Strangers in the Desert Page 10

  He broke eye contact with her and kissed his son on the cheek. He needed to stop thinking about Isabella before he grew hard in the middle of the kitchen. Before he handed Rafiq to Kalila and dragged his wife—his wife—back to his bed for the rest of the morning.

  “Did you sleep well, Your Excellency?” Isabella said teasingly.

  “Not as well as I would’ve liked.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps you should get a new mattress or something.”

  “The mattress is fine,” he said. “It just needs to be broken in a bit more. Rigorous bouncing might do it.”

  Her eyes widened as she looked at him. She glanced at Kalila, who seemed oblivious to the undercurrents as she worked a puzzle in a magazine. Adan grinned as Isabella cut her gaze back to him.

  Rafiq bounced in his arms then. “Bell!” he exclaimed. “Bell, Bell, Bell!”

  Bell indeed, Adan thought.

  “Yes, baby boy?” Isabella said.

  “Bell!”

  Isabella laughed, the sound as sweet and pure as spring water. “I’m sorry to hear you did not sleep well, Your Excellency. Perhaps you should return to bed and catch up on your rest. We wouldn’t want you to be unable to, um … keep up, as it were …”

  “I think I can manage,” he said, shooting her a grin. “Especially if I get some breakfast. Who’s in charge of cooking around here?”

  Isabella smiled. “The cook is shopping at the local market for a few things. I am making breakfast.”

  “You can cook?”

  Her green eyes were filled with humor. “I had to learn a thing or two recently. Cooking was one of them.”

  He was doubtful, but she set about scrambling eggs and making toast. Before he knew it, she’d plopped plates of food in front of him and Kalila. Kalila looked at the blackened edges of toast doubtfully.

  “It’s American,” Adan said helpfully. Kalila cut her eyes at him while Isabella’s back was turned. Adan shrugged. Then he picked up a fork and dug into the eggs. Kalila followed suit, though she looked apprehensive.

  Isabella came around and took Rafiq, placing him in his high chair and giving him a plate of food, as well.

  Adan popped the eggs into his mouth. His taste buds rebelled instantly. He would have spat the eggs out, but Isabella was watching him hopefully.

  “Good, right?”

  “Um … yes,” he replied. The eggs weren’t inedible so much as overcooked. Any moisture had been leached out of them a while ago. They clung to his tongue like dust. Salty dust.

  “The toast got a little burned, but I scraped it off,” she said. “You won’t even notice, I promise.”

  Kalila put her fork down as Rafiq spat out the eggs and started banging on his tray. “He wants his usual, Your Highness,” she said by way of explanation.

  Isabella’s expression fell. “I can get it for him. What does he want?”

  “It’s okay,” Kalila said, hurrying to the pantry and grabbing the baby cereal Rafiq preferred. Within a few moments, she’d set a bowl in front of him and handed him a spoon. Somehow, Kalila found a way to busy herself without returning to her plate.

  Adan took another bite while Isabella smiled and fixed her own plate. Then she stood across from him and lifted a forkful of eggs to her mouth. Her frown was immediate.

  “I overcooked them,” she said, dropping the fork onto the plate and setting it on the counter.

  “They’re fine,” Adan replied. “Just a bit dry.”

  She reached across the island and gripped his wrist. “Don’t, I beg you. If you keep eating, you’ll get a stomachache. And then your imperial guard, or whatever you call them, will be marching me off to jail for an attempted assassination.”

  Adan set his fork on the plate. “You aren’t used to this stove,” he offered helpfully. “Or the toaster.”

  She sighed. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it. Or maybe I just can’t cook as well as I thought I could. I didn’t do it that often, actually. I ate takeout quite a lot, in truth.”

  Adan stood. “Come, let us go out onto the terrace. Kalila will whip something up in no time.”

  Isabella sighed her disappointment. “Can I help you, Kalila?” she asked.

