Chapter Three
It was nice to walk in the rain.
It was winter dark and the streetlights were on, and with no-one else around, it could have been midnight rather than just before six.
He asked if she still saw her father.
‘No.’ She shook her head as they walked side by side, her footsteps faster to keep up with his longer strides. ‘I probably drove him away.’
‘I’m sure that’s not the case.’
‘Oh, I was very annoying, I was so desperate to have time with him, just so eager and—’ she thought of the best way to describe her rather needy younger self ‘—annoying.’
‘No,’ he refuted.
‘Oh, yes.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
And Liliana did not know how to describe how she’d been so she decided to show him. Or was it that he’d seemed sad when he’d spoken of his brother and she simply wanted the return of his beautiful smile?
And so, from nowhere she took his hand, then with her other hand she took his arm and needily clung on, and sort of half skipped by his side.
Rafiq almost startled, but corrected himself so that he did not flinch, just glanced down with a frown, and there was Liliana looking up at him, her eyes wide and smiling.
‘Liliana…’
‘You said my full name!’ She gazed up at him in wonder, then smiled so much her face must hurt and still she clung on, and in a sudden flash he realised he was seeing the little Liliana, and how she had once been.
‘Stop.’ He felt sad for her younger self and yet he was smiling, ‘Liliana, stop,’ he said as she continued to skip. ‘Okay, you were annoying.’
‘Told you!’ she said and let go of him.
And then came a reward greater than his smile. He laughed, a low laugh, as gorgeous as distant thunder, and it was a real laugh, because for a second, he stopped walking.
He had never known anyone like her.
‘You were also very cute,’ Rafiq said and if he was not who he was, if there was even an inch in his life that allowed for casual, if this was another world, he would have put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
Instead, he looked ahead and they resumed walking.
‘Almost there.’
Haven Manor really was as gorgeous as she remembered.
‘It was summer when I was here,’ she explained as they walked along a tree-lined driveway, dodging puddles.
The rain had stopped and softly lit paths were all shiny, the magnificent building in the distance, but as of now they enjoyed a slow walk around the grounds.
‘It’s heavenly…’ she sighed. It was all so tranquil. She could see the lights on in the mansion, even see some staff and people in the distance, but out here they were by themselves. ‘I never really got a chance to explore. There’s supposed to be a walled rose garden.’
‘I don’t think there’ll be anything to see at this time of year,’ Rafiq said, but it was still so nice to be alone together. It seemed neither were quite ready to go into Haven Manor and burst the bubble on their isolation—these moments that only contained them.
‘Shall we take a look before we go in?’ Rafiq suggested.
‘Let’s.’
They walked around the side of the grand building, following discreet signs, but given they were deep in winter the gate to the walled garden was padlocked shut.
‘No roses for me,’ Liliana said, jiggling the padlock and he saw that she pouted a touch.
Neither were ready yet to go in.
‘We could walk around the lake?’ Rafiq suggested.
Yes, it was cold, and were she here alone she’d surely shiver, but there was something so solid about him, as if his presence tamed the elements, or more that—just being here with Rafiq warmed her somewhere deep inside.
‘Lucky you,’ she said, thinking back to something he’d said about leaving tomorrow. ‘Escaping the cold.’
For Rafiq there was no thought of tomorrow—it felt as if he’d already escaped.
There was a slight mist over the lake and they crossed a manicured lawn, then stood, simply taking it in.
‘Were you here by day or night for your photo shoot?’ he asked.
‘By day,’ she said looking up at a dark cloudy sky that might be called dreary, but how could it be called that when you stood looking up at the sky with a man like Rafiq? ‘You were here for an art viewing?’
‘Yes.’ He too thought back. For Rafiq it had been a short, formal visit as part of a packed schedule.
Now though he noticed the details. He looked behind him and up to the little chimneys on top of the manor, then looked ahead at the dark shadows of the woodlands on the other side of the lake.
Then he looked down at her. ‘Though I don’t recall it being as nice as this. ’
‘It is nice,’ she admitted. ‘I mean…’ Liliana didn’t know quite what she meant. ‘This.’
‘Yes.’
This was very nice.
‘Why can’t all first dates be as easy as this?’ Liliana sighed and then was suddenly embarrassed by how that might sound. ‘Not that this is a date!’
‘It’s not,’ he affirmed. ‘As I said, I don’t date.’ He seemed to think for a moment. ‘I don’t like entanglements.’
