by Abby Green
Salman looked up at her and the set of his face was grim. ‘We need to get you back to Merkazad.’
He lifted her up into his arms, and it was only then that Jamilah saw how he’d got there. She’d been too intent on ignoring him before.
‘You came on the horse,’ she said stupidly, her arm tightening fractionally around his neck.
She felt Salman’s chest move. ‘Don’t remind me.’
With infinite gentleness and awesome strength he placed her in the saddle, and then with seemingly effortless grace he smoothly vaulted on himself, behind her. The horse was skittish, and pranced, but Salman took the reins and brought him back under control swiftly. Jamilah was too stunned by this side of Salman she’d never seen before to say a word, but clearly he was an innately talented horseman.
The revelation almost, but not quite, distracted her from the sensation of Salman’s rock-hard chest behind her, his powerful thighs cupping hers, and his arms encasing her within their embrace. She felt safe, protected and cosseted, and yet again she was proving to herself that she’d learnt nothing.
They encountered the search party along with the local doctor not far from the village, and Salman directed the doctor and the girl who’d tended Jamilah that first night to follow them, thanking everyone else for coming to their aide, and telling them they could now relax. He sent one of the boys to tell the chopper pilot to get ready for take-off.
Jamilah’s heart turned over as she heard how innately regal Salman sounded. He seemed to be morphing in front of her eyes into the man he was always born to be. Within minutes Jamilah was being tended to by the shy girl and the local doctor, whom she would have trusted any day over the hospital in Merkazad. He pronounced to Salman that she should have X-rays just in case, but that he didn’t think her injuries were more than a sprain and a bump.
With her jeans cut to above the knee on her injured leg, her ankle bandaged and a plaster on her head, Salman carried Jamilah out to the Jeep which was waiting. Despite everything that had happened, as they took off in the helicopter a short while later she felt an awful welling of emotion at leaving the little oasis, her eyes smarting with tears. She turned her face from Salman, terrified he might see her emotion.
Salman was grimmer than he’d ever been in his life. Jamilah had nearly killed herself in her attempt to get away from him, and he’d just found out that he’d been a father for the shortest amount of time—and the knowledge wasn’t sending the sickening rejection to his gut that he might have expected. On the contrary, he felt a sense of loss. He glanced at the woman to his left. She was looking away from him, with her body angled away as far as possible.
He sighed. If there had been a moment in the past few weeks when Jamilah might not have hated him quite as intensely as she had since Paris, he’d well and truly quashed it.
‘Salman, go away. You don’t need to be here.’
He was implacable. ‘Well, tough. I’m not going anywhere. And I do need to be here—you could have concussion.’
Jamilah sighed and wished her pulse would calm down. ‘One of the girls can watch me.’
‘I’m watching you. If it hadn’t been for me you never would have gone off on that hare-brained horse.’
Jamilah sighed again, recognising Salman’s immovability. He was sitting on a chair by her bed, arms on his knees, hands linked, watching her intently. She lay back and closed her eyes, hoping that if she feigned sleep he might leave. But knowing he wouldn’t.
They’d gone straight to the hospital in Merkazad that afternoon, where Jamilah had been probed and X-rayed to within an inch of her life, all while Salman had issued autocratic orders and insisted on lifting Jamilah from place to place as if she were a complete invalid.
And now she was ensconced in the royal suite at the castle, having been bathed as well as she could be with her ankle bandaged, and fed a delicious dinner. All under Salman’s watchful supervision. Only the shocked look from Lina, Iseult’s personal maid, had stopped Salman from coming into the bathroom while she’d been washed.
For a long moment nothing was said, and tension escalated in Jamilah’s body. When Salman spoke it was almost a relief—until she registered what he’d said.
‘There’s a good reason why I didn’t think your baby was mine.’
Jamilah replied testily, ‘Yes, because you arrogantly believe yourself to be infallible, and couldn’t conceive for a second that something so human could happen to you.’
