Marriage Behind the Fa?ade (13 page)

Sydney gazed up at the sky. It was growing darker now, and much more quickly than she’d thought it would. “Do you always put yourself ahead of your responsibilities?”

“This is not what I said. You confuse the matter.” He took a drink of water from the bottle he held. She watched the slide of his throat, her body heating irrationally as she did so. Everything he did was sexy, and she was like an addict looking for her next fix. It irritated her, especially now.

“What about your arranged marriages? Those were a responsibility, weren’t they?”

He leveled his gaze at her. His expression was troubled, but he quickly masked it. “They were. The second one does not trouble me. But the first …”

He shook his head. “I failed miserably when I blamed Dimah for forcing me into it. It wasn’t her fault. It was our parents, our tradition. Not her. And if I hadn’t been so cruel to her, if I had married her without the bitterness, she would be alive today.”

Sydney felt rotten for bringing it up. Why had she done so?

She knew why. Because she was feeling raw, exposed and maybe even a little bit confused. He’d held her over the coals, and she’d wanted to strike back. Except that it wasn’t nice. Or fair, in this case.

“I’m sorry, Malik. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He shrugged. “Why not? I have called you to task. It’s your turn.”

“Yes, but it’s painful for you.” And she didn’t like being deliberately cruel.

He looked severe. “Only because a young girl died. If she had not, I would regret nothing of what I said to her. And I might have been selfish enough to walk out before the marriage was finalized. Or I might have married her and made her miserable.”

Sydney sighed. “It’s tragic what happened to her. But I can’t believe it’s completely your fault. Perhaps she was simply unstable. Perhaps she needed help and no one saw it.”

“I’m not sure her death was intentional.”

Horror threatened to close her throat. “What makes you think so?”

She didn’t think he would answer, but then he finally sighed and spoke. “She sent me a text message earlier that day. She claimed she would do something drastic if I didn’t call her.”

“And did you?”

He turned his head away, gazing into the distance. And then he shot to his feet, his entire body vibrating with tension.

“What?” Sydney cried, standing and grabbing his arm. “What is it?”

The sky was darker than before. Toward the horizon it was purple—and the purple was growing, spreading upward. Sydney’s bones liquefied. That wasn’t right at all. Darkness spread from the top down once the sun was behind the horizon. But this … this was like the sky was being swallowed from the bottom up.

Malik turned then and pushed her toward the door to the Land Rover. “Get inside, Sydney. Roll up your window and close the vents.”

She did as he instructed, her heart pounding with adrenaline. Malik got in beside her and began to do the same.

“It’s a sandstorm, isn’t it?” she said, turning to him. Shivering at the size and menace of the thing. She did not know what it was capable of, but she remembered that Malik had said it would be bad if the storm reached them.

He nodded, and then turned to look out the back window at the oncoming darkness. She followed his gaze, her heart sinking. The darkness was coming fast. The sky would soon disappear inside it.

“Will we die?” she asked, feeling suddenly very small.

Malik snapped toward her, his dark gaze hard, intense. Then he cupped her jaw and gave her a swift kiss. “No, we will not die. I promise you, Sydney.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“HOW can you promise that?” she cried.

His jaw hardened, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “Because I have seen this before. We will be fine. But we will be uncomfortable for a while.”

She wasn’t quite sure she believed him, but she desperately wanted to. Sydney turned to face the front of the car again. Bits of sand flecked against the paint, while ahead of them the sky was still clear. But it wouldn’t last long. Soon, they would be buried in sand. Her heart lurched. She hoped they wouldn’t
literally
be buried in sand.

Within fifteen minutes, she could barely see the Land Rover’s hood. A trickle of sweat slid between her breasts. It was stifling in the confines of the SUV, but not unbearable. And she took comfort in knowing the temperature would cool dramatically in the next hour or so as the sun went down.

“Tell me what’s the worst that could happen,” she said.

He looked at her, his expression carefully neutral.

“I need to know, Malik.”

He nodded. “We could be buried. The dune is close, and depending on the direction of the wind, it could blow onto us, covering us.”

Her heart throbbed painfully. “And then what?”

“We try to dig out.”

“Oxygen?”

“There are a few bottles packed away. Like hikers use at altitude,” he explained.

“So we could survive a while.”

“Yes.”

Sydney shivered. She hoped it didn’t come to that. But her heart wouldn’t stop thudding, her stomach churning with dread. She turned to look out the windscreen again. The sand had swallowed them whole, and her stomach fell.

She put her fist to her mouth, chewed on her knuckle. It was an unconscious gesture, but when she realized what she was doing, she didn’t stop.

“I called her,” Malik said, drawing her attention once more. He sat with one hand on the bottom of the steering wheel, his head leaned back against the headrest.

