The Husband She Never Knew(10)
Author: Kate Hewitt

‘Have you?’ He sounded more sad than surprised.

‘Yes.’ She knew she was speaking the truth. She still didn’t understand why Ammar had rejected her during their brief marriage, but she knew he’d felt something for her, both then and now. He cared. He’d always cared.

Gently she placed her hand over his, pressing it against her cheek. She opened her eyes. ‘Ammar—’ Her throat was so tight it hurt to get the words out. ‘Won’t you tell me why … why you turned away from me? You said you didn’t come to me on our wedding night because you meant to let me go, but …’ She trailed off, not wanting to put it into words. Still Ammar said nothing. She drew in another breath. ‘I still don’t understand. I still feel like you’re hiding something from me, like … like you don’t want me.’

Still no words. He’d gone completely still, his face utterly expressionless. Noelle searched his face, longing for just one clue to what he was feeling. What he was hiding. ‘Ammar?’ she prompted, and now her voice wobbled.

He looked away, dropping his hand from her cheek. Sitting next to him, she could feel the tension steal through his body, the hand that had touched her so tenderly now clenched into a fist. ‘I want you to know,’ he said in a low voice, so low she felt it reverberate right through her chest, ‘that I have always wanted you. Desired you. I still do.’ He paused, his whole body angled away from her now, even though they were only inches apart. ‘Desperately.’

Desperately. The knowledge might have thrilled her once, but now she felt only a weary—and wary—confusion. ‘Why then have you never …?’ She broke off as in one abrupt movement Ammar rose from the piano bench and crossed the room, his back to her.

Away from the lamp that provided the only light in the room, he was swathed in shadow. In the half-darkness Noelle could still see the sinuous muscles of his back, the faded bruises from the crash.

‘Can’t that be enough?’ he asked, his voice raw. ‘Can’t you be satisfied with that?’

He sounded so tired, so tormented that Noelle almost wanted to agree. But what kind of future could they possibly have with so many secrets between them? ‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘I can’t.’

Ammar let out a shuddering breath. ‘What I told you was true. I didn’t come to you on our wedding night because I knew I had to let you go. But you’re right. There was more to it than that.’

Noelle held her breath, waiting, always waiting. ‘Ammar—’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t want you ever to feel like I was rejecting you.’

‘But you were,’ Noelle protested, and he shook his head, the movement abrupt and almost violent.

‘No. Never. Never that.’ He turned around and the agony written on his face was almost too painful to see. A lump rose in her throat and she felt fear beat its relentless tattoo through her veins. What terrible thing was he going to tell her? Could she bear it? Would it change everything?

‘It’s late,’ he said, and she saw his expression close once more, agony turned into adamance. She would get no more answers tonight. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I … I want to spend time with you, just being with you, before I …’ He shook his head, closed his eyes briefly. ‘Please.’

‘All right,’ she whispered. She knew it was futile to press him now. His eyes were dark, his face hard, his body rigid. And maybe she had heard enough, for tonight at least.

‘Come,’ he said, and reached for her hand. Surprised, Noelle let him thread his fingers through hers and lead her from the room. All around them the house was dark and still, the only sound the tread of their bare feet upon the tiles. Ammar led her up the stairs, down a corridor and past her own bedroom. Her heart lurched. Her breath hitched.

What—?

Outside a closed door, he turned to her, touched her cheek. ‘Sleep with me,’ he said, ‘in my bed.’

Such a simple request, Noelle thought, and yet she knew it cost him. His eyes were dark and intent, his body still rigid with tension. She smiled, although she felt it wobble.

‘Yes,’ she said, and followed him into his bedroom.

CHAPTER SIX

AMMAR led Noelle into the darkness of his own bedroom, to the king-sized bed with its rumpled duvet. He hesitated, wanting so much to be with her and yet …

He’d never spent an entire night with a woman before. Even now, just the thought made him tense, panic. He hated the duality of his own desires, the longing to draw her close even as memories reared up and demanded he keep his distance.

