Kadir had only called her once, to tell her that Sharif was well. He’d be out of commission for a while, and was apparently extremely grumpy, but he’d live, and even regain full use of his wounded arm and leg, with therapy. After that—nothing. She’d heard that Kadir would get his meeting with Lord Carrington on Wednesday evening. Would he even bother to remain in Silverton for the gala? He had a new Kahani security detail in place and had settled back into the Redmond Estate, but once his meeting with Lord Carrington was done, there was no reason for Kadir to stay in Silvershire at all.
The news Cassandra had obtained from Hakim, before his death, had answered some of the questions surrounding Prince Reginald’s death. Zahid Bin-Asfour had not been involved, and neither had the government of Kahani. There was no longer any fear of potentially embarrassing press to keep Lord Carrington from meeting with Kadir. Who knows? Maybe they’d even form that alliance Kadir wanted so very badly.
It was very difficult to remain angry with a man who so obviously wanted to do good for his country.
Cassandra kept herself busy during the day, but when evening came, her mind wandered to Kadir. Some nights she actually expected him to come to the door and confess his love for her. But of course he didn’t come.
On Tuesday night, Cassandra donned her plain blue pajamas and sat down to write her mother a letter.
Dear Mum,
This is a busy week at work, as you know. There’s still so much to be done, I’m surprised Ms. Dunn doesn’t just chain us to our desks and make us stay until the gala is done.
She hadn’t told her mother about the kidnapping, about seeing a man shot, or about learning that Kadir did, indeed, love her. The events of Saturday night had been kept under wraps, and only a handful of people knew what had actually happened. It would be best, however, if she kept her parents away from Mrs. Thatcher this coming weekend….
I do love Kadir. Not that it matters, much. He’s going back to Kahani this week. Maybe tomorrow, after his meeting with Lord Carrington, maybe Sunday, after the gala. The sheik and I are too different in too many ways. We could never make it work, and I’m smart enough to understand that. I love him, and he broke my heart. Even though it still hurts, I’m not sorry. I’ll never be sorry. Don’t worry about me. I truly am fine.
See you Saturday. I hope Dad got a new tuxedo!
Love,
Cassandra
She sealed up the letter, prepared it to post in the morning, as usual, and walked through her familiar flat, turning off lights and preparing for bed.
When someone knocked on the door, she wasn’t surprised. She should’ve been, given the late hour, but she wasn’t. She looked through the peephole, and again, she was not surprised.
Cassandra opened the door. “So, are you here as Excellency or as Kadir?”
He took her in his arms, and that was answer enough. Kadir came into her flat, kicked the door shut behind him and then took the time to lock it.
“Are there guards in the hallway?” she asked. “Spies lurking outside my window?”
“No. No one knows I’m here. I slipped away from my new bodyguards.” Kadir laid his lips on her throat and sighed, in what felt and tasted like relief. “It’s the only way.”
Cassandra put her arms around Kadir and held on. This was secret, she understood that. No one could know…and it wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Kadir…”
He placed a finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up so she was looking him in the eye. “No talking,” he whispered. “No questions, no tears, no whispered wishes that we know won’t ever come true. If you can’t agree to that, then I’ll leave now.”
“You’re here just for the sex, then?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
She kissed him, knowing that once again he was lying to her, glad for this one last night, trying once again to make memories that would last a lifetime. There was desperation in his kiss, and in hers, but the desperation was quickly replaced by the passion they’d always shared.
Cassandra wanted to take her mouth from Kadir’s and tell him that she loved him. But she didn’t—and she didn’t have to. He already knew.
And she knew, just as well, that he loved her. He would never tell her so, but she knew it to the depths of her soul. Sharif’s words, when he’d thought they were going to die, only confirmed what her heart knew without question.
They kissed and took one step and then another toward the bedroom, fingers unbuttoning and unzipping as they went, hands exploring and arousing. Since her clothing consisted of pajamas and panties and nothing else, getting her undressed was easy work for Kadir.
