Clare Connelly Pairs II

by Connelly, Clare

  “I’m not. I’m not asking anything of you but that I be allowed to live without seeing you every day. Without being in your bed. Please, Kiral, knowing how I feel and how you feel … I just can’t do it.”

  “Don’t you understand, Abi? I want to give you everything you want. Why won’t you let me try?”

  “Because every moment with you is killing my soul. Because I have spent the last three years learning to live without you and I can’t give that up.”

  “You will never have to live without me,” he said thickly. “I will never leave you, and with the help of all that we hold dear, I pray that I will never hurt you again.”

  “You’re hurting me now,” she said slowly.

  He pushed aside the accusation because he couldn’t acknowledge it. Not then. It would have been to admit failure. “I listened to your charges and I do understand them. Allow me the courtesy of reply.” He softened his tone.

  Her heart thumped and her blood rushed. But she nodded slowly.

  “You believe my actions towards you show my disrespect? They don’t. They show my desperation. I have a need for you, and a need to have you in my life, that goes beyond sanity. I had thought I could leave you and thereby contain it. And I did, Abi. I left you alone when all I wanted was to keep you by my side. I’ve done it twice now! Twice I have been strong enough — twice I have loved you enough — to punish myself because I wanted to do what was right for you.”

  “None of this has been right for me,” she chastised with true fury. “I can’t believe you were ever so obtuse…”

  “You knew nothing of my role, nor my country back then. You were nineteen. Even at the time I knew I should have told you the truth about me. I knew that I was wrong to love and adore you and make love to you knowing how fleeting it all would be. But, Abi, I thought you would simply move on. I was in love; I thought you simply had a crush. I thought I was the only one who loved enough to be hurt by what we’d become. I left because it was the right thing to do. For my people, certainly, and for you, I believed. You were the most beautiful creature I’d ever known. You had then, and still possess, a combination of fragility and strength that is breathtaking. I did not want to bring you to Delani as my mistress, and I did not then think it would be possible to marry you. I left because I sought to protect you.”

  She looked away from him. His words were doing something strange to her body but she wouldn’t allow them to puncture the shielding of her heart.

  “I thought of you every day,” he promised. “As my wedding approached, my heart became so heavy it threatened to stop beating. I knew that I could never approach you. And that angered me. I tried to feel anger towards you too, Abi. It was stupid of me, but I think I believed that might make it easier for me to tie myself to Melania.”

  He sighed roughly. “And then you appeared. Out of nowhere you appeared and you gave me the perfect means to make you mine, one last time.”

  “Blackmail?” She said derisively, still refusing to admit his confessions to the core of her being.

  “Yes. I am ashamed of that decision and yet I know I would make it again and again.” He knelt up so that his face was equal to hers. “How could I let you go? How could I let you go without feeling you again? How could I not take one last chance to know you as I had done before?”

  “Sex,” she said impatiently.

  “Yes, sex. Your smell. Your kiss. The sounds you make when you are in so much pleasure it is almost unbearable. I needed to remember everything I could of you. I needed it to sustain me for the rest of my life.”

  “And then you were going to let me go again.”

  “You were adamant,” he reminded her. “And I still loved you enough to do it.”

  “You hated me when you saw Michael,” she said seriously. “You did. You’ve said as much.”

  He frowned. “No. I felt … I felt betrayed. Not by you, but by life. I had everything I had ever wanted in my grasp, and I’d let it go. I let you go. When I left Manhattan, I had no idea that you were pregnant.”

  “Nor did I,” she assured him hastily.

  “I know. But it is the cruelest irony of all that I left a woman I loved carrying my child because of my obligations to marry and procure an heir.”

  “To marry well,” she observed tartly. “And, as the article this morning pointed out, I am far from suitable.”

  “The article is not relevant,” he said with a shake of his head. “And the article was wrong on every front. You are suitable. You are perfect. Because you are my other half. If I was created to rule this Kingdom then surely you were born to rule by my side. I have never met another person who makes me feel as you do. I have never believed in the stories of my people. They have an element of fantasy and mythicism to them that seems redundant in our modern society. And yet with you, the mythical is everywhere. I feel that you kissed the sky and caused the stars to shine. You are the breeze on the desert and the waves in the ocean. You are the sun on my back now and the air that I breathe. You are my life, Abigail. You have been my life for as long as I’ve known you.”

  She shook her head but finally her heart was popping open and accepting the words he was pouring over her.

  “Fate continues to bring us together. We have had not one chance, nor two, but more than I can count. Again, a baby: another divine gift. A blessing to two people who seem unable to grab what they want and deserve. A baby to remind us that we love one another, and that our love cannot help but make beautiful things.”

  He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each of her fingertips, his eyes holding hers. “Without Michael, you would never have come to me. And I would still have thought of you every day. I would still have craved you and dreamed of you and reached out for you in my dreams to kiss your perfect lips. In our dream-state, we would have lived our half-lives.”

  She sobbed but her heart was turning. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said simply. “I don’t know how to be happy with you. So much has happened. There’s so much water under the bridge and so many reasons to think this won’t work.”

