It was a lesson she’d stuck to until she’d met Jackson Brent and, in the throes of romantic excitement, thrown caution to the wind. His betrayal had cured her of romance and almost stolen her ability to trust.
Yet she trusted Tariq.
He’d moved away from the table to stand before her. The expression in his eyes made her heart somersault with hope.
Jacqui had been right. She just needed to open up to her husband. Explain and clear up whatever was holding him back. Then they could regain the easy, satisfying relationship she’d so enjoyed. Relief filled her. The unpalatable task of talking about the past would be worth it.
‘You can’t blame yourself for their marriage failing.’
‘Eventually I worked that out. Plus I realised I didn’t want a marriage like theirs.’
Her gaze lingered on the impressive breadth of Tariq’s shoulders and chest and she congratulated herself on having made a far better marriage. She hadn’t trusted so-called love. She’d married a man she respected, a man of integrity.
Yet being so close to him sent her wayward hormones into a chaos of yearning excitement.
‘I told you this so you’d understand how much our marriage means to me.’ She smiled up at him. ‘After my parents’ destructive marriage and my failed relationship, it took a lot even to consider marriage. I don’t trust easily. But you’ve made this...’ Samira waved her hand wide, suddenly on an emotional brink at the thought of all Tariq had done for her.
He’d given her so much. Not only had he shared his boys, he’d created a place for her in his world, accepting her and caring for her. She felt safe, content, part of the sort of family she’d never thought she’d have, yet with the freedom to pursue her dreams.
And then there was the child she carried.
She put her hands on the arms of her chair, ready to lever herself up.
‘Don’t! There’s no need to get up.’ Tariq dragged a straight-backed chair from the table and sat down, facing her, his long legs folded back beneath the seat. ‘So, you’re happy here. That’s excellent.’
Samira blinked. ‘More than that. What we’ve shared—it’s more than I’d believed possible.’ Despite her confident proposal, she’d wondered how well two virtual strangers could live and work together.
‘You’ve been wonderful, Tariq. Thoughtful and generous, and reassuring when I need it.’ It was as if he sensed and responded to her fears for the baby.
‘It’s my pleasure to look after you.’ His words were crisply formal, as if she hadn’t got through to him at all.
‘I’m not talking about being looked after.’ Her brow pleated as she sought the right words. ‘What you’ve given me is precious and I want you to know I appreciate it.’ She smiled, rubbing at her baby bulge as she felt the fluttery movements of their child.
* * *
Tariq followed her gesture and stiffened. Samira was thrilled he’d given her a child. No surprises there. That was why she’d married him, to become a mother.
He exhaled slowly. No man liked to feel used but Samira came perilously close to making him feel that now.
He hadn’t been consulted about this child. If he had, he’d have admitted the twins were enough for him. After losing Jasmin in labour, another child was the last thing on his mind.
His blood chilled thinking about that time.
What did Samira want from him? Why tell him now about her miserable childhood? He felt frustrated and appalled by it but could do nothing to alter the past.
Despite his considerable experience, women could still be a mystery.
He watched Samira closely, noting her over-bright eyes and flushed cheeks. She was emotional, he’d almost say overwrought, except there was no question that she was happy.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured. ‘I’m pleased you’re content.’ Samira had been fulsome in her thanks and, despite the demons that rode him, he understood how precious this baby was to her. ‘I want you to be happy.’
She nodded, her eyes glowing, and Tariq stood abruptly. He needed to leave before he did something unforgivable, like maul the woman he’d pledged not to touch.
He’d done his research. He knew sex with Samira wasn’t likely to endanger her or the baby. But how likely had it been that Jasmin, after a completely normal, healthy pregnancy, should die? He couldn’t take the risk. Not again. Not Samira.
‘I need to leave, but I’ll see you later with the boys.’
‘Wait!’ Samira stood too, her hand smoothing the nightgown over her bump. ‘You’re going? But you haven’t answered me.’