"Well, I've only just started but.. .1 thought I might like to be a teacher like the ones at the university."
He caught the uncertainty in her tone. "You'd make a wonderful lecturer."
Her smile bloomed. "Do you really think so? I'd have to do much more studying to become such a teacher. It will take a long time, especially since I want to spend a lot of time with the boys when they are ours, but I think I can do it if I work hard"
"I have every faith in your stubbornness, cher," he joked, touched by the way she was embracing his dream. "If you're not careful, you'll make us respectable. Can you see me at some faculty dinner, discussing business theory?"
She laughed at his horrified tone. "I shall try very hard not to tame you—it's fun having a husband with a reputation such as yours."
He grinned. "Tell me more about your day." A frown marred her face. "Well...many people asked me if I was a model, as if a woman with a certain kind of face could be nothing else."
He moved his hand to her hair and undid her plait, sending that midnight-and-gold glory tumbling over his hands. "I suppose people think that that would be more glamorous than studying."
"Hmm."
"Why didn't you model? Wouldn't it have been a way out?"
"I thought about it." She settled herself more comfortably against him. "It will be hard for you to understand, coming as you do from this country of ultimate freedom, but I'm very old-fashioned. I don't believe in showing my body to anyone but my husband.
"I couldn't do it, not even to escape my home. It would've been a betrayal of myself, a surrender to my father's attempts to change me from the woman I am. I always thought I would think of something else."
"I like being the only one who's seen your body," he whispered, touched by her confession of her deeply held beliefs, of her determination not to compromise those beliefs, even in an attempt to escape the life she'd hated.
Her fingers undid one of his buttons and touched skin. "I know. Every time you look at me, I know you're congratulating yourself on acquiring me."
"Men don't acquire women. We woo them." He bristled.
"When did you woo me?" It was only when she met his gaze that he realized his lovely lady of a wife was enjoying herself by teasing him.
Grumbling, he captured her laughing face and proceeded to kiss her until she was whimpering and agreeing to his every demand. Then he teased her.
Things had been going a little too well as far as Marc was concerned. He supposed he should've expected it all to come falling down around his ears. He'd been kicked viciously by life too many times to take anything for granted.
'There's a letter for you in the mail my assistant just dropped off," he called out, striding into the kitchen the next day. After waking at 4:00 a.m. for an international telephone conference, he'd had no desire to head into his city office. The fact that Hira had had no classes, either, had cinched his decision to telecommute. "It's from within the States."
Hira's face was as curious as his when he handed her the pale-lilac envelope addressed to her, care of his company's post office box number. 'That's strange. I don't know many people yet."
She didn't object when he walked around to stand beside her, one hand idly stroking over her curvy hip. At that moment he was simply interested in the unexpected letter, with no knowledge of the pain that could result from a single small envelope.
Hira tore open the flap and pulled out a card with the words I Love You emblazoned in red on a white background. Marc felt his whole body tighten in readiness for a fight. Who the hell had dared to send his wife love greetings?
"Perhaps it's one of the boys—they make me cards sometimes," Hira muttered, flipping open the cover. Almost immediately she slammed it shut.
"Who is it from?" he insisted, his hand clenching on her hip.
Her face was pale but her answer honest. "Romaz."
"The man you loved?"
"The man I thought I loved," she corrected. "He wasn't who I believed him to be."
But, Marc thought with a gut-wrenching shaft of pain, she'd cared very deeply for this man at one time and there had been no coercion involved. Not like their marriage.
"What does he want?" His wife was entitled to her privacy and he wanted her to trust him.
"He's in the country with his new wife, but he wishes to visit me." She sounded vaguely shocked.
"I see."
Her head jerked up. "What do you see, husband?" Her voice was soft.
He was furious at the gall of the man in contacting Hira through him. "You had feelings for this man once. Now you're my wife, so you won't be seeing him." It came out sounding like an order.
Her eyes narrowed and he knew he'd made a mistake. "Ah, so you never see the women who have been in your bed?"
He blinked. "That's very crude coming from you."
"Perhaps I've decided that with you, a lady will only get crushed into the dirt." She turned to face him fully, those wild eyes of hers furious. "You didn't answer my question."
"Tit for tat?"
"Do you really think me so shallow?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "No. But I still don't want you seeing him."
"Why?"
There was no answer he could give her that wouldn't betray his snarling possessiveness. Hands fisted, he moved away. "If you're determined to meet him, I can't stop you." His tone was harsh.
