Читать книгу Six Sizzling Sheikhs - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 17
ОглавлениеLUCY was relieved to leave Dubai. Ever since their conversation the night before, a new awkwardness had risen up between her and Khaled. Funny, she thought without a trace of humour, how confidences shared could create such tension, such stiff formality. Weren’t they supposed to bring you closer?
Yet as they took the royal jet back to Biryal she’d never been more aware of the yawning distance between her and Khaled.
He was as solicitous as ever, yet with that damning, cool remoteness that she despised. That made her afraid.
What are you thinking? What are you wanting?
Do you love me?
The questions crowded on her tongue and she bit them all back, staring mutely out of the window instead.
They sat in silence for most of the flight, the only sound the shuffle of Khaled’s papers as he bent over his work.
By the time the plane touched down in Biryal, Lucy’s already taut nerves were starting to fray. The sight of yet another crowd of clamouring journalists in front of the plane made her groan aloud. ‘Is it always like this?’
‘It will die down,’ Khaled replied in an implacable tone. ‘They are just curious because you are new and because…’ he paused ‘…I have been out of the limelight for quite a while.’
‘And your marriage has brought you back into it?’
‘Yes.’
Lucy glanced at him, saw the careful, hard, expressionless mask he’d worn since last night, and suddenly asked, ‘Khaled, will life ever be normal for us?’ She couldn’t elaborate or explain, couldn’t tell him how wonderful ‘normal’ sounded right now. It encompassed a whole range of emotions: comfort, safety, love.
Love… That one was off-limits.
‘I don’t know,’ Khaled replied after a moment, his voice bland to the point of coolness. ‘I suppose it depends on what you consider normal.’
Back at the palace, Lucy and Khaled found Sam in his favourite haunt, the pool, with Dana. He ran out of the water, hurling himself at both of their legs.
‘Sam, watch Khaled’s suit.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Khaled interjected as Sam pulled a mutinous face.
‘I thought he was Daddy now.’
Lucy swallowed, her gaze sliding to Khaled, and she saw him swallow, his eyes bright with unshed tears. No matter what was or wasn’t between them, there was something strong, right and good between Khaled and Sam. She smiled and tousled Sam’s damp hair. ‘You’re right; I forgot. And I suppose Daddy doesn’t mind if his suit gets a bit wet.’ The word sounded funny and thick on her tongue, and came out awkward and uneasy.
Khaled glanced at her sharply, and Lucy felt despair curl around her heart once more. They related to Sam, through Sam, and that was all.
How could they have thought this kind of marriage was good for anyone?
It certainly didn’t feel good to her.
They left for London three days later. They spent the night at Lucy’s house, although after the Biryali palace—not to mention the royal suite in Dubai—it felt small. Too small.
Khaled made it feel small, Lucy realised. He was so big, so present, so much—too much for the little rooms, her little bed. It was a double, but they couldn’t lie in it without touching. And, now that this tension had sprung between them once more, Lucy wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
Yet even so her body craved it, needed that physical reassurance, the comfort and thrill of his caress. Khaled, however, chose not to give it; as soon as the lights were off he rolled over onto his side, away from her. Lucy lay there, staring into the darkness, and wondered what he was thinking. She wanted to ask, yet was afraid too. Always afraid.
What would he say? she wondered bleakly. Would he admit this marriage was a mistake, that they should live separate lives? Would he lie and say he was thinking of nothing? Would he tell her brusquely it was none of her business? Or was he even asleep, completely unconcerned with her state of mind?
She had no idea, and it hurt. It hurt because she loved him. How had she hidden from it for so long? She’d denied it with every fibre of her being even as her heart had cried out to be heard.
She loved him, and she didn’t want to. Didn’t want to open herself up to the pain, the possibility of rejection. He wouldn’t leave, perhaps, but he could cut her out of his life, his heart.
He could not love her back, and living with that day in and day out would be far worse than if he were never there at all.
The next few days were a struggle for normality. They moved to a luxury hotel in the centre of London for both security and comfort; Sam returned to nursery, and Lucy to work. She made arrangements to reduce her hours and eventually only work for a few months out of the year. Khaled busied himself with his own pursuits, promoting Biryal’s tourist industry, acting as a diplomat and visiting dignitary.
Yet despite all these activities Lucy was ever conscious of the aching emptiness in the middle of their marriage, in her own heart.
Khaled remained remote, completely inaccessible, and she responded in the same way. They didn’t talk or even chat, except for when Sam was present, because then, Lucy realised, they were a family. Alone they were simply two strangers sharing the same space, the same bed.
