Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3)

by Manda Mellett

  When the soft cry first reaches my ears, my initial thought is that my overworked mind is hallucinating, my tired brain summoning up sounds from a long forgotten era. But when the moaning comes again, I realise this is no dream, and the sound I’m hearing is far from a cry of pleasure, but instead, one of distress. This is no fantasy conjured up by fatigue; this is real. My eyes flick open, and I lean over, looking down, right below me and can hardly believe my eyes. There, illuminated by a beam of moonlight slanting in from the outside is a woman, lying on the bed in the only room furnished and fit to live in. My brow furrows and creases as I recognise the form of the person responsible for restoring the harem, the woman who had never been far from my thoughts, but who I hadn’t seen since the day I’d brought her here, Zoe Baker.

  But why the fuck is she here? Surely we’ve provided her with suitable accommodation elsewhere in the palace? Cara didn’t expect her to live in the harem, did she? But the question why she might be sleeping in a concubine’s cubicle beneath me loses significance as her cries get louder and more tormented, and I watch as she begins to thrash against the sheets. Night terrors. I’m only too well aware of those. I need to wake her.

  With some urgency, I carefully descend the crumbling steps of the hidden stairway and enter the harem, crossing the open space swiftly to be by her side. There’s a lamp beside the bed, and I light it, hoping the illumination might be enough to disturb her dreams, but if anything, she writhes more desperately, her hands held up as though warding someone away. My hand goes out to touch her shoulder when I notice something and still with my arm hovering in mid-air. It’s the first time I’ve seen her arms bare; she always wears long sleeves, and now I understand why, and the sight brings a muffled curse from my lips. Fuck, now I have the opportunity to examine her wrist, I see it in its full glory and realise how awkwardly the bones have fused. The injury can’t have been that long ago as it still looks a little red and painful. Why hadn’t she had it taken care of properly? But then I recall the bastard she was running from and have no need to look any further for the reason. It would have been too risky for her to register at a hospital.

  Moving my gaze up her arms and body more evidence of his cruelty comes into sight. Distinct cigarette burns pepper her limbs, and there’s a silver scar at the top of her shoulder looping round from the back. Gritting my teeth, I suspect if I turn her over I’ll find whip marks marring her skin. What kind of a monster is St. John Davies to hurt a woman in this way? It was one thing to hear about it, quite another to see the permanent testament to his viciousness that she’ll carry with her for the rest of her life. There and then I make a vow; he is a dead man. The timing and method can be determined later, but he’s not going to live to do this to anyone else ever again. No wonder she’s having a nightmare. She might have gotten away from the man, but it’s evident he still has a hold over in her dreams. My gut clenches with pity.

  In the few moments I’d been absorbing her visible injuries, her mental anguish has worsened. She tosses this way and that as though trying to evade something or someone. The sounds she’s emitting make me squirm. A wave of emotion floods through me, an overwhelming desire to protect her, heal her and keep her close. To never let her be hurt again, even in her dreams.

  Completely forgetting who and what I am, clearing my throat I call out to her, “Zoe.” Disregarding my resolve to distance myself from her, I use her first name as I address her softly. She doesn’t hear me. “Zoe!” I call louder, but she’s deep in the grip of her dreams. Reaching out my hand I gently shake her shoulder. She stills, opens her eyes and screams, the sound echoing off the walls. Her arms start flailing. She catches me hard across the face, and I rear back. My movement causes her to freeze.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll do better!” She’s still lost in nightmare land. Her face is tight, her body shaking. She’s terrified. “Please don’t hurt me again!” Her eyes are open, wide with terror. As they flick back and forth, I realise she’s waking and trying to understand where she is.

  “It’s me, Kadar. It’s I who should apologise; I woke you. But you very having a bad dream.” I speak calmly, quietly, trying to calm her, one hand ruefully rubbing my face where she struck me. “I heard you, and I knew I needed to wake you up. You’re safe: you’re in Amahad, far away from that bastard who hurt you.” I keep speaking, letting the words roll over her as she gradually comes to her senses. “You’re safe, habiti. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Fuck, why did that endearment roll off my tongue? My love? What am I thinking? I don’t know how that slipped out, or where it came from. Resolving to keep a tighter hold on my words, I trust her grasp of Arabic is poor.

