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Chapter 8
“THERE’S SOMETHING YOU SHOULD know too,” he growled when, an hour later, Millie emerged from their bedroom, showered and dressed in a pale blue shift dress.
Surprise stopped her in her tracks. “I thought you would have left already.”
“And you wish I had?” He demanded, his eyes firing with emotions she didn’t comprehend. Why did he look so furious? Hadn’t she just let him off the hook, big time? By inviting him to sleep with other women, she was telling him his life could continue as it had before – after all, what business was it of hers? It made her feel physically ill to even contemplate, but that was her problem, something else she had to overcome.
He didn’t push her for a reply and Millie could only watch, confused, as he strode across the room, stopping abruptly at the table and pouring a water. He gestured to it, then drew in a deep breath, so his shirt strained for a moment, and her eyes dropped to the firm musculature there.
“What do I need to know?” She asked, dry-mouthed.
“You’re wrong about me.”
“Am I?”
“When I saw what I’d done to you, I swore I’d never be that reckless again. While I believe I’ve always had relationships with women who understood the nature of what we were doing, I could no longer be sure. There was no way of knowing I hadn’t left a string of angry, bitter, resentful mistresses in my wake, taking what I wanted and walking away, without realising – until you – the harm my actions might bring.” A muscle throbbed low in his jaw and his hand formed a fist at his side. “You made me realise that I was becoming something I always swore to avoid. Then again, perhaps you can’t fight genetics.”
“What does that mean?” She frowned. “Your father and mother had a long and happy marriage. Didn’t they?”
His eyes probed hers and she held her breath, waiting for him to speak, feeling as though he were about to say something important. “That’s not the point I was making,” he said, eventually, shutting her down easily. “I realised the only way I could be sure that I wasn’t hurting anyone else the way I did you was by not entering into casual sexual relationships.”
Her brain scrambled to put two and two together. “And that’s obviously something you’d never do, so how did you get around the little inconvenience of other people’s feelings and expectations?”
“By remaining celibate.”
She stared at him in a state of total shock. She thought he’d said — but it couldn’t be, could it? “I don’t believe you. It’s not possible.”
“Believe me, it’s the truth.”
“But you’re so —,”
He waited for her to finish but heat spread through her cheeks.
“Your prowess with women is legendary. I didn’t know that back then, but afterwards, I realised what I’d been too naïve to see at the time. I was just one in a very long line of mistresses. And you resumed that lifestyle as soon as I left. I remember because there were photographs of you and some supermodel at a benefit in London.”
The pain had almost destroyed her. He’d come to London and seen Farrah, but made no effort to meet with Millie. The tabloids had run photographs in their society pages and it had been utterly devastating.
“Between the time you left Abu Qara and the night of my father’s funeral, I hadn’t been with anyone else. I didn’t want to risk doing to another woman what I’d inadvertently done to you.” His back was ramrod straight, his shoulders squared, reminding her of the desert prince she’d first met, who’d seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. But even as a sort of admiration grew in her belly, so too did realisation.
That explained why he’d come to her room, why he’d been desperate to fall into her bed. He’d been celibate for years. No wonder he’d found it impossible to resist the spark that had always flared to life between them. She’d felt exactly the same compulsion, as though being in his arms was a way of coming home.
Millie toyed with her fingers at her side, a new wave of sadness threatening to devour her. Their baby had been conceived out of pure biological impulse – a physical need to sleep with a woman after years of denying himself that pleasure. Nothing with Zafar ever meant more than it appeared to.
“I’m telling you this because the idea of sneaking out of our bed to find sexual comfort in another’s is abhorrent to me, for those same reasons. Our marriage is temporary, but it’s still a real marriage. I will not break my vows.”
A shiver ran down her spine at his unexpectedly traditional reply. “And I’m telling you I don’t mind.”
Something flashed in his eyes, an anger that was matched only by her own reckless frustration. She was like a spinning top careening across a room, nothing making sense anymore, all her bearings bent out of shape. A wildness flooded her veins, so she wanted to stir him to a response she couldn’t quite articulate.
“Last night, you begged me to make love to you.”
Heat and anger and frustration lashed the base of her spine. “So?”
“So do not stand there and speak to me as though that means nothing.”
“Isn’t that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?”
“What?” He remarked with clear miscomprehension.
