“Cassie?”
Her big blue eyes were round and haunted. She seemed to be looking at him from through a thousand layers of trauma.
“Don’t do that again,” she whispered finally, swallowing with visible effort.
“Don’t do what again?” With great effort, he managed to keep his inflection flat.
“Hold me down. Don’t … force …”
“I would never force you,” he interrupted, his words cold despite the heat in his body.
She blinked, and now he could see the moistness of salty tears brimming in her lashes. Reality was breaking through the cobweb of fear and memory. She was here with Layth. She was safe. “I know.” She swallowed again. “I … Just … don’t.”
“I have held your wrists before when we’ve made love.”
“Not … like that.” His passion; his need. It had overwhelmed him, and it had terrified her. Only none of that was his fault. It was hers. Her stupid baggage that she lugged around everywhere she went.
She looked at the familiar surroundings of her bedroom, waiting for the sense of panic to pass.
It wasn’t that he’d held her wrists. It was the way he’d parted her thighs while holding her trapped; the way he’d pushed into her so fast.
She made a sound of nauseated panic and stood up, pacing away from him. “I need to shower.”
Actually, she thought she needed to vomit.
But Layth was not, in a million years, capable of letting this pass without an explanation.
“You must tell me what has happened.”
She shook her head.
“After what we’ve shared, you don’t think you owe me that courtesy?”
Her look was one of such tortured apology that he groaned inwardly. He was handling this all wrong, but he was at a loss. What had set her off? What had happened?
“I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me.” She bit down on her lip, her eyes dropping away from him. “I … I have control issues with sex. That’s all.”
And fragments of their time together began to form a clearer image in his mind. Even the way she treated sex as being as of little importance as a handshake. It was as though she didn’t want to believe sex had any meaning, because there would be a flipside of that realisation for her.
“Who hurt you.”
Another statement where a question would have been more appropriate.
But how could she deny it?
Cassie had spent her adult life keeping this secret. Only Melinda knew a hint of the truth. Not even Aunt Jude had a full understanding of the details.
“You have been hurt by a man sexually.”
It physically wounded him to say it. Not because he judged her, or thought less of her, but because he was experiencing the grip of violent rage towards any man who could have done something like this to Cassie.
What good could come from denying it? She nodded finally and swallowed. “But a long time ago, and I don’t want to dredge it up now. Please, just let me shower.”
He wrapped his arms around her gently and held her fragile figure to his chest. “A shower isn’t going to wash this away.” He kissed her forehead and ran his hands comfortingly down her back.
“I know. Nothing will. Ever. This is my life, and I have to live with it.”
He held her for a long time. So long that he thought she had moved on. That she’d closed back up, glued over the gaping wound so that he would never be able to peel it open again.
But she opened her mouth, finally, her ear pressed to his chest. “I hate that this happened to me.”
“Which makes two of us.” Gently, gently, he reminded himself. “Did you tell anyone at the time?”
She nodded. “My mother.” The word was spat from her lips like a satisfying curse.
“I see. And did she help you? Take you to the authorities?”
“No. I don’t think she believed me. I was only young.”
“How young?” The words were dragged from deep in his gut.
“Fourteen.”
His hands formed fists behind her back. He would hurt someone for this. Whoever had done this would pay. He swore it as surely as he knew he would breathed his next breath.
“I see.” His voice was calm. He would not add to her pain by allowing her to see how this knowledge affected him. “Did you know the person who hurt you?”
She nodded.
“And you told your mother who it was?”
Another nod.
“Then I find it hard to believe she would not heed your complaint.”
Cassie’s laugh was a gurgled sob. “How could she? She didn’t want to believe me. She didn’t want to think he was capable of it.”
“Who?”
She swallowed, and dipped her head back against his chest. His heartbeat was comforting. “My stepfather.”
Layth stroked her back, his mind processing this horrible truth. “Your stepfather.” His tone was grim. “So your mother divorced him?”
“No.”
“She is still with this bastard?”
A nod.
“And you moved here when you were sixteen. So what happened in those two years? Who did you live with?”
She sobbed. “Them.”
Layth could fill in the blanks. He didn’t need her to relive any more of this. His heart was breaking for the child she had been. A child who’d grown into a woman who blurred sexual confidence with promiscuity because she’d lost any of the normal sexual awakenings she had been entitled to.
“Afterwards, I used to have this dream. Always the same. I was stuck in the middle of a river, standing on a tiny island. The water was coming at me, from all angles. I was going to be swallowed whole by the currents. But then, out of nowhere, this incredible lion would bound across to me. Not to attack me. Not to hurt me. But to save me.” Her voice dropped to a shaky whisper. “It’s absurd, I know. There was no one to save me. No person. No lion.”
He stroked her back until her breathing returned to normal. And still he held her close. “I’m so sorry, Cassie.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault.”
Wasn’t it? Wasn’t he just another man using her body for his own selfish needs? Knowing he could never, in a million years, give her what she deserved?