A week after their return to London, Lucy was invited to a party to celebrate one of the England team’s recent victories.
‘Bring Khaled,’ Eric told her, his voice distant, as it had been since their return. ‘I’m sure he’ll enjoy his old stomping ground.’
Lucy smiled, feeling sick. Wouldn’t he just? she thought. The trouble was, she wouldn’t.
She mentioned it to Khaled that night, as they got ready for bed. ‘There’s a party tomorrow night, for the England team,’ she said. ‘We’ve been invited.’
Khaled stilled in the act of loosening his tie. ‘Have we?’ he said at last, his voice neutral. ‘How nice.’
‘Do you want to go?’ Lucy asked, half-hoping he would say no. Khaled smiled; there was an edge to it.
‘Why not? I’m hardly one to miss a party.’
‘Right,’ Lucy agreed. She watched as Khaled finished shrugging off his clothes, and then he climbed into bed, preparing for sleep. They hadn’t made love since they’d returned to London, and tonight looked to be no different.
‘Khaled…’ she began, not knowing what she was going to say, but wanting to say something, change something.
‘Yes, Lucy?’ Khaled waited, coolly expectant, and Lucy opened her mouth to say—what? What could she say that would change this awful tension between them, would change who they were as people?
I love you.
Three simple, little words that she couldn’t quite get off her tongue. Her heart raced, her adrenaline kicking in as if she were teetering on a precipice, preparing to jump.
And then, defeated, she took a step back, her heart slowing to a dull thud, her mouth dry and empty of words. She couldn’t, couldn’t risk it.
‘Goodnight.’
Khaled’s mouth curled in a sardonic smile that lacerated Lucy’s soul. Had he known what she wanted to say? Was he mocking her?
‘Goodnight,’ he replied, and rolled over.
The party was exactly the kind of event Lucy dreaded. It was in the private room of an upscale nightclub, with pounding music, pulsing lights and free-flowing cocktails.
Dressed in an open-necked shirt and dark trousers, Khaled looked confident, sexy and slightly rumpled. He looked like the man she’d fallen so hard for, Lucy thought. She remembered when she’d seen him in a club just like this one, and he’d beckoned her over with one little finger, handing her the drink he’d already bought.
She’d gone home with him that night. She’d never done that before, had never even considered holding herself so lightly. So cheaply. Yet with Khaled she hadn’t even considered another option.
She barely heard the buzz of chatter as they circulated among the guests—rugby players and their dates, the team’s entourage and hangers-on. Lucy knew many of the people, had worked with them for years, but she still couldn’t feel comfortable. Her gaze kept sliding to Khaled, watching as he smiled and laughed, chatted and flirted lightly. He was in his element.
She felt sick.
She accepted another glass of champagne, knowing she shouldn’t, as Eric stole to her side.
‘You don’t look like you’re having a good time,’ he said quietly and Lucy froze, the champagne flute halfway to her lips.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because I know you, Lucy.’ There was a thread of bemusement in Eric’s voice. ‘And I can tell.’
She shrugged. ‘Then you know I never really was one for parties.’
‘Khaled’s enjoying himself.’
Lucy took a sip of champagne and let the bubbles fizz through her. ‘Yes, he is,’ she agreed, glad her voice sounded so unconcerned.
Eric, however, wasn’t fooled. ‘Why did you marry him, Lucy?’ he asked. His gaze met hers, direct and sorrowful. ‘After the way he hurt you…’
‘Don’t, Eric.’ She couldn’t take this, not now when she felt so raw, so fearful and uncertain. Eric, however, would not be deterred.
‘You know what he said to me in the hospital—right before he left?’
‘Don’t.’
‘I told him to see you, to speak to you. I said you’d been waiting, that you were worried…’
Lucy knew she should turn away. She shouldn’t hear this. Shouldn’t listen. Yet she remained, terribly transfixed.
‘I said,’ Eric continued, his voice hitching painfully, ‘after all you meant to him you deserved more, and you know what he said?’
She meant to tell him to stop, but instead found herself whispering, ‘What?’
‘He said, “She’s not that much to me”. And you’ve married him, Lucy! You know a man like that could never love you!’
Lucy shook her head. She felt numb. She’s not that much to me. Well, it was no more than she’d guessed. Than she’d feared, known. ‘People change,’ she whispered, and wanted to believe it. The trouble was, she didn’t. Not inside, where it mattered. Where it hurt.
Eric glanced scornfully over at Khaled, who tossed back his drink with a loud laugh. There were three starlet types fawning all over him. ‘Do they?’ he asked quietly. ‘Do they really?’
