rolled her eyes, impertinent in her anger. “No, but you’re driving me crazy with your questions.”
“Answer me and I will ask no more.” His logical response made her grit her teeth. Those magnificent eyes flashed lightning at him.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Now.” He kept her in place with his hands in her hair, clenching thick handfuls of the luminous strands.
She looked away from him. Her body was poised for flight but there was nowhere for her to go. In its blinding starkness, his land was his greatest ally. As he watched, the realization of her weakness dawned on her.
“You’re taking advantage of your strength.” Her hunted expression accused him.
“I will use every advantage I have.” He would not, could not, lose her. She was as vital to him as breathing.
For a second, their eyes met. Silence hung between them, his implacable words almost visible in the air.
“What does it matter what I was thinking?” He knew she was clutching at anything that might offer a reprieve. The hint of victory sharpened his hunter’s instincts.
“You belong to me, Mina.” This time she’d have no secrets from him. Perhaps, he acknowledged, her youth had made her vulnerable to the pressures she’d been put under four years ago. But if he’d known of those pressures, he would have been ready to fight for her and might not have had his heart ripped to pieces.
Her sigh signaled defeat. “I was thinking of the past.”
Some of the chill that had retreated under the fire of their heated conversation returned with a vengeance. “Why do you think of such things?” The past held only pain and betrayal.
“I can’t help it. Not when it stands between us.” Her expression was earnest, her words passionate.
As Jasmine had feared, the mention of the past blighted the incipient joy of the day. Tariq’s smile was only a memory now, this hard-visaged desert warrior the reality. He didn’t deny her statement and the silence grew until it pressed heavily upon her. Wary of the stranger he’d become, she lay her hand on his left bicep. The muscle was inflexible.
“Four years, Tariq.” Her emotions were naked in her voice. “Four years we were apart, and you refuse to share even a crumb of your life during that time.”
His expression grew even darker. “What would you know?”
The question stunned her. She’d been expecting a harsh reprimand or perhaps cold dismissal. For a moment, shock kept her silent, but then words tumbled out of her. “Anything! Everything! Not knowing about those years is like a hole inside me, a part where you’re missing.”
“You made that choice.”
“But now I’ve made another choice!”
The infinitesimal turning away of his face was his only response.
“Please,” she begged.
He released her. Startled, she swayed before regaining her balance. Stepping back, he regarded her with eyes darkened to the color of ancient greenstone. “I was the subject of an assassination attempt by a terrorist organization on my way back from New Zealand.”
“No! Did they…?”
He shook his head in a sharp negative as an answer to the question she couldn’t bring herself to ask. “They had no chance.” When he returned to his position by the tree, her sense of isolation almost overwhelmed Jasmine.
“Are they still active?”
“No, they were supported by their government, which was overthrown two years ago. The new government is friendly and will sponsor no more such attempts.”
She thought that he was trying to soothe her obvious pain. That gave her the courage to continue, even though the ice in his voice was an obvious command to withdraw. She almost expected to see the air fog with her breath.
“But even one!”
That was when he delivered a blow so staggering that he might as well have backhanded her. “They thought me weak and an easy target, because a woman had brought me to my knees.”
Jasmine wanted to scream in agony. To have almost lost him…and to finally comprehend that her mission would be a thousand times more difficult than she’d believed. Maybe even impossible. The night before, she’d begun to understand the depths to which her husband’s honor and pride were intertwined with his private nature. Today, it was painfully clear that Tariq’s pride had been savaged by the reason behind the attempt. His strength as a leader, as a warrior, had been questioned because he’d allowed himself to feel. He would not forgive the woman who had been the cause of the insult.
A call from one of the guides interrupted the heavy silence. Tariq replied without shifting his gaze from her, his eyes dark, impenetrable. The syllables sounded brusque and guttural, as if he, too, were keeping strong emotions in check.
“We must go.”
She nodded, numb from shock. Unable to trust herself not to break down, she followed him to the main area. He put food in her hands, and when she didn’t move to feed herself, he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Eat, Mina, or I will put you in my lap and feed you.”
She believed him. As quickly as possible, she forced the food down. She had her pride, too.
Tariq carefully picked up Jasmine and placed her on the camel, once she’d bolted down the meal. He could see her fighting the urge to bring up the food, but he was ruthless in his protectiveness. She would need her strength to survive the desert journey. He would not let her mistreat herself.
When he mounted behind her, he made sure not to jostle her. She’d been silent since his revelation about the assassination attempt. He didn’t like her stillness. His Mina was fire, life, joy. Yet he knew his harshness had caused her withdrawal. He had spoken to his wife in anger, and now that it had passed, he did not know how to bring her back to him.
“Hold on,” he said, as the camel stood up, even though there was no need. His arm was a band around her waist. He would never let her fall, never let her be hurt.
She clutched at his arm, but let go the minute the camel was up. Her white headgear gave her a hiding place and frustrated him. He needed her to talk to him. The discovery made him scowl. A sheik didn’t need anyone. A man would be a fool to need a woman who’d proved incapable of loyalty. He’d merely become used to her presence and voice over the past day. It was nothing more than that.
“Will you sulk all day?” He knew he was being unfair, but was unable to stop himself. He wanted her to fight back, wanted her to feel as much as he did, even if it was only anger.
“I’m not sulking.” Her response held a hint of her customary fire.
Something he didn’t want to acknowledge inside him eased at her response. She hadn’t been beaten or broken. “It’s better that you know the truth.”
“That you’ll never again allow me close to your heart?”
Her