  She stares blankly, but as I continue talking, using as gentle a voice as I can, she gradually begins to focus on me with recognition in her eyes. But my presence doesn’t have the immediate calming effect that I had hoped. “What are you doing here?” Her voice is little above a whisper. If anything it seems I’m scaring her further. Her chest rises and falls as her breaths come in short pants, but whether caused by residual fears from her dream, or my presence, I’m not sure.

  To calm her I decide to stick to the truth, “To be honest, I don’t know. I needed a place to be alone. Matters weigh heavy on me; sleep evades me.” In those few words, I’ve told her more than I’d admit to anyone else.

  She scoots up the bed looking flustered and apologetic, “I’m sorry I stayed here. I didn’t want to interrupt your solitude. If you can give me a minute to dress, I’ll go and leave you alone. I didn’t realise you came to the harem.” She makes as if to get off the bed.

  “No, stay. I’d like the company.” I realise I don’t want her to go; suddenly seclusion is the last thing on my mind. “I don’t usually come here; in fact, it’s the first time I’ve ever visited this part of the palace. I was looking over Cara’s proposal earlier, and it must have stuck in my mind. I was just idly walking the corridors and ended up here. I have a lot on my plate, Zoe, it’s overwhelming at times. I’d like someone to talk to. And perhaps you’d like to have someone to converse with too. That was one hell of a nightmare you were having.” When she rests back against the cushions and pillows at the top of the bed, I take it as the invitation.

  “May I?” I indicate that I, too, want to sit on the bed. It’s the only piece of furniture in the small room. She hesitates, and then shifts over leaving enough room between us, so we’re not going to touch. Her evasive action doesn’t go unnoticed, and I realise she is scared at just the thought of me or probably any man, being close to her in an intimate situation. Glancing at her for a moment, I grow even more concerned. She’s still breathing so rapidly I’m worried she’s heading towards a panic attack. I take charge quickly. “Look at me, Zoe. Look. At. Me.” I wait until I have her attention. “Breathe with me.”

  She gives a little shake of her head, not understanding.

  “Watch me. Breathe as I do.” Exaggerating my actions, I slowly take a deep breath in and hold it, then let it out. I do it again. She focuses on me now, and just as I intended, begins to imitate my actions. Gradually her breathing slows into a more regular rhythm, and I see some of the tension seep out of her.

  I reach over to get her the glass of water on the table by the bed. She immediately flinches and throws her arm up to protect her face.

  “Easy, easy!” I still, completely motionless, “I’m only getting you a drink.” I wait until she nods, and then pass her the water. Gratefully she takes a sip, and then another. Finished, she passes the glass back to me.

  “Better?” As she nods, I shake my head, “He put you through hell and back, didn’t he, habiti?”

  She looks down at herself as if only just realising she’s dressed only in her underwear, noticing that her injuries and scars for once are in plain view. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, her voice full of shame and regret. Her hand reaches out for the sheet and uses it to cover her body.

  “You’re fucking sorry?” I can’t help rasping out. “
What the fuck are you sorry for?”

  She seems to shrink into herself, “It’s not pretty, is it? I’m sorry you had to see it.”

  “Ye Gods! You’re sorry I had to see it? Fuck that, Zoe. I’m devastated that you had to suffer like you have.” I throw my headdress off onto the floor and feel my expression growing cold and fierce. “I’m going to kill him for what he’s done to you.”

  She gasps in air, shocked, and reaches out her hand to my arm, “No, Kadar, you can’t.”

  I stare at her blankly, “Yes, I can. When, where, I can’t promise you that. But it will be done. I want to fix it, so you never need to be scared again.”

  “Why? Why would you even care?”

  I start. Gazing intently into her eyes, realising that I have no fucking idea why vengeance for her wounds has become so imperative, or where this desire for revenge has come from. I only know I can’t deny it. As I take in the vision in front of me, I start to understand. I’d tried to stay away, but I failed. I just can’t resist; there’s just something about this woman that calls to the man in me.

