She blinked in confusion and gestured toward the nomad tents. “Is that their tradition?”
“No, it’s mine. I don’t want any other man looking at you.”
She gave a small, surprised laugh as he reached behind the seat and removed some bottles of water from the cooler, then took her hand to return to the tent and
~*~
They re-entered the tent to find Jenny sitting up on the pallet, still looking pale and shaken. Ferran was seated on a small folding stool, his forearms resting on his knees, his hands dangling loosely before him. His dark eyes were looking at her as if viewing a mirage.
Becca thought he looked as though he would like to touch her again to make sure she was real.
Jenny was viewing him with exactly the same expression, but there was a shocked reserve about her that made him keep his distance.
Becca now realized it was his name that Jenny had called out when she was delirious with the pain of her miscarriage, not Aaron’s. It was only Becca’s own obsession with Aaron, and her silly, youthful notions, that had made her think that. Now she had to make everything right. If it meant her sister hated her, she would have to live with that. It couldn’t be any harder than living with the lie she had told so long ago.
Becca opened a bottle of water and handed it to her sister, who took it and sipped gratefully. Knowing she had to get this over with, she sank down on the pallet and took her hand.
Fighting back tears, Becca said, “Jenny, I did something terrible and I have to tell you about it.” She glanced up at Aaron, who gave her an encouraging nod.
Making no excuses for her actions, Becca launched into an explanation. Before she’d stumbled very far into it, though, Ferran straightened as if he’d received a shock.
“Jennifer, you were pregnant?”
She nodded, her eyes full of the memory.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I barely knew myself before I miscarried.”
“She would have died if I hadn’t come home when I did,” Becca said. She gave Jenny an apologetic look. “I was traumatized, but I still shouldn’t have told Aaron you had died in an accident.”
Ferran stood suddenly, and said, “Could I speak to Jennifer privately, please?”
He looked so determined that Becca scrambled to her feet. Aaron took her hand and they walked outside. She looked around. The horses had been taken away. She could see them being unsaddled and then headed to the stream for a drink of water.
“They need to talk,” Aaron said. “Working through this will be . . . difficult.”
The shocks of the past few minutes had rocked her. There was so much to think about, but from the whirl of thoughts going on in her mind, she focused on one thing.
“What is Ferran doing here? Didn’t you tell me he’s the head of the Côte de Diamantian Air Force?”
“Yes. These nomads are his people, though, at least on his mother’s side. His father is a wealthy and powerful man in our country.” He glanced at the tent they had just left, took Becca’s arm, and turned away. “When we were in Arizona, shortly before we had to return home, he found out his father had arranged a marriage for him.”
“Are you joking? That’s medieval!”
“It’s traditional.” Aaron said it in a flat tone, as if it was something to be accepted, never questioned. “He barely knew the girl, but he would have done his duty.”
Anger flared. She planted her hands on her hips and stuck out her chin. “But instead he did my eighteen-year-old sister.”
“I doubt that the marriage had been arranged then, and besides, he wouldn’t have touched her if he hadn’t been in love with her, if she hadn’t loved him back.”
“Or if she hadn’t been home alone, without family to protect her.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and walked away several paces, furiously thinking over what he had said. Whirling around, she pointed a finger at him. “You said you didn’t know who Jenny’s lover was. How do you know Ferran loved her?”
“Because he’s a man of honor.”
She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Oh yes, that was so obvious.”
Aaron ignored that. “And . . . his parents were never married. His father didn’t even acknowledge Ferran until he was thirteen and his mother died. Then he brought Ferran to Côte de Diamant City to be educated. He never would have betrayed a woman the way his mother had been betrayed.”
She paced back and forth, her mind racing. It all made sense, she supposed. Ferran had made a mistake and so had Jenny and it had had long-term, disastrous consequences. That didn’t absolve Becca of her part in it, but she had admitted what she had done and she would ask her sister for forgiveness, and Ferran, as well.
“Rebecca.” Aaron came to stand before her. “Why are you so mad at Ferran now?”
“Because I just found out now,” she answered in a snippy tone, thinking that should be pretty obvious.
“You didn’t seem that angry with me when you thought I was the baby’s father.”
Her gaze bounced up to his. “I . . . I don’t know. Maybe because I’d had ten years to get used to the idea?” She ended on a question because she really wasn’t sure of the answer.
He looked into her eyes for a long moment, and then said, “Think about it. We’ll talk more later.” He turned away. “I’m going to ask the chief if there’s a tent we can use tonight.”
The tone in his voice sent alarms clanging in her head. “I’m sure I can stay with Jenny.”
His face inscrutable, his eyes steady, he looked back at her. “No, Rebecca. Tonight you’ll be with me.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I told you that when things were settled between you and your sister, we would settle things between us.”
Becca clapped a hand to her chest. “And I don’t have any say in this?”
“You’ve already had your say. Every time you kiss me, you say yes. You’ll be with me tonight,” he repeated.
He turned and strode away, his boot heels digging into the sandy ground, his purposeful tred causing his robe to swing with each step.