Lucy was quiet all the way home. Khaled glanced at her. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ he asked mildly, and Lucy clenched her jaw.
‘No.’
Khaled’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. ‘I saw you with Eric,’ he remarked blandly. ‘He always was in love with you.’
Lucy squirmed inwardly, for she’d long suspected Eric of having feelings for her. ‘He’s never said as much,’ she said after a moment as she stared out of the window.
Khaled was silent for so long that Lucy turned to look at him, and saw the sickly wash of street lights cast a yellow glow over his austere features. ‘Sometimes you don’t need to.’
He knows, Lucy thought. He knows I love him; he’s always known. She closed her eyes, feeling sick.
It couldn’t go on, she thought dourly two days later; this silence, this strangeness, this unbearable tension. The utter falseness of their marriage, of everything. It couldn’t last. It would break—and what then? Would he leave?
Was that what was happening? Was some part of her testing him, seeing how much he would take before he left, before she forced him to admit this was a mistake?
Lucy didn’t know; she felt like she didn’t know anything any more. She was too exhausted and emotionally drained even to recognise her own feelings. She just wanted a release of this tension, an end to the awkwardness.
And then it came.
Sam was spending the night at her mother’s, and Lucy came home in the early evening, dusk settling over the city as she rode the lift up to their penthouse suite. She felt bone-weary, aching in every muscle, and she dreaded another night of tension between her and Khaled, the awkwardness and discomfort, stiltedness and silence.
She opened the door to the suite—and she knew. She didn’t need to check the emptied cupboards or dresser drawers to discover what she felt in every fibre of her being, in the empty echo in her soul.
Khaled was gone.
The suite was heavy with a deeper silence, a silence that spoke of finality and loss. Lucy walked slowly through the rooms. Nothing had changed, yet still she knew. Still, she walked to the bedroom and opened a cupboard, registering the empty hangers, the missing clothes. There was no spill of change, no mobile or wallet on the bureau, no book or spectacles by the bed. Strange; all these little signs of his presence she’d taken for granted. Now the empty spaces mocked her, made the suite seem even more impersonal than it already had been.
Slowly, numbly, she walked to the bed and sat on the edge. Silence pulsed and thudded in her ears.
He’d left her. Again. Just as she’d known he would, just as she’d been waiting for.
Just as she’d driven him to.
Lucy bent her head, her hair falling forward, tears crowding thickly in her throat.
She hurt. She hurt so much, felt the misery and pain threaten to drown her in a tide of feeling, and she didn’t want it.
After all this time, after all she’d already experienced, it was happening again—she was hurting again—and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right; she’d been trying to protect her heart, to keep this from happening.
And yet it had. She was still, would always be, the little girl with her nose pressed against the window, waiting, hoping…
A helpless cry emerged from her, an animal sound of pain, and her arms stole around her body. She rocked silently for a minute, shaking with the effort of holding back the tears.
They came anyway, or started to, until the realisation of her own powerlessness—and of Khaled’s power over her—caused rage to replace the sorrow and hurt.
And then she heard the sound of a key turning in the door, and footsteps in the foyer.
Lucy rose from the bed, the anger and hurt propelling her across the room, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She stopped in the doorway and stared in disbelief at a weary, rumpled Khaled. He dropped the keys on the hall table and looked up.
The rage took over.
‘So, you decided to come back.’ She shook with the force of the emotion coursing through her; her voice trembled. ‘Did you forget something?’ She glanced around the room, saw a discarded newspaper and picked it up. ‘This, perhaps?’ She threw it at him, and watched in satisfaction as it hit him hard in the chest.
Khaled caught the paper, clenching it in one fist. His eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘Lucy…?’
‘Where are you going?’ she demanded, hearing the furious screech of her voice and not caring. ‘Running back to Biryal? Or somewhere else? God knows, it only took you a few weeks!’ She felt the tears start and didn’t bother blinking them back. ‘I knew you’d leave me, Khaled. I told you I couldn’t trust you, and I was right. Did playing happy families get old for you? Did we start to bore you?’ Khaled’s face was blank, wiped of all expression except for a coldness in his eyes that enraged her all the more. ‘Did we?’ she demanded, her voice breaking, and she could barely see him through the haze of tears.
‘I suppose it seems obvious to you,’ Khaled said coolly. He crossed the room, shrugging out of his jacket, his back to her, tense and powerful. ‘As everything always does.’
‘An empty cupboard and no note does seem rather obvious,’ Lucy replied scornfully.
Khaled laughed, an abrupt, jagged sound. ‘Judged and condemned.’
