The Royal House of Karedes: Two Crowns: The Sheikh's Forbidden Virgin / The Greek Billionaire's Innocent Princess / The Future King's Love-Child. Кейт Хьюит
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and to her amazement and joy he gave it to her, his hands curling tightly around her shoulders and drawing her to him.
Kalila’s head fell back, her lips parting, her eyes closed, waiting—and she felt Aarif hesitate. She knew, even now, that he was struggling, at war with himself, and that the wisest decision, the right decision, would be to pull away and leave them both with their dignity and duty.
Yet she didn’t. Couldn’t, because she wanted this—him—too much. And when he lowered his head and his lips finally brushed hers, she couldn’t keep back the sigh of both pleasure and relief.
How she’d missed this—this closeness, this connection, and of course the pleasure, running through her like honey in her veins, heating her blood, firing her heart. His mouth moved on top of hers, his tongue seeking hers, and then, all too soon, it was over, and he released her with such sudden, savage force that Kalila stumbled backwards.
Still dazed by his kiss, she blinked in the darkness and saw rage flash across his features, spark in his eyes. ‘What do you want from me, Kalila?’ he demanded, his voice raw. ‘You want me to swoon over you, make a fool of myself over you? Do you want my soul? Will that help anything? Will it help you when you are married to my brother?’ His words were harsh, grating, judging. Desperate. Kalila took a step back.
‘No—’
‘Here is the truth. I hate myself for what happened between us. I hate myself for betraying my brother, my family, myself, and whatever I could feel for you, if I let myself, is nothing, nothing compared to that.’ His voice and body both shook, and Kalila could only stare, horrified and humbled by the torrent of emotion pouring through him and into his words.
‘Aarif—’
‘That is how it is between us,’ he said flatly, cold and unemotional once more. ‘And how it will always be.’ He began to stride away, and, desperate not to lose him now, now, when she still felt the taste of him in her mouth, Kalila called after him.
‘And what if there is a child?’
Aarif turned around slowly. ‘Is that likely, do you think?’ he asked in a voice devoid of anything, a voice so cold and distant that it made Kalila cringe.
‘I…I don’t know,’ she admitted, and then, goaded by his cool silence, she added quietly, ‘probably not.’
‘Then we will, as they say, cross that bridge when we come to it.’
‘And you are still determined to tell Zakari?’
‘It is hardly something I can keep from him. I am not a liar.’
‘I know. I’m not…’ Kalila licked her lips. ‘Could I tell him instead?’
Aarif stiffened. ‘It is my duty—’
‘Forget your damned duty!’ she cried, her throat hurting from the force of the words, the feeling. ‘Nothing is more important to you than that, I know, but can you think about what is best for Zakari, for me, for our marriage?’ Her voice broke on the word—marriage. ‘Instead of using this overblown sense of duty as a salve for your conscience?’ she added, knowing she’d said it just to wound, and seeing with savage satisfaction Aarif blink in surprised hurt.
‘If you would prefer to tell him,’ he said stiffly, ‘you may do so.’
Kalila let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. ‘Thank you.’
Aarif nodded, and they were both silent, a silence that ached with sorrow and loss. Kalila wondered why Aarif did not walk away; he simply stood there, staring, as she was, and she wondered what was going through his head, what, apart from his duty, he really wanted.
Did he want her, want more than a stolen kiss in the darkness? Had that night in the desert been a thing apart, born of the storm and the frightful clutch of a nightmare? Had it been no more than a dream?
It had been more. For her, it had been more. Kalila took a breath. ‘If you were able to tell me the truth,’ she said, ‘then I will tell you the truth also. That night in the desert—when I held you in my arms—that was not simply because I was lonely and afraid. It was more than that to me, Aarif. It was real. I didn’t love you, because I didn’t know you enough, but when you touched me I felt like I could love you, and I’ve never felt that before.’ Aarif was silent, and from behind a haze of tears Kalila saw a muscle jerk in his jaw.
She took a step towards him, and then another, until she was close enough to touch him, which she did. She ran one fingertip along the livid line of his scar, traced it as she had that night before cupping his cheek. ‘I don’t know what haunts you, Aarif,’ she whispered. ‘What drives you to this sense of duty and despair. Is it guilt? Shame?’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I wish I could take it from you. I wish I could bear it for you.’ His face was still and unyielding under her fingers yet she saw with a little shock that his eyes were closed, as if in pain or anguish, and she felt the connection between them like a current, conducted by her hand on his cheek. ‘I wish you would let me,’ she added quietly. ‘But instead I fear I’ve only added to it, and of all the reasons to regret what happened between us, that is the greatest of all.’
Underneath her hand she felt Aarif shake his head, and then for the briefest of moments his fingers touched hers, pressed her hand against his cheek before he released her, stepping back.
Kalila swallowed past the lump of misery crowding her throat. ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered, and then turned and stumbled down the path back to safety. Solitude.
Loneliness.
KALILA awoke from a dreamless yet discontented sleep as Juhanah bustled in with her breakfast tray. After thanking her nurse, she stared dispiritedly at the coffee and labneh
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