by Kristi Gold
He continued to stroke her even after her release had subsided. “Again, Andrea.”
“I’m not sure—”
“I am,” he insisted. “You will.”
Amazingly, she did, moments before Sam found his own release. He gripped her hips, and a steady groan escaped his mouth as she absorbed the weight of his body against hers. Burying his face between her shoulder blades, he held her tightly. She couldn’t tell who was shaking more, him or her. They were so close it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. So close that Andi wanted to stay this way forever.
“You take me to limits I have never known before,” he whispered. “I have never known anything such as this.”
Neither had Andi. And she would probably never know anything like it again.
Reality took hold when she suddenly realized that someone had pulled up into the drive. And, considering the familiar sound of the noisy tailpipe, she knew exactly who that someone might be.
“Tess!”
Shoving Sam away with a push of her hips, she yanked the bandanna from her eyes and pulled her pants back up. She fumbled for her shirt, now covered in sawdust and straw, and pulled it over her head.
Awareness finally hit Sam but he seemed in no hurry. “Get dressed,” Andi hissed. “She might come in here.”
“I assume she would put away the groceries first,” he said, taking his sweet time redoing his jeans.
She shoved his shirt at him. “Your assumptions could be wrong, and we’d have the devil to pay.”
He had the gall to grin.
Sam Yaman was much too confident, Andi decided. Too practiced in his efficiency, she thought, when he calmly tossed the condom and package into the trash bin then covered it with a feed sack.
He turned his deadly grin back on her. “All evidence has been disposed of, and no one will know what deeds have been done in this room.”
Andi glanced down at her disheveled clothes and could only imagine how she would look to her aunt. “Guess I could tell Tess that we had an unexpected tornado come through the barn.”
He kicked the door closed, taking Andi by surprise. “We could lock out the world and stay in here the remainder of the afternoon.” He stalked toward her and pulled her into his arms. “After all, we still have much to learn about each other.”
“I’d be willing to spend a lifetime having you teach me.”
His expression went serious. “If only that were possible.”
Suddenly chilled, she backed out of his embrace. “Don’t look so worried, Sam. I told you I don’t expect anything. I was just spouting off.”
“You have no idea how much I wish that we could be together.” Her heart soared, then fell once again when he declared, “But that is not possible.”
She propped a hand on her hip and glared at him. “I’ve always believed that anything’s possible.”
“Not in this instance, Andrea.”
She forced back the unexpected tears burning hot behind her eyes. “Why? Because of your duty? Don’t you realize you could be happy here with us? I’ve seen your happiness, Sam. You smile more now. You’re enjoying yourself, especially with Chance. You might as well be wearing a blindfold if you don’t see it, too.”
He kicked the barrel containing the feed, causing a loud thump that would surely give them away if anyone were nearby. “Of course I am happy here. I have always been happy here. But that does not change my circumstance. I have to see to my obligations.”
How many more times would she have to hear this? “Obligations to whom? Your father?”
“To my…” He looked away. “Yes, to my father. To my people.”
Andi swiped away one rogue tear. “Well, great. I guess that doesn’t include your son.” Or me.
“I have told you I will provide—”
“Money. I know. But that won’t buy you his love, Sam. Your money and your station won’t buy you happiness, either.”
Without a word he yanked open the door and left Andi alone with her sorrow once more. If only he knew how much she loved him. If only he would consider the possibilities. But something was keeping him from doing that, and she wondered if there was more to his resistance than his duty. Something he was failing to tell her.
She intended to find out the sheikh’s secrets, even if it was the last thing she did before he left.
Sam spent the coming days working on the stable with Riley, but he spent the nights in Andrea’s arms. She had proved to be an uninhibited lover, wild in the ways that she pleased him. Each time they were together, he discovered something new about her, acknowledged that she was forever imbedded in his soul.
He engaged in a constant battle between guilt and desire, love and responsibility. His desire and love for Andrea had won out, at least for now. When he took Maila as his wife—if he took her as his wife—he was sentencing himself to a loveless union. And when he took her to his bed, he would forever imagine Andrea.
That would be doing a grave disservice to Maila. She was a good woman who deserved a man who could give more of himself. An educated woman who, like him, agreed to the union out of a sense of obligation to their families. Yet if Sam ended the arrangement, in doing so he would encounter his father’s scorn.
He would have to decide what would be best for everyone involved, a decision that would not come easily. And in a scarce few days, he would be leaving his son, and Andrea.
After his shower, he walked downstairs to find Andrea on the phone. She worried her bottom lip as she spoke quietly. “Okay, sweetie. You sleep tight now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Sam seated himself on the sofa and gestured for Andrea to join him after she replaced the phone in its cradle. The concern in her expression could not be denied, even when she smiled at him.
“That was Chance,” she said. “He wanted to make sure we’re going to pick him up in the limo.”
Sam returned her smile to mask his own worry. “And you assured him that we would?”
“Yes.”
Sam patted the seat beside him. “Come tell me what is troubling you.”
