Page 12 of His Wicked Embrace
“My father stood in the way of a power-hungry man, someone he trusted. That man betrayed us to help another shah take our land. That is why I cannot go back.” It was all she could say. If she breathed Al-Zahrani’s name, made that threat in the gardens a reality, it could never be unsaid. It was better if Lawrence never knew of the danger. He might seek Al-Zahrani out, and that would get him killed because Lawrence was a man of honor and Al-Zahrani wasnot.
Lawrence stroked her hair with a soothing caress. “You’re safe with me. I swear to you.” Lawrence’s lips touched her forehead in a chaste kiss that seemed to string together parts of her broken heart. “Sleep. I’ll hold you as long as youwant.”
“You’re a wonderful man,” she murmured, settling deeper into his arms as they both shifted to lie back on thebed.
He chuckled, the sound making her feel warm andrelaxed.
“If you ever perchance meet my mother, you’ll have to tell her that. But I doubt she would believeyou.”
She smiled a little. “Meet your mother? Heavens, let’s pray that neverhappens.”
“Why not?” He asked, half teasing, halfserious.
Zehra nuzzled his chest. “Because she will undoubtedly wish to know how we met, and you will have to say, ‘Mother, she is my slave, I bought her at the most dreadful brothel for seven thousand pounds.’ I fear she would drop dead on the spot from such news.” She chuckled a little despiteherself.
“Yes, well, I suspect learning I’d spent seven thousand pounds on anything might dothat.”
“And not the part about owning a slave?” sheteased.
Lawrence growled a little. “You are not my slave, Zehra. You’re free to come and go as you please. I only ask that you be safe. I can set you up in your own house, supply you with clothes, food, whatever you wish until we figure out what to do next.” He cleared his throat. “I ask for nothing inreturn.”
She found the slit in his shirt and rubbed her fingertips along his bare chest, enjoying how warm his skin was. She knew she was tempting him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He was strong, warm, and utterly masculine. He made her feel feminine and safe in a way she hadn’t in manyweeks.
“You’re killing me,” hewhispered.
“Am I?” she asked,smiling.
“Touch me anywhere else and I might not be able to stop from touching you back,” he warned, but there was a tenderness in the threat that made her burn with new hungers, ones she’d never felt for a man before. “Think of my poorhonor.”
She continued to brush her fingers over his chest and buried her face in his shoulder. The feel of his arms around her and being tucked against his side was hypnotic. It was lulling her into sleep very, veryslowly.
“Feeling better?” heasked.
Shenodded.
“Good. Just remember, no nightmares can grow where sunlightblossoms.”
“What?” she asked, waking a little. It sounded like something her father might havesaid.
“It was something my father always said to me as a boy.” Lawrence chuckled. “He taught me to picture everything that frightened me as dark shadows and then to imagine that I carried a beam of sunlight in my hands, and I could shine that beam across the shadows, burning them away with thelight.”
Zehra took a moment to imagine her past horrors, which were already cloaked in shadows, and then cast sunlight upon them in her mind. She couldn’t be sure if it worked, but she didn’t feel quite as helpless as she had before. The darkness had given these visions power, and imagining the light had given her strength. She only hoped it wasenough.
“You are a wonderfulman.”
Her rescuer brushed his knuckles across her cheek and let out a slow, deep breath, but he didn’t speak. She smiled a little but couldn’t ignore the lethargy creeping along her limbs as she fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep where she hoped nightmares could notfollow.
Chapter Four
Lawrence woke to the chiming of the grandfather clock in the corridor outside hisbedroom.
Half past seven.It was still early, and they had gone to bed in the wee hours of themorning.
He shifted, feeling the welcome weight of Zehra in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, and their legs were entwined. Her chemise had ridden up, and he had one hand on her left thigh. She had one hand in his hair, as though she’d fallen asleep stroking her fingers through the strands. A smile twisted his lips. She liked his hair—just as he likedhers.
He wondered if she was genuinely at ease with him, or if it was something she’d done unconsciously during her sleep. Either way, he liked that she was touching him. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to feel she could be around him, even touch him withoutfear.
I want to be a man she cantrust.