  Kalila shook her head. “Go, Your Highness. This will take me ten minutes. It is very simple. I will be pleased to teach you later, if you like.”

  “Thank you,” Isabella said before following Adan to the terrace. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat heavily.

  “I can do nothing right,” she said.

  Adan grinned as he took the seat across from her. “I don’t know about that. I can think of a few things you do exceedingly well.”

  She didn’t seem mollified. “I hate that Kalila has to fix breakfast now. She has enough to do.”

  “Yes,” Adan said, his heart twisting with the familiar grief and love for his old nanny. “This is not too much for her, though. It will be fine.”

  Her green eyes searched his face then. “You love her, don’t you? I thought she was a bit old to be Rafiq’s nanny, but then it occurred to me that she must have been yours.”

  “She is the mother I never had,” he replied truthfully, stunning even himself with the admission.

  “Your mother died when you were young?”

  Adan’s laugh wasn’t humorous. “Oh, no. She is still very much alive, holding court in her magnificent house, and telling all her friends how proud she is that her son is a king. If she could trot me out for them and pinch my cheeks, she’d be even prouder.”

  “I’m sorry, Adan,” she said softly, frowning.

  He shrugged self-consciously. “Her children were prizes. Possessions to be displayed for others to admire. Children made her nervous, so she preferred to see us when we were at our best. And to send us away again once we’d made an impression.”

  “So Kalila raised you.”

  “Yes. She was the constant in our lives, the one who held our hands, patched our scrapes and hugged us when we needed it.” He sighed. “She should be enjoying her retirement, but there was no one else …”

  He broke off when she looked away and pressed a hand to her mouth. When she turned to him again, her eyes were glistening, but she did not cry. Her smile wavered at the corners.

  “I did tell you I can’t do anything right,” she said. “Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t found me after all.”

  It wasn’t so long ago he’d thought that, too, but he wasn’t about to say it. He’d been angry for so many things, but he was tired of being angry.

  “Why don’t we worry about the present, habibti? The past cannot be changed.”

  “Are you truly that forgiving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or are you just enjoying the fringe benefits?”

  In spite of his wish otherwise, a skein of anger began to unwind inside him. And guilt, because he was enjoying the sex. Too much, perhaps.

  “We’ve spent one night together, Isabella,” he said. “Don’t start redecorating everything to your taste just yet.”

  Isabella didn’t know why she’d pushed him. Why hadn’t she just gone with the flow and enjoyed breakfast and the sensual afterglow of a night of amazing lovemaking?

  Because she was frightened, she admitted to herself. Frightened of what was happening between them, and frightened of her feelings for him and their son. Already, she felt as if leaving would rip her heart from her chest. She’d been attempting, in her own stupid way, to interject reality into the situation.

  The reality was that they’d had sex. Mind-blowing sex, but still just sex. One night of pleasure, even if he had been celibate for the past almost three years, was not enough to make him want her to stay forever.

  She knew it, but she’d needed to hear it in real terms. She’d needed his censure instead of his warmth so that she could keep her feet firmly grounded. This man was not about to fall in love with her and beg her to stay. He hadn’t been in love with her before, so why would he fall now?

  If sex were the
magic potion, then it would have worked on him years ago. Besides, she was a different person than she had been when they’d married. She didn’t need his love. She only needed to be in her son’s life. She knew what it was like to grow up without a mother, and she didn’t want her son to experience the same. Nor did she want him to be shuffled between parents who used him as a pawn in their relationship.

  She would do anything to prevent it.

  “I wouldn’t dream of redecorating a thing,” she said crisply. “I—”

  Kalila emerged with a tray just then and Adan shot to his feet to help her. He took the tray from her gnarled hands, admonishing her for not sending one of the serving girls.

  “They were busy, Your Excellency,” she said. “And it is no problem.”

  “Adan,” he said firmly. “You promised.”

  The old woman glanced at Isabella, then nodded. “I did. Now be a good husband, Adan, and serve your wife,” she said before rambling back into the house.