‘Ammar?’ She placed one slender hand on his shoulder, her touch cool and soft. With effort he turned to her and smiled. At least he hoped he did. His mouth curved, at least. The moonlight, he saw, streamed over her, turning her skin luminescent. Her chestnut hair tumbled down her back in artless waves and her eyes were wide and trusting. Even now, when he’d demanded and denied and become angry, she trusted him. She followed him and waited with a patience that felt unbearably gentle. He was humbled, but he was also afraid.

He never let women close. They never spent the night, they never touched his heart. Only Noelle had succeeded, and in fear—both for her and, yes, for himself—he’d walked away all those years ago. Could he stay now? Could he finally put the ghosts of his past, the mistakes and sins and endless regrets, to rest? She reached up and cupped his palm with her cheek.

‘I don’t have to stay.’

Ammar felt his throat tighten so it hurt to speak. ‘I want you to.’ He knew he sounded grudging. Why, even now, did it have to be so difficult?

Noelle reached past him and pulled the duvet back. ‘Well,’ she said, smiling a little, ‘it’s freezing in here so I think I’ll get under the covers.’

He watched in a sort of dazed incredulity as she got in the bed and scooted to one side, pulling the duvet up to her chin. She looked so right there, he thought, in his bed. That was the most incredible thing of all.

‘There’s plenty of room,’ she told him, her expression almost mischievous over the edge of the duvet. He loved that even now she could tease. How much was it costing her?

Ammar got in the bed, feeling wooden and awkward as he stretched out next to her. He desperately wanted this to be normal, but he didn’t know how to act. What to feel. Surely not this blind panic that fell over him like a fog, memories shrieking inside him.

Sleep. They were meant to sleep. Ammar closed his eyes. Belatedly, he realised he should touch her, he wanted to touch her, so he laid one hand on her shoulder. He felt that shoulder shake and he tensed.

‘What?’

‘Ammar, you’re acting like … like you’re at the dentist or something.’ He realised she was actually laughing, just a little, although underneath he sensed her confusion and hurt. He froze, unsure again how to feel. Anger felt more familiar, yet he struggled against it. He didn’t want to feel it, to ruin the moment, awkward as it already was.

Then she rolled over to face him and placed her palms, so warm and soft, on his bare chest. ‘Come here,’ she whispered and, strangely, miraculously, it felt like the simplest and most natural thing in the world to pull her towards him.

‘You come here,’ he said, and she snuggled into him, the warmth and closeness of her short-circuiting his senses.

‘I can do that,’ she whispered, and he felt the silk of her hair brush against his chest, his cheek and tickle his nose. He pulled her closer.

He could do this. He could really do this. She fitted against him, he thought, she felt right. Yet, even as that thought formed, other darker ones chased it. Memories.

Never trust a woman, Ammar. Never let one close. Never show weakness.

He heard the angry echo of his father’s voice, the cruel laughter of the woman he’d thought, naively, he’d loved. Felt the crack of his father’s palm against his cheek, the rush of humiliation and shame dousing all desire.

Noelle brushed his cheek with her fingers, the touch as gentle as a whisper, and in surprise he opened his eyes, drawn from the agony of the past. ‘Don’t,’ she said softly. ‘Whatever it is, don’t.’ He gazed down at her, blinking in the darkness. He could barely make out her face, but he knew she looked completely serious.

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t let it control you,’ Noelle said quietly. ‘Don’t let it win.’

Ammar drew her closer to him. ‘I’m trying,’ he said and yet, even then, with her in his arms, he wondered if it would be enough.

He must have slept, although it seemed to take an age. He heard Noelle’s breathing finally deepen and slow in sleep and he remained holding her, in a sort of exquisite tension, enjoying the feel of her even as part of him longed for escape. Distance. Safety. And then, amazingly, sunlight streamed across the bed and it was morning, and he was slowly, languorously moving towards wakefulness, conscious only of the warm, round form fitted so closely to him, the flare of desire he felt in his groin as he moved his hand across her pliant softness, the silky fullness of a breast filling his hand.

