by Laura Martin
‘Don’t expect too much,’ Sebastian said. ‘I travelled this way a few years ago and there was little more than a muddy puddle left.’
It didn’t matter, not really. She would have liked to ease into the water and wash some of the dust from her hair and body, but in reality she didn’t mind if they camped near the most beautiful oasis or on a dried river bed. After a hard day’s riding she was always thankful to rest her head and close her eyes and sleep was never far behind.
After a couple more hours they arrived at the oasis and Emma could see Sebastian was right. There were signs the spot had once been teeming with life; more scrubby bushes than elsewhere in the desert and deep dips and banks that signified the flow of water. In the centre were a few dead trees and a tiny circle of clear water.
‘At least it’s clean,’ Sebastian said, regarding the oasis with a critical eye. ‘We’ll be able to refill our water skins.’
After refilling the dozen water skins they carried Emma doubted there would be anything left of the oasis.
‘And we can have a fire. There’s plenty of wood.’
He was right. Which meant hot food. Emma hadn’t minded surviving on dried bread, dried fruit and dried meats, but now she craved something different, something cooked.
Efficiently they started to set up their camp. It seemed quiet without Akil and Akins bustling round, but they soon had everything sorted for the night. The sun was dipping in the sky and Emma knew darkness was just minutes away.
‘Shall I gather some firewood?’ she asked.
Sebastian nodded, keeping one eye on the horizon.
‘Good idea. Ten minutes and we won’t be able to see anything.’
Quickly Emma gathered an armful of twigs and sticks, all dry and brittle from baking in the sun. Masterfully Sebastian coaxed a tiny flame into a flickering fire.
After a few minutes they sat back and regarded the fire. It would certainly do for cooking and should also keep them warm for a good few hours into the night.
‘Shall I go and fetch some water?’ Emma asked, wondering what Sebastian would produce from his bag for dinner.
Sebastian nodded, already rummaging and pulling out the cooking pots. ‘Be careful,’ he warned. ‘It’ll be pitch black in a minute and you won’t be able to see where you’re going.’
Emma carefully picked her way over the scrubby bushes towards the oasis. She started to fill an empty water skin when a rustle behind her startled her so much she almost overbalanced. Telling herself it was probably nothing more than her imagination, Emma stood and looked into the darkness. She watched for thirty seconds and was just about to turn around again when something moved. Emma felt her heart start to pound in her chest and her throat went dry. She peered into the blackness and wondered what it was. She knew there were some dangerous animals in the desert, but most were small and wouldn’t make this much noise.
Swallowing nervously, she glanced towards the flicker of the fire and wondered if she could call out for Sebastian. She still couldn’t see what was making the noise, but he would know what to do, and more importantly he would be able to protect her if it was something larger and more sinister.
Emma thought back to the day in Cairo when she’d returned to find the menacing man in her room. Surely he wouldn’t have followed her all this way, and if he had surely he would have made his move before now?
Her breathing shallow and panicky, Emma started to back away from the spot the noise had come from. Her eyes were fixed to the darkness as she wondered if she would detect any attack before it came.
Suddenly Emma felt her foot connect with a long-dead tree root, which pushed her off balance. Frantically she flailed about with her arms, trying to keep upright, but she knew it was no use. Letting out a short, sharp shout, Emma toppled backwards and fell onto her backside.
Sebastian was at her side within seconds.
‘What happened?’ he asked when he saw her siting inelegantly on the ground. ‘Are you hurt?’
Emma shook her head. ‘I heard a noise, over there.’ She pointed to the darkness and watched as Sebastian strode forward. He was silent for a few seconds then he chuckled.
‘What?’ Emma asked.
‘It’s just a bird,’ he said. ‘It looks like a kite.’
Emma immediately felt foolish. She’d been imagining an armed assailant and it was just a bird.
Sebastian strode back over to her and held out a hand to help her up. Emma took it and started to pull herself to her feet. A red-hot stab of pain burst through her ankle and she fell back with a cry. Immediately Sebastian was kneeling in front of her, concern etched on his face.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘My ankle.’ Emma gritted her teeth as the pain started to subside now she wasn’t putting any weight on it.
Sebastian started to pull at the laces of her boots, but in the darkness the knots were too much and Emma heard him curse under his breath. With no warning he stood, leant over and picked Emma up in his arms. She felt her heart pound as he carried her gently back towards the fire. It seemed as if he was exerting almost no effort at all, and Emma realised she liked the feel of his arms looped under her back and his chest pressed against her body.
He lowered her to the ground in front of the fire and then knelt at her feet. With the light of the fire now illuminating everything, Sebastian quickly undid her laces and pulled the boot from her foot. Emma grimaced as a bolt of pain shot through her and tried not to let the tears that were welling up in her eyes fall.
With a feather-light touch Sebastian inspected her ankle. Even from her position Emma could see it had started to swell. Expertly Sebastian pressed at different points over her skin and watched her expression. As he got to an area just below her ankle bone Emma let out a muffled scream.
