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‘Sienna!’ he gasped as she began to shudder around him, and her name seemed to be torn from his soul.
‘Hashim!’ she breathed brokenly, her fingers digging into the rich silk of his skin. If only I could tell you how much I love you.
For a while they stayed just like that, Sienna still astride him, gazing down and stroking her hand along the rugged outline of his jaw.
‘What are you thinking?’ he questioned softly.
That what should never have happened had done so. That the falling in love was complete. That it was too late to stop herself and protect herself. And it had happened just at the time when she suspected it was all coming to an end.
‘You should never ask a woman something like that after making love to her.’
Not when she’s vulnerable enough to tell you something you won’t want to hear. She shivered a little as the flush of passion on her skin began to fade.
‘Better get that fire going,’ she said lightly, and climbed off him.
Escaping into the kitchen while he built the fire, she made soup from organic vegetables and served it with chunky wholemeal bread, and cheese which had come straight from the nearby farm. They quenched their thirst with elderflower water and then drank scented tea, sitting on a furry rug in front of the gradually roaring fire.
‘Do you like that?’ she asked.
‘Perfect,’ he said, but there was a sudden heaviness in his heart.
They watched a video of Sienna’s favourite film—an old musical which soon had her sniffing like a hay-fever sufferer.
‘You’re crying!’ he accused.
‘No, I’m not—it’s just a corny old film,’ she said crossly.
‘Come here,’ he said.
And, even though it made her heart ache, she went.
They spent their time doing simple things. Wrapping up warm before walking over the crunchy morning frost which hardly had time to melt before a setting crimson sun turned the fields into fire every afternoon.
His bodyguards seemed quite content to be doing their own thing, and there wasn’t a peep out of his phone. Once they even ventured into the small local pub for lunch, and if anyone wondered why there was a big, dark car sitting gleaming in the car park, no body bothered asking.
The real world seemed such a long way away, and part of Sienna fervently wished it could stay that way. If it weren’t for his position they could live a life like this all the time. He was right—she had always taken her freedom for granted—and never had she cherished it more than during this weekend.
She watched him relax. Saw the dark shadows melt away from beneath his eyes and the tiny, fan-like creases at the corners of his black eyes ironed out as if by magic.
And for Hashim it was a provocative glimpse of a life he could never really know. He had not felt as unencumbered as this since those long-ago days of falconing in the mountains of Qudamah.
‘Ah, Sienna,’ he said on their last morning, when they sat eating pancakes for breakfast. ‘Don’t you wish that life could always be this simple?’
She smiled, knowing full well that there was no point in coming out with a stock phrase like: It could be like this. Because it couldn’t.
She put the lid back on the golden syrup. ‘Do you want to listen to the radio?’
Hashim frowned. ‘What for?’
‘Well, Qudamah seems to have been in the news a lot lately.’
Funny how you could look for an opportunity to say something and then find, when it came, that you wished you didn’t have to. He gazed down at the clear amber of the delicate tea. ‘There is going to be an election very soon—and elections always demand a lot of my time.’ He looked at her. ‘I am going to have to fly back tomorrow.’
Sienna nodded. ‘I know you are.’
He drew in a deep breath. ‘And I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’
She felt the tendril of long-held fear finally wrapping itself around her heart. ‘I know that, too.’ Don’t make him have to say it. Accept what is inevitable. Make it easy on yourself. ‘Hashim, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I know it’s over.’
He didn’t deny it, but the dark eyes which he lifted to her face were troubled. ‘I do not wish this, Sienna—but increasingly I recognise that my place is in my homeland, not here.’ He gave a restless little movement of his shoulders. ‘There are obligations I now need to fulfil. And I don’t want to tie you down to a relationship which can never go anywhere. Or to make you a promise I am unable to keep. If this fades into failed intentions and meetings which never happen then all that we will have left to remember is bitterness.’ His voice grew hard. ‘And I cannot face that. Not for a second time. Not when…’
