Lily had torn the papers to shreds and then run upstairs to her mother’s room. The pills, the tumblers and the empty vodka bottles had all been cleared away. But on the dressing table had sat the ebony and silver hairbrush.
Lily had snatched it up, climbed into her mother’s bed, and cried herself to sleep.
The next day Edward had left for London, and she’d gone to school and pretended that none of it mattered. Because hadn’t she really lost her mother years ago?
She’d gone to her classes. Sat with friends at lunch. Caught the school bus home to an empty house and eaten the meal the housekeeper had left for her. She’d tidied the kitchen, done her homework, then got herself ready for bed. Like she did any other day.
Pretending none of it mattered.
Except that tucked away in the bottom of her school bag, carefully wrapped in an old handkerchief, was the ebony hairbrush with silver inlays and long strands of deep red hair caught in its bristles.
Lily closed her eyes on those bitter memories. She should have listened to Khaled and never read those stories. He’d tried to protect her. He’d been kind.
A thundering sound reached her. Not from the sea. From behind her—from the dunes. She sat up. It was coming her way...and fast.
She scrambled to her feet and reached the path between the banks of sand just as a horse and rider galloped out of it.
The startled horse reared up, its thrashing hooves missing her head by inches. Lily lurched backwards, tripped on a piece of driftwood, and landed flat on her backside. In her panic, she scuttled backwards, staring in horror as the rider sawed at the reins, working to get the animal under control.
At last the horse was calmed. Its rider flung himself from the saddle. ‘Lily, my God, are you hurt?’
Khaled.
Looking magnificent in white shirt, skin-tight riding breeches and long leather boots, his head swathed in a checkedshemagh.
Grateful for the cover of her hat’s brim, because one glimpse of him had sent heat to her cheeks, Lily struggled to her feet. ‘I’m okay,’ she spluttered.
Did he always have to look so gorgeous?
‘What the hell do you think you were doing, running in front of a horse like that?’
Typical—the concern had lasted about a nanosecond and now he was angry at her.
‘Enjoying some peace and quiet—until you came pounding up on that horrible beast. If I’d known anyone was riding out here I would never have come—Ow!’
She couldn’t stop the yelp of pain as she placed her full weight on her left ankle.
‘You are injured?’ One hand arrived beneath her elbow, the other curled about her waist.
‘It’s nothing,’ she protested, acutely aware of his touch through her flimsy shirt.
‘Let me look at it.’ He dropped to one knee beside her. ‘Put your hand on my shoulder.’
He waited until she’d obeyed and leant her weight against him, before lifting her damaged foot.
There was the heady scent of fresh male sweat, and beneath her fingers Lily felt the shift of solid muscle as he worked. Yet he was infinitely gentle as he carefully manipulated the joint.
‘I don’t think it’s serious, but the sooner we get some ice on that the better.’ He rose up. ‘I’ll take you back with me.’
The allure of the man beside her was forgotten as Lily glanced at the black monster tossing its head. Her heart pounded as Khaled swept past her, scooped her few possessions into a neat pile on the lounger, then strode back to grasp the horse’s reins.
‘Really, I’ll be fine. I’ll take it slowly,’ she said, trying her weight again and gasping at a fresh stab of pain.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t even walk.’
In one swift move he was back in the saddle, with a ripple of muscle and power that had her heart racing faster still. He edged the horse closer.
‘What about my things?’ she asked, stalling. Anything to avoid getting on that animal.