How to Seduce a Sheikh by Marguerite Kaye Page B

My wife had her own quarters.’
    ‘Did you love her?’ The question was out before she could stop it.
    ‘Of course. She was my wife.’
    Of course . Colette clasped her hands together tightly under the folds of her tunic. ‘What happened?’
    What happened ? Zafar stared down at the bracelet. Never since that fateful day had he talked about it. He could not think about Afifah without being overwhelmed with guilt.
    ‘Zafar?’
    Colette was pale, her eyes dark with concern. Colette, who had been through so much but who was so fiercely determined not to allow herself to be broken. He twisted the bracelet around and around, remembering the care with which he had chosen each of the jewels, emerald, ruby and sapphire, remembering Afifah’s delight when he presented it to her. She was a hothouse flower, his wife, charming but fragile. Colette was made of sterner stuff. Colette was determinedly independent, infinitely practical, and yet in some ways she was more of a woman than Afifah had ever been. She challenged him. She gave as much as she took, in the dark of the harem and in the light of day. Would she understand? She would not lie to him, of that he was certain.
    Zafar set the bracelet down on the edge of the fountain and sank down onto the cushions, holding his hand out in invitation. ‘I have never talked of this,’ he said.
    She took his hand and held it to her cheek, pressing a kiss on his palm. ‘Tell me.’
    He gazed into her eyes, the colour of the night sky. Tell me . It was like the rush of a wave formed from a swell, breaking suddenly and unstoppably to shore, the need to do just that, to unburden himself, to share the guilt in the hope that she might just be able to help him dissipate it. Clasping her hand tightly in his, he began.
    ‘We had been married for just a year. We were in the desert, making camp at an oasis in the next kingdom. It was a routine visit. We had been allies for some time. I would not usually have taken Afifah with me, but she had just discovered she was expecting our child and had developed a morbid fear of being alone. I thought it was safe.’
    He closed his eyes on the memory of that morning, Afifah teasing him, pleading to travel with him, torn between tears and laughter as she had been since first telling him about the baby. ‘Our tent was set apart from the others. There was no guard—I didn’t think we needed one. Afifah was having trouble sleeping. I had not thought she would be so foolish as to stray from the tent alone, but she was young. She had been raised in the old-fashioned way in a harem. She knew nothing of the dangers of the desert. And I—I thought there was no danger.’
    His brow was clammy with sweat. He felt sick. So many times he had replayed the chain of events in his mind, castigating himself at every point when he had missed an opportunity to change the outcome. Beside him, Colette sat silent. He could sense the tension in her. He raced on. ‘I heard Afifah call out. She was only a few feet from the tent, but it was far enough. There were five of them. She was thrown onto the camel as I reached her. I fought like a dervish. I killed two and mortally wounded a third, but the others spirited her away. By the time I had my own guards roused, we were miles behind them. But I followed them, Colette. I thought they were random marauders, but I was wrong. An old enemy with a long memory had commissioned some mercenaries to abduct her, knowing that I valued my wife’s life more than my own. They left her body where they knew we would find her. She was—She had been defiled. I cannot describe—When I saw her—When I saw her...’
    He dropped his head into his hands, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. Colette put her arms around him, trying to pull his head onto her breast. He was tempted to surrender to the comfort she offered, but he did not deserve it and would not give way to such weakness.
    Pushing her away, he sat up, taking jagged breaths.