Читать книгу Midnight in Arabia - Люси Монро, Trish Morey, Люси Монро - Страница 15

THE feast was far more than a simple dinner, just as Asad had said it would be.

Platter after platter of food came in from the outdoor kitchens—far more than the ones Iris had helped Genevieve and the cook prepare the other night. The other women in the courtyard had all been cooking as well, but Iris hadn’t known it had been for the feast.

They ate in the public receiving area of Asad’s tent, the large room filled with his family and guests who Iris learned were all related to him, if distantly.

Russell, who had been seated at a different table from the immediate family, didn’t seem in the least offended, but appeared to be enjoying himself every bit as much as Iris was.

After everyone had eaten, the men played their instruments and sang traditional songs, some stories of love and romance, other songs Nawar told Iris were for the camels.

“It helps them to be strong and carry heavy burdens,” the small girl explained very seriously.

Iris nodded her understanding, though she found the idea fanciful.

Even Asad joined in the singing, his deep masculine voice making the song of love lost he’d chosen to share unexpectedly poignant. Then he sang a song in a dialect Iris did not understand, but the cadence of the song and tone of his voice made her thighs quiver with unwanted longing.

Her discomfort only increased when several of the guests gave her assessing glances. She tried looking everywhere but at Asad. Only his voice inexorably drew her gaze back to him.

He met her eyes, singing the last stanza in a low, melodic tone that brought moisture to her eyes, which she did her best to blink away.

“You enjoyed my humble efforts?” he asked Iris as he allowed Nawar to climb into his lap and rest against his chest.

The small girl had been allowed to stay up past her bedtime and looked ready to fall asleep right where she was.

Iris caught herself staring at the charming domestic picture they made as she answered, “Just as I’m sure everyone does who hears you. You’re a man of many talents.”

Iris’s desire to be part of that scene was so strong, her chest ached with it. Though she knew there was no hope of that ever happening. She wasn’t Asad’s future.

No doubt there was another perfect princess in store for him, hopefully one with a stronger character than the deceased Badra.

“I am glad to hear you say so.”

“I’m sure you hear it often enough.”

“Perhaps.”

She huffed out a small laugh at his arrogance. “You don’t lack confidence, that’s for sure.”

“And do you think there is a reason why I should?”

“No, Asad, you are everything a desert sheikh should be.”

“My daddy is the bestest sheikh ever,” Nawar said, her tiredness showing in the childish pattern of speech so rarely exhibited by the young girl.

“Even better than Sheikh Hakim?” Iris teased. “After all, he is king over all of Kadar.”

“Daddy is sheikh to the Sha’b Al’najid,” Nawar said around a yawn. “That’s bestest.”

“I suppose it is, sweetheart.”

The little girl’s eyelids drooped.

“So, why is the peacock the symbol for your house when your tribe is called the people of the lion?” Iris asked Asad.

Even he had been named for the large predatory animal.

“The peacock is a symbol for the women of my house.”

“But it’s on the panel that leads to the …” And then Iris understood. “It covers the doorway that leads to what is traditionally considered the women’s chamber.”

“Yes.”

“So, how did a bird become the symbol for the women of your house?”

“Many generations ago, one of the first sheikhs of our line, gave a peacock and peahen pair to his bride as a wedding gift. They were very exotic birds, something none of the Bedouin of their tribe had ever seen though as nomadic people they saw more wonders than the settled dwellers of our part of the world.”

“Where did he get the birds?”

“I do not know, but his wife was so taken with them that she embroidered their likeness on all of her clothing.”

Nawar made a soft little snoring sound and Iris couldn’t help smiling. “And it became tradition to do so in the following generations.”

“It did, though not all adhere to this tradition any longer.”

“Why do you?”

“I did not, for a while, but my grandmother finds the birds beautiful, even the less-flamboyant peahen.”

“Badra was not as impressed with the tradition,” Iris guessed.

Asad’s featured turned stern. “She was a princess of a neighboring country, but she preferred Western ways to anything the desert had to offer.”

“Even you.”

“Even me.” Asad’s clenched his jaw and Iris felt badly for reminding him that his marriage had not turned out anything like he’d anticipated when he’d dumped her to marry the virginal princess.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is the truth.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Come with me to put her to bed,” he invited, indicating his sleeping daughter.

Iris nodded before her brain could even finish processing the request. She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. Keeping her distance from him was the only hope she had of keeping her heart intact this time around.

But keeping her distance from his daughter simply wasn’t an option. After the years of rejection at her parents’ hands, Iris did not have it in her to disappoint the child.

Besides, she liked Nawar.

Iris helped Asad undress Nawar and put a nightgown on the sleeping child like she’d done it a hundred times before. It should feel awkward, but it didn’t. Maybe the old saying was true, some things were just like riding a bicycle. You never really forgot how to do them, no matter how young you were when you learned.

