by Trish Morey
She pushed away from his chest to look up at him. ‘No! Listen, Bahir, why do you think it suited me to take Hana? Do you think I did it purely out of the goodness of my heart? Of course, I would have done anything for Sarah, but it suited me too. For no man would be tempted to get involved with me, the mother of two illegitimate children, for fear that they might end up lumbered with us all. Don’t you see? They protected me. I used them to hide behind, just as I used Sarah’s house as my own sanctuary. It kept me safely tucked away, where nobody could find me. Where nobody could get close.
‘The same with you,’ she admitted. ‘Because I let you think there was another man or other men. I let you believe what you wanted about who owned the house—out of spite at first, it’s true, because you seemed too ready to believe the worst of me. And then it was easier to let you keep believing it. I’m so sorry. But I used Hana as a defence against you. I used her as a reason to hate you. I didn’t tell you she wasn’t mine only because I’d promised Sarah, but because it suited me to let you think I’d been with someone else, if only as some kind of defence against what I really felt for you. If only like some kind of protection.’
‘You shouldn’t need protection,’ he said, pulling her close, stroking her hair. ‘You should have someone to protect you. You should not be alone. You deserve to be loved.’
She breathed in, relishing his warm, masculine scent. ‘You’re so right, Bahir. I deserve to be loved. Which is why I have to ask you …’
His heart skipped a beat under her ear. ‘Ask me what?’
She smiled up at him. ‘I’m asking if you will do me the honour of becoming my husband?’
He pushed her away at arm’s length. ‘You would still marry me? After all that I have said and done?’
‘Only if you really wanted to. Only if you would take us all—me, Chakir and Hana—and promise to love us for ever. Promise to make us one family.’
He breathed in, raising his face to the ceiling, before he looked back at her, incredulous. ‘Whatever did I do in this world to deserve you? When did luck ever deal a better hand? Because yes, Marina, I will marry you. I will be your husband and I promise that you will never be sorry.’
‘I know,’ she said, a rush of happiness sweeping through her as she raised her lips for his kiss. ‘I’m betting on it.’
EPILOGUE
THEY were married twice. Once in Jaqbar in the desert in the traditional way—a ‘simple’ three-day ceremony filled with much feasting, music and celebration—and once again in Jemeya, this time a fusion of East and West, and held in the palace of her father, the King, and her childhood home.
Chakir solemnly bore the rings on a golden cushion, his dark eyes concentrating on the pillow and so serious as he walked towards the altar that he looked like a mini-Bahir.
Hana followed, their tiny flower girl, looking beautiful in a frothy white dress with a circlet of flowers on her black hair, one gloved hand wrapped around her tiny posy, the other tucked into the hand of her beautiful aunt Aisha who whispered words of encouragement as the wide-eyed child took faltering steps down the aisle.
Marina watched her tiny toddler gait with a bittersweet smile on her face, wishing Sarah could be here to see how much she’d grown, and how beautiful she looked with her hair done up and with the coiled ringlets framing her face.
As her father told her it was time and they set off down the aisle behind them, and she looked beyond her sister and her daughter, she saw Bahir at the front alongside his three friends, Zoltan, Rashid and Kadar, his dark eyes on Hana, his eyes smiling as she approached. He looked up then, and across the distance their eyes snagged and held and she felt the familiar sizzle all the way down to her toes.
Her father patted her hand as he walked her down the aisle. ‘He’s a fine man you’re marrying.’
She only half-turned towards him, nodding to the guests as they passed. ‘I know, Papa.’
‘And I just wanted to tell you,’ he continued, his voice low and gruff, ‘that I’m proud of you, Marina. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I just want you to know that.’
This time when she looked across at him she was surprised to see he had tears in his eyes. ‘Oh, Papa!’ Even as they continued up the aisle, she reached up and pressed her lips to his cheek. ‘I love you too.’
Her father beamed with pride and squeezed her hand tighter. ‘Two daughters married,’ he said as he passed her hand to Bahir’s. ‘To two fine men. Can it get any better?’
Marina looked up at Bahir as her father passed her hand to his, saw the man she intended spending the rest of her life with form the word ‘beautiful’ with his lips, and thought with a secret smile, maybe it could, but that would wait just a little while longer.
First of all, she had a man to marry.
