by Dani Collins
“Children don’t stay children,” Akin warned. “Happy moments are only moments. Everything changes eventually. You know that, don’t you?” It was a harsh reality that had been drilled so deeply into him he couldn’t see outside it.
“Sometimes things change for the better. A baby can grow up strong and capable of handling the challenges he faces. A life alone can turn into one with...a partner.” The emotion in her eyes grew even more undisguised.
He withdrew slightly. She didn’t understand the risk she was taking in opening her heart that much. Hurt became inevitable and he would do anything to keep her from being hurt.
Not that he wanted to yank that trusting innocence away from her when they were tucked so safely into a rare pocket of contentment. Hell, there was a part of him that longed for partnership and family and belief in the future, too.
But he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t ask for disappointment and loss and pain.
He dropped his gaze to Qaswar.
The baby cycled his legs and his abstract gaze moved aimlessly then snagged on Akin’s. His tiny mouth stretched in a smile so much like his brother’s it kicked Akin straight in the heart.
It was such a powerful moment it shook Akin to the core. Hannah and Qaswar were already rattling the gates of his heart, threatening to make him even more vulnerable than he was.
“I’ve only ever protected what everyone else has, Hannah. I don’t know how to imagine more for myself, let alone make it a reality. Maybe...” He stopped himself, embarrassed.
“What?” she prompted.
“I don’t know. I can’t help thinking it will be different after the ceremony. Once my father recognizes me as—Not his heir, obviously, but his temporary successor at least. Something more than...” He peeked down into the basement of his soul. “More than a second son. That’s been a stain. I would never condemn my own child to that position.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” She set her hand on his cheek. “I wouldn’t.”
He wanted to believe that, but there was a part of him that refused to see and want and accept that he deserved the life she described. If he let himself yearn for it, any ultimate denial would destroy him.
“My life does not get reshaped by a happiness list,” he said gently, cushioning his words by holding on to the hand she tried to draw back. He moved it from his bearded cheek so he could kiss her palm. “I admire you so much for going after what you want out of life. I want to give you everything you could ever desire, but can we talk about more children another time?”
She bit her lip in hurt but nodded. “Of course.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I WANT YOUR HEART. That was what Hannah had wanted to say.
Ironically, the one thing she had purposely left off her happiness list was anything to do with winning the love of a man, yet here she was with pretty much the whole list achieved and she wasn’t happy.
She couldn’t resent Akin for holding back, though. She understood how his parents had taught him not to trust that he was as entitled as anyone else to a fulfilling life. She also understood how hard it was to decide what personal happiness looked like and go after it.
The worst part was, she couldn’t change his mind for him. All she could do was believe that time would heal all wounds and try to give him that time. At least she had the reassurance of his physical attentions. They made love every chance they got, which was pure magic, but she didn’t realize how completely he wanted to share a bed until he showed up in her room in the middle of the night, sounding quite annoyed.
“Why didn’t you come back?”
“Qaswar took forever to settle. I didn’t want to wake you,” she murmured drowsily as he joined her in her own bed and dragged her into the spoon of his body.
“I was lying awake worried something was wrong. We’re changing wings after the coronation, so this won’t happen again.”
He made it sound like a dire warning, but it made her smile with gladness in the dark before she drifted back to sleep.
The coronation was only a few weeks away and final plans were falling into place. Akin had approved all her arrangements and offered special praise for her attention to detail—as if she’d never had to organize a faculty lunch that satisfied vegan, kosher and nut allergy requests in the same meal plan before.
Hannah was in the middle of a meeting that would put the final touches on the celebration when her assistant touched her elbow and whispered she had an urgent call from her husband.
“My father passed,” Akin said abruptly. “I’ve just informed my mother. I have to make more calls. Can you bring the baby and sit with her? She’s asking for him.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry, Akin.”
He said something noncommittal and hung up.
A cold premonition entered her heart. She didn’t make any announcements to the staff, unsure if it was her place, only hurriedly called the nanny to meet her in the Queen’s chambers. But the whole while, she was thinking about what he’d said that day about how the coronation would change things. That if his father recognized him, he would start to feel accepted as something more than a stain.
The next days were difficult, as all such losses were. She barely saw her husband except when she stood beside him to greet visitors who came to pay their respects. It was an endless procession of long faces and hushed voices. Between that were spells of placating his mother and reminding her that her husband was gone. The Queen had taken a very hard turn with the loss.
Hannah also had to call off the coronation. Instead, the day after the King’s funeral, they were visited by the representatives from parliament. If Akin had been sleeping, it hadn’t been with her. He looked like hell.
“By unanimous vote, we have cemented your authority as Regent of Baaqi until our Crown Prince is ready to assume his duties,” one of the men said—or so it was translated quietly into Hannah’s ear.
The formality lasted ten minutes. They took their leave and Hannah finally had a moment alone with her husband. He looked so drawn, with his hollow cheeks and bruised eyes, that she reached for him.