Kadir, on the other hand, was fully dressed. He also carried Lexie’s six-shooter, which had been tucked away in a shoulder holster he wore beneath his jacket. As they reached the bed, he removed the six-shooter and laid it on the bedside table. By this point, she was already completely undressed, and several of his buttons and half a zipper had been undone. She lay back on the bed and watched as Kadir finished undressing himself. He had come prepared, and placed a couple of wrapped condoms on the table, there near the six-shooter.
He didn’t rush, but neither did he dawdle. And he kept his eyes, his beautiful bedroom eyes that spoke of love even when he denied it, on her the entire time.
When he crawled onto the bed, she wrapped her arms around his bare body and pulled him closer. The sensation of his skin against hers was heavenly, and she closed her eyes and drank him in. He kissed her throat, and then her mouth and then moved back to her throat again. Such soft, talented lips he had. She wallowed in the kiss, and in her body’s response.
One hand skimmed her body from breasts to thigh, and then back to breasts again. Fingers raked—gently, barely touching here and there and then rubbing much harder in other places. There was no rush, though her body seemed to spiral toward their joining. It spiraled slowly. Inexorably, but without even a hint of haste. Making love, even for the last time, should never be rushed. It should be savored, and that’s what they did. They savored.
Kadir kissed the crook of her elbow, and let his lips linger there for a moment. The sensation was wonderful, and she smiled as his tongue flickered in and out. He teased her with his fingers, but never too boldly. Each movement was languid, unhurried. Maybe he was making memories, too.
When it seemed she couldn’t take any more, Cassandra rolled Kadir onto his back and explored his body as he had explored hers. She kissed his throat and his mouth, raked her hands over the length of his body, searched for those unexpected places where a kiss or a proper stroke made him moan or quiver. Beneath the ear, just beneath his navel, the inside of his thigh.
She raked her fingertips up and down his erection, and then straddled him to lower her head and taste him, very briefly and with a flick of her tongue. It was that flick of the tongue that made him reach for the bedside table and the condoms there.
Kadir made love to her as slowly as he had aroused her. They didn’t rush, because they knew when this night was over it would be truly over. After he walked out of her apartment—in a few minutes or a few hours—she’d probably never see him again.
So she felt the beginning waves of orgasm with a touch of sadness. Too soon. It was all too soon. She couldn’t tell Kadir that she loved him…not if she wanted him to stay a while longer…but as her body cracked and quivered beneath his, she grabbed on to him and cried out his name, and when he came with her, his own completion coming as her body still trembled around his, she said, “I’m not sorry, Kadir. I’ll never be sorry.”
It was near dawn when Kadir rose from Cassandra’s bed, leaving her sleeping deeply and with evident contentment. He dressed without making a sound, but when it came time to return the six-shooter to the holster, he hesitated. The small weapon was not his. It had been borrowed, and it had served its purpose.
Cassandra didn’t wake. He could simply walk away. It would be easier than saying goodbye, even if she tried to make the parting easy
for him.
He sat on the side of the bed, dressed and ready to go—and yet not ready to go. He drew down the covers and placed one hand on Cassandra’s bare back. She had a beautiful back, perfectly shaped and feminine and strong. Had he ever told her that he loved the sight of her bare back? As well as the curve of her hips, and her smile, and her feet with the pink toenails, and the grace of her long fingers and…everything. Everything about her was beautiful, and well-loved.
Kadir leaned down and kissed Cassandra’s spine. She squirmed, sighed and then smiled in response.
“Goodbye,” he whispered.
Still more asleep than awake, she said, “Already? No…don’t…it can’t be time….”
When she tried to turn over, he pressed his mouth to her shoulder and very gently kept her in place. He couldn’t walk out without saying goodbye, but neither did he wish to wallow in the pain.
“You are amazing,” he whispered. “There is no woman on the earth quite like you, Cassandra Klein.”
She was fully awake now. He felt it, in the tension of her shoulder and the change in her breath.
