The Scandalous Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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get close to her. And despite her determination not to, she allowed herself a brief glimpse of how it could have been. She imagined a scenario where joys and problems could have been discussed, and shared. And then she thought about what it was: an empty relationship with a man who was cold and unloving towards her. Who had told her emphatically that he couldn’t love. What woman in her right mind would settle for something like that?
‘Yes.’ She hesitated, clasping her fingers together just in case they started trembling. ‘Actually, there is.’
Something in the tone of her voice made his eyes narrow. ‘And what might that be, Ella?’
There was a pause. ‘I want to go home.’
Hassan nodded as a terrible tearing sense of inevitability twisted his gut. ‘Home?’ he questioned.
‘Yes, home. I want to see my family.’
‘But I thought your family drove you mad?’
‘And they do—frequently!’ Her gaze was very steady as she looked at him. ‘But at least they feel stuff. At least their hearts are in the right place, even if they often get it wrong!’
Her implication was crystal clear and suddenly Hassan was forced to accept what he would have once considered impossible. That, for all their faults, at least the Jacksons had the courage to face up to their own emotions. Their lives might be chaotic at times, but they didn’t run away and hide from their feelings. And yet didn’t he despise that kind of messy emotion? Surely that wasn’t a brief pang of envy he was experiencing? His mouth hardened. ‘And you miss them?’
‘I do.’ She nodded, steeling her heart. ‘I feel like a shadow here, Hassan. As if I’m invisible. I want to fly home so that I can see a few friendly and familiar faces and eat some mince pies and listen to c-c-carols ….’
To her horror, she realised that tears had sprung to her eyes and when Hassan made to move towards her she waved him away. ‘D-don’t!’ she stumbled, knowing that if he touched her she would be lost. ‘Please don’t. You’ve made it very clear you don’t want me near you, so please don’t let a few tears tempt you from your chosen path. My life has telescoped down to this beautiful place which now feels like a prison, though I’m starting to wonder if that’s how you wanted it to be all along.’
Hassan sucked in a breath. He felt as if he had wandered into a maze of his own making, where darkness had suddenly fallen. He had pushed her away in order to protect himself. Pushed her and pushed her until she had decided that she could take no more. Now she wanted out, and he had no one to blame but himself. He looked at her pale face, at the swollen curve of her belly, and was overcome with a terrible wave of regret.
‘But you’re nearly thirty-six weeks pregnant,’ he pointed out.
‘So?’
‘So the airlines won’t allow you to fly.’
‘You’ve got your own plane, Hassan, so I can’t see that will be a problem.’
In silence, he got up from the table and walked over to the window, his mind teeming with conflicting thoughts. What if he asked her to stay, what then? What did she really want from him? he wondered. Deep in his heart he knew. She wanted the impossible! She wanted the man he could never be, the close and loving partner all women were programmed to want.
He turned away from the window to see her looking at him, her blue eyes wary, her arms folded defensively across her breasts. And suddenly he realised that this was the one area of his life where he had consistently shown a complete lack of courage. Was he so afraid of reliving the pain of his childhood that he wouldn’t take any risks for a chance of happiness? Couldn’t he at least try to be what she wanted?
‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said slowly. ‘I have been guilty of neglecting you. But if it’s any consolation, I thought I was doing it for the best.’
‘For the best for who? For you? Or for me?’ she shot back. ‘And meanwhile, you mooch around being all king-like and solitary, while I’ve been cooped up inside this wretched palace for weeks!’
‘I realise that.’ He drew a breath, unused to this newfound role of mediator in his own marriage. ‘Which is why I wondered if you’d like to go on a trip?’
‘That’s what I’m proposing, Hassan—a trip back home to England.’
‘No, not that.’ He shook his head. ‘My brother has a traditional Bedouin tent situated on the edge of the Serhetabat Desert. It’s not far from here, although it feels like a different world. We could go and stay there for a couple of nights.’ His black eyes narrowed. ‘It would give you a break. Give you a complete change of scenery. Wouldn’t you like that, Ella?’
Despite all that had happened between them, Ella felt tempted. Surely two nights in a Bedouin tent meant that they’d connect again—and wasn’t that something she still wanted even though her aching heart told her that she was crazy to want it? She wondered what his offer represented. Whether it was his way of saying that he understood her frustrations and wanted to make some amends. Or whether it was simply a sweetener to get her to do what he wanted and stay in Kashamak.
‘I don’t know,’ she prevaricated.
Her reluctance didn’t surprise him and neither did the fierce light which sparked from her blue eyes. Hassan realised that he admired her defiance and her determination to stand up to him. All the things which he’d once claimed not to like in a woman, he found amazingly attractive in Ella. And yet didn’t nature ensure that what attracted also repelled? Didn’t what drew him to her also drive him away, with a feeling which was the closest he’d known to fear?
‘It is a very beautiful place,’ he said steadily. ‘Which you really ought to see for yourself. The desert sky when it’s washed in moonlight is a sight not to be missed.’
‘And afterwards, Hassan? What then?’
He felt an aching dryness in his throat as he met the question in her eyes and knew he couldn’t offer her empty promises. He could take this first step and see where it led, but he wasn’t in the habit of dishing out false hope. ‘If you decide that you’re missing England so much, then of course you must go back. I won’t stop you, and I will support you and our child in whatever way I can.’
Her heart pounding, Ella stared at him. He was offering her freedom, and never had an offer seemed like such a poisoned chalice. ‘And you wouldn’t mind?’
He shrugged. ‘Naturally, it would be easier to keep you and the baby here,’ he said heavily. ‘But I don’t intend to force you to stay. Ultimately, it has to be your decision.’
Ella shook her head in frustration. With his burnished skin and magnificent body, he might look like every woman’s fantasy come to life, but inside he was frozen. Frozen. It was like dealing with some sort of robot, one who was conditioned to move but never to feel! He doesn’t care whether you go or stay! Nothing has changed in all the weeks you’ve been here.
The voice inside her head mocked her hesitation and yet something inside her made her want this trip. Some illogical little hope which refused to die, despite all the odds which were stacked up against it.
‘Then let’s go,’ she said as she stared into his black eyes. ‘Maybe seeing the desert sky washed with moonlight is exactly what I need.’
THEY left the next morning in a four-wheel drive which Hassan drove himself, the powerful car eating up the miles of straight, desert roads. Ella was determined to make the most of what might be her one and only desert trip, but her excitement was tempered by the niggling backache she’d developed during the night and which seemed to be preventing her from getting comfortable.
She