Page 12 of Hair, She Bears
“I’m not either.” He shifted, taking a third glance at the building in the center of the compound. “Wrap your hair around one of the armoire legs twice, then throw the rest out the window. Hurry, before someone discovers me out here, and we both receive punishment.”
Zenna nodded and scampered from the window. Lifting the pile of coiled hair from the base of the staircase, she wrapped it around the armoire leg as instructed, then flung the rest out of the window.
“Good.” He dug his fingers into the side of the tower and pulled himself up, scaling the side. “Next, grab onto your hair with both hands and brace your feet against the armoire.”
She did as he directed and wound her hair around her arm for extra leverage.
“Okay.”
“This is going to hurt.” His voice floated over the windowsill.
“You’re not selling me on this idea,” she replied, tightening her grip.
She screamed out as Malik grabbed onto her hair. Each time he moved, his weight jerked her hair, the pain increasing with each pull. She sank her teeth into her lower lip to stifle her cries. Just his fingers appeared on the windowsill, she collapsed on the floor, agony coursing through her scalp.
He tumbled through the opening, twisted around mid-fall, and yanked her hair through the window in one smooth movement, pulling it from view. He dropped beside her, heaving.
“That seemed much easier in my mind,” he said to the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in time with hers.
“How long did you consider it?”
“For most of the meeting.” Rolling to his side, he reached out and laced his hand through hers.
“What did you do during the other portion?” she asked, distracted by the soft tickle of his thumb on her palm.
“Think about what I would do once I got up here.” His eyes glowed.
“I believe you planned to give me a message.” She pulled her hand from his and sat up. He sat up as well, adjusted a thin rope that crossed his chest, and leaned against the back of the sofa.
“Mother said he will be late picking up the batch. Something urgent has arisen.” Malik waved his hand in a vague motion. “You have earned a reprieve.”
“You could have told me that from the ground.” Zenna frowned. Winding her hair around her arm, she mentally counted the loops. On the final wrap, she glanced up. “What of your engagement?”
“I am not engaged, and I have never been. My father wishes to attach me to one of the daughters of a rival boss to ease tensions between the two sides.” Malik shifted and tugged at the strap again. “I have no intention of marrying Tessa or any other woman for the sake of his business.”
“No one refuses your father.” She shoved the bundle of hair underneath the armoire, unwrapping it from the leg.
“I did.” He pulled the rope over his head and held out a small sack. “I brought you something.”
“What is it?” Her gaze dropped to the bag.
“Take it.”
She scuttled forward and snatched the sack from his outstretched hand. His other hand closed around her wrist and dragged her across the stone floor toward him.
“Let me go!” She swung the sack at his face, but he caught her other arm with his free hand and anchored them both behind her back.
“It’s rude to hit someone who brings you a gift.” His chastisement held a trace of humor. “Before you proceed with your misplaced vengeance, perhaps you should look in the bag.”
“I can’t, my arms are incapacitated.” She glowered at him.
He snickered and released her. She sat back on her feet, smoothed the apron out over her legs, and placed the sack in her lap. After prying apart the strings, she stuck her hand in the bag.
“Grapes?” She pulled out a bunch of the deep purple fruit.
“Leftover from lunch.” His mouth crooked into a sheepish grin. “There’s cheese in there, too. I thought you might enjoy something other than bread and water.”
Pulling off a grape, she placed it on her tongue and pressed the fruit against the roof of her mouth until it exploded, and juice rolled down her chin. She giggled and wiped her hand across her lips.