She hadn’t forgotten what they’d been talking about before the storm, but she hadn’t thought he intended to answer the question. Though perhaps he was only trying to distract her from the storm. “You did?”

He rolled his head against the seat to look at her. Her insides squeezed at the expression on his face. He was still tormented by what had happened to Dimah. Though it hurt to see him this way, she knew there was nothing she could do to take away the pain.

“I did.” His fingers flexed on the wheel. “And I was angry. I told her to stop being so dramatic. I told her there was nothing she could do to make me want our marriage.”

Sydney reached out impulsively and put her hand on his. “I’m sorry. I know I keep saying it, but I don’t know what else to say.”

“There is nothing else to say. I was wrong, and I hurt her.” He pressed a thumb and forefinger to his temples. “It was nearly ten years ago and I still feel guilty. I will always feel guilty.”

The storm howled over them with even greater force then, stunning her and making her jump as she felt the strength of it against the SUV. Malik did not react, and she took some comfort from the fact. Perhaps it was nothing. When he looked worried, she would worry.

“I think that’s very normal,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the wind. “If you didn’t feel a little bit guilty, if you didn’t think of her at all, you would not be the kind of man you are.”

“And what kind of man is that, Sydney?”

She swallowed hard. What could she say? That he was the kind of man she could love? How would that help? “A good man. A man who cares that he hurt someone.”

He reached out and caressed her cheek. Her skin prickled from his touch, a trail of fire following in the wake of his fingers. “I hurt you.”

She dropped her gaze from his. “Yes.”

“It’s not what I wanted to do.”

“It would have happened eventually,” she said, her throat feeling tight.

His fingers stilled. “And what makes you say this?”

Could she tell him? The wind howled around them, the storm buffeting the Land Rover, blocking out most of the light, making her heart pound and her stomach clench. And she thought,
Why not? What is there to lose?

And then,
We could die out here.

But she would not die without saying what she needed to say.

She lifted her chin, looked him in the eye. She would not hide from him. Not now. “Because I loved you, Malik, and you did not love me.”

There, she’d said it, and even if she hadn’t quite said it properly, she’d told him what was in her heart. It was almost a relief to do so. And terrifying at the same time. What would he say?

He stroked her cheek again, his expression softer than she’d ever seen it. “I cared for you, Sydney,” he said. “I still do.”

Pain uncoiled a thorny tendril inside her. They could die tonight, no matter what he promised her, and that was all he felt. He
cared.

It was something, she argued. Something more than he’d ever said before. And yet it left her feeling empty, sad.

“That’s not enough,” she finally said.

“It’s what I have, Sydney. Feelings aren’t … easy for me.”

She put a hand to her chest, tried to hold in the hurt. “I
need
more. I want more. And if you can’t—
couldn’t,”
she corrected, “give it to me, then I would have been hurt regardless of your intentions.”

“I gave you everything I had,” he said. “Everything I was capable of.”

“Did you?” She laughed, but the sound was harsh. Bitter. “I think it’s an excuse, Malik. I think you’ve spent a lifetime not feeling anything. That your upbringing made you afraid to feel because you were always afraid your feelings wouldn’t be returned.”

He looked furious—and he looked wild, hunted. As if he wanted to escape.

Knowing she was hitting so close to the mark only spurred her recklessly forward. “Your brother doesn’t seem to have a problem with his feelings! Look at him with his wife—”

She stumbled to a halt, her emotions churning, her eyes pricking with angry, frustrated tears. Yes, look at King Adan with his wife. She would give anything to have what they had. She deserved that kind of love. Everyone did.

“My brother is not me.” He sounded stiff, formal, and she recognized it for what it was: Malik retreating behind his walls.

“Don’t you think I know that?” she cried. She sucked in a shaky breath. “I think you feel, Malik, but I also think you’re still punishing yourself for Dimah’s death, among other things.”

His gaze glittered. “You have no idea, Sydney. You only think you do.”

“Then why on earth don’t you tell me?” she demanded, hot emotion threatening to overwhelm her. “Tell me, so I know what it is about me that’s not good enough for you!”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and pendulous. Neither of them moved or spoke for a long moment. She hadn’t meant to say such a thing, and yet she’d been unable to stop the words from escaping.

Malik swore. And then he reached over and dragged her onto his lap. She pushed against him, tried to escape, but he held her with arms like bands of steel. Her belly was on fire—with shame, with anger, with unbelievable pain. It had hurt to say those words. And if she spoke again, even to tell him to let her go, she was afraid she’d burst into sobs.

Everything was racing out of control. The storm. Her feelings. Her reaction to him. She was tired and frustrated and angry and confused, and so many other things that she couldn’t even name them all.

She wanted this to be easier. She wanted to love a man and have him love her in return. Normal. She wanted normal.