Jamilah heard him emit a short, curt laugh, but it came from the end of the bed where he now stood. Her eyes flicked open and her heart spasmed when she saw the pained look on his face.
‘You’re not far wrong in your analysis…but there was a bit more to it than that.’
Jamilah frowned, fingers unconsciously plucking at the ornately decorated coverlet on the bed. ‘What do you mean?’
Salman ran a hand through his hair. ‘The fact is that I made sure never to be susceptible to such a human failing. I made a decision a long time ago never to have children.’ He sighed heavily. ‘To that end I had a vasectomy when I was twenty-two. I spoke with the doctor who performed the operation today, while you were having your X-rays, and he informed me that there was every possibility it could have failed—and I wouldn’t know as I’ve never been for follow-up checks.’ He quirked a smile, but it was hard. ‘Thanks to that arrogance you mentioned. I’ll have to have tests to make sure, but after what you’ve told me, I think I know what they’ll find…’
Shock coursed through Jamilah. No wonder he’d not believed it could have been his baby. This turned everything she’d thought she knew on its head, and threw up a whole slew of other implications that she didn’t want to think about now.
She watched as he came back around the bed and sat down again heavily in the chair. An air of defeat clung to him, and he looked tired. A million miles from the cool arrogance he portrayed so well. ‘Why did you do that?’
He looked down for a long moment before looking up, and the darkness in her eyes nearly made her want to say, Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. But she didn’t. She was too weak—she wanted to know.
‘Because,’ he began, ‘I never wanted any child of mine to go through what I’d gone through, and I believed that somehow the horrors I’d witnessed might be passed down, like some form of osmosis, in my DNA. I feared that I might not be able to protect my own child from evil, as my own father had failed to protect me.’
For a long moment neither one said anything, and then Jamilah said quietly, ‘You must know now that that won’t happen.’
The bleakness in his eyes reached out to envelop her. ‘That’s just it. I don’t know. How can I know? How can anyone know? And I’m not prepared to risk such a thing. Not for anyone.’
Pain lanced Jamilah inside—so acute she almost called out. Because right now she harboured a secret. She held within her the living proof that Salman’s seed lived and was healthy. She’d found out in the hospital earlier, when the nurse had done a routine pregnancy test as a precaution before the X-rays.
But how could she tell him? How could she be the one to stop him doing what he felt was right? After the horrors he’d seen, she couldn’t blame him. With her heart breaking into pieces inside her, she asked fatefully, ‘Even now you can’t trust for a moment?’
He shook his head. ‘I won’t put anyone through living with me only to hope for more…’ His voice was fierce. ‘I won’t do that to you, Jamilah. You deserve better than me. You deserve someone who can love you.’
Tears clogged her throat and burned behind her eyes. She turned her head away and choked out, ‘Leave me alone, Salman. I don’t want to see you any more.’
After a long moment of silence, she heard him get up and say heavily, ‘Nadim and Iseult are coming home tomorrow.’
Jamilah was silent. She couldn’t speak.
‘I’ll be leaving tomorrow evening…I have business to attend to.’
Emotion was rising within Jamilah, and s
he was afraid she’d crumble completely. ‘Go, Salman—just go.’
A deep sigh came, and then he said, ‘I’m sorry, Jamilah. For everything. I’ll have Lina come in to watch you…’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SALMAN stood on Nadim’s terrace and looked down over Merkazad. This view didn’t threaten him any more. The emotions roused by the woman sleeping just a few suites away did.
He slammed a fist down on the stone balcony. He was a coward. He’d never felt more like a coward in his life. He wanted to go back into that room and seduce Jamilah until she was weak and pliant in his arms, until she admitted that she wanted him to stay, or until she said she’d go back to France with him.
But that was the one thing he couldn’t and shouldn’t do. He’d had countless moments to redeem what was left of his soul, and this was his last chance. He had to let Jamilah go, and never, ever pursue her again.