While Iris had no experience with children as an adult, in boarding school she had often taken care of the younger ones.

She tucked the little girl into her bed, soothing her back to sleep with a soft lullaby when Nawar started to wake after her father laid her down.

“You’re good with her,” Asad said as they left the room moments later.

“Thank you. I’ve had some experience.”

“I wasn’t aware you had small children in your life.” He talked like he knew a lot more about her life than he possibly could.

“I don’t.”

“But you’ve had experience?” he prompted.

“I learned how to tuck little girls in when I was a child myself.”

“Explain,” he pushed.

“My parents sent me to boarding school when I was six. I was terrified at night without our housekeeper there to tuck me in and tell me a story.”

“I know this is a common practice, sending away one’s children, but not one I could ever approve of for my own.”

She didn’t imagine a man who considered family as important as Asad did would. That knowledge cemented her certainty that his parents’ defection to Geneva had hurt him badly, though he might never acknowledge it.

“It’s actually not as frequent a practice in America as it is in England, particularly not for children as young as I was, but there are some schools who will board their students from the age of six.”

“And your parents saw fit to send you to one of these?”

“Yes.”

“But how does that explain your experience with small children?”

“When I had been there a year, another six-year-old girl came to board, as well. Though I was second youngest of all the boarders, I was seven then and used to the life. The rest of the children in our grades were day schoolers.”

“Day schoolers?”

“They came for the day, not to live.”

“I see.” He stopped her before they returned to the feast. “But you were a night schooler? No that would not be right.”

She smiled at his attempt to get the word right. “I was a resident, or a boarder.”

“Oh, yes, of course. And this little girl …”

“They put her in my room because we were so close in age. I could hear her crying in her bed that first night. She missed her parents terribly.”

“So, you comforted her?”

“I had a little flashlight. I used it to read her a book. Then I sang to her until she fell asleep.” Iris had returned to her own bed after that, more comforted than she had been at bedtime since going to the school.

“It became a routine.”

“Yes. She was only there for a semester. Her parents had been in an accident and couldn’t care for her, but as soon as they could, they came and got her.”

Iris had been without a roommate until the next year, when they’d put the two newest and youngest residents in a room with her again, since she’d been so good with her other roommate. “The girls’ dormitory mother made sure that the youngest residents were always put in my room.”

“Even when you were older? That must have put a cramp in your style.”

Iris laughed. “Not so you would notice. I was a very shy girl, but I knew how to comfort the little ones and help them transition to boarding school life.”

“They were lucky to have you.”

“It was mutual. I would have been very lonely otherwise.”

“Didn’t you have friends?”

“Of course.”

“But not close ones,” he guessed far too perceptively.

“I made the mistake of growing close to a couple of girls in the beginning, but then they left.” And she’d learned not to let people get too close.

They always left. But then Asad had come along and she’d opened her heart again … only, he’d left too.

“And now?”

“Now?”

“Do you have friends now?” he asked in a strangely tense voice.

“Russell.”

“Russell? Your assistant?”

“You say his name like it’s a dirty word. He’s a really great guy.” Iris liked the geological assistant who told corny jokes only another geologist would get.

“Are you attracted to this really great guy?” Asad asked with dangerous quiet. “He is a great deal younger than you.”

A junior at his university, Russell was about as much younger than Iris as she had been than Asad when they were together. “He’s twenty. Anyway, what difference does it make to you?”

“Answer me. Are you two in a relationship?” he said, the last word laced with disgust.

She rolled her eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“Who says I am not?”

She laughed, the sound cynical. “Oh, come on, Asad. Like you are going to be jealous of a geeky science boy.”

“Are you attracted to geeky?”

She could have been, she realized. Not Russell, necessarily. He was very much like a younger brother, but maybe to someone else like that. If there hadn’t been Asad to spoil her for others. “You asked me if I had friends, Asad. That’s what he is. My friend.”

And a pretty new one at that.

“Good.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“But you don’t have a lot of friends back home.”

“No.”

“Yet you are a very good friend to have.”

She made a sound of disbelief. If he’d really believed that, he wouldn’t have given her up so easily. Would he?

“You were my friend once. It was only later that I realized what I lost when that friendship had to end.”

“There was no had to, Asad. You were done with me and you dumped me. Stop trying to rewrite history.”

“I am doing no such thing. Do you really think we could have remained friends when I married Badra?”

He had a point. And Iris probably shouldn’t care that he’d missed her friendship, and yet coming to believe it dulled some of the old pain of losing him.

“I would like to be friends again,” he said when she made no reply.

She didn’t believe him. “You want me back in your bed. That’s not friendship.”

“For us it can be.”

