She meant far more than her medical services. She was offering all of herself, was telling him it was a conscious decision on her part, with no expectations in return.
Temptation rose to unendurable levels. But he had to fight it. For her. He shook his head, determined not to let this go any further. “I am more sorry than I can ever express, Janaan.”
“But, Malek.”
He struggled to shut out the desperation that seized her face, felt the last words he’d say to her gut him on their way out. “No, Janaan. This is final. Samheeni ya habibaty”
He surely wouldn’t forgive himself.
With a ragged goodbye, and one last look, one that would have to last him a lifetime, he turned and left the only woman he’d ever craved. The woman he loved.
Yes, loved. Ya Ruhmaan, how he loved her. He’d never thought he could love. Now he knew he could, to unimaginable heights, to fathomless depths, with all he had in him, knew he’d never love again. For his heart had woken up only to love her. And to love her forever.
Jay kept missing the keycard slot. She swore, feeling tears of agitation rushing to her eyes.
She felt like one big bruise. She shouldn’t wonder at that with all the ricocheting she’d done in the last couple of months. Not to mention since she’d met Malek. And that last blow before he’d walked out of her room that morning. And tomorrow she’d be veering off on another tangent, out of Damhoor. Never to return.
She pulled in a deep breath and tried to fit the card in her door again—and it receded out of reach!
Her eyes snapped up, a dozen unformed fears leaping in her mind, and there, in the semi-darkness, stood Malek.
Everything fell away. He was here. Here.
She couldn’t think why. Couldn’t think at all. Didn’t care. He was here. He’d given her another chance to see him. She raised her face up to him like a sunflower would to the sun. And he was dragging her inside, his hands burning her with his reality and agitation?
“Malek?” she choked, dread mushrooming. Something had happened. Something personal this time.
“Don’t even try to tell me you’re not manipulating me this time.” Her mouth dropped open at his harshness. “And don’t give me the ‘I don’t know what you’re taking about’ innocent routine. You know damned well what you did and why you did it.”
She stared up at him, mute, uncomprehending.
His rage only spiked. “And you’re not doing it. You are not going to Darfur, Janaan. I forbid you.”
It took a moment for his meaning to sink in as his eyes and breath blasted her.
Answering anger snapped her out of her enervated state, made her shake off his hands. “You may be lord of all you survey where GAO missions in your region are concerned, but you have no say outside it.” He smiled, ridiculing, arrogant, almost vicious. She cried out, “You can’t have that kind of reach!”
One eyebrow rose, all malicious challenge. “Can’t I?”
So he could. Now she knew.
“What about all this talk about not abusing your power?” she seethed.
“Oh, I’ll make an exception this time.”
This was a side to him she hadn’t suspected. The ruthless sheikh who thought nothing of forcing people to bow down to his whims. It made her as mad as hell.
“How dare you?” she snarled. “You already deprived me of this mission, but how dare you presume to interfere in my decisions when they in no way impact on you?”
“I beg to differ.” He seemed to expand, his voice taking on a frightening edge. And she wondered what he’d be like with all his refinement and restraint gone. He’d be a destructive force of devastating magnitude. “Missions in Darfur are dangerous. And you will not go where you’ll be in danger. I forbid it.”
Their gazes dueled for a long moment. Then she turned away, processing what he’d said, elation over his concern for her well-being seeping into her soul, warming it after the deep-freeze where seeing the last of him had plunged it.
It didn’t warm it enough to melt her anger. She turned on him again. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ve fended for myself all my life and I won’t let you dictate my actions. Darfur was always my second choice, and I always knew that joining GAO carried risks. I’m not less than the other volunteers who risk their lives daily. At least I have no one who needs me or will be hurt if something happens to me.”
Malek felt her words hacking at him like razors.
That she’d go where she’d be in danger, where he couldn’t reach her, tampered with his sanity. That she expected something would happen to her during her service, that she accepted that it wouldn’t matter—it was beyond endurance.
He roared, “You’re only doing this to force me to change my mind, forcing me to choose the lesser evil!”
A disbelieving, sarcastic sound crackled on her lips. “How could I have been sure you’d find out about my plans before I left tomorrow for them to have the desired effect? And why should I think endangering myself would sway you when I thought your reasons for refusing my assignment had nothing to do with me and everything to do with preserving your honor and your position?”
Would his head burst in outrage? “You think this self-preserving, unfeeling. rot motivated my decision?”
“I think myself too insignificant to have done so.”
And at that moment he was capable of fatal violence. Too bad the bastard who’d damaged her most was already dead.
He finally snarled, “You’re a fool, Janaan, to even think anything so unfounded of yourself. Is that what your father and those siblings made you believe? They’re insignificant. You can’t let their selfish cowardliness affect your self-worth.”
She gave an easy shrug. “I don’t think I’m insignificant to the world at large, just to someone of your status, someone who has to look at the bigger picture. Contrary to thinking you self-preserving or unfeeling, I’ve seen how selfless and compassionate you are …” She stopped, glared at him. “Or, at least, can be.” She walked to the door, opened it for him. “Now, if you’ll, please, leave so I can get ready for my early flight?”
He took the door from her, closed it with great restraint. “You’re going nowhere but under my protection. Whatever your reasons for signing up for Darfur, they worked.”
She gave him a withering look. “That’s presuming I still want to join your mission. Which I don’t. I’m not going where my presence is considered the lesser of two horrors, where I’m considered a liability. I accept the blame for this label as I indulged in an inappropriate level of intimacy with you, but I can’t do anything about it now but promise that you’ll never see me again.”