bath foam into the bath as she exhaled shakily.
Why was she so nervous? She was acting like a frightened virgin, and she wasn’t that. She’d slept with Khaled before, for heaven’s sake; she knew his body and he knew hers. She knew what he liked, how he buried his face in her neck, how he liked to kiss her.
‘Help.’ Lucy didn’t realise she’d said the word aloud until it echoed through the marble-tiled bathroom. She held her hands up to her face and took two or three deep breaths. She needed to get a grip.
The bath was nearly full, so she turned the taps off and stripped, hanging her wedding gown on the back of the door. As she sank into the lavender-scented foam, she realised belatedly that she had nothing to wear other than her gown.
She had nothing.
Where were her clothes, her things? She felt vulnerable, as if Khaled had stripped her of her belongings intentionally. Perhaps he had. She didn’t know anything any more, didn’t know how to go forward, how to act, how to feel.
Help.
She stayed in the bath until the water began to grow cold, knowing that to delay longer would be obvious and therefore make things more awkward. Insulting, even.
To her great relief she saw a thick terry-cloth robe hanging by the door, and she slipped into it gratefully. She brushed her hair and washed her face, making liberal use of the exotically scented body-lotion. And then there was nothing left for her to do but open the door and face Khaled.
Face her marriage.
Face her wedding night.
She took another deep breath, drawing the air deep into her lungs, and opened the door.
Khaled lay stretched on the bed, his coat and tie discarded, his shirt partially unbuttoned. He looked relaxed, rumpled and sexy, and just the sight of him made sweet need stab deep in her belly.
‘Does your leg hurt?’ Lucy asked, noticing that he had stretched it out, and then she tensed, waiting for Khaled to be annoyed.
He just smiled. ‘No, I feel fine.’ He shook his head. ‘You’re not a therapist tonight, Lucy.’
‘I know.’
‘You’re my wife.’ His smile widened and his heated gaze swept over her, from her damp hair to her bare feet.
‘I don’t know where my clothes are,’ Lucy blurted, and Khaled arched an eyebrow.
‘You won’t need any tonight, I should think, but they’re in the wardrobe if it makes you feel better.’ He gestured to a large, teak wardrobe in the corner of the room.
‘It does,’ she admitted. She moved gingerly to sit on the edge of the bed, a good three feet from where Khaled lay.
‘Why are you so nervous?’ Khaled asked softly. ‘I have to admit, I have been looking forward to this for a very long time. Four years, to be precise.’
Lucy managed a smile. ‘I don’t know why,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘Too long.’
He reached out to grasp her hand and turn it over, then drew her slowly towards him so he could press a kiss in her palm. ‘I’ve wanted this, Lucy. I’ve dreamed of it.’
This. Just what was ‘this’? Lucy wondered numbly. Sex? It obviously wasn’t love.
Khaled deepened the kiss on her palm. The feel of his lips on the sensitive skin sent shivers all the way through her, and she cupped his chin, enjoying the feel of his stubble against her hand, the warmth of his cheek on her fingers. Warm desire replaced cold fear.
‘Kiss me, Lucy.’ Although he spoke it as a command, Lucy heard the plea underneath and she leaned forward to brush his lips with her own.
She couldn’t stop there, didn’t want to. Her hand dropped from his face to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer even as his arms went around her and he brought her half onto his lap, her robe opening at the front so her breasts were pressed against his bare chest.
She’d forgotten how good it was, how right it felt to have his skin against hers, his lips on hers, his hands on her body, roaming free.
Yet perhaps she hadn’t forgotten anything, Lucy thought hazily as Khaled rolled over so she was lying on the bed and he was poised on top of her. Perhaps this was new.
They weren’t just learning each other’s bodies once more, remembering how it had been.
They were discovering something new.
For they were different people, with different histories, new experiences—pain and joy, suffering and love. So much had happened, so much had changed them, in four years.
Khaled opened her robe and gazed at her naked body as Lucy’s toes curled in self-consciousness. Smiling, he traced a silvery stretch-mark with one fingertip. ‘Were you in very much pain for Sam’s birth?’ he asked softly.
Surprised, Lucy replied, ‘For a bit. Then I had an epidural.’
‘Good.’ He bent his head to brush his lips against her belly, and Lucy stifled a moan of longing at the exquisite sensation of being touched so intimately. ‘I don’t like to think of you in pain.’
Lucy couldn’t form a response; the sensations were too deep, too powerful. This felt far more intimate than any time they’d been together before. They were learning each other, finding new landmarks on the maps of their bodies.
And Lucy wanted a turn. She rolled over and let her hands drift down Khaled’s taut chest and belly, fumbling with his belt buckle for a moment before she slipped his trousers down his legs. He kicked them off with an impatient groan, and then his boxers followed, along with Lucy’s robe, and they were both gloriously naked.
Lucy let her hand trail along Khaled’s thigh, and then lower, and lower still, to a new landmark—the twisted scar tissue of his damaged knee.
Khaled’s breath hitched and he reached to still her hand. ‘Don’t…’ he pleaded raggedly, but Lucy wouldn’t stop.
She reached down to brush a kiss against the scar tissue and the swollen joint of his knee. She wanted to memorise this new landmark that had become so much a part of who he was. It had shaped and scarred him, and it was more than just these marks on his knee. There were deeper scars on his soul, invisible ones of pain and bitterness, and Lucy wondered if she could help to heal him. If he would let her. ‘Let me,’ she said softly, half command, half plea, and Khaled gave a little shake of his head.
‘Not this.’
‘I married all of you,’ she told him in a breath of a whisper, and she meant it. ‘All of you.’ Lucy saw Khaled’s eyes brighten with what could only be tears, and she felt her heart twist as she realised afresh what he’d experienced, how much he’d endured. They’d both suffered, and she wanted it to stop. She wanted a clean beginning, a healing one.
She bent her head and let her lips touch his knee again before trailing kisses upwards until, with a stifled moan, Khaled hauled her against him, their bodies now