“Will you be at the gala on Saturday?” she asked. No wonder she didn’t turn to face him. Even though she tried to hide it, he heard the tears in her voice. She was not a woman to weep easily, and it hurt him to know he had caused her even a single tear.
“No. After my meeting with Lord Carrington, I’ll return to Kahani immediately. After all that’s happened, it’s for the best.”
“Too bad,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing badly. “I never got to see you in your traditional Kahani dress.”
“Trust me,” he said, kissing her shoulder again. “You’ve missed nothing.”
They tried to make light in this last moment together, but could not, and eventually Cassandra turned to him—red eyes and all. She barely lifted up.
“I’ll miss you,” she said sincerely.
He kissed her quickly, then moved away while he still could. When he reached the door he whispered, lowly so she would not hear, “I’m not sorry, either.”
Even though at the moment, he hurt like hell.
Chapter 16
Thursday morning found Sharif Al-Asad a cross, short-tempered patient. All the nurses were afraid of him. He was scheduled to be released the following afternoon, and no one on the staff would be sorry to see him go.
Cassandra arranged the cut flowers she’d brought to cheer up his room, even though he’d already declared that he hated flowers and did not want them in his sight. She’d decided that Sharif was not nearly as irritable as he pretended to be. Maybe he was, but it suited her to believe that he was putting on a show.
When Sharif realized that she wasn’t going to toss the flowers or take them with her when she left, he sighed in pure disgust and leaned back against a pile of soft pillows.
“Did you see Kadir last night before he left?” Cassandra asked.
“Yes.” Sharif did not elaborate.
Did he think she was going to cry on his wounded shoulder? That wasn’t her style, and loving and losing wasn’t going to change that. Besides, if she did want to cry on someone’s shoulder, it wouldn’t be Sharif’s. He was seriously lacking in the empathy department. “I hear his meeting with Lord Carrington went very well.”
“So I heard,” Sharif said suspiciously.
Cassandra quit fiddling with the flowers and smiled down at Sharif, giving him her full attention. He had refused to allow the nurses to shave his face or cut his hair, so he still looked very much like a wild man. The wildness was mostly in his eyes, however, not in his untended hair and scruffy beard. She sat on the side of the bed, startling him with her easy familiarity.
“Since things went so well with Lord Carrington, I expect Kadir will come back to Silvershire, now and then,” she said in a lowered voice, so no one passing in the hall would hear her.
Sharif’s face hardened. “Don’t fool yourself into believing—”
“I’m not fooling myself,” she interrupted. “I don’t expect Kadir to come riding in on a white horse to sweep me away. I have my life, and he has his, and they don’t exactly suit one another well. I’ve known that all along. There’s no fairy-tale ending waiting for us.” Still, she had hope—an unexpected, perhaps foolish, girlish hope—that she would see Kadir again. If all she could have was a night here and there…she’d take it. Gladly.
“Why are you here?” Sharif asked, his voice brusque and gruff.
She straightened his covers with a nervous gesture. “To bring you flowers, of course. Besides, I wanted to see you before you go, to make sure you’re on the mend and…”
“And what?” he snapped when she faltered.
Cassandra looked Sharif in the eye. “I’ll be blunt. No one loves Kadir the way you and I do. I just…” She’d practiced what she wanted to say all last night and this morning, and now the words wouldn’t come as she’d planned. Best to be plainspoken.
“Watch his back, please. Keep him safe, if you can.” She sighed and once again fiddled nervously with the top edge of the sheet. “I’d like to think that one day soon the two of you will see Zahid dead, or in prison, and I’d like to think when that happens, Kadir will be safe. But that’s not entirely true, and deep down I know it. When Zahid Bin-Asfour is gone, someone else will take his place, just as someone else will take Hakim’s place. Kadir is so determined to bring change to Kahani, that’s all he sees, and I’m afraid he won’t take proper care of himself.” Again she looked Sharif in the eye. “So I want you to do it.”
