she’d been able to call or Skype with her family daily, or ask one sister or another to visit. She’d left him all alone, missing his brother, and she’d never even noticed until now.
The sudden longing to give him comfort when she knew he’d only push her away left her confused, even frightened. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in the end—a compromise that was so weak, so wishy-washy she felt like an idiot. ‘I hope he does come home, for your sake.’
‘Thank you.’ But it seemed she’d said the wrong thing again; the smile he gave her held the same shard of ice as his eyes. ‘Will it make a difference to you?’
Taken aback, she stammered, ‘W-what? How could Alim’s return possibly make any difference to me?’
Harun shrugged, but there was something—a hint of fire beneath his customary ice with her. She didn’t know why, but it fascinated her, held her gaze as if riveted to his face. ‘He surrendered himself to the warlord in order to protect the woman who saved his life, a nurse working with Doctors for Africa. Very courageous of him, but of course one expects no less from the Racing Sheikh. Soon Alim will become the true, hereditary sheikh he should have been these three years, and I’ll be back to being—Brother Number Three.’
By this point she wondered if any more blood could possibly pool in her face. Ridiculous that she could feel such envy for a woman she’d never met, but she’d always yearned to have a man care enough about her to make such a sacrifice. To know Alim, the man who’d run from her, could risk his life for another woman—
Then, without warning, Harun’s deliberate wording slithered back into her mind like a silent snake, striking without warning. Frowning, she tilted her head, mystified. ‘What did you mean by that—Brother Number Three?’
‘It took you long enough to remember. Thinking of Alim, were you?’ He lifted a brow, just a touch, in true understated irony, and, feeling somehow as if he’d caught her out in wrong behaviour, she blushed. Slowly, he nodded. ‘I thought you might be.’
Her head was spinning now. ‘You just told me he’s alive and has been taken by a warlord. Who else should I be thinking about?’ He merely shrugged again, and she wanted to hit him. ‘So are you going to explain your cryptic comment?’
It took him a few moments to reply, but it wasn’t truly an answer. ‘You figure it out, Amber. If you think hard, you might remember … or maybe you won’t. It probably was never very important to you.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said before she could stop herself.
His gaze searched hers for a few moments, but whatever he was looking for he obviously didn’t find. For some reason she felt a sense of something lost she didn’t know she’d had, the bittersweet wishing for what she never realised she could have had.
Before she could ask he shrugged and went on, ‘By the way, you’ll be needed for a telecast later today, of course, my dear. We’re so glad Alim’s alive, of course we’re paying the ransom, et cetera.’
The momentary wistfulness vanished like a stone in a pond, only its ripples left behind in tiny circles of hurt. ‘Of course,’ she said mockingly, with a deep curtsy. ‘Aren’t I always the perfect wife for the cameras? I must be good for something, since you endure my continued barrenness.’
His mouth hardened, but he replied mildly enough, ‘Yes, my dear, you’re perfect—for the cameras.’
He’d left the room before the poison hidden deep inside the gently-spoken cryptic words hit her.
Brother Number Three.
Oh, no—had it been Harun standing behind the door when she’d discussed her unwanted marriage—no, her unwanted groom—with her father?
She struggled to remember what she’d said. The trouble was, she’d tried to bury it beneath a blanket of forgetfulness ever since she’d accepted her fate.
Brother Number Three … how am I to face this total stranger in the marriage bed?
Her father’s words came back to haunt her. He’s been left completely alone … in deepest mourning …
And he’d heard her father discuss her feelings for Alim.
She closed her eyes. Now, when it was far too late, she understood why her husband had barely spoken to her in all this time, had never tried to find friendship or comfort with her, had rarely if ever shown any emotion in front of her—and remembering how she’d reacted, then and just now …
For three years she’d constantly punished him for his reaction—one born of intense grief and suffering, a reaction she could readily understand … at least she could understand it now. During the most painful time of his life, he’d needed one person to be there for him. He’d needed someone not to abandon or betray him, and that was exactly what she’d done. He’d come to her that day, and she’d treated him with utter contempt, a most unwanted husband, when he’d been the one to salvage her pride and give her the honour she deserved.
No wonder he’d never tried to touch her, had never attempted to make love to her, even on the one occasion she’d gone to his room to ask him to come to her bed!
But had she asked? Even then she’d been so cold, so proud, not hesitating to let him know how he’d failed her over and over. Give me a child and remove this shame you’ve forced on me all this time, she’d said.
With a silent groan, she buried her face in her hands.
The question now was, what could she do to make him forgive her, when it was years too late to undo the damage?
Harun was climbing into the jet the next day when he heard his name being called in the soft, breathless feminine voice that still turned his guts inside-out.
She might be your wife, but she can’t stand you. She wants Alim—even more, now she knows he’s alive, and as heroic as ever.
The same old fight, the same stupid need. Nothing ever changed, including his hatred for his everlasting weakness in wanting her.
Lust, it’s nothing more than lust. You can ignore that. You’ve done it for three years. After a few moments, struggling to wipe the hunger from his face, he turned to her. Afraid he’d give himself away somehow, he didn’t speak, just lifted a brow.
With that limber, swaying walk, she moved along the carpet laid down for him to reach the jet from the limo, and climbed the stairs to him. Her eyes were enormous, filled with something he’d never seen from her since that wretched night a year ago when he could have had her, and he’d walked away. ‘Harun, I want to come with you.’
A shard of ice pierced his heart. Amber hated to fly, yet here she was, ready to do what she hated most. For the sake of seeing Alim? ‘No.’
She blinked and took an involuntary step back at his forceful tone. ‘But I want to—’
He couldn’t stand to hear her reasons. ‘I said no.’
Her chin shot up then, and her eyes flashed. Ah, there was the same defiant wife he’d known and ached
