Ashraf drew a deep breath, relieved at the reason for these unusually intense feelings. The need to provide for his son. That explained his determination to have Tori permanently. Ashraf wanted the very best for his boy. That meant Oliver’s mother to love and care for their son. As Ashraf’s mother hadn’t been around to love and care for him.
As if she sensed his scrutiny Tori’s eyelids fluttered open. For a second Ashraf read pleasure in those forget-me-not-blue eyes. Pleasure and welcome. But only for a second.
Too soon she was scrambling to sit up, hauling her shirt closed with one hand, eyes wary.
‘Relax.’
Ashraf sank onto a nearby chair, looking around the courtyard. He needed to concentrate on something other than Tori. He refused to betray the urgency that sang in his blood when she was near.
Yet even with his gaze elsewhere he was aware of her. The soft hitch of her breath, the creak of her chair as she moved, her sweet, tantalising scent.
He forced himself to focus on his surroundings. He hadn’t been in here before. The royal family’s rooms were on the other side of the palace and he’d never investigated the guest apartments. Bram had chosen well. The courtyard was restful and private.
‘Does the apartment suit you? If it’s lacking anything...’
‘Lacking?’ Tori shook her head and that stunning hair spilled around her shoulders. ‘It’s beautiful. More than we need.’
Ashraf dragged his attention back to her face, to the frown lines between her brows. As if she was worried she’d been allocated something to which she wasn’t entitled.
Didn’t Tori realise how much more she’d be entitled to as his wife? Or was she really not concerned with wealth?
Another reminder that she wasn’t like the women he’d known.
‘I’m glad to see you resting. It’s been a turbulent time for you.’
Ashraf congratulated himself on his tact. Far better than blurting out that she looked tired. How she’d managed those months alone with Oliver and starting a new, demanding job...
‘Now,there’san understatement.’
A ghost of a smile curved her lips and Ashraf felt his tension lessen.
Once more he sensed a fragile understanding and acceptance between them. It was rare. He’d only experienced it before with his brother and Bram, the two men who really knew him and rather than just his reputation.
Deliberately Ashraf settled back and let his eyes rove the tranquil garden. Sweet blossom perfumed the air and from nearby came the chitter of a bird.
How long since he’d taken an evening off?
His gaze turned to the small table beside Tori. A newspaper lay there, and a book. He tilted his head to read the title.
‘You’re learning my language?’ Satisfaction glowed. This was a good sign.
Tori made a deprecating gesture. ‘Trying. A little. It seemed like a good idea.’
‘It’s an excellent idea.’ He beamed and watched her eyes widen. ‘But you don’t need to use a book. I’ll arrange a tutor.’
Instead of thanking him, she frowned. ‘That’s not necessary. I’m only here on a visit.’
So much for seeing this as an indication that she’d decided to stay. Ashraf schooled his features not to reveal emotion, but that didn’t stop the bite of disappointment.
‘You can’treallyexpect marriage, Ashraf,’ she said when he didn’t respond.
Her voice was low but he heard the echo of the arguments she’d put up before. Arguments she thought were reasonable but which meant nothing in the face of his all-consuming need to protect his child.
Impatience grated. How did he make her understand? Make her see the damage that threatened little Oliver if they didn’t work together to protect him?
Ashraf knew Tori’s relationship with her father wasn’t close now, but surely she’d grown up with a mother and father, a sense of belonging. She’d been nurtured and, he guessed, loved.
Oliver would survive with the love of both his parents even if those parents weren’t together. Yet that wasn’t enough for Ashraf. Not when he knew first-hand the isolation of being different. The poisonous rumours. The continual battle to be accepted.