He breathed out, stunned at his own honesty.
‘Do you ever not try your best?’ Layla’s eyes narrowed as she asked a very brave question—one perhaps no one else would ever dare ask.
‘I try my best for all my clients. I fight for them with everything I have.’
‘Always?’
‘Always,’ Mikael said. ‘And then, if they are found guilty, I know, as best I can know, that a guilty man has gone down.’
The champagne tasted nice, Mikael thought.
‘Aren’t you going to ask if it bothers me…?’ He was surprised by the lack of the oh, so familiar question.
‘Clearly it doesn’t,’ Layla said. ‘I doubt many people could get you to do something you did not want to do.’
‘You did,’ Mikael said. ‘I took you on when I didn’t want to.’
‘Ah, but you were attracted to me,’ she said, and dipped a raspberry in white chocolate sauce. ‘Intrigued.’
‘I was,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t trouble you, then?’
‘Of course not,’ she said, and instead of eating the raspberry herself she fed it to him, liking the feel of his lips on her fingers and the wetness of his tongue so much that she did it again as she spoke on. ‘For a system to work, both sides need to be represented well. In some lands there is no such system.’
‘How does it work in Ishla?’
‘If you are found guilty of a crime you are either pardoned, removed or killed.’
‘You can be pardoned?’
‘Of course. It is at my father’s discretion and once you are pardoned there is no grudge, no stigma. If you cannot be fully pardoned then you are removed from society till you can be fully pardoned.’ She looked over at him where he lay on the bed, silent. ‘Why are you smiling?’
‘That’s what you do to me,’ he admitted. Maybe it was because she was here just for a few days—just a transient timeframe—which meant he could let down his perpetual guard a touch.
‘Did you always want to study law?’
‘No.’
‘Why did you?’
Mikael shook his head. His guard wasn’t that low. ‘It’s just as well you don’t read and write,’ he said, pulling her into the crook of his arm. ‘You’d be running for prime minister.’
‘But I can read and write,’ Layla said. ‘Just not English. But I am going to learn—it will be good for my work.’
‘You work?’ This he had to hear!
‘Of course—though I don’t get paid for it. My father was concerned because although the girls in Ishla were receiving an education their grades were far lower than the boys. We had a discussion and decided that I would speak with them once a month and encourage them. Now I speak to all the classes. Every day I have students, but I cannot know all their names. Their grades are improving,’ Layla said. ‘I’m very good at it and they love me.’
‘You’re modest too.’
She shrugged. ‘I loathe false modesty. I tell my girls to be proud of themselves and their achievements.’
They drank more champagne in silence.
Sometimes she felt his mouth on her hair; sometimes she felt his fingers stroke her forearm. It was the most peaceful Layla had ever felt. He dozed, and she liked the thump-thump of his heart in her ear, liked the rise and fall of his chest, and she liked the view too—because she could see the outline of what had been pressing into her last night.
‘What are you doing?’ Mikael asked as her fingers moved to undo the bottom part of his shirt.
‘I want to see the hairy bit beneath your navel again,’ she said, but his hand moved hers away and held it and she watched with a smile as the outline widened and stretched.