Desire flared deeper and he rolled on top of her, his hands seeking her most private places as his lips moved over skin. He heard a moan and didn’t know whether it came from him or her; it didn’t matter. His hands slid over sleep-warmed skin, and her arms twined around him as he nudged apart her thighs with his knee.

‘Ammar …’

Consciousness crashed over him and he froze, even as Noelle said his name again, reminding him who she was. Who he was. He would not make love to her like this, a hurried, desperate fumble, even if he wanted it so badly his body shook. Even if it would be easier to keep his mind blank, always blank, and just lose himself in her as quickly as he could.

No. She deserved more than that. Damn it, so did he. Slowly he rolled off her, flung one arm up over his head. His body shuddered with the loss of her, desire still pulsing through him, an undeniable ache.

‘Ammar,’ she said softly, and he heard all the hurt and rejection in her voice.

He knew he should explain. Apologise. Say something. But he just lay there, silent, his mind a numb, frozen wasteland. It took all of his effort, all his willpower to block out the memories.

Did you think I actually loved you, you stupid, foolish boy?

‘Ammar, tell me what you’re thinking.’

He dropped his arm, forced himself to meet her unhappy gaze. She nibbled her lip, her eyes swamped with uncertainty, dark with pain. ‘I’m not thinking anything,’ he said, and heard how remote he sounded. How cold. Why couldn’t he gather her in his arms, explain to her that he wanted to make love to her, but he wanted to do it properly, without the fear of the memories swarming him, destroying him? He wanted to reassure her, but he was afraid of her rejection. Her revulsion. The words thickened in his throat, lodged in his chest like a stone. He stayed silent.

‘I’m going to shower,’ Noelle said and slipped out of bed and across the room. She was gone before Ammar could answer back.

Noelle walked quickly down the corridor to her own room, her head lowered, her vision near-blinded with tears. Stupid, to be crying again. Yet, no matter what Ammar said about desiring her or how beautiful she was, she still felt completely rejected, ugly and unloved when he rolled away from her, refused to make love to her as her body—and heart—demanded.

Why? Why had he turned away from her again? How could she believe he desired her when everything he did said he didn’t? Miserably she turned on the shower as hot as she could stand it and, shrugging out of her nightie, stepped under the spray.

It had felt so good, so right to sleep in Ammar’s arms last night … even if it had taken him an age to relax just a little bit, and even longer actually to fall asleep. Noelle had lain there, savouring the warmth and solid strength of him even as she longed for more. Always, she thought now, despair sweeping through her, longing for more.

And yet this morning, when he’d drawn her from sleep with his touch, every caress sending her spinning into pleasure … it had been wonderful. So sweet and yet so powerful, which made the crash to reality—and rejection once again—so much harder to bear.

Even now, doubt worked its corrosive power on her heart, her hope. How could Ammar care about her if he couldn’t bear to touch her? How could he want a marriage when closeness of any kind was so painful for him?

How could any of this possibly work?

Resolutely Noelle turned off the shower and stepped out into the cool morning air. One day at a time, one minute at a time, if necessary. That was all either of them could take.

And yet doubt still whispered its treacherous message: what if it doesn’t work? What if he breaks your heart … again?

Ammar turned to see Noelle coming down the stairs, her hair damp and pulled back into a loose ponytail. She looked pretty and fresh and so very lovely, but there were shadows in her eyes. Always the shadows. That morning, he knew, would cast a long one over the rest of the day. He would have to work hard to dispel it.

‘I’ve had my housekeeper pack us a picnic,’ he told her, managing a smile. ‘And I’ve taken the liberty of packing you a few extra clothes—I don’t think the clothes in your room ran to the sort of protective gear you need for desert travel.’

Noelle smiled back, although he felt that it took as much effort as his did. ‘You know better than me,’ she said.

Ammar led her out of the house to the soft-topped Jeep he’d driven round to the front of the property. Noelle slowed, gazing around at the sweep of desert, endless in every direction.

‘So who sold you this piece of real estate?’ she asked, and Ammar let out a rather rusty laugh.

‘He told me there were ocean views from the top floor.’