Page 17 of At the Sheikh's Bidding
He shrugged. “My mother said I was the son from hell. My father said I needed a good beating and my grandmother said I had the soul of an artist.”
“The soul of an artist,” Janey breathed. “That’s lovely. And it’s a very different reaction to your parents. I can see why she took you away from them to live with her. Did your parents mind?”
He looked at her askance. “Are you kidding? They probably only noticed my absence because they didn’t get so angry or infuriated. My over-achieving brothers were much more to their taste.”
Impulsively, Janey reached over and took his hand, her heart aching at how hurt Amare must have been as a boy to be so rejected by his parents.
Amare hesitated a moment before laying his hand over hers . “It’s okay, you know. My grandmother looked after me well.”
“Tell me some more,” she said.
Amare was still telling Janey stories about his grandmother and his life with her when the Sifran palace came into view. Janey listened attentively. She was surprised at how different he seemed when he wasn’t trying to seduce her. There was a vulnerability in his voice that she hadn’t noticed before. It swept away her reserve and established a connection with him, which was annoying because she didn’t want to feel any sort of connection with him. But what she wanted and what she got, as usual, appeared to be two different things.
“Your grandmother sounds like she was one amazing woman,” said Janey.
“She was,” Amare replied, looking out the window, his eyes revealing he was far away in his thoughts. “She was everything to me.”
“It was good that you had her,” continued Janey. “She might be gone, but she’s in your heart forever. Never forgotten.”
Amare nodded. “It’s true. Her words come back to me all the time. Like earlier.”
She frowned and withdrew her hand, suddenly self-conscious. “What words of wisdom were they?”
“She told me to back off you. To stop trying to force you to look at me, to face me, to face up to what we have.” He gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Or maybe it was just my conscience. Or, then again, maybe they’re both the same thing.”
Janey felt a mixture of relief and confusion at Amare’s words. Relief that whatever its source, he’d backed off and given her the space she craved. But she was confused that he was still pursuing her despite this. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was playing a game with her, or if he genuinely cared about her.
“Maybe you should listen to your conscience,” Janey said softly, not wanting to provoke him. “You and I are different people, from different worlds, wanting different things, Amare. This can’t go anywhere.”
“Why not?” he asked. “I knew from the first moment I saw you what I felt about you. And I know you felt it too.” He pressed his hand against his chest and then rubbed it distractedly, as if unaware of what he was doing. But Janey was aware. She wasveryaware. And knew she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t afford to let herself get caught up in his charm again.
“I’m here to do a job. That’s all. I don’t want—Ican’twant—anything else. It has to be business and then I’ll return to England. That’s the way it has to be.”
“Why? Why does it have to be like that?”
“Because...” She sucked in a deep breath to give her courage. “Because I can’t accept the kind of relationship you want. I can’t be owned, controlled. I just can’t do it.”
“Because of your father,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “Because of my father. I guess…” She hesitated, but then heaved a sigh. She may as well tell him. No doubt he’d guessed it, anyway. “He’s destroyed my trust in men.” She shrugged. “It’s just the way it is.”
“For now,” Amare said. “It’s the way it isfor now. But it doesn’t have to be that way forever.” He reached out for the hand she’d just taken from his and squeezed it briefly. “We’re not all like your father.”
His eyes willed her to believe him. But how could she? Evidence of his need to control her was in his every movement, his every word.
His confident gaze wavered slightly, and he moved his head closer to hers. “You may not believe it now, but I’ll show you, and then you won’t be able to doubt me.”
Janey did not know how he intended to show her, nor did she have any faith that he could. But their arrival at the palace saved her from answering. Amare turned to speak to the pilot and Janey was given a reprieve. She pressed her hand against her heart as she tried to slow her heartbeat with her breathing as the helicopter circled the palace and landed.
The door slid open and, as the blades overhead slowed, Amare jumped out and reached back to help Janey out. She hesitated. She didn’t want to make that physical connection with him—shereallydidn’t—but his eyes held hers with a complex blend of challenge and invitation, which made her reach out for her hand. He clasped it firmly, and she stepped out into the bright sunlight. And, just at that moment, with the whirr of the helicopter blades overhead, the glare of the morning sun bouncing off the palace walls, and her hand gripped by his, everything felt just right.
Hand-in-hand, they walked to the palace entrance, where he stopped and turned to her. He smiled, kissed her hand, and released it.
“I have business with my brother, the King, to attend to, but I will see you later for dinner.”
The spell was broken. “Later? But I thought you were going to show me the harem?”
“And I will. But you must wait.”