‘Good,’ Sebastian said, satisfied.
‘Good?’ Emma couldn’t help but sound indignant. How could her pain be good?
‘It’s not broken.’
It felt as though it were broken.
‘You’ve sprained it, but it’ll heal.’
‘Will I be able to walk?’ Emma asked.
Sebastian nodded. ‘But it’ll hurt the first few days.’
‘We don’t have to go back?’
He grinned and Emma found herself smiling back. ‘We don’t have to go back.’
Emma looked again at the ankle and surveyed the damage. When she kept it completely still it wasn’t too painful. The agony came with just the slightest of movement.
‘You’ll still be able to ride,’ Sebastian said, ‘and you’ll just have to rest it of an evening.’
He moved away and started to gather a few things, bringing them to her after a couple of minutes.
‘I’m going to bind your ankle,’ he said. ‘Ideally this should be ice, but water’s the best we’ve got.’
Emma watched as he dipped strips of torn fabric into a bowl of water and gently but firmly started to bind her ankle.
‘It’s fine to cry,’ Sebastian said as he watched her bite her lip.
Emma felt the tears spill down her cheeks and every so often she would let out a moan of pain. Sebastian murmured soothingly, but never once did he stop binding. After a few minutes he sat back and surveyed his work.
Emma had to admit it did feel better already. The water was cool against her skin and the fabric felt as if it was holding everything in place.
‘Hopefully it will stop some swelling and we’ll be able to get your boot on tomorrow.’
He checked one last time the bindings wouldn’t come loose then he came and sat by Emma’s side.
‘Hush,’ he said softly, reaching up and wiping a tear from Emma’s cheek. ‘It’ll feel better in the morning.’
As he leant in closer towards her Emma forgot about the pain in her an
kle, and she forgot the terror she’d felt when she’d heard the rustle in the darkness. She forgot her determination not to kiss Sebastian again and the hurt after his rejection the last time. Her mind emptied and all she could think about was Sebastian’s lips meeting her own.
Slowly they came together. The kiss was gentle and unhurried. As Sebastian brushed his lips against hers Emma felt her body relax against his and she wished they could remain sealed together all night.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Oh, Emma,’ Seb heard himself murmur as he pulled away from her lips to brush kisses along her neck. She moaned and shuddered under his touch and Seb knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He was driven by a primal lust that had taken over his body and silenced the voice of reason in his head.
Slowly Seb felt his hand start to caress Emma’s back. He trailed his fingers through the loose strands of hair at her neck, traced a pattern over the soft skin at her nape and then let his hand drop to her back where he used it to pull her closer to him.
Just as he felt the arousal spread through his body Emma gently pulled away. She looked deep into his eyes and Seb fought to meet such an intense gaze.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ Emma said breathlessly.
Seb couldn’t say anything. He knew they shouldn’t be doing this, every part of him knew what they were doing was wrong, but he wanted it so badly. He wanted her so badly.
‘You can’t marry me,’ Emma said, her voice flat, ‘and I can’t lose my head over a man who won’t marry me. At least not again,’ she murmured.
Seb found himself nodding even though he desperately wanted to scream in protest.
Emma shifted slightly, pulling herself farther away. She had wrapped her arms around her body in a protective manner and as he watched, Seb could see her withdrawing into herself, into a little protective shell. He wanted to reach out and stop her, to pull her back into his arms.
‘Emma, if I could marry anyone it would be you,’ Seb said softly.
She snorted and tears started to well in her eyes.
‘It would be you. You’re beautiful and kind and interesting. I’m never bored when I’m with you. You’d make anyone a wonderful wife.’
‘Just not wonderful enough for you.’
He didn’t know how to reply. Seb reached out and took her hands in his own, wincing as she pulled away. Determinedly he caught her fingers and gripped them tightly.
She looked beautiful in the light of the fire. The glow from the flickering flames made her hair shine like strands of gold and her complexion looked rosy. Seb wondered when she had started to mean so much to him. The idea of losing her, even just emotionally, was like a punch in the gut. He knew life without her would seem empty, pointless, and he’d only known her a couple of weeks.
He couldn’t bear the thought that he was the one hurting her. He needed her to understand, to look at him with something other than hurt in her eyes.
‘I need to tell you something,’ Seb said, sitting back but not letting go of Emma’s hand.
She turned to him and for a long moment Seb thought she might turn away and leave him aching for her.
‘What do you need to tell me?’ she asked eventually.
He took his time to collect his thoughts, knowing he only had one chance to make her understand, or he would lose her for good. Seb had never told anyone about his past before, and he knew it would be difficult to put into words something he tried to block from his memories.
‘When I was a child I thought my parents were happy,’ he started. ‘My father would kiss my mother’s cheek every morning, and he would buy her lavish gifts on her birthday or at Christmas. Sometimes even for no reason at all.’