He stepped away from her, his expression impossible to comprehend. Cassie, for her part, having revealed something so monumentally vital felt more exposed and naked than she’d ever been in her whole life.
“Shower, sweet Cassie. I will make you a tea.”
10
“How old were you when you ceased to think of rain as magical?” Cassie asked quietly, staring out of the window at the softly falling water.
Was it raining? Layth hadn’t noticed. Since returning to his hotel suite that evening, his entire focus had been on Cassie. He hadn’t so much as looked outside.
His mind was reeling. What had happened to her made him ache to fix things. To punish the man who had hurt her, and the mother who’d failed to protect her; to assure her she would be, forever after, safe. The more he thought about it, the more Layth Sati realised he couldn’t live in a world where Cassie was damaged by other people’s actions.
Her confident sexuality, her overt sensuality, these things covered the very real pain she felt. These traits were masks and he had bought into them.
His gut ached with guilt.
“For me, I think it was when I moved to London.” Her smile was wistful, her eyes trained beyond him.
“Why?” He asked the question purely so that she would keep talking.
Cassie’s lip lifted in a half-hearted impersonation of a smile. “Australian rain is very different to this. Rain in London is meek and mild; an expression of contrition rather than a burst of passion.” She reached her fingers to the window and traced the path of a slowly dribbling droplet. “I was used to thunderstorms that brewed for a whole afternoon and finally burst with all the force of the elements. Clouds that soaked and storme
d with bleak ill-humour and lightning that thrashed the sea.” She sighed and removed her finger from the window. “Some children hide from thunderstorms, you know.”
“But not you?”
“No.” She lifted her eyes to his, and they were amused in a subdued way. “I danced in them.” Her eyes sparkled with the mischievous power she harnessed.
“You did?”
“Oh, all the time.” She stood and held her hands out to him. “Like this.”
He stood, because he would have done anything she asked of him in that moment.
Her fingers laced with his; they shook slightly. She held their arms wide, and then turned in large, luxurious circles. As they spun, Cassie tilted her head back and breathed in deeply.
She was free.
What had happened to her was a long way in her past.
And her future was different now. Layth had changed her. He wouldn’t be in her future, but he would always have a hand in how she lived. Because he’d made her see that she could want more than just sex. That she could want it all, and still be herself.
Cassie had her eyes closed, but Layth was watching her. He watched her until she stopped spinning, and blinked up at him. “What about you?” She murmured, dropping their arms without relinquishing her grip on his hands.
“I also loved these storms you speak of.”
“Did you dance in them?”
His laugh was soft. “No.”
“Shame,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Soon you’ll be Emir, and you will be the picture of decorum itself.”
His expression was briefly hard.
“I’m sorry.”
Layth frowned. “What for?”
“Because you’ll inherit your title from a man you love. Losing him will be hard.”
Layth hated how perceptive she was; not because it felt invasive, but because every astute observation she made simply served to highlight how little his closest friends and family really knew him. How had Cassie come to understand him so well after such a short time?
“Yes,” he ground out after a reflective pause.
“What’s wrong with your Uncle?”
Layth’s eyes were heavy with pain. “He has a rare neurological condition. He was born with it, but it only became apparent in recent times.”
“That’s terrible,” Cassie murmured sympathetically.
“Yes. To see a once great man reduced to my uncle’s current condition is humbling.”
“Is he … able to … is he more or less himself?”
“No. For the most part, I already undertake the duties associated with the running of our country. He takes part in some ceremonies and events. But he is tired, Cassie. He is so tired.” Layth drew in a deep breath. “My uncle wants to let go. It is obvious to all who love him. He is holding on, simply because he wants to know the future of Takisabad is assured.”
“But surely he can trust you for that, wife or no wife.”
“It is not me he fears so much as would-be claimants to the throne.”
Cassie swallowed. Her heart, so full it could burst, was heavy in her chest. “You must marry quickly, Layth.”
He swallowed past the angry lump in his throat. “Yes.”
“You are doing the right thing,” Cassie whispered, her voice hoarse.
Layth had been sure of that fact at one time, before meeting Cassie. But now? He shook his head. He pushed the conversation aside, not sure he could do it justice. “I did not dance in the rain. But I rode in it.”
She grabbed the conversation change with both hands. “Rode? Rode what?”
“My stallion,” he moved his hips, gently dancing with Cassie in the centre of the room. The rain fell harder now, and it was a backdrop that neither could ignore. “I would take him out in the rain, across the desert, to the dunes in the distance. I would feel the water drenching both him and me, and I would laugh at the freedom of the moment. The powerful connection with the desert beneath me and the heavens above; the elemental freedom that brought me closer to my forefathers.”
“Your love for your country is overwhelming,” she murmured, for it communicated itself in almost everything he said. It was a love that went beyond what she had ever experienced.
“Yes,” he agreed simply. What more could he say? Takisabad was not simply a matter of geography for him. It was a part of him; he had been born from its sands and raised by its heat. And Cassie? What was she a product of? He stroked her back thoughtfully. “How old were you when your mother married him?”
