‘Your own uncle stood beside me as I watched you with Jamie. He told me things I would have been a fool to—’
‘He lied,’ she stated with a cool, quiet simplicity, then brushed past him to go back into the bedroom. Rafiq turned to watch her walk across the room with her shoulders straight and her slender shape shimmering with contempt for him.
The coffee cup still lay on its side on the carpet, a dark stain seeping outwards from its rim. He stood watching as she stooped to pick up the cup then reach for a napkin to mop up the stain. The soft fall of her hair curled around her slender nape and caressed the edges of the black silk robe. He could see her profile, delicate and pure in its smooth lines, even while her lovely mouth still pursed with dislike. Something shifted inside him—not sexual this time, but more a shifti
ng of other desires—a desire to drop his guard and let himself believe what he knew deep down inside was the damning truth.
Because if what she had told him was the truth then it damned him and not Melanie. Because she was right and he had been fickle, easy to dupe. Most damning of all, he had let her down in the worst way a man could let down the woman he professed to love.
Primitive. He almost laughed. For primitive hardly covered the way he had behaved—if she was telling him the truth. At home in Rahman women might not enjoy the same equal rights as their western counterparts, but they did have the right to defend themselves when accused of a crime. He had denied Melanie even this basic right.
And in so doing he had forfeited the love she’d used to feel for him—and seven years of his son’s life. Which left him with what? he had to ask himself. A marriage filled with bitterness and resentment? A wife who would never be a real wife to him unless he could accept her truth and put the past behind him?
Patiently pressing the napkin into the coffee stain, Melanie could feel his silence with every pulse of her heartbeat. She could sense his battle with every frail breath that she took. He had a choice; they both knew it. He must believe her or not believe her. She had no proof she could pull like a rabbit from a magic hat.
There were words, of course—lots more words. Were they worth uttering?
‘They knew what time you were coming to collect me that evening.’ She gave the words a chance. ‘By the time you pulled into the farmyard the whole scene had been set so perfectly that I didn’t really stand a chance. When I was allowed to turn and see you standing there, you were already turning away. I caught the next train to London…’
She paused in what she was doing and let the next ugly scene play inside the privacy of her own head. By the way he moved over, to stand frowning out of the window, so did Rafiq, she suspected.
‘When I arrived back at the farm Uncle Thomas and Jamie were having this big row and I heard enough to know how neatly we had been set up. Jamie admitted his part in it before I walked out of there for good. He felt guilt…’ Because I was so distraught. She did not say it out loud.
‘Where did you go?’ He sounded husky.
‘To stay with friends in Winchester,’ she answered, her fingers pressing at the wet patch again. ‘I managed to get a job there, working in a factory. But they laid me off when it became obvious that I was pregnant. So I came up to London to try you again…’
‘Hassan told me you had been trying to contact me,’ he inserted. ‘I was at home in Rahman. I asked Hassan to meet with you but you had not left a contact number. He did attempt to find you but was unsuccessful…’
Sitting back on her heels, Melanie looked up at his tall dark shape standing by the deep purple curtains, and felt something painful slice across her chest. So his brother hadn’t even told him he’d spoken to her.
Neat, she thought ruefully. Tidy and slick.
‘He merely said that he had heard you were living with another man.’
Pressing her trembling lips together, she refused to say anything. There was enough bitterness flying around this room without her adding his brother into the mix.
He moved, shifting his tense frame to look at her. ‘What happened to Jamie?’
‘He left home too, went up north. I didn’t hear from him again until his father died.’ She stood up; her fingers were sticky and covered in fine fibres from the carpet. ‘He’s married now, has two beautiful children and a lovely wife he adores. He works with her father on a farm in Cumbria and would have been perfectly content to live the rest of his life milking cows for a living if the recent foot-and-mouth epidemic hadn’t devastated the herd.’
‘So he came to you for help?’
‘Financial help.’ Melanie nodded. ‘They want to go organic, but it takes time to clear the land of chemicals, disease and…whatever else.’ She shrugged. ‘They still have to live while they are achieving all this. Then they have to restock their herd. They want to specialise, so I am investing half a million pounds into their project.’
‘With no real hope of any return,’ Rafiq added, ‘because you still care for him.’
‘Of course I still care for him!’ she cried. ‘He was sorry for what he’d done. What use is there in bearing grudges? He is my only living relative besides Robbie!’
‘Not a blood relative.’
‘Does that matter? Who are you to criticise?’
‘I have a father and a half-brother.’
‘Would you turn your back on your brother’s wife if she came to you for help?’
No, he wouldn’t. She could see that in the sudden frown on his face.