‘How can I not?’ Lucy demanded, her voice hitching. ‘You’re not even denying it!’
‘Why should I?’ Khaled turned around, anger and something else in his eyes—despair, Lucy realised with numbing surprise. It was in his voice too; she heard its broken edge, felt it. ‘Perhaps I should,’ he continued with a hard shrug, ‘But I can’t. I can’t live my life justifying myself to you, Lucy. Proving to you what kind of man I am.’
‘I don’t know what kind of man you are!’ Lucy’s voice felt raw, as if it scraped her throat. She pressed her fists to her eyes and they came away wet.
‘And that’s the problem, isn’t it? How can we live together, love together, when you don’t trust me?’
‘Love?’ Lucy repeated, the word filled with disbelief, yet still edged with hope.
‘Yes.’ Khaled stood in front of her, his arms held loosely at his sides, his shoulders thrown back proudly. There was honesty on his face, bleak and true. ‘I love you, Lucy. Don’t you know that? I’ve always loved you. I hid from it, denied it, to protect myself. I told myself I was protecting you; I didn’t want you to be saddled with a cripple—’
‘You’re not a cripple.’
‘No, but I’d let my whole identity—my entire being—be defined by rugby. By my popularity and status.’ His mouth twisted in sardonic self-acknowledgement. ‘I had nothing before that, you see. When it was taken away, I felt I had nothing once again. Was nothing…and could be nothing to you.’
‘Khaled…’
‘I’m not the man you fell in love with four years ago,’ Khaled told her starkly. ‘I’ve changed. I suppose I was trying to show you I hadn’t changed in Dubai, and at that wretched party, but the fact is I’m not the sports star or the playboy any more. I can’t be that man.’
‘I don’t want you to be that man,’ Lucy whispered. ‘I never did.’
‘Don’t you?’ Khaled smiled bleakly. ‘You say you don’t, perhaps, but you don’t love me now, and you loved me then, even if you deny it. I know you did.’
He spoke so starkly, accepting the statement as truth, that Lucy felt sorrow and shame roil within her. ‘I did love you then,’ she admitted in a whisper. ‘But…’
‘You are afraid I’ll let you down,’ Khaled stated matter of factly. ‘You can’t trust me. I see this, Lucy. I feel it every day, every time you look at me, speak to me. The only time I don’t is when you touch me, and even then—’
‘No, don’t.’ She blinked back more tears; she felt like a leaky tap. ‘Don’t, Khaled.’
‘But it is the truth, is it not? I know what fear feels like, Lucy. I’ve been afraid too. When I was told of my diagnosis, I felt fear crawl straight inside me. I didn’t know what kind of man I was, what kind of man I could be without rugby and all of its trappings. I didn’t know if there would be anything left for you or anyone to love. There never was before.’
‘You mean your father,’ Lucy whispered, her heart aching, and Khaled shrugged.
‘He had no use for me, it is true. He never has.’ His eyes met hers, burning with intensity, with honesty. ‘Then I was afraid of the future, of what it could hold for me—could there be anything good? Yet when you came back into my life I began to hope, and hope is dangerous. The more you feel it, the more you want it.’
‘I know,’ Lucy admitted, her voice raw.
‘Yet, every time I began to hope, it was dashed again. You didn’t love me, you were so determined to tell me—not the man I’ve become.’
‘But that is the man I love,’ Lucy cried. ‘More than who you were before, Khaled. You are strong, and good, and honest—’ Her voice cracked, and then broke. ‘I was afraid you hadn’t changed.’
Khaled laughed, a sound holding no humour, only sorrow. ‘I’m afraid that I’ve changed too much, and you are afraid that I have not changed enough. So much fear.’
‘There’s no fear in love,’ Lucy whispered and he smiled sadly.
‘No. Perhaps not.’
‘Khaled…’ She took a breath, felt it fill her lungs. ‘Where were you? Where were you going?’
‘My father had another heart attack this afternoon. I was telephoned and told it was serious. I left abruptly, but when they called me again they told me he was stable. So I returned. I have to fly out tomorrow.’ He paused, and, although there was no condemnation in his voice or eyes, Lucy felt it. ‘I left a message on your mobile.’
Which she hadn’t checked. Her battery had died and she’d forgotten to charge it. If only…
Yet there was no ‘if only’. This wasn’t about a missed message, a simple misunderstanding. It was about trust.
She hadn’t trusted him. She’d let her fear blind her, guide her. She’d refused to let go of the past, to give them a future. Lucy swallowed. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I.’
