‘How long will it take?’
She shrugged and looked down at their baby. ‘A few days, a week. But you’re right. A change of scenery will be good. I think I’ll stay on for a while. There’s no rush for me to return, is there?’
Every sinew and muscle strained as Tariq held himself back, forcing himself not to shout that there was every reason for her to return. That she wouldn’t be permitted to leave the country. Her place was here with him and their boys. He had no intention of letting either her or their daughter leave.
Pain radiated along his jaw from his gritted teeth. But it was nothing to the tearing stab of frustration and fury he felt as he fought for control.
He told himself he was a civilised man, a husband who understood a wife might need space and understanding after childbirth.
He would find a way to keep her. He had to. In the meantime...
‘Very well. Since you’ve promised the woman, you’d better see her. I’ll have my staff organise your visit.’
Yet, even though he knew he was doing the sensible thing, the civilised thing, though he knew she’d have the best care from hand-picked staff, his gut knotted.
He turned and strode from the room before he could give in to the impulse to snatch his wife up, sling her over his shoulder and secrete her in the ancient harem where stout doors and old-fashioned padlocks would keep her just where he needed her.
Walking away, giving her the breathing space she needed, was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SAMIRA PUSHED THE PRAM along the bank of the Seine, watching the golden lights come on as the sky darkened. A cruise boat went by filled with tourists. Laughter floated across the water and her steps faltered as she remembered Tariq’s deep, inviting chuckle as he relaxed with her and the boys.
She dragged in an uneven breath. She missed the boys, even after just a day away.
And she missed Tariq.
How stupid was that when she saw him so rarely? When they led separate lives?
Yet there was no escaping the truth, even here in Paris. She was in love with her husband. As for clearing her head and finding a solution by getting away from him, that had been an abysmal failure.
All her trip to France had achieved was to make her homesick. She wanted to be back in Al Sarath.
How telling that her adopted country felt like home now. Because the people she loved most were there.
But what would she return to? A rapturous welcome from the twins and polite indifference from Tariq.
She had two options. Go back to the palace and live a life devoted to her children and her work. She’d pretend her heart wasn’t broken but it would be torture being so close to the man she could never have. Or take Layla and leave Tariq and the boys. It would be the scandal of the century. Worse, she’d never be allowed to see Adil and Risay again. Or Tariq.
Both options were untenable.
Yet what other choice did she have?
She looked up to see a couple entwined together in the shadows of the embankment. Abruptly she stopped, her heart slamming against her ribs. Her breath snatched as heat pricked her eyes. Searing emotion blocked her throat as she remembered Tariq holding her like that. As if he’d never let her go.
How much she wanted from him!
Too much. She hunched over the pram, pain stabbing low and fierce.
Out of her peripheral vision she caught a shadow of movement, one of her discreet security detail making sure she was all right. Yet another reminder of Tariq.
As if she didn’t already have that. Slowly she straightened and glanced down at her daughter’s sleeping face. Layla’s dainty rosebud lips were such a contrast to the determined little chin she’d got from her father. A tremor racked Samira, starting high in her chest and radiating out to weaken her limbs.
It didn’t matter what she did or where she went, she couldn’t escape her feelings for Tariq. She’d been appallingly naive, proposing marriage to a man whom, she realised too late, she’d been half in love with all her life. She’d been worse than naive in falling for his ‘sex without emotion’ idea. With her past she should have protected herself better. Now it was too late.
The breeze along the river picked up and she shivered. It was time she got Layla back to the hotel. Past time she came to some conclusion about the future.
Shoulders slumped, she forced herself to walk on.
* * *
Samira had just passed Layla to her nanny for a bath and turned towards her own room when a door on the far side of the suite’s opulent sitting room opened.