Craving Beauty

  Her husband brushed his lips across hers. "Thank you for telling me about Romaz." He paused. "I'm sorry you missed out on the big wedding girls dream of."

  She was surprised at the genuine regret in his tone. "Do not be, husband. I never dreamed of a big wedding. I always hoped it would be a quiet affair, though I accepted that my father's business instincts meant it would most likely be huge. So you see, you gave me the wedding I wished for." She stroked his thick, dark hair off his forehead, unwilling to hurt him in any way if she could help it. Her man had known far too much hurt already.

  To her confusion, he moved away from her. Reaching behind him to the small bedside table, he picked up something and returned. "Hold out your left hand."

  Curious, she did as asked. Using one hand, he slipped her wedding ring off. She bit her lip and forbore to ask him what he was doing. Her patience was rewarded as the ring was slipped back on, with another below it.

  Raising it to the moonlight, she saw a trio of jewels winking back at her. In the dim light, she guessed that the two flanking stones were small square-cut diamonds. Another stone sat in the centre.

  "What is this for?" Her heart felt as if it would burst.

  He stroked the delicate skin of her inner wrist. "It's the engagement ring you never received--a little romance to make up for the hurry with which I 'acquired' you."

  The teasing reminder of her own words made her want to smile, but then she wondered if he'd had his secretary pick it and she shouldn't be feeling so cherished. "What's the stone in the middle?"

  "A tigereye prism." Linking their fingers, he brought her knuckles to his lips in a kiss that was as possessive as it was tender. "Don't you want to know what the other two are?"

  "They appear to be diamonds." She began to feel hope in her deepest heart. A tigereye prism wasn't something to be bought off the street. Found only in her homeland, it was almost as prized as its more famous sibling, Zulheil Rose. However, because its structure made it so very difficult to work with, it wasn't exported. Most jewelers found the investment of their time in creating pieces from the recalcitrant gem uneconomical.

  "They're Zulheil Rose in the palest hue, with the tiniest hint of fire within. I thought they'd pick up the color of the tigereye, the color of your eyes."

  Her thudding heart felt as if it were smashing against her ribs. "You chose this for me?"

  "Yes. I contacted a jeweler in Zulheil and described what I wanted. And I put a rush on it." He ducked his head and kissed her again. "Do you like it?"

  "Oh, yes, husband. Thank you!" Captivated by his attempt at romance, she threw her arms around him in an exuberant hug. "You're wonderful. I'm so happy." Joy bubbled up deep inside her. It wasn't the jewels that made her so delighted, it was the fact that Marc's act had clearly been motivated by the desire to make her happy. Coming from a man like him, such an action meant far more than words.

  "Well then, what I'm going to tell you next will make you delirious."

  "What?"

  "I have to return to Zulheil in the next couple of days, for approximately two weeks, to tie up some loose ends and engage in some negotiations with your sheik. Do you think you can play hooky that long?"

  Her eyes widened. "Yes!" Then to Marc's surprise, she frowned. "We will stay with my family?"

  He gave her a smile he knew was smug. "I've bought us a house, cher."

  "Husband, you are most definitely in need of a reward." Her smile was sultry in the dark.

  He wanted far more than just sex from his wife, but he'd take what he could get. Yet it hurt that she still saw him as such a shallow man, to be "rewarded" with her body, not allowing him to share in that indefinable something that made her such a unique individual. "Yeah?"

  "I will sing for you." She pushed at his chest.

  He blinked. "Sing?" He hadn't known she could sing. "Why haven't I heard you before?"

  "Because I didn't like you as much as I do now." Her answer was as honest as always, and for that reason it touched him in a place even the scars couldn't reach.

  "So how much do you like me now?"

  She leaned up and kissed his nose in a playful way that startled him. "A whole lot. And not because of the ring but because of the reason behind it."

  "I did good, huh?" He tried to make light of the heavy weight of emotion clogging his throat.