He turned away, and Lucy’s heart twisted. It broke. Wasn’t it already broken? she wondered numbly. Hadn’t it been shattered too many times before?
Hadn’t both of them been through enough?
‘Are you going to leave?’ she whispered, and she saw him stiffen.
‘I told you, I must fly out tomorrow. It is done.’ So, in the end, he would still leave. She had made him leave, with her mistrust and her fear. It was ironic, Lucy thought. Ironic and terrible. When she finally had him, she would lose him, and this time she could only blame herself.
She watched him walk stiffly to the bedroom, and remembered how he’d trusted her with his weakness and secrets. After a second’s hesitation she followed him, standing in the doorway while she watched him rummage through the few clothes he’d left. He was packing, she realised, taking everything away.
‘Khaled, I don’t want you to go.’
He shrugged impatiently. ‘Lucy, my father is ill. I have a duty.’
She closed her eyes and summoned strength. Opening them, she admitted in a whisper, ‘I mean from me. Don’t leave me.’
He turned slowly to face her. ‘Leave you?’
‘I love you. I love the man you are now.’ She was begging, she was desperate and weak, yet she didn’t care. There was no fear in love. She’d lay herself bare for him; she’d strip her soul if that was what it took to keep him.
‘Do you?’ Khaled said, and she heard the disbelief in his voice. ‘Do you love a man who would walk out on you even now, Lucy? Walk out on his son without a word?’ His voice shook with a sudden, terrible emotion. ‘Is that the man you love?’
Lucy shook her head slowly, not understanding. ‘Khaled…’
‘You judge me now without even realising it!’ He shook his head, the movement one of both scorn and rage. Hurt. ‘How can you love me and think I would do that—again? I’ve learned from my mistakes, Lucy. Have you?’
It took her a moment to understand. ‘You mean you’re not leaving?’ she whispered.
‘I’m going to see my father,’ Khaled replied, ‘And you’re welcome to come with me. I’m not,’ he added, his voice edged with irritation, ‘leaving you.’
‘But—’
Khaled dropped the shirt he had bunched in one fist, shaking his head slowly. ‘Lord, how I’ve hurt you. Even now…’ He crossed the room to stand in front of her, his hands curling gently around her shoulders. ‘Lucy, forgive me for leaving you before. Forgive me for causing you so much hurt, so much fear. Will you? Can you forgive me?’
Lucy blinked back tears, but they slipped down her cheeks anyway. ‘Yes…’ she whispered.
‘I’ve kept my distance, tried to give you space to make a decision.’ He paused, his twisted smile both tender and sad. ‘To decide if you loved me.’
‘But I do,’ Lucy whispered, her throat clogged. ‘That was the whole problem.’
‘Is it?’ Khaled questioned softly. ‘Such a problem?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t. It’s…’ She smiled through a shimmer of tears. ‘My fear. I’ve been so afraid.’
‘I know.’
‘I didn’t even realise how afraid I was until…until it was too late. Until I loved you, and I realised you had the power to hurt me again. That was what scared me most of all—the possibility.’ She swallowed, sniffed. ‘I don’t want to be afraid.’
‘Then don’t. I’m not going to leave you, Lucy. I’m not your father. I’m not the man I was before.’
‘I know that. I’ve realised that. But I was afraid to trust, to believe.’
‘Believe.’ His voice throbbed with sincerity. ‘I’m not going to leave you or Sam. I love you both. You’re my family, my life. I just need to know if you can believe me. Can trust me. Love the man I am now—a man who can’t play rugby, who will be a king, who loves you.’ He smiled crookedly, and his eyes glistened. ‘Can you love that man…all of him?’
Lucy thought of her own words on their wedding night: I married all of you. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can.’ She reached up to cup his face with her hands, and felt the rough stubble against her fingers. ‘I do.’ Her voice didn’t tremble or waver; it came out strong and sure.
Finally she was cool, composed, in control. All the things she’d wanted to be, tried to be by hiding her fear, by pretending to be strong. Now, when she’d finally laid it bare, she felt strong. She was strong. She smiled. ‘I love you, Khaled. So much.’
He turned his head and let his lips brush her fingers. ‘Then there need be no more fear…for either of us.’
‘No.’ The realisation made her feel light, as if a shackling weight had suddenly turned to air, to nothing.
She was free. She was without fear.
She was in love.
Khaled gathered her into his arms and Lucy surrendered herself to the embrace, her cheek pressed against his shirt so she could feel the steady thudding of his heart.
Outside dusk settled into darkness and a peace stole softly around them. There were no words, no uncertainty.
Only love—pure, strong, sure.
Unafraid.
