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Authors: Lynn Raye Harris
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should not be possible that she’d somehow found Rafiq.
And yet he suddenly feared, with a terrible, dreadful certainty that ate a hole in his gut and sent him running down the corridors to her room, that it was possible. As he skidded to a stop at her door, the man he’d stationed there fell off his chair and began to babble, his face pressed to the floor.
Adan could hear singing. She was singing, the sound so rich and pure it wrapped around him like a warm blanket on a cold desert night. He shoved open the door, his heart beating so fast as he prayed he was wrong, that he’d got the time mixed up, that his intuition was merely superstition—
She sat on one of the low couches, her eyes closed as she found the note and held it. Kalila perched on another sofa, across from Isabella.
And Rafiq stood with his hands on Isabella’s knees, his little face turned up to hers as she sang. Adan’s worldwent red. Rage curled and twisted inside him like a coiling snake.
The rage he understood, but there was another feeling underpinning it. Loss?
How could he feel loss? Rafiq was his, no matter what. This was one moment, one regrettable moment, and it would not be repeated. Rafiq would not remember it. Ever.
She let the note go and opened her eyes to smile down at Rafiq. He bounced in place, laughing in delight.
Isabella finished the song and held her arms out. Rafiq stretched his up until she bent and caught him. And then she was holding him close and Adan was dying inside.
“What is going on here?” he said smoothly, despite the churning emotion inside him.
All eyes turned to him. Kalila climbed to her feet and curtseyed. He hated that she did so, but she’d always been particular about observing the forms with him. As she would be with Rafiq, as well. A mother, but not a mother.
Isabella stood. Rafiq had his arms around her neck. When he saw Adan, he crowed, “Papa! Sing, Papa!”
“Does your papa sing?” Isabella asked.
Rafiq nodded his little head.
“Put him down,” Adan growled. He thought she would argue with him, but she simply bent to set Rafiq on the floor. He held on to her neck and refused to let go.
“No want down!”
His expression was militant and Adan knew he was fighting a losing battle. Somehow he found the abilityto move again. He walked over to Isabella and held his arms out.
“Come to Papa,” he said, and Rafiq stretched his arms wide. Relief flooded him. Isabella let the boy go easily enough, but he didn’t miss the way her fingers tightened oh so briefly before relinquishing his son.
He had to stand close to her to take Rafiq, and now his senses were overwhelmed with her scent. She’d showered and changed again since they’d arrived. Her hair was every bit as wild as it had been back in Hawaii, and it smelled like tropical flowers. He wanted to close his eyes and breathe her in.
Instead, he turned away. “Come, Kalila. It is time we took Rafiq for his
b-a-t-h
and bedtime.”
Isabella did not want them to go, and yet she knew there was nothing she could do to stop Adan from taking Rafiq away. She’d spent the past hour singing for her baby, delighting in his little smile and enthusiastic singing along with her. Nothing had cracked a memory open in her head, but she’d felt as though everything was right with the world in the short time she’d spent with her son.
She did not want it to end. She felt whole when he was near. It was not a feeling she was accustomed to.
She also felt lost, she had to admit, because she didn’t automatically know what to do or say to him. Just because he was hers didn’t mean she understood him. It saddened her that she didn’t know how to be a mother, but she desperately wanted to learn.
And Adan wanted to keep her from learning. He wanted to keep Rafiq away from her. When he’d spoken and she’d looked up to see him standing there, the hatredand rage on his face was worse than anything she’d seen yet. He did not believe she had value of
And yet he suddenly feared, with a terrible, dreadful certainty that ate a hole in his gut and sent him running down the corridors to her room, that it was possible. As he skidded to a stop at her door, the man he’d stationed there fell off his chair and began to babble, his face pressed to the floor.
Adan could hear singing. She was singing, the sound so rich and pure it wrapped around him like a warm blanket on a cold desert night. He shoved open the door, his heart beating so fast as he prayed he was wrong, that he’d got the time mixed up, that his intuition was merely superstition—
She sat on one of the low couches, her eyes closed as she found the note and held it. Kalila perched on another sofa, across from Isabella.
And Rafiq stood with his hands on Isabella’s knees, his little face turned up to hers as she sang. Adan’s worldwent red. Rage curled and twisted inside him like a coiling snake.
The rage he understood, but there was another feeling underpinning it. Loss?
How could he feel loss? Rafiq was his, no matter what. This was one moment, one regrettable moment, and it would not be repeated. Rafiq would not remember it. Ever.
She let the note go and opened her eyes to smile down at Rafiq. He bounced in place, laughing in delight.
Isabella finished the song and held her arms out. Rafiq stretched his up until she bent and caught him. And then she was holding him close and Adan was dying inside.
“What is going on here?” he said smoothly, despite the churning emotion inside him.
All eyes turned to him. Kalila climbed to her feet and curtseyed. He hated that she did so, but she’d always been particular about observing the forms with him. As she would be with Rafiq, as well. A mother, but not a mother.
Isabella stood. Rafiq had his arms around her neck. When he saw Adan, he crowed, “Papa! Sing, Papa!”
“Does your papa sing?” Isabella asked.
Rafiq nodded his little head.
“Put him down,” Adan growled. He thought she would argue with him, but she simply bent to set Rafiq on the floor. He held on to her neck and refused to let go.
“No want down!”
His expression was militant and Adan knew he was fighting a losing battle. Somehow he found the abilityto move again. He walked over to Isabella and held his arms out.
“Come to Papa,” he said, and Rafiq stretched his arms wide. Relief flooded him. Isabella let the boy go easily enough, but he didn’t miss the way her fingers tightened oh so briefly before relinquishing his son.
He had to stand close to her to take Rafiq, and now his senses were overwhelmed with her scent. She’d showered and changed again since they’d arrived. Her hair was every bit as wild as it had been back in Hawaii, and it smelled like tropical flowers. He wanted to close his eyes and breathe her in.
Instead, he turned away. “Come, Kalila. It is time we took Rafiq for his
b-a-t-h
and bedtime.”
Isabella did not want them to go, and yet she knew there was nothing she could do to stop Adan from taking Rafiq away. She’d spent the past hour singing for her baby, delighting in his little smile and enthusiastic singing along with her. Nothing had cracked a memory open in her head, but she’d felt as though everything was right with the world in the short time she’d spent with her son.
She did not want it to end. She felt whole when he was near. It was not a feeling she was accustomed to.
She also felt lost, she had to admit, because she didn’t automatically know what to do or say to him. Just because he was hers didn’t mean she understood him. It saddened her that she didn’t know how to be a mother, but she desperately wanted to learn.
And Adan wanted to keep her from learning. He wanted to keep Rafiq away from her. When he’d spoken and she’d looked up to see him standing there, the hatredand rage on his face was worse than anything she’d seen yet. He did not believe she had value of
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