Even the thought of never seeing her again made him weak. But he stood tall and forced ice into his veins. Forced out all emotion. It was hard. It had been easy for so long to be unemotional, and now it was hard. He felt a flash of anger for the woman who had precipitated that painful thaw. But the anger dissolved just as quickly and was replaced by something much more poignant.
‘Are you sure you’re okay? Something about you is definitely different.’
Jamilah looked at her friend, and cursed the Irishwoman’s intuition. She felt herself grow hot under the narrowed amber gaze. Nadim and his wife Iseult had returned the previous day from their trip to Ireland. With their return, and the reality of a new royal baby arriving soon, the people who had been voicing discontent about Nadim’s foreign wife seemed to have put aside their concerns.
Jamilah muttered something incoherent, and felt awful that she couldn’t confide her secret. But at this stage—only scant days into her pregnancy—she was too superstitious after the last time. She felt vulnerable in the bed that she was still consigned to, wanting to escape Iseult’s probing, and then it got worse.
She heard her say casually, ‘Salman went home last night.’
‘Yes?’ Jamilah tried to sound as non-committal as possible. She’d feigned sleep when he’d come into her room late yesterday afternoon, but she’d felt the merest hint of a touch against her cheek, as if he’d trailed a finger down it, and it had taken all her resolve not to reach out and grab his hand and beg him not to go.
Iseult continued. ‘He’s been talking to Nadim about what happened to him as a child…I think they’re finally going to be okay. And Salman seems to be interested in helping him run things here on a more regular basis.’
Jamilah’s heart spasmed in her chest. If Salman was going to be a more regular visitor then surely that would have to be good news for his son or daughter? But the bittersweet prospect of it nearly made her want to double over with pain.
She forced a bright smile to her face. ‘I’m really glad for them. It was time Salman shared what happened. It was too big a burden.’
Iseult’s eyes narrowed even more. ‘So you knew, then?’
Jamilah flushed, and cursed her big mouth. ‘Yes… I… He told me.’
Iseult put out a hand. ‘Jamilah—’
Jamilah took it and squeezed, barely able to cling onto control. ‘Please, Iseult…not now. I’ll talk to you about it again. I’m quite tired, actually…’
Iseult just looked at her and finally nodded, hauling herself up with an effort out of the chair. ‘Okay. You know where I am.’ She smiled ruefully, then said with a pointed look to her belly, ‘I won’t be going anywhere fast.’
Jamilah appreciated the attempt at humour, and gave her friend a quick tight smile. She watched as she left the room and then lay back, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she’d ever feel whole again.
A week later it was early evening, and Jamilah was back at the stables and hobbling around with a crutch to aid her. She didn’t hear the Jeep come to a halt behind her, but she happened to look up and see Abdul’s face in the far corner of the stableyard. His eyes had grown huge.
Jamilah frowned. ‘Abdul…?’ She turned to follow his gaze. When she did, she had to hang onto her crutch with two hands.
Salman was emerging from the Jeep, white-faced and with a grim expression. Just then a stablehand led a horse into the yard, just feet away from Salman, and she could see how he tensed and went even whiter.
But he stood firm, didn’t move. Jamilah turned to face him fully, barely aware that Abdul had started to clear people and horses from the yard around them.
‘Salman…’
He shut the door of the Jeep, and Jamilah only took in then that he was dressed in jeans and a loose shirt. He looked unkempt and tired, dark stubble lining his jaw. And her heart lurched.
He walked towards her, and Jamilah scrabbled back inelegantly, terrified that her composure would break. ‘What…what do you want?’
Salman stopped a few feet away and quirked a brow. He looked weary, and a little sad. ‘Somehow you never look pleased to see me, Jamilah.’
Her mouth twisted. ‘Can you blame me?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I guess I can’t.’
‘What are you doing here, Salman?’
‘You could call it an intensive course in getting over my phobias—in getting over myself.’
Jamilah fought for equilibrium. She hitched up her chin. ‘Well, good luck with that. But, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to.’