Be with him? she thought. Shivers ran through her even as heat popped out on her brow. She knew what that meant, but was she ready? She had been in a state of semi-arousal for three days, ever since he had placed her on his desk and kissed her senseless. Her nipples peaked at the memory of his mouth on them and for the first time that day, she was grateful for the all-concealing robe. He was right. How she felt about him couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d had the words ‘Take me!’ tattooed on her forehead.
She pressed her suddenly-sweaty palms together. Be with him? She could. She would. She only wished she knew how it would all turn out.
Chapter 7
Even though the night’s promise shimmered in her mind, Becca knew she had to concentrate on Jenny, on getting matters straightened out between them. When she saw Ferran leave the tent, she went inside to see her sister standing with her head bowed and her hands over her face.
Becca rushed to her and took her in her arms. Jenny tried to pull away, but Becca wouldn’t let her go. There had already been too much of that in their family. Refusing to talk, scorning comfort, were two things that weren’t going to be allowed anymore.
“Jenny, talk to me,” she pleaded. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I don’t know if you can ever forgive me for what I did, but I hope you can.”
Jenny lifted her face to reveal the tracks of the tears she was shedding. She swiped them away. “I don’t know what to think. I know what you did was something you did out of love for me.” Her words seemed to dry up. She shook her head and more tears flowed. “I’ve been so ashamed all these years because I disappointed mom and dad and . . . and I put you in the position of having to take care of me. You must have been terrified.”
“I was. I was afraid you were going to die.”
“That . . . that day, Ferran had come by the house. I had been so tied up and involved in my affair with him
, and in trying to keep it a secret, I couldn’t think about anything else. I hadn’t realized until that day that I had missed my period and I was a month overdue. I suspected I was pregnant, but I was sure he loved me so much he would take care of me. I guess I had some fantasy idea of us getting married. I hadn’t even thought past that. He came by the house to tell me his father had arranged a marriage for him. I couldn’t believe it. I was stunned. I yelled at him and told him to leave. He left, but he said he’d be back later. Right after that, I started bleeding, gushing blood.”
“I remember the blood,” Becca said, smoothing her sister’s hair away from her face and kissing her cheek.
“That night must have been when he and the other pilots were called back to Côte de Diamant. I never heard from him again.”
“Because I’d told Aaron you were dead and he passed that on to Ferran.”
Jenny looked at her. “You idiot,” she said, and gave a wobbly laugh. She turned into Becca’s arms then and put her arms around her waist. They stood holding each other, rocking back and forth, letting their grief and sorrow swell to the level it needed to find before receding and leaving them in peace.
“Ferran just told me he never married,” Jenny said. “The girl refused to marry a man she didn’t know and Ferran agreed with her. They weren’t as traditional as their fathers hoped they were.”
Fresh guilt pricked at Becca. “He would have come back. He would have married you.”
“I don’t know if that would have been the right thing. We were both young and pretty stupid.”
“We’ll never know.”
Jenny shrugged and sniffled. After several minutes, she stepped away, wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe, and said, “Now, tell me about Dad.”
After Becca had told her everything, she said, “Aaron has a satellite phone in his Range Rover. I’m sure he’ll let us use it to call home. I know Mom and Dad are waiting by the phone.”
She found Aaron who quickly took Jenny to use his phone and then began removing things from the Range Rover that they would need for the night. He pulled out the sleeping bags and handed them to her. He looked into her eyes, and in a tone that brooked no argument, he said, “Zip these together, will you?”
Her heart bounced into her throat at this request. His gaze was steady, matter-of-fact, but burning with heat. “Of . . . of course.”
“We’ll be in that tent over there.” He pointed to one that stood at least a hundred yards from the others. It was also surrounded by impenetrable thorn bushes. She pitied anyone who stumbled into those.
“Is that the prison tent?”
Aaron gave her a sly grin. “Some people might call it that.”
Becca didn’t ask him to explain because she didn’t want to prolong a conversation with him. She was too busy being nervous. She squeezed the sleeping bags against her breasts. Her nipples were once again popping out as if the very thought of him made them beg for that talented mouth of his.
Oh mercy, she thought.
“The elders have invited us to eat with them since I’m Ferran’s friend. They’re going to have entertainment, as well.”
She would have asked, but her mouth had gone dry once again. Another part of her was drenched, though, and she was glad she’d brought extra panties.
“Oh, okay. That will be nice.”
He raised a brow at her nearly-catatonic answer and began pulling more items from the vehicle. He handed her their pillows and grabbed their bags. With a lift of his chin, he indicated for her to precede him.
Becca sincerely and heartily wished she could carry off this stroll into seduction with sophistication and grace. Instead, she walked by her sister and gave her the pleading look of a drowning woman begging for a life preserver. Jenny paused in her conversation to stare at her, but Aaron was coming up quickly behind Becca so she had to move on.
The tent was exactly like the one Ferran had carried Jenny into earlier. Besides a low table, there were two small, folding camp stools and a thick pallet on the swept-dirt floor.
That pallet, unglamorous though it might be – and she fervently hoped it wasn’t bug-infested – was definitely big enough for two people.
Acting as though she was as nonchalant about the coming night as he was, Becca shook out the two sleeping bags, put them together, grabbed the pull tab – and promptly ran the zipper into her finger.