  “And yet I know it will.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I have never loved a woman before. I will never love another woman. Only you.”

  She pressed down on the hope that was making her giddy and nonsensical. “You said before that you loved me enough to leave me. That you did so again, that night we slept together, when I came to you for help.”

  He dipped his head forward.

  “Would you let me go now?”

  He ran a finger over her lips and stared into her eyes. “I would,” he said finally.

  “With Michael? And this new baby?”

  “Yes.”

  Confusion swirled through her. “I thought you were determined to raise your child?”

  He nodded. “And yet I would let you go, Abi, if it’s what you wanted. But I would follow you. I would go anywhere for you. I beg you not to ask it of me. I beg you to know that we can be happy here, in my Kingdom, with you as my exalted Emira. I beg you to at least try. If you cannot enjoy this life, then I will go wherever you wish, and be whatever you need. You are my kingdom now. Just you.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said angrily, standing up and wishing things were easier. That there was a simple solution. “How do I trust that you’re not just saying this because of the baby?”

  “Because you know I love you.”

  “No,” she shook her head.

  “Because I could force you to stay. Here, in my country, your rights over both of our children would be minimal.” She shivered. “If we were to divorce, your authority to see them would be non-existent.”

  “You’re blackmailing me again?” She was appalled by his perceived threat.

  “No,” he rushed to reassure her. “I’m telling you that I do not need to lie to you to gain access to my children. I am not lying to you now. I want you to be my wife. My real wife. I want you to live with me, and I want people to see us together. I
want you, Abigail, to be by my side.”

  She huffed out a sigh. “Why did you send me here then? I was by your side. I am your wife.”

  “But you did not really want to be!” He groaned. “The day we met with Will I saw the pain in you. I saw how poorly I had treated you by manouevering you into this marriage and life. My God, Abi: I used our son’s heart-condition to get what I wanted. What kind of man have I become?” He shook his head in self-disgust. “And every time I looked at you I wanted to touch you. I didn’t deserve to have you, but I couldn’t trust myself to resist you. And so I sent you away. I hoped I would make sense of our marriage and find a way to fix it. I wanted to learn how to be worthy of you, my love.”

  “You should have just talked to me.”

  “I am talking to you now,” he said.

  “I know.” Her heart hammered against her ribcage; her emotions were a jumble. “It’s just so late, Ki. We should have had this conversation three years ago. Two years ago. I … I just need to think.”

  How he wanted to kiss her! To remind her of what they shared! Only he had browbeaten her so frequently that he doubted now he could ever recover from the insensitive and controlling behaviour.

  “Please, think quickly. I am miserable in uncertainty.”

  * * *

  Abi barely slept. All night she thought of her husband and wondered where in the beautiful beachfront property he was. But she didn’t go to him.

  She thought.

  She dreamed.

  She wondered.

  She hoped.

  And by the time the sun was piercing through the windows she was more uncertain than ever.

  She stood up, intending to change into her bathers and go for an early swim, but there was a sharp knock at her door. She spun, imagining Kiral and instantly feeling desire course through her veins.

  But Lilah pushed into the room, her pretty face ringed with smiles. “You have to read this, Abigail,” she said, handing a broadsheet newspaper over.

  “More newspapers? No thanks.”

  “It’s the Times,” she said. “A small amount are printed here and Will had a copy sent for you. Read it.”

  Abigail cast it onto the bed. “No, thanks.” She squirmed when she remembered that interview. The whole marriage had been a disaster.

  Lilah sighed and reached for the paper.

  “In the name of Love,” Lilah began, reading the headline. “At first glance Sheikh Kiral Mazroui is as you might expect: powerful, clever, ruthless when needed and devoted to the country he has been raised to rule.

  I have interviewed his sister at length, his best friend Rocco Serace; his uncle – who has taken an almost paternal role in the Sheikh’s life – and I have also interviewed his royal highness himself. His reputation is not without cause. He is imposing, confident bordering or arrogant, and unfalteringly fair.”

  Abi held a hand up. “Please, Lilah. I can’t.”

  Lilah shook her head, determined to continue. “It came as a surprise to the entire world when His Highness backed out of his much publicised wedding at the eleventh hour. It did not, however, come as a surprise to this bystander.

  You see, according to those who know the Sheikh best, he is man who loves deeply and passionately. At least, he is a man who loves one person deeply and passionately, almost to the point of blindness.”

  Abigail sat down on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. “Go on,” she whispered.

  “The events that took place three years ago are private, and deserve to remain so. However, the aftermath of the breakdown of his relationship with Abigail McClean had a resounding impact on the next term in the Sheikh’s life. It was obvious to those closest to him that he had been forever altered by the loss of this woman. In the months prior to his intended wedding, something didn’t quite make sense. While it had the feel of an excellently arranged union, there was no love. There was no sense to it, either. For both His Royal Highness Sheikh Kiral Mazroui and Her Exalted Regent Melania Al-Miral come from prosperous, thriving countries. Neither required the other to bolster their economy nor their standing. They are each adored universally and worshipped almost as Gods.