  Her bed hair, which looks more attractive to me at the moment than that of someone freshly groomed, falls over her face, and I put out my hand to push it back. As she starts, I pause my hand in mid-air and then move it again. She stays still as I push the strands back, and I feel a small victory. She let me touch her. A stirring in my loins tells me I want to touch her a whole lot more. I realise I haven’t answered her question. I decide to be honest with her, and with myself.

  “I care, Zoe, I started to care the moment I met you. When you walked into my office wearing that ridiculous disguise I knew I had to help you. I assure you,” I pause and chuckle, “I don’t make a habit of employing someone with no name, no proof of identity or qualifications. I just knew I had to keep you safe.” And, I add silently, what I could never admit aloud. I wanted to keep you near me.

  “Kadar!” Shocked she shuffles over the bed, increasing the distance between us. “What exactly do you want from me?”

  She’s alone, she’s almost naked, and she’s in my harem. All at once I realise she’s scared. And she’s right to be. It would be so easy to ease my throbbing cock in her warm depths, to gain the release that I seem to need each time I see her. I turn my head away. Sitting up and leaning forwards I cup my chin in my hands, rubbing the stubble that indicates I’m in need of a shave while wondering what the fuck am I doing? Why am I even here? Why am I staying, talking to her? I can’t use her; she’s not a quick fuck, not a one-night stand. I could never do that to her. But I can’t start a relationship either. Fuck, I’ve no option but to pick out my wife like selecting an item from a catalogue. I’m not like an ordinary man; however much I’d wish to be, I can’t have a fling with her to see where it might take us. My future is mapped out.

  Trying to keep a tight rein on myself, I offer her the little that I can, “I worry about you, I care about your safety. I want to be your friend. And I think you need one of those, habiti.” That’s the third time the endearment has come from my lips unbidden.

  After a moment’s silence, while she digests my words, I hear a deep sigh. “A friend would be nice, Kadar. I’ve not had a friend for a very long time. He stopped me seeing them, stopped me calling them.” Her voice hardens, “He threatened to hurt any of my friends if I didn’t stay in line, and he wasn’t joking. One of my friends is in a wheelchair because of me.” I hear the catch in her voice and don’t need to turn around to see the tears in her eyes, but I do, and again I raise my hand to her face, and she lets me brush them away without hesitation.

  “You did nothing to your friend, habiti. Whatever happened, that bastard was entirely responsible.”

  “But it was me who trusted him…”

  I shake my head emphatically. “He played you. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

  “I don’t trust anyone Kadar. I can’t, not anymore. Because I can’t trust my judgement. And I don’t want to make friends, in case I put them in danger.”

  I swing my legs up onto the bed and pull myself up beside her. We’re both sitting with our backs against the cushions, still with inches of bed between us. I put out my arm and put it behind her, my hand first hovering then settling gently on her shoulder, pleased, this time, she doesn’t start or cringe. I pull her closer to me. “Well, I’m your friend, and you’re not putting me in danger. Or anyone else here. St John-Davies doesn’t know you’re in Amahad, and he’s not going to find out. Anyone who knows who and where you are, I trust with my life. So don’t be afraid to make friends, Zoe.” I’m pleased when she relaxes her head on my shoulder. “And what about Cara? You’re getting along well with her, aren’t you?”

  “I like Cara,” The pause tells me there’s more to come, “But I envy her. She has everything I ever wanted, a loving husband, and she’s going to have a baby.”

  “You’ll have that one day.” I take her hand and squeeze it. And then know I’m going to have to put her straight if she has any thought of having that with me. Taking a deep breath, I begin to bare my soul. “Zoe, I didn’t expect to be the emir, not for another twenty years or more. I was going to take my time, find the wife I wanted, the person to be by my side when I eventually came into this role, but things haven’t worked out the way I planned.”

  She listens intently as I continue, “It’s not easy being the ruler. There are certain expectations on me. I need to keep this country together, and that means sacrificing my own hopes and dreams.”