“Ouch!” She jerked her hand out to examine it. To her relief, she saw that the skin wasn’t broken. As an automatic reflex, she started to pop it into her mouth, but Aaron was there before her, clasping her wrist, lifting her hand. His eyes met hers as he lifted her injured finger to his mouth. For a breathless instant, she thought he was going to put it in his mouth, but instead, he kissed it, then turned it, palm up, and kissed that, too.
Her heart thudded in a slow, drowsy rhythm as he kissed each finger. His eyes never left hers.
“Don’t be so nervous, Becca. You can’t tell me this isn’t what you want.”
She gulped. “No, I can’t.”
“So relax.” He continued kissing her fingers, driving her crazy. “Do you remember the day before yesterday when we were at the temple? What you saw?”
She gulped. “It’s permanently burned into my retinas,” she responded. “And in my mind. Brainwashing wouldn’t even remove it.”
“Good because I want you to remember. We’re going to try some of those positions.” His eyes came up to meet hers.
The shivers within her turned into quakes of craving. Her mouth went dry, her sex grew wet. “I’m . . . I’m not sure I’m that flexible.”
“We’ll find out.” At last, he slipped her finger into his mouth, laving her injury with his tongue.
Her knees nearly buckled. His arm came around her waist to hold her up.
“You . . . you should be careful,” she said around the river of desire that was filling her throat. “You don’t know where that hand has been,” she said, and then winced at the inane remark.
“I know where it’s going to be.” He turned his so the back of her unresisting hand was in his palm and lowered it to rest on the fly of his pants. Even covered by his slacks and the long robe, his erection – his desire for her – was obvious.
A flurry of doubts batted at her like bird wings. It had been so long, and it had never been very good. She was afraid of disappointing Aaron and there was no way she could tell him that.
Her gaze came up to his and she realized from the look in his eyes, intense but somehow compassionate, that he knew. He didn’t have to say anything. He dropped her hand and moved away, then looked back over his shoulder and gave her a wink.
“Becca,” Jenny called from outside.
Dazed, she looked around as if trying to recall where she was. Oh, yes. She pulled in a ragged breath, tossed the tent flap aside, and stepped out. “Here I am. How’s Dad?”
“He’s better. Can’t wait for us both to get home,” Jenny said and then paused to give her an odd look. She glanced past her to where Aaron had taken over the task of zipping two sleeping bags into one, and looked at her quizzically.
“Don’t ask,” Becca advised, taking her arm. “Why don’t you introduce me to your colleagues? I understand one of them is sick.”
Jenny hesitated as if she wasn’t quite ready to let it go, but seemed to recall that they’d both been under tremendous strain that day. “Um, yes. Sophie Braxton, a student from Arizona State has malaria. She got dizzy yesterday and fell into one of the trenches, so she’s also got a sprained ankle. We’ve all been taking turns caring for her.”
“Why didn’t you stay at the dig? It looked like you left in a hurry.”
“We did. One of our helpers, Jibril, is from this tribe. Men on horseback showed up yesterday and told Jibril we needed to come with them. Whatever he said must have been pretty persuasive to our director, Preston Bell, because here we are. I think the plan is for all of us to go back to Côte de Diamant City tomorrow.”
“I thi
nk there’s some kind of trouble brewing.” She told Jenny about the border guard’s comment regarding ‘security issues’.
“It’s best for us to get out of here, then. Besides, we need to get Sophie to a doctor and I understand there are good ones in the city.”
Becca nodded, but didn’t answer. If there was trouble brewing, she had the feeling Aaron would be involved. As he said, his was a small country and everyone had to do their part.
In the tent Jenny was sharing with Sophie Braxton, Becca met Preston and Susan Bell, a middle-aged couple who looked as though they’d spent decades in the sun patiently brushing sand from fragments of artifacts and would happily spend many more that way.
For the rest of the afternoon, she talked to Jenny and her colleagues. She was thrilled to learn so much about her sister’s work after ten dry years of being distant from her, but percolating in the back of her mind was what was coming that night.
Sex. Lovemaking with Aaron al-Rashid, the crush of her young life, the one she had never forgotten. The one who had already demonstrated that he could make her feel things she had never felt before.
The entire group of visitors was invited to join them for dinner and entertainment, but Jenny chose to stay behind with Sophie who slept fitfully with the help of malaria medicine and painkillers. Becca knew she probably wanted to be alone for a while, to absorb all that had happened that day.
The tribe was gathered in an open area beyond the tents. Smiling and bowing, they invited their guests to sit. Dinner was a spicy meat, vegetable, and rice dish, served from huge pots and piled high onto plastic plates. Becca smiled at the juxtaposition of the new and the traditional. She took a plate and the metal cup of hot mint tea that was offered and looked around for a place to sit.
Aaron came up beside her and directed her to an open space at the edge of a large circle of people. A small fire burned in the center, sending sparks into the night. She sat down and crossed her legs under the long robe, glad to see that it formed an impromptu table. Realizing she didn’t have any silverware, she started to get up to find some, but Aaron put a hand on her arm.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 68