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She sank into Khaled’s chair, reaching down to rub her aching ankle, and found she was at eye level with the framed photo she’d noticed yesterday.
It was not of his parents or sisters, or Mu’tazz, but of two young men. The older of the two, grinning broadly, had his arm slung across the other’s shoulder. Both had the same luxuriant ebony hair and strong, determined chin. The younger had pale grey eyes.
Brothers.
Faisal and Khaled.
The grey-eyed boy was so like the teenager she’d first met she knew the photo must have been taken close to that time. He was still unsmiling, but there was no sadness there. She thought of the other image she’d seen today, and of the stunning smile this boy, as a man, would hardly use.
The sun had set and the room, lit only by the desk lamp, was wreathed in shadows. But from the farthest of the bookshelves behind her came a dull glimmer. It was the gold-lettered spines of the little collection she’d spied yesterday. Unable to resist, she hitched herself out of the chair, limped over and bent closer to study their titles.
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Wind in the Willows, Treasure Island...Classic children’s books. A dozen or so.
Even more curious now, she slipped two from the shelf and hobbled back to her seat. She angled one under the light and opened it to the first page, to find a neat handwritten dedication.
For Faisal on his tenth birthday.
With fondest love from Grandpa Wallace
The second book held a similar message, this time for Faisal’s eleventh birthday.
The breath caught in her throat.
Amidst all the scholarly texts and professional journals, in an office devoid of any other personal touches, Khaled kept his brother’s photo and his childhood books.
‘You seem to have great trouble respecting my privacy.’
Lily jumped, snapping the book closed.
Khaled filled the doorway.
Awareness flooded through her, along with a sensitivity in her breasts and her thighs, as if her clothes had suddenly become too tight.
But in that same instant she recognised that she’d been intruding on something deeply personal to him and, ashamed of herself, babbled an apology. ‘I’m so sorry. I was just looking at the books while I waited.’
He glanced to her hands and his face contorted. In four strides he reached her and wrenched the books from her fingers. He returned them to the shelf, then took up station by the window. Arms folded, legs planted wide, he stared into the blank darkness beyond.
She struggled to her feet. ‘I didn’t mean to pry,’ she said to his back, ‘but I’ve always loved old books and those are so beautiful.’
He ignored her explanation. ‘What exactly are you here for?’
‘I came to apologise.’
Over his shoulder, he stared at her. ‘For which particular transgression? There have been so many.’
‘The kiss...at the stable block.’
He shrugged. ‘Why? We enjoyed it and we both know it meant nothing. But if it makes you feel better I accept your apology. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.’
Confused by the change in him from just an hour ago, Lily stumbled on. ‘But...but your mother hoped you’d join the family for dinner on the beach.’
He gave a dismissive snort. ‘Please pass my apologies to my mother, but I’ve no time. I’m leaving for England in an hour.’
‘England?’
‘Yes.’ He shot her an odd glance, loaded with a meaning she couldn’t decipher. ‘I know you’ve been invited to remain here until my father’s anniversary party, and after reconsidering I think that could be useful. Until we can categorically prove your stepbrother’s innocence, more speculation about us won’t hurt.’
Why was he so angry? Just because of the books?
