“Look,” she turned to face him, but her voice was barely audible above the sound of the rotor blades.
He lifted the pillow of the seat between them and pulled out two headsets, reaching across and hooking hers in place, barely resisting the impulse to run his thumb over her lower lip. He hooked his own headset in place then leaned over, so he could see what she was pointing at. It brought his body close to hers, and a surge of awareness began to beat inside of him.
Even now, even with the situation he was flying into, he wanted her in a way that defied explanation. He ached for her, every single part of him was throbbing with that need.
“Is that the oasis of Manama?”
She turned to look at him, their faces separated by only an inch. “Yes.”
He felt her eyes scanning his face, and straightened, but kept his gaze on the beautiful spot beneath the chopper. Crystal clear blue water formed a perfect oval, with palm trees lining one edge, and white sand on the other. There was a small rock formation a couple of hundred metres away, and a cave in one of them provided perfect natural shelter.
“Addan loved it there,” she said, which quelled the desire in his stomach, if only a little.
“Yes.” He sat back in his seat, staring straight ahead. “We used to go there often as children.”
“He told me.” She turned her face to his; he continued looking straight ahead. “He told me you ran away there when you were fifteen, determined to live out your days in that cave.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Malik’s mouth. “I wasn’t quite so recalcitrant as that makes me sound.”
“No? Were you sulking over something, Malik?” She teased, and now he shifted his gaze to her, his eyes landing on her lips. Parted and pink, he found them impossibly distracting.
“I don’t remember now,” he lied.
“But you’ve always liked the desert,” she said softly. “Addan said you were at one with it. As though you have been cast from it by magic.”
Malik shook his head. “My brother was poetic with his words.”
“I think he was speaking the truth,” she demurred. “You would have been at home living out here, wouldn’t you?”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Contemplating hypotheticals is a futile waste of energy.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured, biting down on her lip. “I think it’s instructive.”
“As to what?”
“Who you are.”
His lips formed a gash in his face. “I find the freedom of the desert compelling. So too the elemental nature of it. Out here, it is man and earth, and one has to be prepared to survive on merit.”
He saw the smile whisper across her face. “You’re so different to Addan.”
His gut tightened. He looked away from her, out over the desert. What would have taken him a day on horseback was under an hour in flight time. With a wife determined to psychoanalyse him and compare him to Addan? It felt considerably longer.
“Yes.” The agreement was crisp. He hoped it would put an end to the conversation.
It didn’t, of course. He had already learned that when Sophia set her mind on something, she let very little stand in her way. “You were close growing up but not as teenagers,” she said.
That had him turning to face her. “I considered Addan to be my best friend.”
“No, he was my best friend,” she said softly. “He hardly saw you.”
A muscle throbbed in Malik’s jaw and regrets fizzed in his blood.
“You were always out here. Or overseas. Sewing your wild oats, he would say.”
Malik’s eyes slammed shut. Is that what his brother had thought? That Malik had chosen to travel and sleep around with beautiful women rather than being home, shouldering his responsibilities? “Unlike Addan, I was not tied to Abu Faya. The freedom to travel was always my right.”
“Of course,” she nodded. “He missed you, though.”