“Really? And when I return to the States, what then?”

“I do not intend to eject you from my life again,” he said in a tone that made the words a vow.

It disconcerted her, and frightened her, as well. Because those words were not merely a promise … they were a threat, too. “I don’t think I’m any more prepared to be your friend after leaving here than I was before.”

What she meant, but didn’t say, and hoped he clued into, was that for Iris it had been more than casual sex and friendship. And unfortunately, probably always would be.

“Give it a try. Let us see where it goes.”

It wouldn’t go to the altar; at least this time she knew that. Knowledge of the truth had to make some kind of difference in the outcome, didn’t it?

“You want me in your bed.”

“I do.” At least he admitted it.

“And you want to be my friend.” For now, anyway.

“Yes.”

“What will that make us?” she asked uncertainly.

“Whatever we want it to.”

This time she heard what he said, not what she wanted to hear. He wasn’t making any promises.

She wanted to be his world like he’d been hers, but that was never going to happen. What did she say to this offer, though? She’d missed Asad so much because she’d let him into a place in her heart she’d kept protected from her very earliest childhood.

Now he was offering more than a tumble in the sack. He was offering a renewal of their friendship that supposedly would last into the future.

She wasn’t sure she wanted that to happen, but she was equally unsure if she wanted to hold herself back from him while she was in Kadar. Iris had spent six years avoiding intimacy, taking no other lovers and dreaming of Asad more nights than she cared to count.

Could having what he called a liaison with him help her to let go of him forever? Just being away from him hadn’t done the trick. Psychobabble said people needed closure to move on. If she ever wanted to break the lonely boundaries of her life, Iris had to move forward. She had to take a chance again.

So, maybe that was exactly what she needed … closure on a relationship that was never meant to be in the first place.

One truth she could not escape: Iris had missed this man every day since he had walked away.

Losing him the first time had nearly destroyed her, but maybe being with him again, knowing it was temporary, would help to heal her now. Maybe letting him in again was the only way to break the boundaries she’d set around her lonely life.

She’d like to believe she could refuse him, but recognized that putting it to the test might see her disappointed. Regardless, she realized she didn’t really want to.

Understanding better what had been going through his head six years ago—and realizing how betrayed he’d been by Badra—changed Iris’s view of their shared past. At the very least, it made her realize Asad was not invulnerable to hurt.

Why that should matter, she was not sure, but it did.

And she wanted him, more than she would have believed possible after everything that had happened. But there it was.

She had a choice, one that only she could make. If she got back into Asad’s bed, it would be with her eyes open to both the reality of the past and what the future would hold.

Could she live with that? She thought maybe she really could. She was almost positive she couldn’t live with the other … the not having him and the richness he brought to her life for whatever time available to them.

When the silence stretched between them as her thoughts whirled inside her head, Asad slipped his hand beneath the scarf covering her head and cupped her nape. “It is not in me to lose you again.”

Asad saw the flash of disbelief in Iris’s blue gaze before she pushed the peacock curtain aside to return to the feast.

He wanted to draw her back, demand she acknowledge the truth of his claim, but now was not the time. She was skittish, and perhaps he understood that better now. But he would woo her and convince her that the past’s mistakes could be left there.

He had brought her to Kadar for the reason he’d given her, to help her career, but also because he’d never forgotten her. Not her friendship and not her passionate fire in the bedroom.

He wanted to be warmed by that fire again.

Where that might lead, he did not know, but one certainty existed. He was no longer looking for a perfect princess to share his life.

Iris’s reflections on her childhood horrified him. If the two lived among the Sha’b Al’najid, they would have lost not just their daughter, but also their place in the tribe for such unnatural behavior. That parents could be so dismissive of a child was bad enough, but that the child should be his sensitive former lover infuriated him.

One of the first things he had noticed about Iris was the vulnerability she hid behind her shy demeanor. The sensitive child she would have been must have been tormented endlessly by her parents’ indifference.

He could not fathom it.

Iris had been right. Asad had not been pleased at his own father’s rejection of their heritage and he had determined at a young age never to make a choice that required leaving a child behind, as his parents had him. Yet Asad had never felt ignored by his parents, or that he did not matter to them.

They had made the journey back to the Sha’b Al’najid much more frequently than was convenient for them in order to spend time with their oldest son. And while they had agreed Asad would be raised to be sheikh of his people one day, his father had demanded Asad be allowed to come to Geneva at least one weekend per month throughout his childhood.

Though Asad was not supposed to know it, his mother cried when he left—each and every time.

Still, Asad had fought against more frequent visits, even at the earliest age. He was sure now that his parents had been hurt by that, but then the choice to leave the Sha’b Al’najid—and him, their son—had been theirs.

Regardless, they had been so different from the soulless couple who had given life to his beautiful geologist.