She turned and tried to walk away, but forgot for a moment that she couldn’t walk. When she put weight on her sore ankle she yelped in pain and lurched helplessly into thin air, despite the crutch.
She was caught around the waist and hauled back against a hard, taut body. She felt Salman’s arms tighten and his head came down, his mouth finding that spot between her shoulder and neck and pressing a kiss there. She moaned in despair at the inevitable rise of desire. And then with a struggle she fought to get free, twisting in his arms.
Salman eventually let her go, but she had to hang onto him, much to her chagrin, as the crutch had fallen. Her two hands were on his forearms, and she looked up at him, shaking her head. ‘Why have you come back, Salman? What do you want?’
Sudden tears blurred her vision, emotion erupted, and she couldn’t hold it back. ‘Damn you, Salman, why can’t you just leave me be? I don’t want to be just your lover, or your mistress. I can’t—’
Her words were stopped when he pulled her into him and his mouth covered hers in a searing brand. On a traitorous reflex Jamilah twined her hands around his neck and stretched up. This was both heaven and hell. She could taste the salty tang of her tears as they touched her lips.
Eventually Salman pulled back and looked down, smoothing a piece of hair from one hot cheek. ‘Please…can we go somewhere to talk?’
Jamilah finally nodded. She couldn’t deny this man anything when he stood so close and looked at her like that.
He lifted her up into his arms and asked gruffly, ‘Where is your apartment?’
She directed him to the open door to her office, and then, once inside, through to the back, where her private sitting room and bedroom were. Carefully he sat her down on the couch, and then stood back.
Salman saw the wary look on Jamilah’s tear-stained face, and felt pain lance his chest. And he welcomed it—even as he wanted to rip out his own heart for putting that wary look there. He took a breath. This would be hard, and he deserved for it to be as hard as possible—because he’d nearly thrown it all away.
‘Will you just…hear me out?’
Jamilah muttered caustically, some of her fire returning, ‘I don’t have much choice. I’m a captive audience.’
Salman frowned. ‘How is your ankle?’
‘Fine…although I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to enquire after my ankle.’
‘No.’ Salman sighed heavily. ‘No, I didn’t.’ He drove a hand through his hair, and then paced back and forth. Finally he stopped and looked at Jamilah. �
��I didn’t go home to France immediately. I went to Africa first—to the charity headquarters.’ He grimaced. ‘I thought I might distract myself there…but all it did was show me how lucky I am. What I could have if I only allowed myself to believe for a moment…to be brave enough.’ He shook his head. ‘Those kids…they have nothing. And no one. Very little chance to ever reclaim a normal existence.’
‘Salman…?’ Jamilah was confused.
He came and sat down—too close. But Jamilah had nowhere to go. He took her hand in both of his and she was shocked to feel a tremor.
‘You broke something apart inside of me six years ago, Jamilah, and I wasn’t ready to deal with it. But I’ve always known that some day I’d come back to you. It’s as if I’ve always known you have that power. Ever since you were small…ever since that day at our parents’ gravesides, when you were so silent and stoic…I felt then as if you could see right into me—and yet you weren’t horrified by what you saw…’
A lump tightened Jamilah’s throat again. ‘I can’t believe you remember that moment.’
He looked at her and her heart beat unevenly. ‘I’ve never forgotten it. And the truth is, despite my stubbornness, even if I hadn’t seen you again at the Sultan’s party I would have found some way back to you…don’t you see? I’ve been making my way back to you all along…’
Jamilah felt fresh tears welling. ‘Don’t, Salman— please don’t say these things…if you’re just saying this to persuade me back into your bed…’
He gripped her hand. ‘I want so much more than that, Jamilah…I don’t have any defences left where you’re concerned. I flew to France from Africa, and a doctor confirmed that the vasectomy didn’t work…he asked me if I wanted to do it again.’
Jamilah held her breath, her tears clearing. ‘What did you say?’