  Pushing him off her, she sat up. Then without warning, she sang to him. An exotic, alien song in the language of her homeland; a beautiful language that seemed to sway like the trees and roll like the sea. He had no idea of the meaning of her words, but he knew that whatever it was, it was powerful and utterly beautiful. Her voice was crystal clear, with just a hint of sultriness.

  Sexy innocence.

  Just like his wife.

  He lay there in the moonlight and let the purity of her voice wash over him. His chest filled with the power of her gift. For the first time in their married life, he felt as though she'd truly accepted him as her man.

  "Husband, are you asleep?" She sounded offended.

  In answer, he hauled her down to his body and captured her lips in a kiss that was far more than a mere fusion of mouths. Unable to say what he felt, he tried to show her how important she was to him, how very, very important. The kiss accelerated, and the next time he came up for air he found her lying below him, her body holding him deep within her. The naked emotion in her eyes almost tore him to pieces.

  And he knew.

  They'd gone beyond sex, beyond lust, beyond desire, into a realm he'd never before explored. In this place there was joy beyond compare and stunning pleasure that touched the heart before the body.

  He couldn't fight the tumbling of his internal walls, couldn't fight that strange, wild, unknown emotion that clawed its way into his heart and refused to leave. Barely able to breathe, he stroked her cheek once.

  Then, as moonlight washed over her beautiful face, he moved inside her. Her hands closed over his shoulders and her exotic eyes went blind with passion so intense it refused to allow him to separate himself. Somehow he was able to focus his mind for the moment it took to watch her go over the edge. Only when she was crying out did he allow the madness of that inexplicable emotion to overwhelm him.

  Nine

  They were almost ready to leave for Zulheil two days later, when Marc got a call that changed all their plans.

  "Becky's been found," he told her.

  Heart in her throat, Hira went with him to see the child, who'd been admitted to a hospital in Lafayette. Becky's new adoptive parents were there as well, out of their mind with worry for their baby girl.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Keller?" Marc's voice was gentle. She could almost see him rethinking his ideas about how to reunite Brian and Becky. The woman sitting there with red eyes looked as if she hadn't eaten for days, and her husband's face was haunted.

  "Yes?" Mr. Keller looked up, hope lighting up his eyes for a second. "Are you a doctor? Did she wake up?"

  "No. But I might be able to help."

  Mrs. Keller's eyes were bleak. "How could you? I know who you are, Mr. Bordeaux, but your wealth can't help us. She's wasting away and no specialist can tell us why. God, my poor baby. She's so tiny, so fragile."

  Hira moved to sit on a hard plastic chair beside Mrs. Keller and took her hand. "You must not worry. My husband can indeed help. Tell them, Marc."

  He pulled up a chair to face the Kellers, his jaw taut. "This may come as a shock, but when Becky was placed in the orphanage from which you adopted her, she was separated from her twin, a little boy. It was the first time they'd ever been parted from each other."

  Mrs. Keller gasped, the hand in Hira's suddenly bruisingly strong. "No, no! Dear Lord. She never said a word. Not once."

  "Brian lives in an orphanage that we have a connection to," Marc continued, voice low and deep. If Hira hadn't known him, she'd have thought him utterly calm. But because she did know him, she could see the worry weighing down his heart. "And he's almost as bad as Becky. They n
eed to be together."

  There was no hesitation. "Anything. Do anything," Mrs. Keller said. "If you have to take her away to live with Brian, you can even do that. Just save my baby." Her husband nodded. "Please, just save her. Please."

  Hira felt tears prick her eyes. There was no question in her mind that these people loved their child. Looking at Marc, she knew he understood that, too. While she sat with the Kellers, he left the hospital. When he returned, Brian's thin arms were wrapped trustingly around his neck, that small body cradled in a protective embrace.

  The Kellers took one look at that sweet face and love whispered across their expressions.

  "They look so alike," Mrs. Keller whispered. "He's a bit healthier than her. Someone's managed to make him eat."

  "I'll give you recipes for some things he likes," Hira offered.

  "Me?" The woman's smile trembled. "You'll let us keep them both?"