Instead of taking her place next to him, she curled into his lap. He held her tightly, savoring the scent of her shower-damp hair and the softness of her fragile body encased in satin.
“I’m worried about Chance,” she said.
“Is he not well?”
She glanced up at him, then tucked her head beneath his chin. “He says he’s fine, but he sounds tired.”
“I would assume he is tired.”
“I hope that’s all it is.”
He brushed a kiss over her forehead and stroked her hair. “What would lead you to believe otherwise?”
“Mother’s intuition. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid like always.”
“You are only concerned for his well-being, Andrea.”
She sighed. “I know. But when he was almost three, he climbed up on a fence rung and fell backward. He seemed to be okay, but then the next morning he complained about his shoulder. I took him to the doctor and found out he’d broken his collarbone. I should’ve taken him that night.”
Sam tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “It was a simple mistake, Andrea. It does not mean that you don’t care for him.”
“I realize that, but I felt horrible, like a bad mother.”
“You are a wonderful mother,” Sam said adamantly. “I could not have picked a better mother for my child.”
She touched her lips to his cheek, stirring his body and his soul. “Thanks.” After studying him a long moment, she said, “Now tell me what’s bugging you.”
Sam should be surprised that she so easily saw through him, but he wasn’t. It seemed that over the past week they had become totally tuned in to each other’s moods, each other’s needs. Perhaps it had always been that way. Perhaps it always would.
“I’m afraid I have some less-than-satisfactory news.”
Andrea’s frame stiffened in his arms. “What is it?”
“I spoke with my father earlier today. I must return to Barak on Thursday.”
“You weren’t supposed to leave until Sunday.” She stared at him with fire and frustration in her eyes. “So he snaps his fingers and you come running. Wish I knew his secret.”
“It is complicated, Andrea. I do not have the luxury of coming and going as I please.”
She slid off his lap and claimed the place at the end of the sofa. “I’m sorry for you, Sam. It must be awful to have that kind of burden, to not have free will.”
Anger gripped Sam and he struggled to temper his fury. “I have free will. I also have responsibilities.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I know, I know. But what about your responsibility to your child? You’ve barely spent any time with him. Is this what he’ll have to count on in the future, a father who may or may not come to see him?”
Sam sat forward and lowered his head. “I have been considering that. I can only promise that I will try to be here as much as possible.”
Andrea sighed. “We don’t have much time to decide when to tell him, do we?”
They had little time to be together, as well. “No, we do not.”
Andrea rose from the sofa. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Sam stood. “What time will we leave tomorrow morning to pick up Chance?”
She folded her arms across her breasts and faced him. “Not we, Sam. You.”
He frowned. “I do not understand.”
“I’ve decided you should pick him up by yourself. That way you can have time alone with him to get to know him.”
“But you—”
“I’ll see him when you get back. Besides, I’ll have him with me for the rest of my life. You, on the other hand, have very little time.”
Sam realized the difficulty of her decision and the heartache he was causing her. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Do you wish me to tell him—”
“No, I don’t want you to say anything about you being his father. I think I should be there.”
“I will honor your request.”
She started toward the stairs. “Good night, Sam.”
“I will join you in a few moments.”
She turned to him once again. “I’d like to sleep alone tonight. I’m exhausted.”
In her own way she was already preparing to let him go, that much Sam knew. “I will do what you ask, Andrea, but I would like to spend this last night with you, before Chance returns.”
“It’s okay, Sam,” she said in a weary tone. “We’ve both known all along this wasn’t forever. Might as well end it now.”
He wanted to shout that he wanted no part of this ending, that he wanted to forever be by her side, in her bed, in her life. Instead he turned his back and said, “I wish you pleasant dreams, Andrea.”
Her sharp, mirthless laugh stopped him cold. “I don’t believe in dreams, Sam. Not anymore.”
Eight
“Where on earth are they?” Andi paced the length of the kitchen as she stared at the clock that read 3:00 p.m. Long past time for Sam and Chance’s arrival home from the camp.
“Maybe they stopped off for some lunch,” Tess offered as she poured her and Riley another glass of tea at the table.
“I packed them a lunch,” Andi responded, unable to keep the panic from her voice. “I wanted to make sure Chance has the right things to eat.”
“I’m sure they just stopped off for a picnic, then,” Riley said. “Sam seems like a fairly responsible guy.”
Andi spun around to face the pair. “Yeah, that’s how he seems, but how well do we really know him?”
Tess frowned. “Andi, you’re talking nonsense. This is Sam, the boy who practically lived here for four years. The same one who worked on the barn for the past two weeks like some hired hand.”
“He’s changed, Tess. He’s not the same. What if he’s decided to go to the airport and just keep going from there? What if he takes Chance back to his country?”
Tess rose from the kitchen table and took Andi by both arms. “Just listen to yourself, Andi. You’re not making any sense. Sam promised he wouldn’t try something like that.”
“He promised a lot of things, Tess, and he didn’t keep those promises, either. How can I trust that he won’t do the same thing again?”
