experienced a measure of satisfaction that he’d chosen to release his burden and a good deal of guilt over what she’d chosen to withhold from him. She suspected she knew where the queen had been before the accident, though she had no solid proof. “Do you know where she might have been going when she left?”
His expression remained somber. “No, and I most likely will never know. I do know if I had been kinder to her, then perhaps she would not have felt the need to leave.”
She offered him the only advice she could give him at the moment. Advice she had been forced to follow since the day he’d told her he would be marrying another, shattering her dreams of a future with him. “Rafiq, you can spend a lifetime wondering what might have been, or you can move on with your life.”
“I told Zain only hours ago that I intended to proceed with my life,” he said. “I did not admit the difficulty in that. To him, or until recently, myself.”
“It would be nice if your brother were here during this trying time.”
Rafiq kept his gaze trained on the floor. “He arrived in Bajul today with Madison and their children.”
She realized having the children around could be the basis for his lack of enthusiasm and distress. “That must be very difficult for you.”
He finally looked at her. “Why would you believe I would not welcome my brother’s family?”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Of course you would, but being in the presence of two infants might remind you of your recent loss.”
“I can handle that, but I cannot abide Zain’s advice. He is convinced I need a sabbatical.”
“Perhaps he is right. Time away would aid in the healing process.”
He frowned. “He is wrong. I only need time to adjust. I can accomplish that and still tend to my duties.”
As far as she was concerned, he was overestimating his strength. “Does Zain know you’re here?”
“Yes. He insisted I talk with you.”
Maysa’s hopes had been dashed once more. “I thought perhaps you came on your own.”
“I would never have thought to bother you,” he said.
“It’s no bother, Rafiq. I considered visiting you after the funeral, but I wasn’t at all certain I would be welcome.”
He looked at her somberly, sincerely. “You will always be welcome in my world, Maysa.”
The memory hit her full force then. The memory of a time when he’d spoken those same words to her.
No matter what the future holds, you will always be welcome in my world, habibti....
Yet she had not been welcome at all. After his marriage contract had been finalized, they had been expressly forbidden to see each other, yet they had continued to meet in secret. Those clandestine trysts had only fueled the fire between them until one night, they had made love the first—and the last—time.
Maysa wondered if Rafiq remembered. She wondered if he recalled those remarkable moments, or if he had pushed them out of his thoughts. She wondered why she had been such a fool to believe he would have changed his mind about marrying Rima.
She rose to her feet and crossed the room to pour a glass of water from a pitcher set out on a side table. She kept her back to Rafiq as she took a few sips, and swallowed hard when she heard approaching footsteps.
“Have I said something to upset you, Maysa?”
His presence upset her. Her feelings for him upset her. She set the glass on the table and turned to him. “Why are you really here, Rafiq? Why have you come to me after all these years?”
His expression reflected confusion. “You are the one person I have always turned to for solace.”
“Not always,” she said. “We’ve been virtual strangers for well over a decade.”
His expression implied building anger. “You were the one who left Bajul for the States, Maysa. I have always been here.”
“I had no choice after I divorced Boutros.”
“A man you should have never wed.”
A heartless, angry sultan who had almost stolen her sense of self-worth and security. Almost. “As it was with you and Rima, my marriage was no more than an edict from my father.”
Rafiq inclined his head and studied her. “Why did you risk your name and reputation to divorce him?”
She did not dare tell him the entire truth. “He refused to allow me to pursue my profession. I refused to allow him to tell me how to live my life.”
He looked as if he could see right through her. “That is the only reason?”
“Isn’t that enough? And what other reason would there be?”
Now he appeared cynical. “Everyone is quite aware of Boutros Kassab’s reputation for suspect business arrangements and questionable connections.”
She would simply allow him to believe that rather than reveal the harsh reality—Boutros was a sadistic, uncaring lecher. “I was eighteen when we married, Rafiq. I had no involvement in his business dealings. I was only required to play the dutiful wife.”
He raised a brow. “In his bed?”
She hesitated slightly. “Do you wish me to lie and say no?”
“He is thirty years your senior. I hoped you would say he had little interest in anything of a carnal nature due to an inability to perform.”
Many nights she had wished that had only been the case, but it had not. “Boutros is a man, and men rarely lose interest in sex, no matter what their age.”
“Did he satisfy you, Maysa?”
She was momentarily stunned. “That is none of your concern.”
He streamed a fingertip down her cheek. “I am only curious if he knew how to please you. If he learned, as I did, how to make you tremble with need.”
She circled her arms around her middle as if that might afford her protection from his magnetic pull. From the memories. “Did Rima satisfy you, Rafiq? Or did you simply go to her for the sake of producing an heir?” The moment the words left her mouth, she silently cursed her thoughtlessness.
Rafiq reacted by turning away, crossing the room and moving to the window to stare at the mountains once more. She approached him slowly and rested a palm on his shoulder. “I am so sorry, Rafiq. I did not mean to be so unkind. I know how much you are hurting over the loss of your child. I also know that you did care very much for your wife, and you were a good husband to her. You would never ignore her needs.”
“And in doing so, I was forced to disregard what I needed most.”
“And that was?”
“You.”