  "It's my husband's decision, but he loves Brian. He won't do anything to harm him." Her faith in the goodness of the man she'd married was absolute.

  Marc walked straight into the hospital room. He emerged moments later without Brian. "He crawled into the bed, took her hand and started telling her to wake up."

  Mr. and Mrs. Keller went to look through the glass partition into the room, unwilling to disturb the reunited twins, but clearly needing to be nearby.

  Once they were out of earshot, Hira found herself in the odd position of having to comfort her aloof husband. He'd sat down on one of the plastic chairs, his strong body in a defeated posture, while she was standing.

  "It's all right, husband." Hesitantly she dared to touch his bent head in a light caress. "You got to Becky in time." You saved two children's hearts, she thought, emotion choking her throat.

  Marc didn't shrug off her hand but stared ahead at the white hospital wall in front of them. "She's in critical condition." His voice was flat, without emotion.

  Biting her lip, Hira moved to stand right beside him, her hand on his shoulder. "But she's alive. That's what you must concentrate on. In my land, the old healers believe that the spirits of the injured can hear the prayers of the living. We must call out and bring her home."

  Marc raised his head. "Do you truly believe that?"

  "With all my heart and soul."

  To her surprise, he wrapped one arm around her body and laid his head against her stomach. "Brian will die with her if she doesn't wake." His acceptance of her care shook all of her beliefs about their union.

  "He believes she'll live." Hira stroked his head, praying both for the children and for Marc. Her husband was a good man. He didn't deserve such suffering.

  "He's a child."

  "Perhaps that is so. But he has a connection with her that we can't doubt after seeing them. There are those who say twins are not two people but two pieces of the same soul. If that's true, we must double the strength of our prayers." The warm weight of him leaning against her gave her the strength to be his hope. For once someone needed her for more than her face and body.

  Her husband didn't say another word but neither did his face settle into those fatalistic lines again. When he walked off to get them coffee, he touched her cheek in a fleeting caress that she couldn't understand but felt the power of. Her American husband was no ordinary man.

  *

  To everyone's shock, Becky regained consciousness two hours later. The Kellers were incoherent with joy, and Mrs. Keller was cuddling Brian as if she'd never let him go. Though it hurt Hira, she saw that the little boy felt at home in her arms, as if he knew how much they loved Becky and would love him, too.

  "They belong to the Kellers," she said to Marc, when they got home that night.

  His face was tight. "Yes. Tomorrow, I'll begin the process that'll ease their adoption of him. I'm going for a walk."

  "In the dark?" Worry for him sparked inside of her.

  Without answering, he grabbed his jacket from the hall closet. Desperate, she reached in and pulled out hers, too.

  "Where the hell are you going?" he growled at her.

  She'd never seen him look more forbidding. But she knew he'd never needed her more than he did at this moment. "For a walk."

  He moved closer. "I want to be alone."

  She knew he was deliberately crowding her with his body, trying to intimidate her. But he'd done too good a job of demonstrating that he'd protect her to his last breath. "Okay. I'll walk in the other direction."

  "Don't be a fool. You'll fall into the bayou and give some lucky gator his dinner. It's dangerous out there." He grabbed her jacket and threw it back into the closet.

  She put her hands on her hips. "Husband, if you leave now, you have no way of stopping me from leaving."

  His jaw squared. "You'll stay put."

  "You really think I'll obey?"

  His eyes were suddenly bleak. "I need to..."

  She pushed his own jacket out of his hands and took his face between her palms. "You need to stay at home and let your wife share your pain. It's my pain, too."

  Her every heartbeat reverberated with his sense of loss. Marc wasn't a man who loved easily, but he loved Brian, of that there was no question in her mind. And now he was being asked to give up one of the precious pieces of his soul.

  For a moment she thought he'd walk away, unable to accept the tenderness she offered. Then his arms slipped around her body, and he held her so tight she could barely breathe. Uncaring, she wrapped her arms around him and silently promised that they'd get through this together. They weren't alone anymore, either of them.

