Then Xander did something she wished he hadn’t—he reached out tentatively toward her. She just stared at his hand and then back at him, and he withdrew his hand to his side.
But still she felt unable to move, consumed by the beating of her heart and the mounting panic which had risen from someplace deep inside of her. It reminded her of the time and place when she had felt the same. After that she had buried it tight, encased it in solid scar tissue, and embalmed it so that it was watertight, emotion-tight, invulnerable. But now, somehow, after all these years, this man before her had cracked its shiny hard surface with one slight tap of his hand and a split had occurred, which had let out that thing which lay inside of her.
“Ela? You have to tell me what’s going on.” He stood with his hands on his hips, anxiety etched in his expression. His eyes darted around her face before sighing heavily. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.” He reached out again and this time nothing she could say or do would make him stop. He put his hands firmly around her shoulders and dipped his head and stared into her eyes. “Whatever it is you’re hiding, you need to tell me.”
She tried to pull his hands away but they wouldn’t move; she tried to claw his fingers, prize them from her flesh but they only dug in deeper.
“You can’t push me away this time, Ela. It’s time to tell me what the hell is going on inside that beautiful head of yours. Tell me what happened to you, tell me what has made you so scared of men. Tell me,” he repeated.
Terrified, she pressed her lips together and shook her head, tight little shakes, but the pounding of her heart only increased. She began to feel dizzy, as the world moved, shifted, as if it were torn down the middle, stopped making sense. The tears which had misted her eyes gathered and trickled down her cheeks. She was shaking now. Her lips were trembling with the effort of keeping her mouth closed. Then she could do it no longer and she closed her eyes tight, hoping that still she might be able to control the raging torrent of emotion which threatened to consume her.
He brought her to him and held her tight. It was as if the wave of emotion transferred to him, relieving her of the pressure. She might not have told him her secret, but, somehow he’d lessened her pain.
Eventually he pulled away and held her shoulders gently, his eyes searching hers. “Ela, whatever is going on, please tell me.” His voice was gentle now, too. It was time.
She bit her lip and nodded. “Everyone wishes me to marry. But…”
“Go on,” he urged.
“I’m scared. Marriage. I’m scared of it because there is no way I can make any man happy.” She turned to him, her cheeks blazing like a beacon, and her eyes bright with tears.
He frowned and cocked his head to one side. “What are you talking about? Of course you can. You are beautiful, intelligent and”—he sighed—“sexy as hell. So I don’t see why you think you cannot make a man happy.”
She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone how she felt. It was her secret, locked up inside of her alongside all the other trauma she’d suffered. Sealed with a kick.
“Just take it from me, I can’t.”
“No, I won’t take anything except the truth. How can I understand if you don’t tell me?”
“Understanding isn’t required. Marriage isn’t for me, and that’s that.”
“I’m not leaving until you give me a proper answer. Tell me why you have no wish to marry.”
She frowned at his insistence. Why did he care whether or not she married? It wasn’t as if this was anything personal for him, was it?
“Please, Ela. Tell me what you’re so afraid of.”
She licked her lips. “Relations, between a man and a woman.” His frown deepened. “For heaven’s sake, Xander, I’m afraid of sex. Something happened, you see, and I can’t bear the thought of it.”
His hands froze on her shoulders, just as his eyes froze over hers. She felt the change in him like she knew she would. She’d hoped he’d understand, or at the very least accept her for what she was about to tell him. But she knew, deep in her heart that he wouldn’t. He was a man after all. And men didn’t like used goods, didn’t care for unpleasantness.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. This time she didn’t fight him, lifting her chin so she faced him. Suddenly all the fight had left her.
“I was raped. I was young…” She swallowed. “It was a stranger. A Bedouin nomad. Mad, I think. He took me away, did what he did, and then dumped me back at the camp.”
She watched as Xander swallowed a lump. She kept her eyes on his throat as it convulsed. It was easier than seeing the inevitable disgust and pity in his eyes.
“Did your father know?” he asked eventually.
“He never knew. My mother kept it secret, made up a story to cover my hospital visits.” He didn’t speak and she suddenly realized that the noise of the thumping of her heart had stopped, and she was filled with an unexpected sense of peace. The worst had happened. Her shameful secret was out. She sighed and lifted her eyes to his. She blinked as she tried to reconcile her expectations with the sight of Xander in tears.
They weren’t just a glazing in the eye but tears rolled down his face and his eyes… the expression within them revealed a depth of hurt and agony, the like of which she wouldn’t have dreamed lay inside of Xander.
She cupped his cheek with her palm. “Xander! I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” He did nothing to wipe away his tears but, instead, held her tight. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. She could feel the damp of his tears penetrate her hair.Shedidn’t cry. She didn’t think she’d ever cry again. “What are you sorry for?”
“For having your opinion of me changed. I can’t bear the thought of sex, I never intend to have sex. I can never make a man happy, and I can never be made happy by a man. It’s that simple.”