Tess narrowed her eyes and studied Andi dead-on. “Trust your heart, Andi.”
Andi didn’t dare. She’d done that before only to be crushed in the process.
The shrill of the phone caused Andi to jump. Pushing away from Tess, she grabbed it on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Could I please speak to Ms. Andrea Hamilton,” a soft feminine voice asked.
Frustrated that it wasn’t Sam, Andrea sighed. She didn’t need home repairs or a magazine subscription. “That depends on who you are.”
“I’m Mrs. Murphy with the hospital in Lexington, and I’m calling concerning your son.”
Sheer panic pierced through Andi’s momentary shock. “Has there been an accident?”
Tess quickly came to Andi’s side as the woman continued to speak. “No, no accident. A Mr. Yaman brought Chance in. The boy’s blood sugar is low.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s in the E.R. being examined now. Mr. Yaman asked if I would notify you.”
“I’m on my way.” Andi hung up without saying goodbye and grabbed her keys from the hook by the back door. “Chance is at the hospital,” she called to Tess on her way out.
“Let me drive you, Andi,” Tess said at the door while Andi crossed the yard to the pickup.
“I’ll call you.”
“Andi, are you sure?”
She dismissed Tess with a wave. “I’m fine.”
But was Chance?
Andi managed the thirty-mile drive in record time. She rushed into the emergency room barking inquiries to anyone who would listen. Finally one nurse directed her to a curtained cubicle down a narrow corridor.
Stepping inside, Andi stopped short at the scene playing out before her. Among the all-too-familiar sterile scents and scenery, Sam was stretched out in the small hospital bed, Chance curled against his side with his face turned in profile as his head rested against his father’s solid chest.
Andi covered her mouth to stifle a sob when she caught sight of the IV tubing trailing from Chance’s slender arm. But she couldn’t hold back the emotions when she noted how natural they looked—one beautiful man with his large hand enfolding the equally beautiful child’s smaller one, an overt display of protection. The identical dark hair, the dark lashes fanned against their cheeks as they slept, presented a picture of peace that starkly contrasted with the colorless surroundings.
As Andi took another step forward, Sam’s eyes snapped opened and he attempted a smile. Quietly he slipped his arm from beneath Chance and slid out of the bed without disturbing their son. He gestured for Andi to step outside. Reluctantly she complied, torn between wanting to hold her precious child and needing to hear what Sam had to say.
“What happened?” she said, her voice hoarse with fear, clouded with emotions that she tried to keep at bay.
Sam rubbed a hand over his jaw. “On the ride home he became very pale. I offered him some juice, as you’d instructed, but he refused. Then he began to perspire and became agitated. We were nearing Lexington so I instructed Rashid to come here. I knew not what else to do.”
“You did the right thing, Sam.”
He glanced away but not before Andi glimpsed the worry in his near-black eyes. “I have never feared much in my lifetime, Andrea. But this terrified me.” He finally turned his gaze back to her. “I only now realize how much you have been through with this disease.”
“What Chance has been through,” Andi corrected. “It’s something you learn to deal with as a parent of an ill child. My love for him has seen me through.”
“I suppose I am only beginning
to understand that concept.”
Andi bit the inside of her cheek to stop another onslaught of tears over Sam’s obvious pain. She had to stay composed. “Has the doctor seen him?”
“Yes, a few minutes ago. He said that his levels seem to be stable, but he would like him to stay for a few hours to be certain.”
Andi drew in a slow breath of relief and released it on a shaky sigh. “That’s routine.”
“Then he has suffered this before?”
“Yes. Several times at first, but not in a while.”
“The doctor believes that Chance’s exhaustion perhaps brought on this attack.”
Andi silently cursed her stupidity. “I should never have let him go to camp.”
Sam took her by the arm and guided her against the wall opposite the cubicle. “Do not blame yourself, Andrea. Chance told me how much he enjoyed his time at the camp. You had no reason to believe this would happen.”
She shot a glance at the parted curtain to see that Chance still slept. “I should’ve known.”
Sam brushed a lock of hair away from her face, damp with the tears she had shed on the ride to Lexington. “The doctor also said you should consider putting Chance on a medicine pump to replace the shots.”
“I’ve wanted to do that,” Andi said. “But it’s very expensive. I’ve been trying to save enough money to cover what the insurance won’t pay.”
“I will take care of it,” Sam insisted. “You need not worry about funds.”
She was worried about many things at the moment. “Did you tell anyone you’re Chance’s father?”
“I told the physician, but Chance did not hear me, if that is your concern.”
Andi felt incredibly selfish to question him at such a time. “I wasn’t worried exactly. I’d just hate to think that Chance learned something so important while he’s sick.”
“I’ve told him nothing, even when he asked many questions on the ride back.”
Andi’s concern came calling again. “What questions?”
“He wanted to know if I knew his father. I told him that I did, but not very well. And that is the truth, Andrea.” He streaked a hand over his face. “I realize I don’t know myself at all.”