She walked forward and stumbled slightly, heart palpitating now with humiliation that for a second she’d thought— Ruthlessly she focused her wayward mind. ‘You’re here to see my father…or…or Peter the manager…? Well, Peter’s gone home, but my father is up in the house. If you want to come up…’
Panic was rising through Iseult in waves—panic that he’d seen something of her helpless yearning reaction. He was standing there so implacably, looking so hard and stern, with dark stubble lining his jaw.
She’d never thought for a moment that she’d have to face him again so soon. This cruelty knew no bounds, and if she’d had the co-ordination she’d have marched over to him and hit him. Panic taking complete control now, Iseult whirled away and started to walk up the drive, not even feeling her legs move.
‘Iseult, wait.’
Iseult stopped, breathing hard, but didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.
‘I haven’t come here to see your father or Peter. I’ve come to see you.’
Damn that exhilaration. It was snaking through her veins again. Still, resolutely, Iseult wouldn’t turn around, terrified he’d see her reaction.
‘I don’t want to see you. I think you’d have to agree that we both know where we stand.’ Her voice became bitter. ‘I made my feelings quite clear.’
For a long moment there was silence. Iseult nearly started walking again, and then she heard from behind her, ‘Ever since I laid eyes on you I’ve felt a pull stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before. My parents had an arranged marriage, and although they didn’t love each other they had great affection and respect for one another. That’s all I ever wanted and hoped for in a marriage, and no one ever came along to shake that assertion. Not even my wife. Sara was a good, kind, beautiful woman…but she knew she didn’t have all of me. She went on the horse that day even though she was pregnant, even though she was terrified of them, be cause she wanted to impress me.’
Iseult was rooted to the spot, his words causing an ache in her chest. She was barely breathing.
‘Sara died because she wanted me to fall in love with her. My respect and loyalty and affection weren’t enough. Yet from the moment we met you reached right down inside me to a place Sara never could have touched. And the guilt of realising that has nearly killed me.’
Slowly, Iseult turned around to face Nadim. He stood there with an expression she’d never seen on his face. Vulnerability.
‘What are you saying…?’
He grimaced. ‘I’m saying that I almost let my guilt rule my life. I almost let my guilt convince me that I didn’t love you… Every time I was telling you not to fall in love with me I was telling myself not to fall in love with you, because I thought I didn’t deserve it. When we slept together I felt guilty, because Sara had never enjoyed making love. I felt guilty because you were so vibrant and brave and beautiful. I had no right to indulge in falling in love when I hadn’t been able to fall in love with my own wife…and it had killed her and our baby.’
On a wave of immense love and compassion Iseult half walked and half ran to Nadim, raising shaking hands to his face. ‘You weren’t to blame for your feelings. If it was an arranged marriage there was every chance Sara wouldn’t have loved you either… You never asked her to get on that horse. And she took her own life in her hands—and her unborn child’s. Not you.’
Nadim raised a hand and put it over one of Iseult’s, and pressed a kiss to her palm. His stubbled jaw tickled her skin, and she could see now that he looked tired, with lines around his mouth. His skin was slightly grey under his tan.
Hoarsely he said, ‘I know that now. I think I’ve finally begun to forgive myself for Sara’s death. The minute you walked into my life I think the healing started, and the minute you walked away from me I wanted you back. But I was stubborn, convinced you wouldn’t have the guts to go. I thought you wouldn’t be able to leave the luxury behind, no matter what you said.’
He quirked a wry smile. ‘I should have known you better. Of course you went. And all I could manage was three days before going so crazy that I had to come after you. Guilt or no guilt.’
He pulled Iseult’s cap off her head and sent it sailing in the wind, over the fence. ‘Hey!’ Iseult protested half-heartedly, her head spinning. ‘I liked that cap.’
Nadim put his hands around Iseult’s face and looked down into her eyes with such intensity that she felt as if she were drowning.
‘Iseult, will you come back to Merkazad and marry me and be my wife?’
Her heart flip-flopped. Tears filled her eyes, but as much as she wanted to shout out Yes! she bit her lip. ‘Don’t you have to marry someone suitable?’
‘You are the only suitable wife for me. I want you…no one else.’
Iseult clung onto the anchor of intensity in Nadim’s eyes and face as he waited. Shakily she finally said, ‘Then, yes…I’ll marry you…even though I’ve no idea what that will make me.’
‘What it will make you, habiba, is my beloved wife. You will be my Sheikha, by my side through thick and thin. Best friends. Lovers for ever.’
Iseult smiled tremulously. ‘I like the sound of that… But you might have to coach me in some of the social situations—it’s not my area of expertise. And I do have a chronic lack of self-esteem sometimes, but it’s getting much better.’
A familiarly arrogant look crossed Nadim’s face. ‘You are beautiful, and I will tell you a thousand times a day until you believe it down to the depths of your being. And you will be with me in every situation. That’s all you need to worry about.’
Finally, as if she’d been holding back, still protecting some vulnerable part of herself, Iseult pulled Nadim’s head down to hers and pressed her mouth to his with a desperate fervour matched only by his own. He lifted her up and Iseult wrapped her legs around his waist. Her arms wound around his neck, and she knew that they would never let each other go again.
Six months later…
Iseult stood at the fence at al Saqr Stables, watching the new trainer with Devil’s Kiss. He was getting closer and closer to being ready for the prestigious event at Longchamp later that year. Her pride in the horse was matched only by her pride in her beautiful husband, who arrived at that moment and snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her against him with possessive familiarity.