Silence, then a quiet, "I'll write him a short note telling him a visit is not possible. Even he should be given
a response."
She turned and walked away, leaving him shaken by the power of the relief he felt at her decision.
That night as they lay in bed Hira turned to her husband. "I've sent Romaz a letter saying that I'm happily married and have no wish to meet with him." She knew her husband would never ask her what she'd said, having too much pride. A woman who married a hunter of a man like him had to know when to bend, for a hunter's pride was part of his emotional armor, something no true wife would ever steal away.
He turned to her, arms folded behind his head, ghost-gray eyes glinting silver in the moonlight shooting through their bedroom windows. "Are you happily married?"
It wasn't a question she'd anticipated. "I suppose I'm happy."
"That's not exactly an avowal of joy." "No, it's not." She sighed. "When I was a girl, I dreamed many dreams about the man I would marry, though I was aware from a very early age that my father saw me as a commodity. I always knew I'd be part of a business deal, so it wasn't such a shock to marry you."
"Ouch." Her husband rose to lean over her, a wry look on his savagely masculine face, a face mat made her heart sigh and her stomach tighten in desire, no matter how hard she tried to resist. And when he smiled that slow smile...
"I thought you might've fallen for my charm."
"You tease me, for you know we didn't speak much before our wedding night." Marc had seen her one night, and the next day he'd agreed to her father's desire to seal the deal with her hand.
At that stage she'd met the American stranger who'd offered her a way out of her father's house exactly twice. And yet he'd seemed by far the better choice. Her womanly instincts had craved him from the first, though the dark intensity in his eyes had scared her.
Her husband brushed his lips across hers. "Thank you for telling me about Romaz." He paused. "I'm sorry you missed out on the big wedding girls dream of."
She was surprised at the genuine regret in his tone. "Do not be, husband. I never dreamed of a big wedding. I always hoped it would be a quiet affair, though I accepted that my father's business instincts meant it would most likely be huge. So you see, you gave me the wedding I wished for." She stroked his thick, dark hair off his forehead, unwilling to hurt him in any way if she could help it. Her man had known far too much hurt already.
To her confusion, he moved away from her. Reaching behind him to the small bedside table, he picked up something and returned. "Hold out your lef
t hand."
Curious, she did as asked. Using one hand, he slipped her wedding ring off. She bit her lip and forbore to ask him what he was doing. Her patience was rewarded as the ring was slipped back on, with another below it.
Raising it to the moonlight, she saw a trio of jewels winking back at her. In the dim light, she guessed that the two flanking stones were small square-cut diamonds. Another stone sat in the centre.
"What is this for?" Her heart felt as if it would burst.
He stroked the delicate skin of her inner wrist. "It's the engagement ring you never received—a little romance to make up for the hurry with which I 'acquired' you."
The teasing reminder of her own words made her want to smile, but then she wondered if he'd had his secretary pick it and she shouldn't be feeling so cherished. "What's the stone in the middle?"
"A tigereye prism." Linking their fingers, he brought her knuckles to his lips in a kiss that was as possessive as it was tender. "Don't you want to know what the other two are?"
'They appear to be diamonds." She began to feel hope in her deepest heart. A tigereye prism wasn't something to be bought off the street. Found only in her homeland, it was almost as prized as its more famous sibling, Zulheil Rose. However, because its structure made it so very difficult to work with, it wasn't exported. Most jewelers found the investment of their time in creating pieces from the recalcitrant gem uneconomical.
"They're Zulheil Rose in the palest hue, with the tiniest hint of fire within. I thought they'd pick up the color of the tigereye, the color of your eyes."
Her thudding heart felt as if it were smashing against her ribs. "You chose this for me?"
"Yes. I contacted a jeweler in Zulheil and described what I wanted. And I put a rush on it." He ducked his head and kissed her again. "Do you like it?"
"Oh, yes, husband. Thank you!" Captivated by his attempt at romance, she threw her arms around him in an exuberant hug. "You're wonderful. I'm so happy." Joy bubbled up deep inside her. It wasn't the jewels that made her so delighted, it was the fact that Marc's act had clearly been motivated by the desire to make her happy.
Coming from a man like him, such an action meant far more than words.
"Well then, what I'm going to tell you next will make you delirious."
"What?"