Cassie swallowed. But having opened the floodgates, she no longer shied away from discussing the truth. Not with Layth. “Twelve.”
“And was he interested in you from the beginning?”
Cassie closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve thought about that but I really couldn’t say. Perhaps.”
Layth wanted to ask her more, but he was uncertain. For one of the first times in his adult life, he doubted his place.
But Cassie spoke anyway. “It was the summer I turned fourteen. I was a late bloomer. My mum worked a lot and Steven took me shopping. For … underwear.” Her cheeks flushed at the memory. “I was shy. Nervous. I didn’t know if the way he helped me was normal or not.”
Layth nodded, his expression blank but his body firing with anger.
“It was only a few nights after that when he … came to my room for the first time.”
“And your mother?”
“She wasn’t home much.” Cassie shivered. “It was easy for him, in hindsight. I was seriously lacking in confidence, and my mother wasn’t around to see.”
“Your mother did not want to see,” Layth corrected, his tone carefully clear of the outrage he felt.
“No, that’s true.” Cassie sucked in an uneven breath.
“Have you heard from them since you moved here?”
Cassie bit down on her lip. “My mother writes every now and again. She even suggested coming over to visit me a few years ago. Needless to say I discouraged her.”
He could not believe she’d been left to deal with this on her own. He thought of a teenaged Cassie, young and afraid, vibrancy waning in the face of fear. “And your father?”
“He died when I was little.”
“But his sister allowed you to move in with her.”
“Yes.” Cassie smiled at the thought of her Aunt. “That’s Jude though. Never one to let sensible concerns like the fact she knew nothing about children or teenagers get in the way of a mad scheme. Truthfully, I think she was lonely. When I wrote and asked to stay with her, she jumped at the chance.”
“You are close to her,” Layth asked quickly, desperate for some news that would help him see her life in a more positive light.
“Yes,” Cassie’s smile was rich with indulgent amusement. “If you knew her, you’d understand.”
Layth felt a tinge of emptiness at her words. He would never know this magical Aunt Jude. He would never know more about Cassie than this tiny window of time allowed. He held her close, and valued that single moment. The future would come soon enough, but for now, this was his life.
* * *
He was angry again. Just like the first time she’d seen him.
She studied him surreptitiously as he spoke into his cell phone.
He was employing his own language, so she couldn’t understand a word of what he was discussing. But when he disconnected the call, she was left in little doubt that the call had related to her in some way.
His eyes were watchful, his expression dark.
She shivered a little.
He’d held her all night, as though the strength of his embrace could patch over the horror of her childhood. How could he know he had been doing that from the first moment they’d met? What she’d taken as a bit of fun had turned out to be the most important decision in her life.
“I have to go downstairs in an hour.”
“You have to? I wouldn’t have thought you have to do anything, Your Highness,” she teased lightly.<
br />
He grimaced. “I apologise, Cassie. I would like nothing better than to stay with you all day. This is beyond my control.”
“Don’t be silly. I can keep myself busy. Is everything okay?” She thought of his uncle, and hoped against hope that Layth hadn’t received bad news.
His grim smile was difficult to interpret. “I will be as quick as I am able, and then return to you.”
Cassie bit down on her lip. “What is it Layth? What’s happened?”
She was sitting with her knees curled to her chest, her cheek propped on them. Her hair flowed down her back. Layth wanted nothing more than to pull her to him. To continue holding her as he had done the night before.
“You said something is beyond your control?” She prompted, her worry increasing in the face of his silence.
Layth puffed out an angry sigh. “Yes. Arja.”
“Arja?” Her blue eyes were wide as they scanned his. In the last twenty four hours, she’d almost completely forgotten about these other women. About the fact she was simply borrowing Layth.
“She wishes to have another meeting.” He compressed his lips. “I suspect my mother has meddled, and given her the impression she has the edge. Arja no doubt wants me to make a selection so she can begin making plans.”
“Of course,” Cassie mumbled, biting her lower lip. “That makes sense.” She stood a little jerkily.
She was hurting. He was hurting her. He felt pain in his gut. It was the last thing he’d wanted.
But he knew his duty to Takisabad, and what was required of him.
“You do not have to leave the apartment.”
Yes I do, she thought desperately, unable to bear the thought of being in the same building as the other woman.
Her smile was clearly an imitation of acceptance. “It’s fine. It’s a perfect morning to go for a run.” She was mentally removing herself from him. She needed to. Despite their closeness, there would forever be this estrangement. “I’ll go running, then I’ll get coffee, and I’ll come back when you’re through.” Another forced smile. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to act as though you’re doing something wrong. We both knew the score, Layth.” She looked at him, pleading him to let her go without an argument. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still not looking for anything more than this, and you still need a suitable wife. So stop worrying.”
Clare Connelly Pairs: Warming the Sheikh’s Bed & Love in the Fast Lane Page 12
