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To knock would have been to ruin the element of surprise. Instead, she silently pushed in the door and stepped inside.
Hakim was facing the door, without seeing. His face was creased with strong emotion, his eyes dark, his shoulders slumped.
“Hakim?” She asked, all jubilation set aside out of concern for her husband.
“You’re walking,” he said, pleasure overtaking the sinister expression he’d worn moments earlier.
“Yes. And you’re worried about something.”
His smile was tense. “No. I’m thrilled to see you moving so well.”
“You and me both. What is the matter, Hakim?”
He cleared his throat. “Would you like to sit down?”
She scanned his face and saw his seriousness. Her heart dropped as a stone through water. “Perhaps I should.”
“Let’s move to the deck. It’s a beautiful afternoon.” He put an arm under her elbow for support. Phoebe made a sharp intake of breath. It was the first time he’d really touched her since the accident, and her body sparked in recognition. Desire unfurled frantically in the pit of her stomach, as she walked slowly with him.
The breeze was warm, and the sky was blue. They stood, side by side, his arm still protectively on her elbow. “Sit.” He said, after a moment.
She shook her head. “I’m okay standing after all.” It was a ploy. If she sat, he would let go. If she stood, he would surely continue to touch her. To support her. How she craved him. How she needed his touch. “What did you want to talk about?”
He turned to face her. Was she imaging the way he seemed to be forcing himself to speak? She waited, her eyes on his. “I have had time to think, Phoebe. And I have reached the only conclusion that is possible.”
“Conclusion? To what?”
He sighed. “I can’t force you to stay with me. In fact, I think I must force you to go.”
Ice filled her veins as her mouth dropped open. “But… why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He moved his gaze, and focused on a point far off in the distance.
“Not to me it isn’t.”
“You don’t want to be here. Not really. You’ve made that abundantly clear. I just didn’t listen.” His grimace was loaded with self-directed anger. “I am a naturally dominant person. Someone like you would be too afraid to risk upsetting me. Given what you’ve been through, you must have been terrified by my behavior. Though I didn’t mean to, I’ve bullied you. I’ve been bullying you all along.”
“Bullying me?” She pulled a face, something like relief in her body. “Believe me, Hakim, you might have been behaving in a dominating fashion, but you didn’t scare me. I haven’t done anything with you that I didn’t want to.”
For a second, he felt a bubble of hope, but it disappeared quickly. “You are doing it again. You are keeping the peace because you’re afraid of me. I have to let you go, Phoebe.”
She swore in an uncharacteristic gesture of impatience, and reached for his chest, bunching his cotton shirt into her palms. Her eyes bored into his with all the intensity she needed to convey the truth of her words. “Listen to me, Sheikh Hakim Al Meshuda. I did not marry you because I was scared of you.
I didn’t marry you because my body aches for yours so badly I sometimes wonder if the pain of needing you might kill me. I married you because I fell in love with you. And yes, you’re arrogant and you’re bossy and I know you like to tell me what to do, but I love all of that about you. I especially love that you let me push you around too. So stop talking about making me go anywhere.”
He stared down at his wife, his shock obvious. He cleared his throat. “I think you believe that, Phoebe. But how is it possible? How could you love me? After what Etienne did to you, you need to be with someone gentle and patient. Not a man like me.”
She made a moan of frustration. “A man like you? Do you want to know what kind of man I think you are? I think you are proud and clever and kind.” She reached out and put a hand on his upper arm, squeezing it reassuringly. She was desperate for him to understand. “Hakim, there is a huge gulf of difference between being arrogant and demanding, as you are at times, and being abusive. You knew Etienne. He had the ability to appear sophisticated and mild-mannered, but behind closed doors he was a monster.” She shivered involuntarily. “I have seen you behind closed doors, and in public. I know you. You are nothing like him.”
He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the soft, downy skin. “I’ve hurt you, too, though.”
She swallowed, uncertainty making her hesitate. Phoebe forced herself to be brave. “Yes. But only because I love you so damned much, and I am scared you don’t feel the same about me. That hurts like hell.”
He dropped his hand to hers, still clutching his shirt. He lifted it higher, and pressed the palm against his heart. “Can you feel that, Phoebe?” Beneath her fingertips, his body was throbbing with a frantic pulse. “That is my heart beating for you, as it always does when you are nearby. Not only do I love you, I love you in a way that threatens to split my soul in two. I have felt the same pain you just described. I loved you, and I didn’t dare believe you might return my feelings. It was not hard to feel that you hated me. And after I discovered the truth about Etienne, I knew you had every reason to loathe me.”
“Ah, but I don’t.” She smiled up at him. “I walked into our marriage with my eyes wide open. The truth is, I’ve never felt at home anywhere but here. I have never felt as safe or as loved as I do here with you.”
He shook his head, still not convinced. “But that night in the desert, I had to threaten you to get you to agree to our marriage.”