She nodded. ‘And I think we both know you are way out of my league.’
He didn’t, she noted, refute.
‘And I’m not being all self-effacing or looking for compliments…
’ She looked up, knew that this man could have anyone; he was simply beyond anyone she’d seen, let alone met.
And given her line of work she’d seen many beautiful people, but there was something intangible about Rafiq, something that held him separate from the rest. And then she thought of what he’d said about not dating.
‘You’re not married, are you?’ she asked as they started to walk around the lake.
‘God, no.’
‘Involved with anyone?’
‘I have lovers.’ He did not add that since the kidnap, all his lovers had been security screened and cleared. There was nothing casual about Rafiq’s life. ‘But no-one has their heart turned to me…’
She’d gulped at his use of lovers in the plural, then frowned at his odd choice of words, then used them herself to ask a question. ‘Is your heart turned to any of them?’
‘No.’ His response was immediate, and then he elaborated. ‘It’s made clear from the start that it is purely physical.’
‘Purely?’
He gave a silent laugh at her nosiness. ‘I don’t…’ He was about to say that he didn’t date in the way she surely envisaged. That he was not one for romantic dinners, nor walks by a lakeside—that was not who he was. Except, here he was… ‘My heart is incapable of turning.’
It was as cold as granite, just thumped at sixty beats a minute and mostly had since the hell of his capture.
Exercise raised his heart rate, and sex did too, but little else.
He’d been trained from childhood, but even the desert warriors who had taught him to hold emotions in check hadn’t really envisaged that the skills might be put to such a brutal test.
Nine months of isolation, when his only contact had been the guards for beatings…
‘I am not interested in relationships or love.’
‘That’s sad.’
‘Not at all.’ He shook his proud head. ‘It is actually quite reassuring—love exposes weakness, invites pain, allows for manipulation.’
He’d proved it.
They stopped walking and stood by the peaceful, still lake and somehow her presence let him remember.
‘That smells good…’
Balach, the guard, ignored him; no doubt he thought the prisoner was angling for food.
But Rafiq wanted more than scraps.
Far more.
He wanted escape!
‘Your wife must love you very much,’ Rafiq persisted. ‘She makes sure you are well fed.’
It was not a lie.
Some of his guards were hungry themselves, some came with bread or rice, yet Balach always came with a delicious home-cooked meal and coffee. For himself, of course. He spoke of his wife with affection to the other guards. Rafiq knew she was having a baby…
It was these things Rafiq noticed, storing away every minor detail, building a picture in his mind of all the guards.
Mean, cruel or just following orders…they changed often, but once a week or so, Balach appeared.
He was neither mean nor cruel and he did not simply follow orders, because one night Rafiq, in agony from a beating, had been returned to his cell. Balach had been there, only he hadn’t replaced the chains so tightly that they bit into his flesh as the other guards did.
‘Thank you,’ Rafiq said.
Balach gave the smallest nod.
It told Rafiq his kindness had not been an accident.
‘Oh.’ A glint on the lake caught her eye. ‘Swans…’ she breathed. ‘They must have been hiding.’
There were two, as pale as ghosts gliding on the still water.
‘I’m very pleased to have missed my stop,’ Liliana admitted as they stood watching the swans. ‘If I hadn’t, I’d be home now and all cross and upset.’
‘That man really got to you.’
‘Yes.’ The air she sharply breathed out blew white.
The anger that had propelled her from the café was clearly still there just beneath the surface.
She glanced up to the man who stood quietly beside her, and there was something so reassuring about him, just this dignity to him that offered quiet comfort and made the recent hurt, which she would usually nurse alone, somehow possible to share.
And yes, she could tell Rafiq what had been said.
‘We’d barely got our coffees when he asked my body count… ’
Rafiq frowned. ‘Were you once in the military?’
‘The military?’ she repeated, a little lost by his response.
‘Because that is not a question that should be asked.’
‘The military…’ She paused again, then realised what Rafiq meant.
‘No…’ She threw her head back and laughed.
Gosh, how wrong could he get it? ‘He wasn’t asking how many people I’d killed in action.
He meant…’ Her laughter faded, the embarrassment stinging its way from her bruised heart to her flaming cheeks.
‘He meant, how many…’ She rolled her hand in explanation, waiting for realisation to hit.
It didn’t. His look still vaguely bemused.
‘How many men I’ve…’ Her breath hitched. ‘I’ve slept with.’