like something? A drink? Coffee? Water?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“What can I do for you?” He swept his fingers helplessly through his hair. “How can I help you get over this? You’ve got to let me do something.”
“You are helping me.”
He shook his head. “How can I be? I’ve nothing to give you, nothing to say. You won’t…” …tell me his name, he was about to add before he stopped himself just in time. That wouldn’t help her. But what else could he do? He’d been completely inept, completely incompetent at doing anything. All he had was his strength—mental and physical.
He took a soft throw from one of the leather chairs and took it to her, putting it around her shoulders but she put her hand on it and shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m not an invalid. I’ve a little piece in my heart which will always be vulnerable, always a little broken, but since I’ve been back something’s happened that I never expected.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve grown stronger.” She grimaced a little as if trying to think of words to express how she felt. “I’ll tell you how it feels. You know when you hurt yourself, maybe strain your back through exercise or something? Then all the muscles tighten around it, trying to protect it, knowing it can’t look after itself?” She smiled at him. It was like a watery sun after showers. “It’s a bit like that. I’m stronger. And that’s thanks to you. I came back here wanting another child to love, not able to bear the pain of Mimi’s absence. But you gave me a connection to my past, to my family, to my country and land and my art… and to you.” She extended her hand to him. “And that’s made me strong in a way I hadn’t believed possible.”
He took her hand and she seemed to reel him in to her. She ran her fingers over his cheeks and he closed his eyes, only opening them when she trailed her finger over his lips. “You are so beautiful, Daidan. I can’t believe I walked away from you on our wedding day.”
“You had every right to.”
“Maybe. But I should have stayed. I should have made a scene—screamed at you, thrown things at you. Told you exactly what I thought of you and what you’d done.”
He smiled. “I would have understood it better.”
“Yes, our people, our cultures are so different. Us Finns are an introverted lot. I grew up with a family who was never open with their feelings or thoughts. It drove my mother to drink and my father to become obsessed with the company, with work, with diamonds. It drives the poison inside. I won’t do that again. I’ll always be open with you.”
Again, the drive for him to ask the question that haunted him, framed itself in his mind, formed into teasing consonants in his mouth. His lips began to form the words but then she lifted herself up on tip-toe and kissed his mouth and the words were wiped out.
He swept his arms around her, pulling her to him, tasting her lips, her mouth, as if he were a starving man. All his frustrations and anger suddenly transformed into a desperate need to make love to this woman, hurt but strong—his wife.
The kiss deepened and she pressed her body against his, making it clear that she, too, wanted him. He put his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her up. Her legs curled around his hips as they continued to kiss. At last they pulled apart, breathless with need.
He pulled her to him, so her sex rubbed against his, showing her how much he wanted her.
“Take me, now,” she whispered.
He put her down on the leather chaise that was bathed in light and began to take off her clothes. He took his time, relishing the signs that she needed him—as she tried to make him hurry, moving her body so sensuously in the flickering light from the leaves outside the window. He smiled when she grunted with frustration as he slowly stripped. Naked, he stood admiring her. It was only when she reached down and touched herself, opening herself for him to see how much she wanted him, that he moved. Lifting her legs until she was wrapped around him, he thrust into her, watching her eyes become heavy lidded but focusing on him. It was totally erotic.