"I have to return to Zulheil in the next couple of days, for approximately two weeks, to tie up some loose ends and engage in some negotiations with your sheik. Do you think you can play hooky that long?"
Her eyes widened. "Yes!" Then to Marc's surprise, she frowned. "We will stay with my family?"
He gave her a smile he knew was smug. "I've bought us a house, cher"
"Husband, you are most definitely in need of a reward." Her smile was sultry in the dark.
He wanted far more than just sex from his wife, but he'd take what he could get. Yet it hurt that she still saw him as such a shallow man, to be "rewarded" with her body, not allowing him to share in that indefinable something that made her such a unique individual. "Yeah?"
"I will sing for you." She pushed at his chest. He blinked. "Sing?" He hadn't known she could sing. "Why haven't I heard you before?"
"Because I didn't like you as much as I do now." Her answer was as honest as always, and for that reason it touched him in a place even the scars couldn't reach.
"So how much do you like me now?" She leaned up and kissed his nose in a playful way that startled him. "A whole lot. And not because of the ring but because of the reason behind it."
"I did good, huh?" He tried to make light of the heavy weight of emotion clogging his throat.
Pushing him off her, she sat up. Then without warning, she sang to him. An exotic, alien song in the language of her homeland; a beautiful language that seemed to sway like the trees and roll like the sea. He had no idea of the meaning of her words, but he knew that whatever it was, it was powerful and utterly beautiful. Her voice was crystal clear, with just a hint of sultriness.
Sexy innocence.
Just like his wife.
He lay there in the moonlight and let the purity of her voice wash over him. His chest filled with the power of her gift. For the first time in their married life, he felt as though she'd truly accepted him as her man.
"Husband, are you asleep?" She sounded offended.
In answer, he hauled her down to his body and captured her lips in a kiss that was far more than a mere fusion of mouths. Unable to say what he felt, he tried to show her how important she was to him, how very, very important. The kiss accelerated, and the next time he came up for air he found her lying below him, her body holding him deep within her. The naked emotion in her eyes almost tore him to pieces.
And he knew.
They'd gone beyond sex, beyond lust, beyond desire, into a realm he'd never before explored. In this place there was joy beyond compare and stunning pleasure that touched the heart before the body.
He couldn't fight the tumbling of his internal walls, couldn't fight that strange, wild, unknown emotion that clawed its way into his heart and refused to leave. Barely able to breathe, he stroked her cheek once.
Then, as moonlight washed over her beautiful face, he moved inside her. Her hands closed over his shoulders and her exotic eyes went blind with passion so intense it refused to allow him to separate himself. Somehow he was able to focus his mind for the moment it took to watch her go over the edge. Only when she was crying out did he allow the madness of that inexplicable emotion to overwhelm him.
Nine
They were almost ready to leave for Zulheil two days later, when Marc got a call that changed all their plans.
"Becky's been found," he told her.
Heart in her throat, Hira went with him to see the child, who'd been admitted to a hospital in Lafayette. Becky's new adoptive parents were there as well, out of their mind with worry for their baby girl.
"Mr. and Mrs. Keller?" Marc's voice was gentle. She could almost see him rethinking his ideas about how to reunite Brian and Becky. The woman sitting there with red eyes looked as if she hadn't eaten for days, and her husband's face was haunted.
"Yes?" Mr. Keller looked up, hope lighting up his eyes for a second. "Are you a doctor? Did she wake up?"
"No. But I might be able to help." Mrs. Keller's eyes were bleak. "How could you? I know who you are, Mr. Bordeaux, but your wealth can't help us. She's wasting away and no specialist can tell us why. God, my poor baby. She's so tiny, so fragile."
Hira moved to sit on a hard plastic chair beside Mrs. Keller and took her hand. "You must not worry. My husband can indeed help. Tell them, Marc."
He pulled up a chair to face the Kellers, his jaw taut. "This may come as a shock, but when Becky was placed in the orphanage from which you adopted her, she was separated from her twin, a little boy. It was the first time they'd ever been parted from each other."
Mrs. Keller gasped, the hand in Hira's suddenly bruisingly strong. "No, no! Dear Lord. She never said a word. Not once."
"Brian lives in an orphanage that we have a connection to," Marc continued, voice low and deep. If Hira hadn't known him, she'd have thought him utterly calm. But because she did know him, she could see the worry weighing down his heart. "And he's almost as bad as Becky. They need to be together."
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