She’d convinced herself that Sam didn’t need Khaled, that she didn’t.
Now she wondered whether they both did. The thought terrified her.
Sam hurled himself into Khaled’s arms yet again, and Lucy smiled wryly. Khaled couldn’t have created a better picture of familial bliss if he’d planned it. Maybe he had, she acknowledged, but he couldn’t have contrived Sam’s devotion to him. In fact, she wondered if Sam’s easy acceptance had taken Khaled by surprise, had made him determined to suggest this outrageous marriage.
A loveless, sensible marriage.
Is that obvious as well?
Stop it, Lucy told herself crossly. Stop thinking, wondering, hoping.
A marriage between them would never work.
Why not? a voice whispered insistently, and Lucy forced herself to answer with a cool mental logic.
Because she couldn’t live her life entirely in Biryal. Because she didn’t love Khaled, and he didn’t love her. Because getting married simply for the sake of a child wasn’t a good enough reason.
Because Khaled would get tired of her. Again. He would leave. Again.
You’re afraid.
She could almost hear Khaled saying the words, although the revelation had come from her own heart.
She was afraid of being hurt again, of loving Khaled and losing him one more time.
‘Mummy, come in and play with us!’ Sam held out his arms beseechingly, and with a smile Lucy rose from the lounger.
‘All right.’
She could feel Khaled watching her as she slid off her flip-flops and sarong and self-consciously adjusted the straps of her swimming costume, as if she could somehow make it cover more of her body.
And why should it matter? He’d seen her already, all of her, had touched and kissed every part.
Of course, that had been before Sam. She carried a few more pounds now—not too many, but enough for her to notice. She had several stretch-marks on her tummy that had faded to persistent silvery streaks. She looked different.
She found herself glancing at Khaled’s damaged knee, now submerged in the pool, and thought, We’re both different.
They both had battle scars, marks which showed that sometimes life was hard. It had changed them on the outside, as well as on the inside, and that, perhaps, wasn’t a completely bad thing.
They spent another hour in the pool, laughing and chasing each other, and even as she played with Sam Lucy couldn’t shake the feeling of awareness that prickled along her skin and warmed her body both inside and out. She was aware of Khaled, aware of his slick, bare, water-beaded skin so close to hers, aware of his golden eyes sweeping over her even when he wasn’t looking at her.
She knew he was aware too, that he felt the tension and expectancy build with the latent force of a volcano; that he felt the same pressure that mounted inside her when his arm or thigh brushed against her in the water. When Sam did a particularly daring jump his laughing eyes met hers—and held them.
She couldn’t look away. She didn’t even want to.
She felt the need and the desire—building inside her, threatening to overflow—and something else, something warm and hopeful and good—and she didn’t try to push it back down or pretend it wasn’t there. She should have; that would have been the sensible thing to do. But for a moment she didn’t feel sensible.
She felt wanted.
Wanting.
Finally Sam tired out, and Lucy towelled him off on her lap, loving the feel of his damp, sun-warmed little body.
Khaled slung a towel around his hips—had his navel always been so taut and flat?—and said, ‘I’ll have lunch brought to the terrace. And then, Sam, perhaps a rest before we see the spiders?’
It was a sign of how tired Sam was, as well as how much he’d come to listen to Khaled, that he only protested once, and even that was halfhearted.
They ate by the poolside and Lucy could see that Sam was already fading as he picked at the chicken nuggets—English food that Khaled must have arranged.
‘I’ll take him upstairs,’ Lucy said, and Sam curled around her, his head on her shoulder, as Khaled led her back through the palace to the bedroom.
‘I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the size of this place,’ Lucy said after she’d tucked Sam in his bed. Khaled was in the little shared sitting room, still clad in only his swimsuit and towel. ‘I might need a map.’
‘I hope you’ll get used to it,’ Khaled replied with a smile, but Lucy didn’t miss the intensity in his eyes. Her breath hitched and her heart began to thud.
‘Khaled…’
‘Don’t.’ She stared in surprise, and he crossed the room to press a finger gently against her lips. ‘Don’t say no. Don’t tell me all the reasons why this isn’t going to work.’ Lucy tried to speak, but her lips just brushed Khaled’s finger, and her tummy tightened at the sensation.
‘Just let’s be, Lucy,’ Khaled said, his voice a soft, lulling whisper. ‘Do you remember how it was before—enjoying each other’s company, enjoying each other?’ She shook her head, not wanting to go there, even though it was already too late. Her mind, heart and body had all travelled down that dangerous road, remembering just how sweet it had been.
False; it had been false.
Yet could this be real?
She reached up and caught his hand with her own, pushing it away from her mouth.
‘All right,’ she found herself saying, surprised. She hadn’t intended to say that at all. She’d meant to lay out her arguments, all those logical, sensible reasons she’d catalogued in her mind. ‘Let’s enjoy these few days,’ she said, her voice firm and unwavering. ‘For Sam’s sake.’
‘And for our own?’ Khaled’s eyes burned into hers, yet Lucy heard a lilt of what sounded almost like uncertainty in his voice—uncertainty and hope. ‘Just to see how it could be?’ he added in a whisper.
‘It can’t,’ she said, and she’d never sounded so uncertain, so desperate not to be right.
Khaled smiled, uncertainty replaced with satisfaction. Damn him. He knew his effect on her, knew how weak she was.
‘A few days,’ he agreed, and from his tone Lucy knew he thought that was all he’d need.
The next few days passed in a pleasant haze of sightseeing, swimming and enjoying the surprising treasures of Biryal. Khaled took them to see the pearl divers on the coast. The art of Biryal’s ancient trade was now a tourist attraction, as pearls were now made synthetically in an oyster farm.
He showed Sam the spiders with their huge, yellow webs as promised. Lucy stayed well behind, even as Sam stared, fascinated, his hand clasped tightly with Khaled’s.
He took them to a national museum in Lahji, and Lucy was impressed with the clean, wide streets; the ancient buildings were cheek-by-jowl with modern skyscrapers. It was a small city, compact and well-maintained, and she could begin to see why Khaled was proud of his country, why he was dedicating his time, his life, to improving the condition of its people.
During these outings Lucy let her mind drift, enjoying the sun on her face, the breeze from the sea, the feeling that they were a family. A real one.
She didn’t let herself think about how it couldn’t last, what would happen when she returned to London, to her life. Khaled…what would he do?
What would he want, demand?
Her