  Isabella bit the inside of her lip as he turned. She wondered if he knew how much emotion showed on his face when he talked to Kalila. She could see it all written there: the love, the guilt, the pain, the frustration.

  Her heart throbbed as he came back to her and set the tray down. She wanted to rise to her feet and put her arms around him. To hug him tight and let him know it would all be right. He was a man with so many burdens, and she felt guilty for adding to them.

  The food was simple but filling. A copper pot held hot coffee, and Isabella took the handle and poured into two cups. They ate in silence. Isabella looked out over the garden as she chewed. The labyrinth in daylight was a far different place than it had been last night. Less magical, more ordinary.

  She thought of their clothes, probably still spread out in the center, and found herself blushing at the memory. Not only that, but a shiver pulsed through her. A pleasurable shiver.

  She’d tried not to think too much about what had happened between them—and yet, in truth, she’d hardly thought of anything else. The memories had been playing in the back of her head like a movie reel since she’d awakened this morning. All she could see was Adan’s naked body covering hers. All she could feel was the incredible heat and emotion of their lovemaking.

  Every stroke of his body into hers had been a revelation. Every kiss, every sigh, every caress. How had she lived each day without knowing that kind of simple joy?

  And how had she committed the colossal mistake of allowing last night to happen? It would have been far better had she not. Except that she’d had no will to resist when she’d turned to him in the labyrinth. No will to do anything but see where her feelings took her.

  Was that what she’d done two years ago, at her father’s house? Followed her feelings to some dark, terrible place that separated her from her baby and her husband? Would she ever know what had truly happened?

  “You said that your mother was relieved when you moved out of her house after your recovery,” Adan suddenly said, startling her. “Why was that?”

  Isabella spread jam on a piece of bread. It had always been hard to think about the many ways in which her relationship with her mother had gone wrong. But perhaps she owed him, since he’d shared his past with her.

  “My parents divorced when I was eleven,” she said. “I saw my mother rarely after that. My father wouldn’t let me go to the States, and my mother wouldn’t come to Jahfar. She called frequently at first, but then the calls tapered off. Eventually, she was more like an occasional pen pal than a mother.”

  “Staying with her was awkward.”

  “Yes. We were so different by then. I think I appalled her.” She chewed the bread. It went down like a lump of sand, flavorless and gritty in her throat.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because she’s so independent. And I was too Jahfaran, too traditional. I don’t think she liked what my father had made me into.” She’d been waiting, in those early days in her mother’s house, for someone to tell her what to do. Thinking back on it now, the knowledge filled her with disgust. She’d got over her conditioning, but it hadn’t been easy.

  “You don’t like talking of this,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I don’t, but I probably need to. Maybe I’d remember more if I could face some of the more difficult parts of my life.”

  His brows drew together. “How do you mean difficult?”

  Isabella shrugged. “I was an only child. You know that. And I always felt like such a disappointment to my parents. My father wanted a boy. My mother wanted to please my father. They divorced because of me.”

  “No one ever divorces because of a child. It’s not your fault.”

  She looked at him in disbelief. “Do they not? Why do you wish to divorce me, then?”

  His expression grew fierce. Troubled maybe. “That’s different, Isabella.”

  “But you do intend to divorce me,” she insisted. “Nothing has changed in that regard.”

  He tossed his napkin on the table. “It’s a little premature to be discussing our future after only one night, don’t you think?”

  Isabella’s heart throbbed. “You’ve had a long time to think of your future. I feel like I’m playing catch-up. Like I’m a dog chained to a tree and I can only go so far before the chain snaps me back again.”

  “What do you want from me, Isabella?” he asked, his eyes flashing in his handsome face. “I’m giving you this time with us. It’s all I can promise right now. Because Rafiq comes first, and I will do nothing to compromise his happiness.”

