‘OK.’ She slid off the rock and, to Ammar’s shock, she reached for his hand. His fingers curled around hers as a matter of both instinct and need. ‘Let’s go,’ she said, and she led the way back to the Jeep.
Noelle walked hand in hand with Ammar, her mind spinning with what he’d just told her. It must have cost him to confess such secrets to her. It must have cost him so much.
They walked silently through the long grass and in her mind’s eye she saw Ammar as she remembered him from her own childhood, a sullen, lanky boy with liquid eyes and a reluctant, beautiful smile. What kind of childhood had he had with a father like that? What kind of life had he had?
The thought of her own father teaching her such a cruel and malicious lesson was unthinkable. Yet Ammar had learned such lessons, it would seem, over and over again. No wonder honest, loving intimacy of any kind was so difficult for him.
She thought of the door knob turning on her wedding night. Ammar flinging her away from him when she’d reached for him that awful evening in the hotel. Kissing her the other night, rolling away from her today. He desired her; she’d felt it, known it. And now she believed it, understood he’d never really been rejecting her. He’d just been fighting his own demons. His memories. And now he’d finally shared them with her, shared the most intimate and revealing thing about himself. For a man intent on being invulnerable it was a pretty amazing thing to do. It was a miracle.
Ammar opened the passenger door of the Jeep and helped her inside. She could feel the tension in his body, saw a muscle flickering in his jaw. She knew he hated her knowing his secrets, hated feeling so exposed.
She laid a hand on his arm, felt the muscles jerk under her touch and then he stilled, his face half-averted.
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, ‘for telling me.’
He didn’t speak, just nodded, his face still turned from hers. It would have to be enough.
They didn’t speak on the way home and when they got back to the house Ammar excused himself with work. Noelle wandered up to her bedroom, restless, her mind still spinning.
She spent the afternoon lying on her bed, watching the shadows lengthen on the floor, her mind in a daze as memories paraded through her consciousness, a montage of remembrances that were made even more poignant and bittersweet by this new knowledge.
She saw it all differently now, from Ammar’s perspective. She saw a man who longed for love, yet whose life had forced him to spurn it on every level: physical, emotional, spiritual. And yet still he’d wanted and, more than that, he’d tried. It made her, she realised, love him more.
And she revelled in the freedom of knowing, all those years ago, and even last night, that it hadn’t been her. He hadn’t been rejecting her, not the way she’d always feared. She believed him completely now, knew he did find her desirable. And that knowledge was both thrilling and wonderful.
She felt as if the fear that had dogged and haunted her for so many years had finally fallen away. She was free—free to love Ammar as she knew now she wanted to, love him fully and deeply and completely.
And she wanted to tell him so.
She watched the room darken and twilight settle on the rolling desert hills, casting long violet shadows on the sand. She felt a new sense of both peace and purpose, and with a smile she swung her legs off the bed and went in search of Ammar.
He wasn’t anywhere in the house and so she went out into the garden, now cloaked in darkness. She heard the sound of water slapping the sides of the pool and stopped a little distance away, watched as Ammar cut smoothly and assuredly through the water. He was a good swimmer; perhaps that, in part, had saved his life. She watched him for a moment more before an idea came to her. Smiling a little, even as her heart began to thud with frantic, fearful beats, she turned around and went back to her room.
Ammar swam with sure, even strokes, the movement propelling him forward, taking over his thoughts. Exercise was, he had long ago discovered, a great way to work off anger and blank his mind out at the same time. Just what he’d needed when his father had made one of his repellent requests. Call in a loan. Demand a bribe. Lie, cheat, steal. Over the years he’d stopped thinking about what he was doing, refused to remember the conscience that had pricked him as a still-naïve boy.
But, Papa—
The only answer had been his father’s fist.
Ammar increased his speed. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest. He didn’t want to think. Couldn’t remember. Not his father, not all the things he’d done, and most certainly not the look on Noelle’s face when he’d told her about his past. His weakness.
He finished another lap and hauled himself onto the side of the pool, his heart beating so hard it hurt. His lungs ached and water ran down his face and chest in rivulets. He drew in a shuddering breath and was resolutely turning back to the pool when he heard her.
‘There you are.’
He turned, surprise streaking through him like lightning at the sight of her. Noelle stood in front of him, dressed only in a forest-green string bikini. He’d bought the bikini so it shouldn’t surprise him to see her wearing it. He’d wanted to see her wearing it, had imagined peeling it slowly from her body. Now he saw it fitted at least, unlike the other clothes. It fitted very well.
She smiled and sat on the edge of the pool, sliding her long, shapely legs into the water. She had the most gorgeous skin, Ammar thought, like golden cream. The top two triangles of the bikini left very little to the imagination and he found his gaze was riveted by the sight of her really rather perfect breasts barely covered by those scraps of cloth. Bikinis, he thought, were indecent. Indecently beautiful.
‘The water’s warm,’ she said, trailing her fingers through it. She had to lean over to do it, giving him an even better glimpse of her breasts. Ammar felt himself harden. He wanted her now, had always wanted her, imagined pulling her into the pool and taking her right there. Didn’t they both need the release?
And yet he knew what would happen if he did just that. The memories would take him over, shrieking inside his head, and his mind would go blank—the only way he knew of dealing with it—and he’d push her away. And now she knew why. She knew his most pathetic, shaming secret and he hated it. Why the hell was she here?
‘I was just getting out,’ he said, knowing he sounded surly.
‘Don’t go just when I got here,’ she protested with a playful smile, but he just shook his head.
‘I have work to do.’
‘At night?’
‘I have many responsibilities, Noelle.’ He sounded like a schoolteacher.
‘Am I one of them?’ She arched her eyebrows, her legs stretched out, and with one toe she gave him a little splash. She was flirting, he realised in disbelief, or trying to. It reminded him of how she used to be, light and smiling and playful, and how he’d been with her. Trying to unbend. Learning to love.
‘I’m busy,’ he snapped, and he saw her smile falter. She glanced downwards, biting her lip, and he felt like the biggest jerk in the world. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said grudgingly.
She glanced back up at him, her playful smile resolutely restored. ‘So you’ll stay?’
And, unbelievably, he found himself nodding. ‘All right. Fine.’ He’d stay, but he’d still sound like an ass.
Reluctantly Ammar watched her. She’d leaned over the pool again, gazing into the water, and if she leaned out much more she was going to pop right out of that bikini.
‘You’re too thin,’ he said abruptly, and Noelle glanced at him in surprise.
‘You’re