“Is that really all that was required? I thought the coronation was meant to prove...something.” She shrugged ineffectually.
“It was.” Akin’s voice was empty of emotion. His arm was cold and unresponsive. “It would have proved my father wanted me to have the appointment. That he trusted me and recognized me as his surviving son and a competent leader. It was pure vanity on my part,” he added in a bitter scoff at himself.
“Don’t say that.” His despair broke her heart. “It’s okay that you wanted his recognition. That’s not vanity. That’s being human.”
“Wanting love as a child is natural. Wanting it as an adult is immature and self-indulgent.”
“No, it’s not! I want love. Everyone does.” Anxiety clawed at her along with inner warnings that he was in too much pain to hear through it, but she kept speaking. “I’m sorry your parents withheld their love for you. You deserve it and I know it’s no substitute, but... I love you.” It hurt to say it the way it might hurt to pull her own heart out of her chest and show it to him, but she offered it to him all the same.
He sucked in a pained breath, not moving, but visibly withdrawing from her.
Don’t, she silently protested.
“Hannah, I can’t... I told you I would give you everything I could, but that life you want? It’s not in my power to give you that.” His eyes and voice were bleak. “I’m not the man who can make that happen for you.”
How do you know if you haven’t tried? That was what she wanted to say.
“I’m not going to stop wanting it, Akin. Who will give it to me if not you? Am I supposed to find it with someone else? Or just accept a life that falls short of...” She couldn’t disparage the life she had. The son she’d been given. The life he had already given her.
&nb
sp; But she was greedy. She wanted more. And she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else, not when she loved Akin with everything in her.
“Yes,” he said distantly. “Find someone else.” He walked away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HANNAH WAS DEVASTATED, but she let him go because he was obviously in too much pain to be rational.
He didn’t just walk away, though. He left.
It took her two days to realize it, but she finally ran the gamut of his assistants to reach his top aide. “He went into the desert. I didn’t realize you didn’t know, or I would have informed you myself,” the man apologized.
“What does that mean? Like...where in the desert? For how long? Why?” How could she possible reach him there? Was she supposed to not even try? Her desolation was so profound it was a type of grief.
“That is very hard to answer,” the aide said with remorse. “I can make enquiries. It may take some time.”
“Thank you.” Hannah walked out, crushed, but more than that, she was mad. Maybe Akin had never promised to love her, but he had promised to treat her with respect. Maybe he hadn’t promised to make her happy, but he wasn’t allowed to hurt her. Not on purpose.
While an old, fragile part of her wanted to crawl away and hide from the pain of his abandonment, she let her anger at him fuel her. Maybe she was kidding herself, pretending it was pique, not a broken heart that had her make her own inquiries, but it was safer than believing she was foolishly chasing a man who didn’t really want her.
She deserved better than this, she told herself and made herself believe it as she texted Galila for advice.
Do I let him grieve in his own way? Will he be angry if I go after him?
Galila was not only intimately connected to the nomad families who traversed the deserts, she understood best the sort of man she was dealing with. Her response helped Hannah decide on her next course of action.
Probably. Men like ours are too proud to lean on a woman if they can avoid it. But if he’s hurting and you love him, be there for him anyway.
Galila arranged a helicopter herself.
Which was how Hannah got to the oasis ahead of him.
The sizable pool was a jewel of blue in an ocean of sand that charmed her immediately. A small tribe was in residence. Hannah and her entourage of bodyguards and nannies, cooks and maids were greeted warily until they realized Qaswar was with her. Then the entire mood became celebratory, and they were all welcomed warmly.
Hannah wondered if Akin would welcome the sight of her. He would likely be furious, while her own anger had dissipated into uncertainty. Had she really come all this way to be rejected? Again?
She had to wait two full days to find out. It was nerve-racking but pleasant to be out of the palace. The nomads were happy to educate her on native plants and their culture, and help her practice her rudimentary Arabic.
She was in the middle of learning a traditional lullaby when a thundering commotion and a huge dust cloud appeared at the edge of the bowl that surrounded the oasis. A half dozen camels bawled as they were galloped down the slope into the encampment.
It would have been terrifying if Hannah hadn’t recognized the tall bearing of her husband within seconds. Elemental and dynamic, he took her breath with his imposing presence. She handed Qaswar to a nanny and met him as he dismounted.
“What happened? Is the baby okay?” He was covered in dust and sand.
“He’s perfectly fine. Smothered nearly to death by all the adoring arms who want to hold him.” She glanced toward the tent where Qaswar was being put down for a nap in the shade, a dozen minders hovering nearby.
“Then what brought you here? My heart stopped when the hawkers told me you had been here two days, waiting for me.”
“Where am I supposed to be?” she asked with a flash of the anger that was the only thing she’d been letting herself feel. “If not with my husband. What are you doing here?”
