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The coldness in his voice stole her breath but she held her position, hands pressing together for courage. He’d push her, she realized, push her to the brink and beyond. “Anything.” She clung to her resolve. It was all she had left. “I will accept whatever punishment you give me, and I will serve you in whatever capacity you request, provided you let me see my son. Soon.”
“We’ll see.”
“Does that mean I might be able to see him today, or tonight?”
“It means I’m thinking about it.”
It didn’t answer the burning loneliness. “I need to know he’s okay.”
“He is fine.”
“I don’t know what fine means.”
“I do, and I tell you he’s fine.”
“Not good enough!”
“It’s all the reassurance you’re getting.”
She shivered inwardly, hurting in ways he couldn’t imagine. He hadn’t known Ben long enough to feel the intense and desperate need to love and protect one’s child. Every nerve in her body screamed to bridge the distance between her and Ben, every muscle ached to just hold him against her chest. It was such a primitive instinct, but truer than anything else she’d ever felt. “Tell me what you want me to do, Kahlil, and I shall do it.”
“There’s nothing you can do.”
“Don’t say that, there must be a task, give me one, let’s think of one.”
“Baraka! Stop.”
Bryn felt as though she was losing control, her emotions dangerously unhinged. “Let me prove myself, let me prove I can be trusted.” She fell to her knees and clasped her hands, begging. “I will serve you, obey you—”
Kahlil hauled her to her feet, scorn blazing in his eyes. “How can I respect you, if you insist on behaving like a madwoman? I did not marry you for this, I do not desire a wife without control—”
“But you’ve reduced me to this! To begging, groveling, pleading. I am yours. I am no better than your handmaidens in the harem. I will do whatever I must to please you. Now let me prove it.”
A tiny muscle in his jaw popped. He reached inside his outer robe, drawing papers from a pocket sewn on the inside. “Then sign it. Let’s get this over with.”
Her fingers curled into her palm. She didn’t dare touch the papers, viewing them as something inherently offensive. “What are those?”
“Divorce papers.”
His voice shivered down her spine, his tone incredibly cold and unfeeling.
“I’ve been advised by my cabinet to move forward with the divorce,” he continued. “I’ve lost too much face with my people. My staff and servants know I cannot manage you. Word has spread about your disloyalty and there is no place for you here anymore.”
She didn’t speak, didn’t trust herself to answer. After last night, after the passion in his bed…he’d do this?
He edged towards her, the papers rustling in his hand. “I will take care of you financially, of course.”
Chilled from head to toe, Bryn wrapped her arms around herself, gold bracelets tinkling like water splashing from the fountain. “And Ben?” Her voice sounded like a flutter, a whisper of wings on the sun-kissed morning.
“He’d remain with me.”
Of course.
“Sign them,” Kahlil ruthlessly continued, “and by this afternoon you’ll be on a plane home. Free.”
Bryn heard a faint, dull buzz in her head, rather like the hum of a vacuum. She gave her head a slow shake to dislodge the buzzing noise. “Won’t sign that. Ever.”
“It’s in your best interest.”
“No, it’s in yours.” She felt warmth bead her brow, her body growing hot where moments ago it had been cold. “What kind of mother do you think I am, to turn my back on my child?”
“I’d arrange visits.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Mothers do it all the time.”
“Not this one. Not ever.”
“The child would adjust, better than you think.”
“The child.” Fury rocketed through her. She clenched her hands, resisting the urge to lash out at him, physically and emotionally. “Not the child, but Ben. Your son, my son, our son. I won’t leave here without Ben.”
“And I won’t let him go.”
“Then I stay.” Shaking, she grabbed the documents from his hand, tearing them into little bits before he could stop her. “I’ll never divorce you. If you want to keep him here, then you keep me as well. It’s a package deal, Kahlil. Ben and I stay together, always.”
She’d rendered him speechless. Good! Because anything he said just now would seriously push her over the edge.
The strained silence enveloped them in a cloak of quiet that stilled the distant chirping of birds and splash of fountain.
When Kahlil finally broke the silence, his voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. “Always?”
“Yes.”
“You’d do that for your son?”
He knew so little about the power of love! The papers scattered from her fingers and she threw her head back, the sun dazzling her, blinding her eyes. She couldn’t see him clearly, only felt him, huge and overpowering. “I would die for him. In a heartbeat.”
“Just like that?”
“No question in my mind. Is that what you want me to do? Pay the ultimate sacrifice?”
“God, no!” Kahlil visibly drew back, his expression closing, lashes lowering. He turned away to gaze across the protected courtyard. “How far we’ve come from what we were.”
His voice, a mere whisper, wafted in the warm sunlight, wound its way into the tenderness of her heart. How far we’ve come from what we were.
Was that really regret she heard? Was that sorrow she saw in his eyes?
Her own eyes burned and a knot formed in her throat.
Kahlil turned his back t
o her. “I think it’s best if you returned to your quarters. We’ll talk later. I promise.”
It wasn’t the way he’d planned the meeting. He’d expected tears, yes, and angry accusations, but not her willingness to beg—beg!—at his feet, to kneel before him and offer herself, a sacrifice at the altar.
His gut burned, his eyes burned, his heart burned. Fire in his chest. Fire in his head. Fire everywhere. Kahlil swallowed with difficulty, his mouth tasting sour. He found no pleasure in his victory, no joy in his power, especially after what had taken place between them the night before. He’d wanted her, needed to feel her, touch her, taste her, but his desire infuriated him.
How could he want a woman he didn’t trust? How could he desire her when she’d betrayed him both privately and publicly, breaking every sacred vow?
He’d wanted to punish her this morning, force her to submit, and yet when she did…it made him even angrier.
Kahlil slumped against the marble pillar, his head aching, his temper barely leashed. He was furious, but tonight his anger was directed entirely at himself.
Bryn had never been like the other women he’d taken to bed. From the beginning she was different, exciting, innocent, passionate, daring. She’d wanted the world and he’d been eager to give it to her. He’d thought he could give it to her. He’d failed.
A knock sounded on the outer door of his chamber. Kahlil called out, knowing it was his valet, and welcomed Rifaat to enter.
“The new papers,” Rifaat said, walking the documents to Kahlil’s large ornate desk in the center of the room and setting them down. “They just need your signature.”
Perplexed, Kahlil stared at the sheath on his desk. He knew what his advisors had suggested but he wasn’t sure he could follow through with it. “Thank you.”
“I suppose you could force her to sign.”
Force, there it was again. Force her to submit, force her to bed, force her to break. The use and abuse of his position disgusted him. Why didn’t revenge taste sweeter? Why didn’t he relish his power? “She won’t leave Ben.”
