* * *
Tori read Ashraf’s uncertainty and bit back a smile. It was the first time she’d seen him anything but confident. Even facing execution he’d been resolute. And there’d been no mistaking his eagerness when he’d seen Oliver.
That had simultaneously reassured and worried her. She had yet to discover what he intended to do about their son.
Now she read consternation in his bold features as well as...hunger? Her amusement died. Why should their son be any less of a wonder to Ashraf than he was to her? Gently she placed the baby in his arms, holding on longer than necessary while he grew familiar with Oliver’s weight.
‘Gah,’ Oliver said, looking up into the dark, serious face above him. ‘Gah-gah.’
‘Hello to you too, Oliver Ashal.’
Ashraf’s voice held a rough gravelly note that made her insides flutter. When he switched to husky Arabic Tori sank back in the rocker, spellbound by both the lilting sound and the sight of the two males staring into each other’s faces.
Ashraf stood stiffly, as if wary of dropping his burden. But gradually he shifted Oliver into a more comfortable hold and Tori’s chest squeezed at the contrast between the powerful man and the tiny child. The sight of them tugged at some primitive maternal instinct.
But there was more. Something to do with her feelings for Ashraf. Something that had been there from the start and which, remarkably, was growing stronger.
Tori looked away and focused on doing up her bra and shirt. There was a lot to discuss. Ashraf’s appearance from the dead changed so much.
She glanced towards him, her busy hands stilling. Ashraf had Oliver tucked close, as if he’d held him since the day he was born, and the smile he gave his son made Tori’s heart wobble. It was radiant.
It made her voice what she’d avoided till now. ‘What do you want, Ashraf?’
‘Want?’
‘From me—us?’
‘To be a father to my son.’
‘It will take some planning since we live in Australia.’ Caution told her not to push this now. But she was on tenterhooks. She needed to know his expectations.
Dark eyes meshed with hers. ‘But you don’t need to. You could live in Za’daq. Marry me and give our son the life he deserves.’