“And you felt closer to your father by accepting,” he murmured.
“I…” it was perceptive. She dipped her head forward, hiding her eyes, but his finger and thumb caught her chin, lifting her face to his.
“Don’t hide from me.”
Her eyes sparked to his. “I’m not.” She sighed. “It’s just… not as simple as that.”
“So explain to me.”
It was a command, and at any other time, she might have smiled, for how it completely reinforced what she’d just been thinking, about how well he took charge, how naturally he lead.
“I… my father died.” The words were thick with grief, despite the fact it had been many years earlier. “We’d had the most perfect family, and then he got sick and everything was broken. Our mom went… kind of… I don’t know. She was different. So we didn’t just lose dad, we lost mom, too. And I had this memory of this perfect family, this sense of belonging that just evaporated overnight. Arabella went overseas, and I was so lonely.” She bit down on her lower lip, watching the dancing without really seeing.
“And then I met Addan. And I was so broken, Malik. I was so sad and lost and he was so kind and I just felt like… like I’d come home.” She shook her head sadly from side to side then brushed her cheek over her knee, turning to look at her husband. “I suppose that sounds ridiculous.”
But there was an expression on his face that was impossible to interpret.
“I never really agreed to the marriage, so much as I felt more at home here than anywhere else. I felt that I belonged. Your dad, your brother, they loved me in a way I desperately needed – they were my family. Given the choice of staying here or going back to the states, it was an easy decision.”
It was dark, but she could make out the harsh angles and planes on Malik’s face. She felt the emotions swirling through him.
“I don’t want to always be fighting with you,” she said, simply. “I don’t want our children to grow up in a war zone.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, rubbing it over his skin tentatively. She felt him stiffen and frustration gnawed at her gut. Was she only allowed to touch him in the bedroom? Her voice grew hoarse. “Your father loved me. Your brother loved me. I’m going to be the mother to your child. Can you not at least try to accept me as part of your life?”
“I married you, didn’t I?”
“Yes, and in bed, you treat me like your wife. But I want to be your equal here, too. I want this marriage to be real. I want us to be a family, Malik.” She swallowed, having not realised until she spoke those words the importance of what she was feeling. “I don’t want this to be a sham marriage.”
He turned to face her and his eyes were loaded with darkness and pain.
“I cannot give you what you want, Sharafaha. And I won’t make promises I have no intention of keeping.”
“Why can’t you at least try?” She dropped her hand from his face, turning back to the dancers, but all of her was homed in on the man beside her, every cell in her body attuned to his every movement.
“I inherited this marriage. For the sake of my kingdom and my people, we have wed. But I refuse to pretend this is anything more than it is: two people who require a child. Who have sex. Stop trying to dress our relationship up as something else. And for God’s sake, stop comparing me to Addan. You will never find what you are looking for in me.”
She had longed to see the desert, to explore all of the special places Addan had spoken to her of ad infinitum, but when morning broke, she was endlessly glad. So glad it was a new day, a day free of her foolish hopes for finding common ground with her husband. Free of any desire to make their marriage deeper, more meaningful.
All Sophia wanted, when she woke, was to get dressed and go back to the palace. Back to her own room, with all her books and her things, where she felt closest to herself. And most of all, she wanted not to see her husband.
No. That was a lie.
Even now, with her heart feeling bruised and weather-beaten, she lay on the low mattress, conscious of his every breath, feeling his body shift beside hers, and she ached for him on a cellular level.
I refuse to pretend this is more than two people who require a child. Who have sex.
What had she expected?
That they’d marry and something magical would h
appen? That all the animosity between them would dissipate? That they’d sleep together and suddenly he’d unlock all her secrets, and she’d unlock his, and their future would be rosy and safe?
Her heart felt heavier and tears clogged her eyes once more.
It should have been Addan.
True, she’d never have known the mind-altering power of truly amazing sex, nor this lurching sensation in the region of her heart. But she would at least have known contentment.
She pushed the covers off and moved out of bed, but his arm caught her, snaking out so his fingers could wrap around her wrist, surprising her completely.