Temporarily defeated, Sydney turned her face into his chest, clutched him with her fist. Angry tears leaked down her cheeks.

Though she tried to hide it from him, Malik knew she cried. He reached up, caught a tear on his finger. “Have you ever thought,” he said in her ear while she curled against him, silent tears dripping, “that maybe I am not good enough for you?”

Before she could answer, he tilted her chin back, claimed her mouth. Her mind whirled. She didn’t intend to soften, didn’t intend to kiss him back—but she did. It was inevitable.

What if they died tonight? What if the storm covered them and they never got out?

“You are good enough for a king, Sydney,” he whispered harshly. “Never doubt it.”

He pillaged her mouth, taking everything she would give him, and still demanding more. They kissed for what seemed like hours but was in fact only minutes. Sydney’s body responded as it always did, softening, melting, her sex flooding with moisture and heat. She could feel Malik’s response, his erection thickening beneath her thigh. She couldn’t help but move against him. She loved to feel the answering hardness there, loved to hear his groan.

He tore his mouth from hers. “Do you want me, Sydney?” His voice broke at the end, a sound so needy and forlorn that it sliced through her defenses.

She’d never known him to sound so uncertain. “Yes,” she answered. “Oh, yes.”

He stripped her of her clothes until she sat in his lap in nothing but her bra and tiny lace panties. Then he buried his face in her cleavage, inhaling her scent, before slipping the cups off and teasing her breasts into merciless sensitivity. She threw her head back, thrusting her breasts forward for his pleasure.

“It’s getting bloody hot in here,” Malik said a few moments later.

“You’re still wearing all your clothes.”

“Indeed.”

He managed to shrug out of the
dishdasha,
baring his gorgeous chest. His gaze on her body was so hot, so sensual, that she wondered how she didn’t go up in smoke.

He slipped a finger beneath the waistband of her panties, found her wet and ready for him. But instead of removing her panties the usual way, he simply wrapped his fists in one side and tore them open with a swift tug.

“Malik!” It shocked her, that raw power. And thrilled her.

His eyes glowed in the gathering darkness. “I don’t want to wait.”

Neither did she. He freed himself from his trousers and then she was straddling him, sinking down on top of his glorious hardness. He filled her completely, made her shudder with sheer joy.

“There is nothing like this,” he said, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he were holding onto control by the barest edge. “Nothing like being with you.”

Then he gripped her hips and drove up into her, his thumb sliding across her sensitive bud in rhythm with his thrusts. Sydney threaded her hands into his crisp black hair, tilted his head back and fused her mouth to his, taking him the way he took her.

Relentlessly. Joyfully. Completely.

The pleasure spiraled higher and higher until she broke with it, coming in a long wave that held her in its grip far longer than she expected. It felt so good it almost hurt, and she cried out when it ended.

Malik was still so gloriously hard as he stroked her back with his fingers. “This is what happiness is,” he said. “Being with you like this.”

He’d never said as much before, but she wanted him to say more. He was as aware of the storm outside as she was, as worried that it might be their last time together. He had to be.

“Oh, Malik,” she said. “Don’t you understand it by now?”

In answer, he claimed her mouth roughly. And then he was driving into her again, stoking her body to incredible heights once more. At the last possible moment, he slipped his hand between them, found her again. Sydney flew over the edge with a cry that was torn from her throat.

A cry that sounded suspiciously like “I love you!”

Malik pulled her down to him, kissed her hard as he found his release in her body. His hips thrust into hers until he was spent, and then his kiss turned tender, gentle. As if he were a storm that had spent its fury and was now caressing the very land it had ravaged.

Sydney’s pulse pounded in her ears. She knew what she’d said, what she’d been unable to keep inside. The emotion was so strong, buffeting her as much as the storm buffeting the Land Rover. She felt raw, exposed.

Malik pushed her damp hair from her face. “That was amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Is that all?” she asked, her heart flipping in her chest, her throat aching from the giant knot forming inside.

His brows drew down. “What do you wish me to say,
habibti?”

That was the moment, she thought, when her heart shattered into a million pieces. They were caught in a deadly storm, possibly permanently, and Malik felt nothing beyond supreme sexual satisfaction.

“Did you hear what I said to you?”

He swallowed, the only visible reaction. “I did. And I am happy for it.” He stroked the underside of her breast. “But they are only words. Actions mean much more than words, don’t you think?”

Sydney reared back. “The words are nice, too, Malik. Sometimes, the words are necessary.”

“Anyone can say those words,” he said. “It does not make them true.”

“They are true for me.”

He closed his eyes. “Sydney. Please, not now.”

She climbed off him and gathered her clothes, hurriedly slipping into them again. “When? When is the right time? Or are you hoping we don’t live through the night and then we never have to talk?”