  Somehow the hurt boy from the bayou and the lonely beauty from the desert had become a unit, a pair, a single beating heart. Her dependence on him should've scared her, yet all she felt was the dawning of a hope so exquisitely powerful she was humbled by it.

  *

  Only seven days later Marc stood beside Hira in front of the hospital and watched the Kellers drive off with both Brian and Becky, after having been granted temporary guardianship of Brian. Even the bureaucrats had seen that the children needed to be together. His heart felt as if it were being ripped out of him, but he smiled. Not for anything would he spoil the children's joy.

  After they were gone, he turned to Hira and pulled her into an embrace. As he'd known she would, she began to stroke his back. Despite the pain he could feel in her, she was trying to comfort him. Her generosity of spirit kept throwing him, systematically destroying all his old ideas about beautiful women and their icy hearts.

  "Home," he whispered, his voice husky with pain.

  She nodded against his chest.

  *

  However, home wasn't the haven he'd expected it to be. Hira disappeared while he was parking the car. Angry at her for teaching him to need her and then not being there when he needed her so desperately, he began to head out to the bayou. It had always held welcome for him.

  That was when he heard the muffled sobs coming from the small formal sitting room they used for guests, the one place his wife knew he avoided, much preferring the relaxed parts of the house. The heart he'd protected for so long seemed to shudder at the hurt in her ragged tears.

  Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and entered. It took him a moment to find her. She was sitting curled up against one corner, her arms around her knees, her heavy fall of hair a curtain. She'd come to cry in private.

  Perhaps, he thought, it would be better to leave her to her grief. Something in him rebelled against that course of action. This was his wife in distress. He could never leave her, just like she hadn't let him walk away that night after they'd come home from the hospital. Decision made, he strode over to sit down beside her, tugging her into the vee of his legs before she could stop him.

  She jerked in surprise, and a tear-stained face met his. "Wh--Leave!"

  "No." He forced her head back against his chest. "You cry as much as you want, princess, whenever you want. But you cry in my presence."

  She hit his chest with her fist. "I do not u-use
tears to get m-my way!"

  "No," he acknowledged, his proud wife would never use tears to sway him. Apparently, neither did she trust him enough to be vulnerable to him. Well, damn it, from today, that was going to change. "I don't like you crying all alone."

  She didn't speak again. Instead she lay against him, tears streaming quietly down her face. He held her and stroked her until there were no more tears and the birds outside were settling down to sleep.

  "Better?" he asked, wiping her face with consciously gentle fingers. He was aware that he had calluses. He'd crawled out of the bayou but it still called to him. Being behind a desk was alien to him.

  She nodded and turned her face a little, giving him permission to complete the job. He did, feeling a dangerous squirt of pleasure at the tiny gesture. It spoke of deep-rooted trust as her lonely tears hadn't. Perhaps, he thought suddenly, there was more to her crying alone than her acceptance or rejection of his help.

  "I had begun to think of him as my own." Her voice was barely a whisper.

  "Me, too, cher. Me, too."

  Slim arms slipped around him. "They'll be happy with the Kellers. They're good people."

  "I had them triple-checked. No problems in the marriage. No indications of violence. They adore children but they're infertile," he told her. "Brian and Becky embody their dreams. People cherish their dreams."

  "Yes." Hira nodded. "Yes. Dreams are to be cherished."

  "Why do you cry alone?" he asked. Why don't you need me as much as I need you, the wounded boy inside him wanted to ask.

  Her silence went on until he thought she wouldn't answer. Then, "My father often reduced my mother to tears purely for his own amusement. I swore I would never let anyone humiliate me that way."

  "I would never..." He was so blindsided by hurt he couldn't complete the sentence.

  Slender hands cupped his cheeks, and when he glanced down, Hira's tawny eyes were looking into his, wide and startled. "No, Marc! I didn't mean...I know," she whispered. "I know you would never, ever do that to me."

  There was no way he could doubt the honesty of her desperate confession. "Then why?"

  She swallowed. "Instinct. I've never had anyone to go to before." It was a simple answer but one that spoke of years of pain. Such habits didn't develop overnight.