Seb paused, wondering how best to describe the atmosphere in his childhood home. It was only something he had been aware of looking back; as a child he had been oblivious to some of the frostiness.
‘Looking back I now see it wasn’t a happy home, but as a child I just couldn’t see the truth. I thought it was normal for my mother to hardly speak, to shrink slightly when her husband entered the room.’
He stared into the distance, trying to stop the pull of the memories from taking him back to the house in England.
‘She was scared of him,’ Emma said softly.
Seb nodded. ‘I see that now, but as a child I had no idea.’
He’d often wondered whether things might have been different if he’d noticed his mother wasn’t happy, if he would have been able to do something if only he’d known. He’d spent hours torturing himself in this way, even though it was all in the past.
‘On the few occasions I can remember being alone with my mother, if my father had to rush to London for business, she was completely different. It was as though she came alive.’
Emma squeezed his hand supportively and Seb started to feel the catharsis of telling someone his story after all these years.
‘She would laugh, and play the piano and chase me around the garden. Then my father would return and she would retreat back into herself.’
As a child he had always wondered why his mother seemed to have two sides to her character, but he’d never even suspected his father was the cause.
‘I was sent away to school when I was thirteen and, looking back, I think that only made things worse. When I returned for the holidays I started to notice my mother would always wear long-sleeved, high-necked dresses, as if she were trying to cover something up.’
‘Bruises and injuries?’ Emma asked.
Seb shook his head, wishing that his younger self had realised earlier what had been going on in his very own home. Maybe then he would have been able to do something sooner.
‘Sebastian, you were just a child,’ Emma said softly. He felt a shiver run down the length of his spine as she used his name. It sounded silky and exotic on her lips.
‘I was just a child, but a damn blind one. I didn’t see for fourteen years that my father beat my mother.’
‘What happened?’
‘I was home from school for Christmas. It was late at night but I just couldn’t sleep so I decided to get up and choose a book from the library.’ He could still remember the walk through the chilly corridors as if it were yesterday. ‘The house was quiet, but as I neared the library I could see there was a light coming from under the door. I nearly turned back, not wanting to get into trouble for being out of bed so late at night.’
He paused and relived the seconds of indecision in the cold hallway. His mind had been made up to return to bed when he heard a rasping noise. His curiosity had won out.
‘I pushed open the library door, just an inch, just enough to see through, and peered inside.’
Seb felt Emma’s grip on his hand tighten as she willed him to go on with his story.
‘What did you see?’
He swallowed. The image was one he’d never been able to rid himself of, one that popped up in his mind every so often to remind him where he came from.
‘My father’s hands were around my mother’s throat and he was choking her.’ Seb stared into the fire, hoping the flicker of the flames would wipe the memory.
Emma gasped and pulled herself closer to him. Seb barely noticed; he was aged fourteen again, angry and confused and unsure what to do.
‘What did you do?’ Emma asked.
Seb laughed, but it was a strained, unnatural sound.
‘Not enough,’ he said, his voice hard with emotion.
He should have done more, that was what he’d always felt, then maybe his father would have stopped beating his mother, maybe she would still be alive today.
‘I pushed the door open fully and the sound of it banging against a bookshelf was enough to make my father pause.’ He still remembered the look of guilt on his father’s face a
s his son had caught him strangling the woman he was supposed to protect and cherish.
‘Like all bullies he didn’t want a confrontation. He let go of my mother and came straight to me.’
‘Did he hurt you?’
Seb shook his head ruefully. ‘His precious son and heir, the boy who was meant to carry on the family name?’
His father had led him from the room, put distance between him and his mother.
‘He said that he and Mother were having an argument and that everything was fine.’
Seb could still see the flash of desperation in the old man’s eyes as he’d tried to hide his true character from his son.
‘My mother followed us after a few minutes, hugged me, and told me it was just a misunderstanding.’
‘She said that?’
Seb nodded. He’d been shaken, distressed, but when his mother had emerged from the library looking composed his doubts had eased.
‘I believed her. At the time I couldn’t understand why she would lie. And it was easier to believe them both than to have to reassess my whole world, my whole life.’
Emma squeezed his hand, pulling him back to the present.
‘You were only a child,’ she said again. ‘You had no reason to believe your mother was lying.’
Seb barked a harsh laugh. ‘I was fourteen, plenty old enough to realise what was really going on.’
‘As children we are programmed to see the best in our parents. They are our heroes. When something happens to shatter that, it is only natural to want to hold onto the illusion.’
Seb sat back and ran a hand through his hair. For years he’d wondered why his mother had protected his father, why she had pretended everything was fine when it wasn’t. Then he’d accepted the simple truth: it had all been for him. To give him a pleasant home life, to shield him from his father’s tempers. She had borne her suffering in silence so he would grow up in an environment that at least seemed happy.
‘For months I dreamt of my father’s hands around my mother’s neck. I couldn’t quite forget the image, and then suddenly it was gone.’