‘No, Rico, I’m not. I should have told you. Trust me, I know. I wish I had, because then—’ She cut off that unfortunate thought before she could give it voice. She would not regret her baby. It had already cost her too much, innocent life that it was. ‘I just want to go to sleep,’ she said. And then, pointedly, she turned away from him on her side and closed her eyes.
Sleep, however, felt impossible. Her stomach seethed, as did her mind. What was she doing here? And what was going to happen? Her life was in chaos, and the only sure thing was the baby nestled in her womb. But even that little one’s life was being thrown up in the air like a set of dice... Rico was entirely in control, as he always was. Whether she was in a fortress or a tent, Halina acknowledged starkly, she was still imprisoned, her fate at the whim of another, and in this case a complete stranger.
Next to her she heard Rico moving around and then sliding into his sleeping bag. The rustle of fabric in the darkness felt intimate, and Halina inched a little bit away, not that there was much room.
Inconvenient memories were sliding through her mind in an all too vivid montage. The feel of Rico’s body on hers. In hers. The way she’d given herself to him, utterly and overwhelmingly. It had felt as if she hadn’t even had a choice, but of course she had. She’d just made the wrong one.
Then, even though it only hurt, Halina let herself think that treacherous what if? What if she hadn’t been so stupid as to sacrifice her entire future for a single night with Rico Falc
one? Where would she be now? Would Zayed al bin Nur have stayed married to her friend Olivia? Halina hoped so. She knew they were in love, and it would have been even worse to be married to a man who loved another than to be where she was now, pregnant and shackled to a man who regarded her with contempt and disdain.
So if Zayed stayed married to Olivia and she hadn’t been pregnant...right now she might be free, the future stretched out in front of her, shining and brimming with possibility.
Of course, realistically her father would have arranged another marriage to another suitable stranger, but Halina didn’t want to think about that now. She had enough to deal with, sleeping next to this unsuitable stranger.
‘Stop wriggling around,’ Rico said irritably, his voice sounding loud in the enclosed space.
‘I’m not wriggling,’ Halina returned indignantly. ‘I’m barely moving.’ She’d been staying completely still, as if Rico might forget she was there.
Rico just sighed as if she were simply too tedious to deal with. It was going to be a long night. It was going to be a long life. What had Rico meant, ‘their future’? She shuddered to think.
Eventually, simply because she was so utterly exhausted, Halina fell into a restless doze, only to wake suddenly, her body on high alert.
‘What...?’ she began, blinking in the darkness. Outside the wind was shrieking, and the sides of the tent sagged inwards from the weight of both the wind and the sand, and Halina felt as if she was being entombed. Perhaps she was.
A shudder of terror went through her and she whimpered out loud. The storm raged all around them, seemingly ready to consume their tent in its ravenous maw. Heaven help them both, was this going to be the end of them both?
‘It will pass.’ Rico’s voice was low and steady, a thrum of comfort.
‘How do you know?’ Halina asked in a high, faltering voice. ‘We could be buried alive.’ She started to tremble, her teeth chattering with pure, unadulterated fear.
Then, to her shock, she felt Rico’s hands on her shoulders and he pulled her against him, fitting her body next to his so she could feel the hard, warm press of his chest, his powerful thighs.
She stayed rigid with shock for a few seconds, then Rico began to rub comforting circles over her back with the palm of his hand, and Halina started to relax.
It felt so good to be held. It felt so safe. Until this moment she hadn’t realised how much she craved both the comfort and security of another person’s touch. She closed her eyes as she snuggled into him, telling herself this didn’t count. Extraordinary measures for extraordinary circumstances—that was all this was. In the morning she would be back to keeping her distance and composure—and regaining her strength.
* * *
Rico continued to rub Halina’s back as he felt her melt into him and he tried not to react. Even in her gaunt state she was pliant, warm and womanly. He desired her even now, with the storm raging all around them and their lives at stake.
‘Have you never been in a sandstorm before?’ he asked, trying to distract himself from his own demanding need.
‘No, I’ve only seen them from a distance. From the safety of a palace.’ She let out a choked laugh, her breathing fanning his neck. ‘I’ve led a very restricted life, Rico.’
A very privileged life. Her upbringing was a world away from his on the docks of Salerno, a mother who hadn’t wanted him at all and a father...
But why the hell was he thinking about his father now?
Seeing Halina, knowing she was carrying his child, had opened a need in him and, worse, a vulnerability that he struggled to contain. Control was paramount. He would provide for his child, he would love him or her, his own flesh and blood, he would make a stable family that his child could trust in absolutely. But he would not give in to this inconvenient and shaming need; he would never allow himself to be weak.
To make the point to himself, he inched a little bit away from Halina’s soft, tempting body. Outside the wind howled and the tent continued to be battered mercilessly.
‘Have you ever been in a sandstorm?’ Halina asked, moving closer to him again, one fine-boned hand resting on his chest. Resigned, Rico put his arms more securely around her, telling himself he was doing it for her sake, not his own.
‘No, I have not.’
‘Then you don’t know if it will pass.’