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Salman was emerging from the Jeep, white-faced and with a grim expression. Just then a stablehand led a horse into the yard, just feet away from Salman, and she could see how he tensed and went even whiter.
But he stood firm, didn’t move. Jamilah turned to face him fully, barely aware that Abdul had started to clear people and horses from the yard around them.
‘Salman…’
He shut the door of the Jeep, and Jamilah only took in then that he was dressed in jeans and a loose shirt. He looked unkempt and tired, dark stubble lining his jaw. And her heart lurched.
He walked towards her, and Jamilah scrabbled back inelegantly, terrified that her composure would break. ‘What…what do you want?’
Salman stopped a few feet away and quirked a brow. He looked weary, and a little sad. ‘Somehow you never look pleased to see me, Jamilah.’
Her mouth twisted. ‘Can you blame me?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I guess I can’t.’
‘What are you doing here, Salman?’
‘You could call it an intensive course in getting over my phobias—in getting over myself.’
Jamilah fought for equilibrium. She hitched up her chin. ‘Well, good luck with that. But, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to.’
She turned and tried to walk away, but forgot for a moment that she couldn’t walk. When she put weight on her sore ankle she yelped in pain and lurched helplessly into thin air, despite the crutch.
She was caught around the waist and hauled back against a hard, taut body. She felt Salman’s arms tighten and his head came down, his mouth finding that spot between her shoulder and neck and pressing a kiss there. She moaned in despair at the inevitable rise of desire. And then with a struggle she fought to get free, twisting in his arms.
Salman eventually let her go, but she had to hang onto him, much to her chagrin, as the crutch had fallen. Her two hands were on his forearms, and she looked up at him, shaking her head. ‘Why have you come back, Salman? What do you want?’
Sudden tears blurred her vision, emotion erupted, and she couldn’t hold it back. ‘Damn you, Salman, why can’t you just leave me be? I don’t want to be just your lover, or your mistress. I can’t—’
Her words were stopped when he pulled her into him and his mouth covered hers in a searing brand. On a traitorous reflex Jamilah twined her hands around his neck and stretched up. This was both heaven and hell. She could taste the salty tang of her tears as they touched her lips.
Eventually Salman pulled back and looked down, smoothing a piece of hair from one hot cheek. ‘Please…can we go somewhere to talk?’
Jamilah finally nodded. She couldn’t deny this man anything when he stood so close and looked at her like that.
He lifted her up into his arms and asked gruffly, ‘Where is your apartment?’
She directed him to the open door to her office, and then, once inside, through to the back, where her private sitting room and bedroom were. Carefully he sat her down on the couch, and then stood back.
Salman saw the wary look on Jamilah’s tear-stained face, and felt pain lance his chest. And he welcomed it—even as he wanted to rip out his own heart for putting that wary look there. He took a breath. This would be hard, and he deserved for it to be as hard as possible—because he’d nearly thrown it all away.
‘Will you just…hear me out?’
Jamilah muttered caustically, some of her fire returning, ‘I don’t have much choice. I’m a captive audience.’
Salman frowned. ‘How is your ankle?’
‘Fine…although I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to enquire after my ankle.’
‘No.’ Salman sighed heavily. ‘No, I didn’t.’ He drove a hand through his hair, and then paced back and forth. Finally he stopped and looked at Jamilah. ?
??I didn’t go home to France immediately. I went to Africa first—to the charity headquarters.’ He grimaced. ‘I thought I might distract myself there…but all it did was show me how lucky I am. What I could have if I only allowed myself to believe for a moment…to be brave enough.’ He shook his head. ‘Those kids…they have nothing. And no one. Very little chance to ever reclaim a normal existence.’
‘Salman…?’ Jamilah was confused.
He came and sat down—too close. But Jamilah had nowhere to go. He took her hand in both of his and she was shocked to feel a tremor.
‘You broke something apart inside of me six years ago, Jamilah, and I wasn’t ready to deal with it. But I’ve always known that some day I’d come back to you. It’s as if I’ve always known you have that power. Ever since you were small…ever since that day at our parents’ gravesides, when you were so silent and stoic…I felt then as if you could see right into me—and yet you weren’t horrified by what you saw…’