  Now it’s her turn to press her fingers to mine, giving me physical support. My head bows down to my chest, and I shake it gently before I continue, “The tribal leaders want a union between Amahad and one of the neighbouring states, or with one of their own tribes. They want me to enter into a political marriage to strengthen our ties for the good of the country. A union that they approve of.” I swallow, and tell her the rest, “I have agreed.”

  She places her small hand under my chin, and gently turns my head to face her, “Your marriage will be an arranged one? When, Kadar?”

  It’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking. “Soon. Oh, Zoe, I don’t want to go through with it, but I haven’t a choice. Unless I want to abdicate or risk civil war. Anything I can do to keep the peace in Amahad, I must do.” I give a small grin, “I told you, I needed a friend, didn’t I? I can’t speak to anyone else about my feelings—not even my brothers. With everyone else, I keep up the front that I’m already married to my country, and would do anything for her.”

  A smile comes to her lips as she whispers, “I’m honoured, Kadar. And I’m here, whenever you want to talk.”

  Talk. I would be lying to her and myself if I said that is all I wanted from her, but it’s all I can offer, and probably all she wants to give. She’s just escaped from an abusive relationship, after all. But here I am, lying on a bed next to an desirable woman and my cock, luckily hidden by my robes, is throbbing, trying to insist I do something about it.

  I let my eyes roam her body, barely concealed by the sheet she’s covered it with. Unbidden the thought comes to me of how I’d like to see her bound in my ropes. Then, realising the dangerous direction my thoughts are taking, know I have to make a move and leave. Before temptation overwhelms me.

  I allow myself one last touch to her beautiful face, “Zoe,” I breathe.

  Chapter 18

  Zoe

  Abruptly the emir pulls away from me, standing and walking to the end of the bed. He seems deep in thought, and I fiddle with the finely embroidered linen beneath my hands, wondering what he’s thinking.

  He gives a snorted laugh as though he mocking himself then turns back to me, holding out his hand’s palms up. “I’ve nothing to offer you except my friendship and protection. But I’d like you to accept both.” After staring at me for a moment, he continues and repeats, “Friendship, Zoe. That’s all I want from you.” He picks up his headdress from the floor where he threw it. “It’s late—or early, whichever way you look at it. You
need your rest. You should sleep now.” Walking back to the bed, he leans over and gives me a chaste kiss on the top of my head. “In the morning I’ll make sure the paperwork is completed so you can get workmen in and start the restorations. Anything you need doing, let me know and I will arrange it.” He holds up his hand to stop my protest. “And if you want to speak to me, at any time, about anything, tell your guard, and we’ll arrange it. I mean it, Zoe, there’s no need for you to feel alone.”

  There’s nothing I can do but to thank him.

  He smiles, nods, and then gives me a courteous bow and exits via the hidden stairway. My professional interest sparks. The Sultan’s entrance!

  For a moment I lie stunned, unable to believe the turn of events and my conversation with the emir. Suddenly I start to chuckle; realising Kadar had had no idea I would be sleeping in the harem tonight. Shit, I hadn’t planned on it myself. Well, I certainly got the atmosphere I wanted to soak up. A hearty laugh breaks out of me as I wonder at the shock Kadar must have thought to have found a woman ready and waiting in his harem. I’d love to have seen his face before he had to wake me from the nightmare of my past. Idly I wonder about the coincidence of us both being drawn to this place tonight.

  I giggle to myself. I never imagined the emir would pay a visit while I was asleep in his harem, Just like the Sultan with a concubine of old. Huh! I smile. But without the sex, of course, and however much his closeness made certain parts of me awaken and throb, I know now that’s completely off the agenda. Kadar is an honourable man, his future is pre-ordained, and I’ll have no part of it. But to have him as a friend? I can’t help but be proud he feels able to confide in me.

  The room seems full of the scent of sandalwood, the odour that I’ll forever associate with him. He might have gone, but his presence still surrounds me. Tired, I soon fall back asleep, but Ethan doesn’t return to haunt me. Somehow Kadar has banished him away.