Marriage Behind the Fa?ade by Lynn Raye Harris Page A

the bread in the sauce the way he did, scooped meat and rice up together. She made the mistake of glancing at him after she’d put the food into her mouth. He was watching her intently, his dark eyes smoldering as they held hers.
    Her stomach flipped. “What?” she said when she’d managed to swallow. “Do I have sauce all over my chin?”
    “Not at all.” He took another bite of the food while she focused on the variety of dishes instead of him. “I was thinking that you seemed to appreciate your first taste of Jahfaran cuisine.”
    She was confused, nervous, and angry with herself for being so. Confused because he watched her so intently and she didn’t know why. Nervous because she imagined he was cataloguing her flaws. And angry because she cared.
    “It’s good,” she said. “I’m enjoying it very much.”
    Or as much as possible when the man who’d turned her world upside down sat across from her as if nothing bad or hurtful had ever happened between them.
    “I am glad,” he replied. “But tonight I imagine the fare will be more familiar to you. The queen is half-American and will no doubt wish to make you feel comfortable.”
    “That’s really not necessary,” Sydney said. “I like trying new things.”
    His gaze sharpened, and she knew with a certainty he wasn’t thinking of food. “Yes, I remember this.”
    Sydney glanced away, her face reddening. The bad thing about being so pale was that there could never be any doubt when she was embarrassed. Everyone knew.
    “You will need to wear an abaya tonight,” Malik said while Sydney sent up a silent thank you that he did not pursue that line of the conversation. “I have ordered several for you to choose from. If we had more time, I would have them custom made. But the seamstress will be able to tailor one to fit for tonight.”
    “There’s no need to have anything custom made,” she said. “It would be a waste of money. And I will pay for the necessary garments myself.”
    “You are so determined not to accept anything from me. You were not always this way, I recall.”
    Sydney tugged at the napkin on her lap. It was true that she’d never protested when he’d spent money on her before. It hadn’t seemed necessary then. She’d never asked him for gifts, but she’d never turned them down, either. “I see no sense in it. I don’t want to feel like I owe you for anything.”
    “How odd,” he said, his jaw tightening as he stared at her.
    “Why is that odd?”
    “Does this prohibition against owing me only extend to financial matters? Because I feel as if you still owe me something for the way you left like a thief in the night.”
    It was a direct hit, and yet it made her angry instead of remorseful.
    “What could I possibly owe you for that?” she flashed. “You could have called me. You could have come after me. You did nothing. Because you knew you’d made a mistake, Malik. Because you wanted to be free of me but you didn’t know how to do it!”
    It hurt to say it, but it was true. He’d made a mistake, and she’d done the dirty work for him by leaving before he could push her away.
    He looked so coolly furious in that moment. “Do you honestly believe I lack the necessary courage it would take to extricate myself from a marriage I no longer wanted?”
    It didn’t seem like him, and yet what else could she think? If he’d cared, he wouldn’t have waited a year to come after her. Which he’d only done because she’d initiated divorce proceedings.
    “I don’t know what to believe.” It was nothing more than the truth.
    “The correct answer, Sydney, is no.”
    She pushed back on two hands and glared at him. “Then why did you say you’d made a mistake? Are you trying to tell me I didn’t hear you correctly? Because I’m fairly positive I did.”
    A muscle in his cheek flexed. His eyes burned into her. “No, you did not hear incorrectly.”
    In spite of the fact she knew it to be true, a sharp pain pierced her