She thought that Sharif would refuse out of spite, since he didn’t like her at all, but instead he said, “I’ll resign my post and take over as Kadir’s head of security, if he will have me.” A crooked smile twisted his lips. “After the debacle at your flat, he might not want me.”
“He will.”
“I failed.”
Cassandra smiled as she stood. “I can’t know for sure, but I have a feeling you don’t fail very often. After allowing Hakim to sneak up on us once, I don’t imagine that sort of thing will happen again.”
Sharif’s answer was a low growl. She took that as an affirmative, and reached for his unbound hand to shake on the deal, such as it was. Kadir would be in good hands, and nothing else mattered.
“You know,” she said as she ended the handshake, “if you had a girlfriend you wouldn’t be so irritable all the time.”
Her boldness shocked him, and his dark eyes widened.
“You’ve grieved long enough. Amala wouldn’t want you to live your entire life in pain.”
“You do not understand the pain of which you speak,” he said in a soft voice.
“No, I don’t,” she admitted. “I can’t even begin to comprehend all you’ve been through. But I do understand love.” A week ago she hadn’t understood love at all, but now…“Not completely,” she added, “but more than I once did.”
“Until Zahid is dead, I can’t—”
“No,” she interrupted. “Until Zahid is dead, you won’t. There’s a very big difference. You’re hurting yourself, not him, by carrying all this rage in your heart. I don’t think Amala would approve.”
Sharif did not agree, of course. Did he ever agree with anyone about anything? Likely not.
But she felt quite sure he would protect Kadir with his very life.
The waves near the villa did not soothe Kadir today, not at all. Instead they reminded him of another bit of ocean, and another seaside home that was not his own.
He had a new security detail in place, a new secretary and a new aide, courtesy of the ministry. Everything appeared to be back to normal—or as normal as was possible, given the circumstances.
His home was filled with strangers…and though they had all been cleared by the ministry, he did not entirely trust them. Would he ever? Betrayal from within was his greatest fear, and that fear had come to pass, thanks to Hakim.
His new secretary, who was achingly young and eager, stepped ont
o the balcony. “Excellency, you have a guest.” The young man glanced over his shoulder, obviously nervous about this particular caller.
Before Kadir could ask who had called, Sharif stepped through the door and onto the balcony, sparing only a quick glance to the vista before him. His shoulder and one arm were bandaged, he used a cane and favored his wounded leg…and he smiled.
“I didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” Kadir said. “Did the physicians release you early?”
“No, I left on my own.” Sharif looked at Kadir and the smile widened. “After receiving a very important phone call.” Sharif didn’t smile often these days, and never like this.
“What sort of phone call?” Kadir asked.
Sharif did not trust easily, either. He glanced at the new aide, and Kadir sent the young man inside with a nod of his head.
When they were alone, Sharif said, “If you remember, I told you I had a man inside Bin-Asfour’s organization.”
“Yes.”
“I know why he’s been trying to have you killed.”
Kadir turned to his old friend and waited for more.
“It is his plan to make a move back into Kahani, to establish a stronghold here. He knows no one will fight him as strenuously as you, so he attempted to be rid of you before he made his move.”
“You are just as much a danger to him as I am.”
Sharif smiled crookedly, and without humor. “I do not have your influence, Kadir. I’m a soldier who can be taken out at any time, without raising too many eyebrows. You, on the other hand, would be missed. Your death, when it comes, will be newsworthy.”
For a moment they watched the ocean. Kadir waited for more—he knew more was coming—and then Sharif said, “I can’t remember the sound of her voice.”
Kadir turned to his friend. He knew who Sharif spoke of.
“At first I dreamed of Amala often, and in those dreams she spoke to me. In those days I could remember her voice, I could see her face so clearly. Now my memory fails me more often than not, and I haven’t dreamed of her for a very long time. I still want Zahid dead, and now that he’s in Kahani again, perhaps I can make that happen. But it won’t change anything. It won’t bring back the sound of her voice.” Sharif glanced at Kadir with sharp eyes. “She would like your Ms. Klein. I know that much.”
The Sheik and I Page 18