“You did not come all the way out here to ask me that.” The thunderous look he gave her nearly made her back up a step, even though there was a flash of something behind his outrage that she couldn’t interpret.
“I did.” She held her ground, but it felt as though she stood on insubstantial dunes that shifted beneath her feet. “Was I supposed to wait back at the palace for you until you returned to inform me what sort of future I could expect? Live whatever pale, useless life you told me to live?”
His expression didn’t change.
The sand was slipping away beneath her, and now she felt like she was sliding through an hourglass.
“I love you, Akin. I told you that. And even though you were in a lot of pain when I said it the first time, your reaction left a lot to be desired. Think long and hard about how you react today.”
The lift of her chin was pure bravado, because inside, she shook worse than she ever had during one of their confrontations. Those other times, she hadn’t had nearly so much of herself invested. Before she’d felt his touch and his lips and shared secrets across a pillow, she would have been able to bear his anger and rejection. But now she loved him and that was her heart right there on the sand. If he kicked it away this time, he would do irrevocable damage to the fragile bond between them.
He said nothing. He stood there coated in dust, nostrils flared, eyes going black as his pupils expanded.
Inexplicably, her heart began to pound in panic. She swallowed and started to lean onto her back foot, sensing real danger.
Before she could whirl and run, he swooped and caught her and swung her over his shoulder. It happened so fast her nose was in the back of his dusty robe before she realized what he intended.
He barked something in Arabic and she heard someone answer him, but she couldn’t tell who or what they said, or even where he was taking her.
“What are you doing?” she cried, wriggling enough to test his grip, but also hanging on because he was starting to walk.
“This is who I am, Hannah. You say you love me, but you’ve only ever seen my civilized side, when I’ve been trying to run a country and earn my parents’ respect and keep from scaring the sexually repressed librarian.”
“I’m not sexually repressed.”
The cadence of his steps slowed as he began wading into the water.
“What are you doing?” She kicked her feet, pretty sure he’d lost his mind.
“I’m filthy.” He swept her around so she dropped into the cradle of his arms and her startled eyes were even with his. “And I’m furious. I would have settled for my father telling me I was doing right by my nephew. I would have settled for my mother calling you my wife, not the nanny. I was furious that I let you see how much those things meant to me and how little I meant to them. I was hurt and angry and worst of all—”
His mouth flattened.
“I was furious that I couldn’t see myself giving you the thing you want most. I don’t know how to make someone else happy, Hannah. I’ve never been happy.”
Not even with her? A little? Her heart clutched in agony.
“So when you asked if you should find the life you want with someone else, I thought, yes. She deserves it even if I can’t give it to her. And I did what I’ve always done. I went into the desert, where life is pared down to the basics of survival. Where the things I want, the things I need, are purely physical. Those are needs I can meet myself. But you have ruined that for me, Hannah. The whole time I’ve been out here, all I could think was how stupid I was to have left you. So I’m furious with you, too.”
He threw her.
She screamed and flailed and remembered to catch her breath at the last second, right before she hit the water in a giant splash and plunge into its blessed, silent chill.
When she came up and toed to find the bottom, she was up to her breasts in the water, her abaya tangled around her.
He stood w
ith the water at his waist, dragging at his clothes and throwing them toward the shore.
Beyond him, she saw that he’d managed to clear the area. Flaps had been pulled down on tents and voices were drifting in retreat as the camels were drawn away to the corral set on the far side of a dune. Not a single pair of eyes so much as peeked from behind a dangling bit of washing on a line.
“I’m not going to leave my son to go looking for some other man. Did you think about him at all? Because this is your chance to be a better father than—”
“I’m already a better father than the one I had,” he snapped. “And I do want more children, for your information. Not because I want one that’s ‘mine,’ either. Qaswar is mine in the ways that count. But I want that far-fetched dream of yours where we make love and play with our children and get through the bad times on the belief that they don’t last. That good times will come again.”
“Is that belief really so far-fetched?” she cried, hurt that he sounded so disparaging.
He sobered. “Being out here was bad, Hannah. It was nothing but loss and a feeling that sat like a sick pile of rocks in my gut, that I’d thrown away my soul by leaving you. That what we had was gone forever and it was my own fault that I was suffering.”
“So why didn’t you come back to fight for me? Us?” That hurt. It cut so deeply she could hardly breathe.
“I didn’t get the chance, did I?” he said gently. “Because here you are. Proving that the good shows up, whether I know how to accept it or not. Finding you here is good, Hannah. Seeing you when I was feeling like hell is good. I shouldn’t have left without speaking to you. I shouldn’t have shut you out when letting you in is like...turning on a light inside myself. Like setting down the heaviest weight. Like sinking into cool, clear water when I’m hot and sweaty and filthy.” He waded in toward her. “I don’t understand why you would be this good to me, but you are. I won’t throw you away again.”