  “For whatever reason the Sheikh insisted, until the last minute, on going through with his intended marriage, his reasons for cancelling it have quickly become apparent.

  “Abigail McClean, as she was known until recently, could not have had a more starkly contrasting upbringing to the Sheikh’s. She was raised by single mother Annette McClean, who worked tirelessly as an estate agent to make ends meet. Abigail, having gained a spot at a prestigious American college, was excelling academically despite a financial need to combine a heavy workload with her studies. Had she not taken a job as a hostess in an impossible-to-get-into-unless-you-know-someone New York establishment, she would certainly have never met the visiting Sheikh Kiral Mazroui. Theirs reads like a tale of fiction. A chance encounter on a snowy afternoon that led to a month of inseparability. Whatever it is about Abigail that captivated the royal, it is obviously still in evidence.

  Having been one of the fortunate few to have spent time with the newly ordained couple I can report my observations thus. There is more love and more connection between these two people than many of us can hope to experience in a lifetime.” Here Lilah’s voice snagged and she took a second to compose herself. “They speak as one. They are devoted to each other even when they bicker, which they do. For theirs is not a fake union based on polite civility. It is fire, sparks, commitment and need.”

  Lilah paused to dab at her eyes and Abigail, impatient now, came to stand behind her so that she could see the print over Lilah’s shoulder. She began to read in a rushed mumble, to complete the article. “Before printing this piece, I gave the Sheikh a last opportunity to add to its content. He asked that I simply conclude with a line from one of the most famous and fabled pieces of Delani literature, THE FIRST SHEIKH. ‘And so he followed her underwater to live with her there for his need for her made the improbable possible. He followed her underwater to live with her there but he would have followed her to the glistening stars above. She was his wife. She was his love. She was his life, and beyond that all the rest was simply detail and distraction.”

  Abi shook her head slowly and looked at Lilah. “Do you … do you believe this?” She asked, then flushed. “I don’t want to put you in a difficult position …”

  Lilah brushed aside the concern. “My brother was a changed man after he met you. Only since you came back have we found him again too. Abigail, he loves you in a way that makes him whole only when you are around. He loves you truly. He is not a man to mistake those feelings, nor is he a man who would aim to deceive you. I believe that he truly does love you.”

  Relief came to Abi and lifted all the pain and hurt from her shoulders. “He’s an idiot,” she mumbled, but she was already pulling a dressing gown over her nightgown and stalking towards the door.

  Lilah didn’t say anything. She was staring at the article, and more particularly the photograph of Will in the top left corner.

  “Thank you,” Abi called over her shoulder, remembering that without Lilah’s insistence she might never have heard this perspective on her marriage.

  Kiral was on the balcony she had been sitting on the day before. He was holding something in his hands; she couldn’t make it out. She stepped closer but, at the sound of her approach he wrapped his fingers around it and stood.

  “Abi.”

  He looked terrible. It was immediately obvious that he hadn’t slept. And she understood. She understood the torture that each had played their part in creating. She crossed to him without saying a word and pressed her head to his chest.

  “I hear your heart beating and I know now that it’s for me.”

  He expelled a sigh, one of relief and gratitude and wrapped his arms around her in a desperate crush. “All for you,” he promised, his words deep and husky. “And always for you.”

  What need was there for more words? Thei
r understanding was etched from the past and the present and their faith in the beauty of their future complete. They held one another until their breathing synchronised and they were more connected than they ever had been before.

  Finally, when Kiral felt he could speak without emotion making his words incomprehensible, he lifted his hand and uncurled her fingers.

  “I bought this for you.”

  Abi pulled away from him just enough to look down at what he’d placed in her hand. It was a perfect ring; gold with a yellow diamond and amber and diamond detail.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  “It reminded me of your eyes. They sparkle like these, with so many shades of sunshine and copper. They bewitched me from the first.”

  “I love it,” she promised.

  “It is the reason I left you,” he said sombrely.

  “My eyes?” She asked, a smile on her lips because now nothing — not even speaking about a time when they were separated — could ruin her happiness.

  “No. This ring.” He lifted it to her finger and slid it on. It was a perfect fit. “I intended it as an engagement ring.” His lip curled angrily. “I wanted to propose, even though I knew I could not. I walked past it on Fifth Avenue, and I immediately saw it on your finger. I pictured the happiness you would feel when I said the words that had been bursting through me since we first met. Will you agree to marry me, despite what that means?”

  She frowned. “You never proposed. Obviously.”

  “No. It was the last part of the question that stopped me. I didn’t want this life for you. I didn’t think it would make you happy. And it terrified me that I might have been selfish enough to propose anyway.”

  “And so you left.”

  “Yes.” He wrapped her to his chest again. “It was the worst mistake of my life.” He laughed. “Actually, it was one of them. I have made several, and all in your presence.” His expression sobered. “From today, I will never give you anything but happiness and pleasure.”