  Why was she pushing him? Now wasn’t the time, and yet she felt so hurt, so lost and alone, that she couldn’t seem to help herself. She wanted, just once, for someone to say it would be okay.

  And yet she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Adan might have enjoyed her body, but he wasn’t here to soothe her bruised soul.

  The sudden lump in her throat made eating impossible. She pushed her plate away.

  “I don’t particularly like auditioning for a role in your life, you know.” She got to her feet, her hands clenching at her sides. “I didn’t come here to do so, either. Because you’re right, this is about Rafiq. So I’d like to keep the focus where it belongs, if you don’t mind.”

  “And what do you mean by that?” he asked dangerously.

  She tilted her chin up. Courage, Isabella. “I mean that last night was a mistake I will not be repeating. If you want me in your bed, then you’ll have to accept me into your life.”

  “Are you threatening me, habibti?“

  She laughed without humor. “As if I could possibly do so. No, I’m telling you that I won’t sleep with a man who refuses to give me more than vague promises about my role in my son’s life. We don’t have to remain together as a couple, Adan, but I will be Rafiq’s mother until the day I die.”

  The following week would have been idyllic if not for the tension between her and Adan. He spent a lot of time in his office, on the phone, attending to affairs of state, but he often found time to stop and come to wherever she was sitting and playing with Rafiq. His face remained carefully blank when their eyes met, though when he gazed at Rafiq, the love that showed on his handsome features pierced her heart with its sweetness.

  He had not once attempted to touch her or kiss her since her declaration to him.

  And she had to admit that she missed the physical contact between them. It had been thrilling, intense and terrifying all at once. She’d thought she would feel more settled, less overwhelmed, if they went back to being strangers to one another.

  But nothing could be farther from the truth.

  She craved him, craved his heat and scent and passion. One night with him had been the biggest mistake she’d made; because it haunted the rest of her nights and made sleep difficult.

  Isabella firmly shoved Adan from her mind as she got dressed and prepared for her day with Rafiq and Kalila. Today, they were going into town to visit the souq. It would be their first outing to
gether and she looked forward to it very much.

  She met Kalila and Rafiq in the entry, and they walked out to the waiting cars and got inside. Isabella settled Rafiq in his car seat, and then they were rolling toward the small desert town. Rafiq chattered the whole way about things he saw outside the window. Before long, they were in town and Isabella was pushing Rafiq through the souq in his stroller. Kalila had said she could do it, but Isabella told her to enjoy the shops instead.

  A security detail ranged both behind them and in front of them in order to make sure there were no threats to their safety. It was disconcerting at first, but Isabella soon forgot they were there as she let herself enjoy the outing. The souq was colorful, the stalls jammed together haphazardly to create a warren of pathways. There were vendors selling spices, cloth, gold, carpets, copper, clothes and hundreds of other things. Isabella sighed happily. She’d missed this, though she hadn’t been allowed to attend the souq very often growing up.

  Too dangerous, her father had said, when what he really meant was that he didn’t have time to take her.

  Rafiq stared wide-eyed at the motion and color all around them. Isabella stopped and bought him a honey cake at one of the stalls. She put it on the stroller tray and he dug into the sticky mess with relish.

  “His father loved honey cakes at that age, too,” Kalila said. “I used to make a special one on his birthday.”

  Isabella smiled. In the few days she’d spent time with Kalila, the woman had always been so formal and reserved. This was the first time she’d spoken of something personal.

  “Was he a handful growing up?” Isabella asked, thinking that he was certainly a handful now.

  Kalila laughed. “He was, as you say, a handful,” she replied. “But a very loving boy nonetheless. He always regretted starting trouble, though I know he did it for attention.”

  “His mother’s attention?”

  Kalila frowned. “And his father’s. Mostly his father’s, I think. He learned early that his mother was not interested.”

  “Does he see her often now?”

  Kalila shook her head. “Rarely. He ignores her calls. In his own way, I suppose he’s paying her back.”