Layla rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, her head full of the night before. And not just because of the discovery that she had an unsettling capacity to enjoy sex.
He’d called her habibti.
It was the first time he’d called her that. She subdued the sudden lift of her mood with cold, calm logic. She’d been upset. Whatever lay between them, Raz Al Zahki was a decent human being. The endearment had been spoken out of comfort, not affection, and she’d be deluded if she pretended otherwise.
But it had been the first time in her life anyone had held her like that. The first time anyone had offered comfort.
And it had felt good.
And strange. She’d never shared her thoughts with another person. Not even Yasmin. Because her role had been to protect her sister, so she hadn’t wanted to frighten her by revealing her own fears. Part of her felt vulnerable that she’d shown him so much of herself, that he knew so much about her.
‘Layla?’ Zahra hovered in the doorway, clutching a book, unsure of her welcome.
When Layla sat up and stretched out her arms the little girl bounded into the room, closely followed by the ever-protective Isis and Horus.
Despite her best efforts Layla felt her throat close and the fear spark inside her.
‘Bas! Stop!’ Raz thundered the command from the doorway of the bathroom and the dogs skidded to a halt, crashing into each other like clowns in a circus. There was something almost comical about the dopey way they looked at him but he didn’t smile. ‘Sit and stay, or tonight you’ll be sleeping in the desert.’
The dogs gave a whine and obediently sank down, heads on paws.
Layla felt her heart-rate slowly normalise.
Raz transferred his gaze to her and she knew he was thinking about her confession of the night before, so she smiled and tried to keep it light. ‘They know who’s boss.’
‘My dad is the boss. Everyone does as he says except me.’ Zahra climbed onto the bed, still holding her book. ‘Can we finish the story you started last night? You stopped at the exciting bit.’
Layla shifted across in the bed, relieved she’d thought to put her nightdress on in case Zahra woke in the night.
She was desperately conscious of Raz watching her, his bare chest still damp from the shower, a towel knotted around his waist.
‘You can read for a while but then you need to pack.’
‘Pack?’ Zahra lost interest in the book. ‘We’re going on a trip? Can we ride?’
‘Not this time. We’re flying to Zubran for a party tonight.’
Zahra’s face fell. ‘A party? That means I can’t come.’
Raz strolled across the room and scooped his daughter into his arms. ‘You can’t come to the party but you can come to Zubran. I need you there. I want your opinion on a mare I’m thinking of buying.’
Watching the two of them together, Layla felt something soften inside her. The fact that a father could care so much about his daughter’s feelings and opinion was a revelation. It was something she hadn’t witnessed before because she’d had no relationship with her own father.
Aware that Raz was looking at her with question in his eyes, she smiled. ‘You are buying another horse? How many animals can one person ride?’
‘She won’t be for riding. She’ll be for breeding,’ Zahra told her seriously. ‘I’m going to have a foal of my own to take care of. I’m going to pack right now.’ Squirming out of her father’s arms, she sped from the room.
Overwhelmed by emotions so intense and uncomfortable she could hardly handle them, Layla rescued the book from where it lay as the little girl had left it, in danger of snapping its spine.
‘Layla?’ His voice was soft. ‘Talk to me.’
What was there to say? ‘You’re a good father.’ The words were thickened by the lump in her throat. ‘And she adores you.’
‘You think that’s a bad thing?’
‘Oh, no! How could I? A little girl should adore her daddy.’
There was a tense silence. ‘But it doesn’t always happen that way, does it?’
‘No. But life is full of things that shouldn’t happen—as we both know.’ She closed the book carefully. ‘If you want me to encourage her to read, it’s probably best not to mention the word horse while we have a book open.’
‘I know, but in this case it was intentional.’ The corners of his mouth flickered. ‘I wanted her out of the room. I need to talk to you, habibti.’