Something had changed. In her. In him. In them both. For not only would she refuse to succumb to him, he would no longer make an attempt to have her bend to his will. Somewhere along the way they had become equals, and for Hashim it was a bittersweet awakening. An awareness that it had come at the wrong time—but could it have ever been the right time?
Not with Sienna, no.
He bent down to the Qudamah-crested dispatch box which accompanied him everywhere and pulled out a slim leather box. He held it out towards her but she shook her head, the thick dark hair flying like a storm.
‘No, Hashim!’ She would not be paid off—have him bid her farewell with the expensive baubles she had previously refused to accept. ‘Whatever it is, I don’t want it. I don’t want your diamonds or your emeralds, thank you very much! I told you a long time ago that I could not and would not be bought, and I meant it!’
He laughed softly. ‘I know you did, my fiery Sienna,’ he murmured. ‘And I think that your expectations of costly gems are a little wide of the mark.’ He put the box in her hand and closed her fingers around it, his black eyes washing over her. ‘Please. Open it.’
Something in his manner made her obey him, her fingers trembling as she flicked open the catch to see a necklace lying against indigo velvet. But it was no ordinary necklace. The chain was as fine as a sliver of light and in the centre of it lay a tiny golden bird.
‘H-Hashim?’ she questioned shakily.
‘Here.’ He lifted it from the box and placed it into the centre of her palm, where the fine chain lay coiled like an elegant snake, the small charm gleaming like the sun.
‘What is it?’
‘It is an eagle—a golden eagle. She flies on the flag of Qudamah and is the symbol of my country—for she represents freedom and power. This is the only time you will ever see her chained.’
Like him. The thought flew unbidden into her mind. Freedom and power and never to be chained. She studied it intently, focusing fiercely on the workmanship because at least that kept the tears at bay. ‘It’s…beautiful.’
‘Shall I put it on for you?’
Sienna nodded, unable to speak for fear that she would blurt out words which could never be taken back. Words of love which would mortify him and make their parting even more painful.
He slid his hands around her neck, wanting so much to linger there—to raise the heavy weight of her hair so that he could kiss the soft nape and then turn her head to take her lips, coaxing their luscious warmth into eager response.
‘I thought you were going to put it on?’
Her faintly bemused voice disrupted his troubled thoughts. ‘So I was.’ He clipped it in place. ‘There.’
For a moment their eyes met, and the pain which smote at her heart made her feel dizzy and weak. Turning her head to look out of the window with the desperation of a drowning woman struggling towards the surface for light and air, Sienna saw with relief that they were at the end of her road.
‘Well, here we are! Thank you, Hashim.’ She leaned forward. The touch of her mouth against his was fleeting and the pain increased. ‘Take very good care.’
He touched her fingertips to his lips and as she pushed open the car door said something in his native tongue to the driver, who got out and removed her one small bag from the boot.
The tinted window slid silently down and all she could see were glittering black eyes—the only thing which seemed truly alive in the tight mask of his face. She flashed him a smile, and then she turned away.
Somehow she made it inside without crying, but once there the tears began to pour down her cheeks without stopping. Kat was away and she was glad, because it gave her time to get over the worst, to recover on her own like a wounded animal.
There was no one to tell her to eat. No one to question why she couldn’t sleep. No one to tell her that it was wrong to shed her tears and that there were plenty more fish in the sea. Maybe there were—but none like Hashim.
By the third day she had begun to feel a little better. Her heart was aching, but she knew that Hashim would hate it if she became one of those women who let their whole lives collapse around them because a love affair hadn’t worked out.
She bathed and washed her hair, and was just pulling on a big black sweater which virtually came down to her knees when the doorbell rang. She wondered if it was Kat back, having forgotten her keys.
She opened the door, completely unprepared to see the batallion of photographers who were jostling for position, jerking back in alarm as the multiple flash from their array of cameras temporarily blinded her. Someone thrust a phallic-looking microphone under her chin.