He couldn’t.
* * *
Tori was on the floor with Oliver, watching his eyes grow round with excitement as, wobbling, he managed to stay sitting up before losing his balance and falling onto the cushion she’d put behind him.
Smiling at his achievement, and his delight, she was taken by surprise when Ashraf appeared.
‘You’re early.’
Pleasure filled her. All day she’d wondered if she’d done the sensible thing, agreeing to marry Ashraf. In the end she’d given up wondering if it was sensible, contenting herself with the fact that it was her only option if she wanted to be with the man she loved.
The glow inside her as she looked up at him told her she’d done right. Better to love than to turn her back on the chance of happiness.
‘Gah-gah-gah.’ Oliver, on his back, waved his arms and legs as he saw his father.
‘Hello, little beetle.’ Ashraf bent and scooped him up, lifting him high till Oliver crowed with excitement.
As ever, the sight of them together tugged at the sentimental cord that ran through her middle. It was stronger today, after she’d spent all night making glorious love to Ashraf.
Tori told herself that was why she felt emotional. Lack of sleep.And finally admitting you’re wildly in love with this man.
‘We need to talk.’
Ashraf looked down at her and that warm, squishy feeling solidified into a cold lump of concern. Something was wrong. She read it in the lines bracketing his mouth.
‘Of course. I’ll ring for the nanny.’ Tori scrambled to her feet.
‘No need. I’ve called her. Ah...’ He turned at a knock on the door. ‘Here she is.’
He took time to buss Oliver’s cheek and let his son grab his fingers, all the while murmuring to him in his own language, before handing him to the nanny.
Finally they were alone. But Ashraf didn’t pull Tori close. He didn’t even take her hand, though when she’d last seen him he’d been reluctant to leave her bed. He’d lingered, stroking her hair, kissing her and murmuring endearments in a voice of rough suede that had made her feel maybe she was wrong. Maybe he might learn to love her one day.
Now, Ashraf didn’t even look at her. He seemed fixated on the view from the window. His brow was pleated and his mouth was set so grimly that the back of her neck prickled in anticipation of bad news. Her stomach churned.
‘What’s wrong?’ She came up beside him, put her hand on his arm then dropped it as he instantly stiffened. ‘Ashraf?’
Tori had a really bad feeling now. During everything they’d been through never once had Ashraf shied away from her touch. Shock slammed her. It did no good telling herself that it wasn’t revulsion she read in his grimace, even if the idea seemed crazy.
He turned but didn’t reach for her. Instead he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, broad shoulders hunching. Tori felt his rejection like a punch to the solar plexus that sucked out her breath. What had happened to the tactile man who couldn’t get enough of her?
‘I’m sorry, Tori. I was distracted. Let’s sit, shall we?’
She shook her head and planted her soles more firmly on the silk carpet. ‘I’m fine here.’ If it was bad news she’d rather have it standing up. ‘Is it my father?’
‘No, no. Nothing like that. There’s no news from Australia.’
Tori’s swift breath of relief surprised her. She didn’tlikeher father but it seemed she did care for him at some level.
‘So it’s news from Za’daq?’
She looked into fathomless eyes and wished she knew what Ashraf was thinking.
Just when she thought he wasn’t going to speak he took her hand, enfolding it in long fingers. Warmth trickled from his touch but dissipated with his words.
‘I’ll always treasure your generosity in agreeing to marry me, Victoria.’
For the first time the sound of Ashraf saying her full name sent a cold shiver through her—nothing like the shimmer of lush warmth it usually generated.