His parents’ choice had cost them. Of that he was certain, despite the fact he was equally certain he could never have made that choice himself. The thought of letting Nawar go had been thoroughly untenable from the first time he held her, despite the fact that they shared no actual blood tie.

An inexplicable protectiveness burning in his gut, Asad kept Iris by his side during the rest of the feast, thoroughly enjoying her reaction to his family’s way of celebrating.

Badra had always found the ways of the Sha’b Al’najid provincial and never hesitated to say so. The youngest, spoiled daughter of a neighboring country’s king, she had rejected Asad’s first proposal, saying she would never marry an ignorant goatherd.

Asad, who at eighteen had herded the animals only to learn lessons his grandfather said could not be taught with words, was hugely offended. And equally intrigued by this beautiful, spoiled creature who thought she was too good for him.

Any among the women of his people, or those he had met visiting his parents in Switzerland, would have been more than honored to receive such an offer of marriage. Badra, who was a year his senior, had unaccountably turned him down.

She couldn’t have conceived a move more suited to garnering his interest and determination to woo her successfully.

They’d met during a trade negotiation between Asad’s grandfather and Badra’s father. As was custom, the negotiations had occurred in the home of the king wanting his grandfather’s services in moving goods between his country and those nearby.

Asad had found the city-bred and sophisticated young woman fascinating. Besides, she was a princess, and as a future sheikh, he should marry a woman of such standing.

Asad allowed himself a small, bitter smile at his own naïveté and arrogance.

Badra had not been impressed with his pedigree, thereby cementing his interest in her. Then and there, he had determined to win her hand. He would attend university and build his tribe into a people others would envy.

And that the Princess Badra would want to belong to.

So he’d gone to university and graduate school, all the while working to build his family’s business interests with the help of his father and grandfather. When Asad returned to his desert family permanently, he was determined to do so with Badra at his side.

The only stumbling block to that outcome had been his growing affection for his lover, Iris Carpenter. But a man of considerable will, Asad had forced himself to cut her out of his life and pursue his original goal. It was what was best for his people.

Badra’s father would make a powerful political and business ally, the innocent and protected Badra a beautiful and admired lady of his people.

He shook his head. He’d been a fool.

Asad had not been in the least surprised when she accepted his second proposal. He’d assumed her father had convinced her of the advantageousness of the match. It was on Asad’s wedding night that he’d discovered the true reason for Badra’s capitulation.

Far from the innocent virgin he’d expected to bed, Badra was well versed in the art of sexual encounters.

She was also pregnant. Which he had realized when she woke the next morning nauseated in a way he had witnessed only among the pregnant women of his tribe.

He’d demanded to know the truth and she’d admitted everything amid floods of tears.

She’d had an affair with a married man who had seduced her from her innocence and now carried the man’s child. She said she was terrified of what her father’s reaction would be if he found out. Claiming to always have a soft spot for Asad, she said she’d learned her lesson and had eagerly accepted his marriage proposal.

She didn’t think she was doing him any true harm, as she’d discovered the babe’s sex was female. He would not reject a daughter simply because she had come to be as the result of her mother’s ignorance and naïveté, would he?

She played to Asad’s view of himself as a modern man who knew how to straddle the old world and the new. And he accepted her explanations and perceptions of him because his pride would not allow him to do otherwise, swallowing her words like a camel at an oasis after five days in the desert.

Though he had not forgotten the contempt she’d held for him at eighteen, he believed she had changed her views. He even accepted the role his own pride had played in the current circumstances. He’d been adamant he would marry this woman and no other. She would not reject him, the lion of his people.

He had put himself forward as her unknowing savior and he could hardly withdraw from the field at this point.

Badra claimed she’d broken it off with the married man when she agreed to become the lady of the Sha’b Al’najid, but he’d had his doubts—unspoken and unacknowledged. However, he’d made his vows just as she had. With that truth firmly in the forefront of his mind, Asad had directed his considerable will toward making his marriage with Badra work.

His doubts had come to fruition a month after Nawar’s birth when Asad’s head of security in the newly created command center had informed him of communications between Badra and her former lover.

But the knowledge of her continued perfidy had come too late. Asad loved his daughter and would not lose her to her mother’s selfishness.

He had not realized until much later, in a discussion with his sister during her first pregnancy, that Badra could not possibly have known the babe in her womb was a girl on their wedding night. Not unless she’d had an amniocentesis, which she had not. Badra had been a consummate liar.

And for the sake of that woman and his own pride, Asad had let go of his friendship with the one woman whose loyalty and integrity had never once come into question.

Unlike Badra with her deceits and machinations, Iris would always put others first. It was in her nature to do so. Knowing more about her past, he found that trait even more worthy of admiration.