He rotated his hand on her abdomen. He'd barely begun to understand her and already he could imagine her big with his babe. Lifting his head, he found those exotic eyes staring into his. Taking a chance that he'd won some forgiveness for his earlier burst of temper, he leaned in close and when she didn't move, brushed his lips over hers.
Electricity sizzled between them. On his shoulders, her fingers clenched convulsively. Groaning, he deepened the kiss and tasted the uniqueness that was Hira. She was a mix of sugar and spice, fire and ice, his desert beauty. Before he could prolong the contact, she'd pushed off his chest and was a foot away.
Startled, he looked up into a pink-cheeked face, wondering if he'd misread her, if she hadn't welcomed his touch. His gut twisted. As he watched helplessly, his wife raised her hands to her face and gave him a look that was a mix of shocked innocence and sheer desire. When he moved, she swirled on her heel and left the room.
Marc began to chuckle, his tenseness retreating. Hira had just discovered that he could turn her on even when she was steamed with him. He whistled. If he had that to work with, he'd eventually get his way. And his way involved long, sultry nights spent cradled in his wife's body.
He must've done something right because that was exactly how he spent the hours of darkness that night.
When he surfaced the next morning, the clock told him it was close to dawn. Hira was lying on her stomach, using one of his arms as a pillow. His leg and other arm were flung over her, as if even in sleep, she captivated him. He watched her sleep, stunned at himself for doing it. It betrayed a commitment beyond anything he'd ever before experienced.
He'd spent most of his childhood as a kid without any loving ties. As an adult he'd kept that cloak of aloneness wrapped around him...until the night he'd seen Hira Dazirah on the balcony of her desert home, smiling up at the moon. Right then and there he'd fallen so hard and fast he'd had to have her. He'd been tied to her with passion's reins since that first moment, but yesterday something stronger had snapped into place between them, something born out of their willingness to fight rather than withdraw into silence. He was a little bewildered by the gentle strength of this feeling but could find no reason to fight it.
As if she'd been disturbed by his watching her, her eyes blinked open and she yawned. For a while, she lay there and watched him back, sleepy and apparently happy to be in the position she was in. Then one slender hand lifted to stroke his cheek.
"You appear sad, Marc. Husband." Her lips curved in a soft smile. "May I do something for you to give you joy?"
Her generous offer made his chest tight. No one had ever offered to do something for the simple reason of making him happy. "No, baby. I'm okay."
When he moved his leg off her, she rose up on one elbow and touched his cheek again. "Husband, tell me something of your childhood."
He couldn't help playing with the silken strands of her midnight-and-gold hair. "Why do you want to know?"
"It is said that the child will show you the man." She kissed his chin, the movement causing the strands in his fingers to slide away. Last night she'd been all woman, pure heat and passion. Later, when he'd tried to move away, she'd held on. He'd understood the silent message. His lover needed more than ecstasy. So he, a man who'd never been accused of tenderness, had spent the night happily holding his wife as she slept.
"You're a hard man to know so I would learn of you from your childhood."
"Did you ever learn to lie, cher?" Folding one arm behind his head, he ran the other down the warm curve of her back, lingering on the upward slope of her buttocks. When she didn't protest, he ran his hand back up and then down again, indulging his sense of touch.
Hira nodded vigorously in response to his question and didn't sound the least repentant when she said, "I told my father many lies." He raised a brow.
"Like when he asked me whether I had told the housekeeper to give away Fariz's old computer. I told him I had." She propped herself up on her elbows, face cupped between loose fists.
"But?"
"But I kept it hidden in my room. He never came in there. Rayaz was young and spoiled, but Fariz wasn't a bad brother. He didn't ever tell Father my secret. He even used to lend me his software."
Marc frowned. "Don't females have the same educational rights as males in Zulheil?"
"Of course. My compulsory schooling was given to me, but after that...my father didn't believe in wasting college fees on a female who would simply be a pretty thing in her husband's home." She shrugged as if it hadn't mattered, though he knew it must've broken her heart.
"Why didn't you complain?"
"It would've shamed my entire clan. The Dazirah family is proud, but we're part of an even prouder clan. The clan is supposed to protect each member within it. To speak out would've been to say that they had failed in their duty."
"They did fail." His voice was hard. Protecting the vulnerable was the one thing he'd never compromise on.
"Yes, but they had many successes. Last year they sent several students, male and female, to learn advanced mechanical engineering in Britain. If I had spoken out, their honor would've fallen in a land where honor is everything." She gave him a smile full of maturity. "Those who gave the educational fund assistance would've sent their money elsewhere. Now, say to me that a single woman's unhappiness is worth destroying the dreams of many."
He could see her point. "Was there no one you could've asked for help?" How could someone so bright and beautiful, someone with such a gentle heart, have spent a lifetime alone?
Her smile was tight. "I wasn't popular at school or with my cousins once I was no longer a child. They didn't want me near their boyfriends and lovers. The only girls who might've been my friends were the beauties who had no interest in study, and I couldn't bear to pretend to be like them. So there was no one." She paused, as if debating whether to share something else.
When she spoke, what she said sent spikes of temper arcing through his body. "The boys wished to be friendly with me but even the smart ones could never just be content to be my friends. They all wanted more."
"Did they—?" he began, his eyes locked on hers.
She shook her head almost immediately. "I stopped building friendships with boys very young, before they were old enough to try and do more than steal a kiss. So the boys liked me too much and the girls not at all." She was attempting to make a joke out of what must have been some very painful years.
He could imagine that lonely girl learning to become ice to survive the exclusions, the whispers behind her back. "There is someone now. You'll tell me everything."
"Yes, husband." Her voice was meek.
He frowned. "Are you laughing at me?"
"Only a little." Her eyes lit up.
It was an effort to keep his lips straight—she didn't need any encouragement. Pulling her head down, he kissed her. "So, princess, you want to know about your bayou brat?" he said, against those luscious lips that made him want to bite. Deciding there was no reason to resist, he gently nibbled on her lower lip.
"Why do you call yourself that?" she asked when he released her, her voice breathless.
"Because it's true. I grew up in the bayou, living in a shack that barely held together when the waters rose. My parents were both alcoholics who didn't give a damn about me, so long as they had enough money for booze."
"And if they didn't?"
He could still remember the blows, the pain and the darkness. "They amused themselves by knocking me around."
Hira made a sound of distress.
He soothed her with his hands and his voice. "It was okay. I could run pretty fast so I usually just hid out until they were drunk again."