Her heart sang as they took their vows. Chakir proffered up the cushion bearing their rings and Bahir slipped the twisted band of tricolour gold onto her finger—white-gold for the endless desert plains, yellow-gold for the sun and rose-gold for sunrise and the promise of a new day.
He slipped the ring onto her finger before lifting it to his mouth and kissing it. ‘I love you,’ he whispered, a totally unexpected gesture that made her wish they were a million miles away and somewhere private instead of standing in front of a crowded room where every eye was upon them.
Then the ceremony was over and he surprised her again, scooping Hana into his arms before he slipped his arm through hers to walk down the aisle behind Chakir as the guests broke into spontaneous applause. Aboard Bahir’s shoulder, Hana clapped her hands and giggled, delighted. She looked up at him, wondering. ‘But what …?’
‘Chakir and I had it all organised, didn’t we, Chakir?’ And their son looked over his shoulder and grinned up at her, nodding. ‘We’re a fambily now.’
‘That’s right,’ said Bahir with a smile at Chakir’s mispronuncination. ‘We’re a family. We should do this together.’
Their formal reception soon became a celebration, and at one stage it seemed everyone was on the dance floor, Bahir with Marina, Zoltan with Aisha and even Chakir dancing with Hana, the two of them spinning until they collapsed in fits of giggles on the dance floor.
Rashid and Kadar watched on from the side, Zoltan and Bahir joining them during a break.
‘It looks like Zoltan’s set a trend,’ Bahir said, sporting the gold band on his finger. ‘That’s two out of four of us married so far. Who’s next?’
Kadar and Rashid took a long look at each other. ‘Don’t look at me,’ they both said together, and Bahir and Zoltan both laughed.
‘Don’t be so sure of that. You just never know.’
‘What’s the big joke?’ asked Marina as the two women joined the men. Bahir moved to her side, unable to resist slipping his arm proprietorially around his new wife’s slender waist in case anyone else thought of asking for the next dance before he could.
‘Zoltan and I are laying odds on which one of these two jokers is next for the marriage stakes.’
‘Not a chance,’ said Rashid, holding up his hands. ‘Once a playboy, always a playboy.’
‘Besides,’ Kadar joined in. ‘All the good women are taken.’
‘You better believe it,’ Bahir said, whisking his bride off for another spin around the dance floor, closely followed by Aisha and Zoltan.
‘Did I tell you,’ Bahir started as he pulled her close in his embrace, ‘just how beautiful you look today?’
Marina smiled. ‘Oh, maybe a dozen times, no more than that.’
‘I knew I hadn’t said it anywhere near enough. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, today more than ever.’
‘Because you make me the happiest woman alive, Bahir.’
They kissed in the midst of the dance floor while Zoltan and Aisha spun by with eyes only for each other, the love they felt for each other clearly on display. Bahir smiled when he looked at them. ‘To think Chakir and Hana will soon have a new playmate when Zoltan and Aish
a’s baby arrives. They will like that.’
She smiled up at him. ‘Maybe two.’
‘They’re having twins? Zoltan didn’t say.’
‘No. Not twins. But there’s another baby coming. Another playmate for Chakir and Hana.’
He stopped dancing, his heart skipping a beat, holding her at arm’s length to look at her. ‘You mean you …? We …? You mean …?’
She laughed. ‘I mean we are having a baby, Bahir.’
‘But when? How?’
Her smile was softer this time as she stepped back into his warm embrace. ‘In the desert where we lay together that day. We have been sent a blessing from your family and from your tribe. We have been sent a blessing in the form of a child.’
He pulled her to him then, wrapping her in his arms, pressing his lips to her head as a joy so profound filled him until it spilled over and coloured the world in rich harmonious light. And when he could breathe again, when he could think, he lifted her chin with his hand and saw the moisture in her eyes, moisture that mirrored his own.
‘You have made me the happiest man alive, Marina. You have given back something to me I thought was lost for ever. You have given me back my family. I love you so much.’
‘As I love you, Bahir. As I will always love you.’
There were no words he could find to answer her, there were no words that could prove what he said to be true. So he told her with his kiss as they spun together on the dance floor, just as he would prove it every day of their life together.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Trish Morey 2012
ISBN: 978-1-408-97429-2